#this got long so i put it under read more cause i have some mercy

[signanothername]

Why do you like Killer?

*Cracks knuckles* get ready

I don’t like Killer, I fucking LOVE HIM

He’s my number 1 fave au sans and has been for a very long time

Now to be clear, I’m talking about canon Killer here, i have mixed feelings about some fanon interpretations, some are good and i genuinely love them, others not so much

That being said, let’s actually talk about why i love my beautiful amazing wonderful son <3333

(All art used in this post is by Killer’s creator: Rahafwabas)

The very first hook for me is his very concept, the mere idea of a sans basically agreeing to go on a killing spree after so many genocide runs is just *chef’s kiss*

Killer knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t, yet he did

Killer doomed himself by his choice, he could’ve stayed as “sans” but he chose to accept Chara’s offer, yet his choice came to be after he saw no point in refusing anymore (important addition and a correction here)

The canon comics had Killer saying that he’s the way he is cause he gave up, he said “you won, you’re the reason I’m like this”, he’s been on so many genocide runs that he felt a little part of him die each run, only to give up and go on said killing spree

It’s interesting how the player is a big part of Killer’s story, cause whether Chara was involved or not, the player is the root cause of his suffering

But what i love the most is that regardless of his backstory or reasons, Killer’s actions led to their inevitable consequences, and it forever changed him

The biggest change? His very soul, it went from a normal monster soul to his signature target soul, infused with Determination, something that supposedly hurts monsters, it’s almost like his soul was infected with it, and you can see how it physically affects him with the black liquid that constantly comes out his eyes, nose and mouth, and even at times, that sludge is too much that he chokes on it

And the amusing yet tragic parallel? Killer aimed to “feel something new” by his genocide runs, only to end up not feeling anything at all, at least at his default stage 2

Which brings me to the concept of his soul’s stages

I love Killer’s stages so so much, it’s such a beautiful unique and wonderful concept

Killer’s individual stages are sooooo intriguing to me, it shows Killer in a different light each time depending on which stage he’s in, stage 1 is the closest he is to being “sans”, the closest to he used to be, he can feel emotions and is generally back to his more lazy bones attitude, as well as his ability to actually show sympathy, and feel the pain he’s always in, but what’s interesting is that regardless of the fact he’s the closest to his old self in this stage, it’s still so clear that Killer isn’t really “sans” anymore, that no matter what, he truly had changed in a way that can never be reversed, a point of no return, even when Color saves him, cause his new habits? His fears? His pain? His trauma? They can never be taken away, Killer has to live with the scars of what he experienced

Stage 2 is who he’d become, he can’t feel anything at this stage, emotions nonexistent, and his nonchalant behavior towards himself and others is most apparent here, a parallel I like to think of is that Killer’s inability to feel anything at all is almost like prolonged sensory deprivation, when you’re deprived of sensory input/ simulation for long periods, your brain needs compensate, and so it does its job, Killer’s soul prevents him from feeling so he resorts to other methods (usually very self destructive) to compensate for his lack of emotional capacity

I also really really love how that especially during stage 2, Killer isn’t trustworthy, cause in stage 1 you can actually trust him to an extent, in stage 2 Killer’s actions, behaviors and mindset are completely unpredictable, but not because he’s random, cause he’s actually extremely calculated, yet regardless, his carelessness when it comes to his own life and other people’s lives is dialed to an 11 here, so he could either choose to kill/attack or simply stay and listen

we even get an actual in depth look at how Killer’s mind works in one of the canon comics, in which Killer contemplates whether to attack Dream or not as he listens to his own stages in his head, one of which tells him to Kill Dream, while the other tells Killer to talk to Dream first

How Killer comes to a final decision on whether he attacks or not is something I believe his calculated mind makes depending on the situation and the pros/cons of what act he chooses, Killer is pretty smart, he knows when to let his trigger happy self out and when to settle down

Stage 3 or the “crazy stage” is the stage in which he’d attack anyone in his way whether friend or foe, we unfortunately don’t have much canon info regarding this stage, but that ain’t gonna stop me from analyzing the shit outta it (and talk about how i perceive it)

I like to think of this stage as the combination between stage 1 and 2, yet it’s almost like his soul can’t truly decide on which stage to settle on and by extension founding stage 3 as a separate stage by itself, Killer becomes extremely unstable at this stage, his soul moves rapidly and it’s obvious he’s in pain cause of it, whether that pain is just emotional or both physical and emotional isn’t really clear, yet i’d like to believe it’s both, and i feel like Killer’s capacity to attack anyone at this stage is related to that pain, and something I really love to believe is that Killer can’t calm down enough to settle back to stage 1 or 2 unless he either wears himself out by fighting someone, or he’s left alone to his own demons long enough to pull himself together, if he were to be forcefully restrained during this stage, it would only serve to make it worse and prolong the time he stays that way (cough something i may or may not have made a quick comic about but never shared as always vjvjvjj)

Not to mention, one of the canonical responses Killer gives when asked if he’s ok at stage 3 seems to make Killer alternate between answers he wants to give between saying he’s “fine” and “i don’t know” which makes sense, Killer isn’t stable at all, it’s almost like his stage 1 self and stage 2 self are fighting over who gets to talk (stage 2 seems more dominant)

Yet the fact Killer is able to answer and comprehend his surroundings enough at this stage is very intriguing to me, cause it shows how much Killer is able to handle/endure (which is A LOT cause damn) and not only that, but it also gives us a very clear difference between this stage and stage 4

As for stage 4?? Woooh boi, it’s the stage I like to call “plunging into darkness”

We also don’t have much canon info about this stage, but one of the things i find interesting is the fact Killer deliberately keeps it a secret from everyone, when he tells Color about his stages, he only tells him up to stage 3, never bringing up stage 4, only for Chara to sneer at Killer that he shouldn’t keep it from his new BFF

It’s obvious Killer himself is very uncomfortable with the subject of stage 4, it’s apparent that it’s a stage that he rarely gets to, but it still bothers him enough to not want to even mention it, which makes sense, cause the comic we had of stage 4 shows that Killer gets to that stage when he’s reminded of all the murders he committed, and unsurprisingly, when he’s reminded of his brother, as what triggered this stage is actually a memory of Papyrus telling Sans to “see a puzzle”, only to be followed by memories of screams of anger, fear, and hatred of those he killed immediately afterwards, stage 4 is heavily related to his trauma

Not to mention it’s clear that when Killer gets to stage 4 he blacks out, he’s completely unaware of anything he does during this stage, and is only left to deal with the aftermath when he gets back to his senses, the fact it’s also a stage that seems to be “getting worse” is something that Killer definitely seems to hate

It sometimes makes me think whether Killer had gotten into trouble cause he killed someone Nightmare wanted alive while at this stage, cause with how he keeps it a secret, I’d assume Nightmare would be unaware of it for a while (comic idea perhaps >:) )

But y’know what’s better than talking about the stages?? Talking about Killer’s personality, behaviors and trauma

Killer can’t distinguish between what’s real or not, and it’s obvious he sometimes sees the world in the third person, as in he’s not completely there at times, not to mention the amount of voices he hears in his head, from his stages talking to him to hallucinations of Chara, Frisk and Papyrus, and oooh boi does he hate these hallucinations, the past obviously haunts Killer and it’s something he tries running away from constantly, yet he can never truly run from it when it follows him everywhere

Killer has a smile on his face most the time, but his attitude changes especially when Chara is mentioned, or when he’s reminded of his past in any way, he literally avoids food that reminds of his past life as “sans”, he freezes up at certain phrases such as “best friend” (something i also made a comic about that i never shared chchhchc)

He just absolutely hates to be reminded of the person he used to be, of all the things he used to have, cause in truth? They were all taken away from him by his own hands, only to be then forced to work under Nightmare, who only ensures that he never finds peace of mind

And the sad part? Killer let’s all those things hurt him, he lets Nightmare have his way with him, he lets Chara torment him, cause he thinks he deserves it, and most importantly, he deluded himself into believing that this is what he wants because it’s what everyone else wants, because it’s what the player wants

Killer even sometimes tries to force himself not to feel anything, cause come on, since when does he feel anything at all?

Killer, to put it bluntly, hates himself, and he thinks that his suffering is the Karma of what he’s done, and even at one point, he was going to erase himself out of existence cause he believed that’s what he deserved, as in Killer thought of himself as unworthy when it comes to Papyrus, that his brother doesn’t need him, that his brother is better off without him, hell he even tells Color that he needs to kill him if he ever reaches stage 3, it’s an obvious “ i want someone to put me outta my misery” attitude

Killer feels hopeless, and so he lets himself suffer thinking he can’t ever find peace or hope again

Yet the interesting part? You’d never know that Killer hates himself unless you’re a being of emotions (Nightmare and Dream) or someone who’s perceptive enough to notice Killer’s self-loathing like Color, that’s how good of an actor Killer can be, you’d think he’s a cold emotionaless killer but the truth only shines to those who actually can see through his act

Killer just has that amazing character depth and his story is genuinely so unique and beautiful, cause you in his story you can find details of other details within the details vhvhvjvj

All that? Mixed with really adorable little things like his love for cats, his silly attitude, his nonchalance with Nightmare, his capacity to be social with whoever, and his friendship with color? That is why I love Killer Anon <33333

[mypoisonedvine]

dark dilf delinquent season cillian lusting after the new neighbors daughter; who not so coincidentally has a penchant for undressing with her curtains open 🫣 & sneaking in guys who kinda (definitely) maybe resemble cillian? from her club nights 😭

he’s dark & like kinda pathetic but we love him anyway

i feel like this is too specific but I can’t get the thought out of my head 🥲

it is very specific but I'm not mad, and I love writing a pervert <3 but a dilf AND a pervert?! yes please!! obviously I love this concept cause I went a liiiiitle overboard with it, oops...

𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙤𝙧 | neighbor!reader x dilf!cillian

length: 3.3k

warnings: m and f masturbation, voyeurism, slightly dark but not very much, unspecified age gap, infidelity

When it first started, he really was just trying to read. It wasn't his fault that the book was boring, or that your curtains were open, or that he caught a glance of you in your window.

It was innocent then, too— he liked watching you do normal things, like put on jewelry or laugh on the phone with a friend. It made him smile... he wasn't sure why, but it just made him feel a little better after a long day, seeing you up there, reminiscing on his younger days as he got a distant view of yours...

But it had been months since it started, and it was far from innocent now. He'd become an expert at compartmentalizing the shame; he'd become addicted to the cycle, to the watching and the waiting and the sick anticipation— not to mention the fear that someday, you'd notice him watching. The fear, and yet, the hope.

"Fuck," he panted under his breath as he wanked himself— not too fast yet, but certainly much faster than the slow and teasing strokes he liked to start off with. You were taking off your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding your arms in that crazy origami way girls do that he'd never totally understood; he bit his lip as his eyes dragged over your back, trying to imagine how it would feel to run his fingers up your spine until you arched it just right—

He heard the kids yell downstairs and he stopped for a second, heart pounding with nervousness as he feared they might come up and knock at the door. He used to only do this when they were gone... but he couldn't pass up an opportunity like this, a perfect view of you stripping in the window.

The noises stopped and his movements started again, fisting his cock with a stifled groan as you reached behind your back and undid the clasp; even having seen your tits probably a dozen times by now, his mouth was slack and dry in anticipation of you turning around and letting him see them again.

You teased him for a while longer, messing with your hair and stretching your arms up until he found himself mumbling between panting breaths: c'mon, baby, show me— lemme see, sweetheart, fuck, please...

Sort of like willing a stoplight to turn green, it's obviously not possible but it will work at some point: you turned and faced the window, your eyes shut with a sigh as you started to open your jeans. He had to grip his cock's leaking head tight just then, too overwhelmed with the view of your breasts— he was afraid to come too soon.

He'd never had to hold himself back like this before, never delayed his gratification— because, normally, it's totally antithetical to the point of masturbation. He only ever jerked off for the gratification, and he only ever watched porn to help get there a little faster... but you, you were so much better than porn. The thrill of doing something wrong, the longing of knowing you (if not very well) in real life, the lack of control over you and being, in a sense, at your mercy as you undressed as slow as you wanted... it was all just terribly erotic. And he refused to let himself come until you let him see a little more.

You slid your jeans down your legs and he actually bit his lip, just to muffle his moan. "Yes," he whispered to himself, cock pulsing in his grip as he watched you step out of them, turning around to lay them over your bed— and giving him the perfect view of your ass in those cute cotton panties as you did it. "Fuck," he grunted, twisting his hand over his tip and feeling his hips jerk instinctively— he couldn't think of the last time he was so sensitive. "See what you do to me?" he chuckled to himself— he wished you could see it, but then again, he had his lights off in the room for a reason. All you could see was a dark window, and for now, he preferred to keep it that way.

You laid back on your bed, looking relaxed and contented as you ran your hand down over yourself— fuck, is she about to--?

You slipped your hand into your panties, and he tilted his head back with a heavy sigh, only allowing himself a second to shut his eyes as his balls tightened up, threatening to blow it all right then and there. He'd never actually seen you touch yourself before— though he had seen you take a vibrator out of your bedside drawer and, infuriatingly, go to take a shower where you presumably got to use it with complete privacy. The image in his head had been plenty to get off on that night, but seeing you now as your fingers moved under the thin fabric, your lips opening for what he hoped was a quiet little moan? It was almost too much to bear.

You spread your legs a bit, the angle giving him a hint of a view of what you were doing; he sat up in the chair, leaning to the side a bit, desperate for a better look at how you were touching yourself. Were you just rubbing your clit, or were you going to put a finger or two inside? "Baby," he panted to himself, watching your tits get harder as your hand moved, "baby... y-yeah, just like that, fuck..."

The sight of you playing with yourself was just too beautiful; he had to keep reminding himself to shut his mouth so he wouldn’t make too much noise, but then it would just fall right back open again as you arched your back.  

“Feels good?” he noticed, raking his gaze over every sign of your pleasure.  “Tell me how good it feels…”

He wanted to imagine your voice, then, the way you’d respond to him: feels so good, Cill.  You’d never actually called him that, you always called him Mr. Murphy.  He tried not to acknowledge how much that turned him on, but anyways, he couldn’t conjure your voice in his head anyways.  He hadn’t spoken to you in weeks, not since you’d babysat for him and his wife… he tried not to acknowledge how much that turned him on, either.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you took your hand out of your panties and expanded your cheeks with a big sigh; he knit his eyebrows together, watching you roll over and grab your phone off of the nightstand by your bed.  His sicker side instantly assumed you were going to find some porn to watch, but your lackadaisical attitude about the whole thing made it seem more like you’d had a sudden mid-masturbation urge to check Instagram.  Kids and their phones, he thought to himself, even though you were far from a kid— he was just much, much further from one than you were, is all…

And, this should come as no surprise by now… that turned him on too.  He’d come to be weirdly fascinated by his own perversion, finding it just as shameful as he did sexy.

His phone vibrated on the desk and his screen lit up— he wasn't going to answer it at first, nothing was more important than watching you right now... but then it went off again. He looked at it and back at you, seeing you getting up suddenly and walking around the room... surely you hadn't come already? It certainly didn't look like it.

Even though he couldn't imagine why you'd stopped so abruptly, he figured it was a good opportunity to make sure the messages weren't important. He awkwardly got up and grabbed his phone, feeling a bit strange about walking around with his jeans open and his erection poking out. Unlocking his phone to read whatever was sent, he felt a massive sigh leave his chest as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

He never even saved your number, but he recognized the previous conversation you'd had-- just a few texts back and forth about a little backyard gathering your parents were having, and some question about when you needed to come over to watch the kids, but you usually messaged his wife about that kind of stuff.  But since he’d committed those brief conversations to memory, it took him only a split-second to know it was you— and, obviously, seeing that you'd just texted him, he thought his heart might just stop right then.  He had to blink some blurriness out of his vision to even read them, with how fast the damn thing was beating.

hi mr. murphy.

turn on the lamp on the desk.

He whipped his head around to look back at you, only to find you smiling around a bitten lower lip, staring right into his window.  Fuck.  Fuck!

He set his phone down, not sure what to do— and quickly locking the screen as he realized you’d probably seen the glow of it.  He groaned softly again as he watched you sit down on your bed again, facing directly towards him, those pretty legs spreading nice and slow as your hand moved over your panties again.  Fuck.

He felt like he was in a dream or something as he flipped on the lamp— maybe it was an out of body experience.  If he was out of his own body, he at least knew whose he wanted to get into: he never took his eyes off you as he slowly walked back to his chair, sitting back down in it and meeting your half-lidded gaze as you tossed your phone away and used your free hand to toy with one of your hard nipples.  “Fuck,” he said aloud this time, seeing your eyes trail down to his cock— it was still out, of course, sticking up proudly against the black shirt covering his stomach.  Maybe it was proud, but he was a little bit terrified, his face getting hot as he snatched the throw pillow nearby to cover himself with; he saw you laugh, sighing through his nose dreamily as he wished he could hear the sweet sound of it, and then shake your head with a grin.

You stood up then, turning around and bending over as you ever-so-slowly pulled your panties down, making him purr as he got a thorough look at your bare ass.  You looked too damn good bent over like that— what he would give to stand behind you, pushing your shoulders down with one hand as he gave that cute arse a good spank with the other—

He saw you looking back at him, a proud smirk on your face; “Dirty girl,” he scolded under his breath, watching you stand up straight and sit on the bed again.

Your legs were pressed tightly together, and when he look up to your eyes, he found them focusing on the pillow in his lap; you met his gaze again, a pink tongue darting gently over your lips.  A silent promise: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.  With the way it made his heart pound and his palms clammy, he felt like a schoolboy all over again.

He grabbed the pillow and slowly moved it away, your legs opening at the same pace in perfect time with it; he groaned through a tight jaw as he stared at your pussy, one of your hands running down to spread the sticky lips even wider for him.  “Fuck,” he moaned, holding onto his cock tightly again as he felt totally helpless to the sight of it, unable to look away.  “So fuckin’ perfect,” he mumbled, starting to stroke himself as you bit your lip again and rubbed your clit with two fingers— the nails still had that baby pink polish, the one he’d watched you paint on a few nights ago.  Why was something as simple as that so sexy?

Your mouth fell open, and your head tilted back; he tried to imagine how you’d sound, your sweet voice a little darker and deeper with pleasure.  You rubbed yourself a little faster, a little harder, and he felt his lips curl into a sneer.

“Good girl, like that,” he panted, “play with it for me.  Play with that cute little cunt— f-fuck, yes—”

You looked at him again, eyes glued to his cock, and he felt it flex in his grip as if it wanted to wave to you; he saw you smile, an oddly sweet smile for something so dirty, and he watched your fingers slide down to your tiny, seeping opening.  He nodded in encouragement, watching your face fall into a shockingly innocent gasp as you slid a finger into yourself.

“Yes, baby,” he moaned, “y-yeah, s’it warm inside, sweetheart?  Bet you’re so fucking tight, baby, I know your pussy is so goddamn tight—”

You pumped the single finger in and out, head falling back for a moment, and he squeezed his cock tight again to try to hold back another close call— he’d feel pretty stupid coming so fast with you watching, but he’d been doing this a lot longer than you had… fuck, how long had you known he was watching you?

Your mouth opened wider as you pushed another finger into yourself, and his hips shifted roughly in the chair, his hand moving faster as he growled.  “Fuck, it’s not enough, is it?” he hissed.  “Two little fingers isn’t enough— you need my cock, fuck, you need my fuckin’ cock— I’d fill you so good, sweetheart, I’d be so fuckin’ deep inside you—”

He was almost bucking up into his own hand now, his whole body suddenly pulsing with energy— it was a good thing you weren’t here now, even if he wanted it more than anything: he would’ve treated you awfully if he could’ve gotten his hands on you, fucking you hard and rough, tossing you around, pinning you down… he needed you so bad, he couldn’t imagine having the patience for anything but one of those nasty, fast, rough, animalistic fucks.  He’d fucking ruin you right now, if he could.

You were rough about it, too— roughly pinching and tugging on your tits, roughly fucking yourself on your fingers… you even pulled your hand out and gave your clit a little smack at one point, and he choked on his loudest moan yet as your body jolted.

“Dirty fucking slut,” he growled, “fuck, come for me.  Please, baby, I need to come, I need to fuckin’ come—”

You were saying something, obviously he couldn’t hear a damn word of it, but the shape of your lips made him pretty damn sure you were chanting over and over: yes, yes, yes—

“Come, baby,” he begged, knowing he couldn’t hold himself back much longer, “let me see— show me how you come, sweetheart, show me that pretty face when you come on your fucking fingers— soak them, honey, come for me—”

You were shaking all over, legs quivering and tits bouncing with the force of it— you pulled your fingers out and he could fucking see it, see that cute little hole flexing, and obviously he was done for pretty much instantly.  He moaned roughly as hot ropes of come painted his shirt, rolled down his shaft and shaking fingers, one drop even finding its way down his balls which was sort of pleasantly ticklish…

You looked so gorgeous coming like that, your hand and pussy all shiny with your arousal, your eyes heavy and your lips swollen from all the biting… he blinked quickly as he tried to catch his breath, letting go of his slowly-softening cock and leaning back into the chair.  You smiled at him; funny how, even now, that could make his heart skip.  He watched you stand up and wiggle your fingers in a cute little wave at him as you approached the window, and his tired smile fell quickly when you reached for the curtains.  “N-no, don’t go,” he pleaded softly, leaning forward as if he could stop you somehow, “please, wait—”

You slid them shut suddenly, and he whined a little as he fell back into the chair, running his (clean) hand over his face as he contemplated what he’d just done.  When his phone vibrated again, he jumped up to grab it, but frowned in disappointment when he saw it was from his wife.  Be home in a few, please come help with the groceries.

He tried to type a quick reply, only to grimace when he realized how filthy his hand was.  He wiped it off on his shirt— but his shirt was filthy, too.  Sighing, he set the phone down and took the whole thing off, balling it up to toss into the hamper, leaving him in just his undershirt.

Going straight back to his phone, he opened the conversation with you, praying to see that little grey bubble pop up or something; he started to type a few times, things like will I see you tomorrow? or come over next time the house is empty, but he always felt like an idiot and ended up erasing it.  He didn’t get a chance to think of a good thing to send before he heard a car pulling up in the driveway.  Shoving the phone in his pocket, he sighed and made his way downstairs, navigating around the pillow fort in the living room to get out the front door.

“Just help me with the bags in the boot, will you?” she asked him, not even looking at him, as she rifled through whatever was in the backseat.  He opened it, sighing as he looked at them.  Nothing like a bunch of brown bags to bring you back to reality.

His eyes widened when he heard his wife say your name, and he poked his head around the car to see you standing there, wearing a zip-up and leggings.  “Good evening, Mrs. Murphy,” you smiled, and he figured he looked like a deer in the headlights— if a deer could hold a paper sack full of pasta and biscuits— as your gaze fell on him.  “Hi, Mr. Murphy.”

He opened his mouth to try to respond, but nothing really came out; “Looks like you’re going for a run,” his wife noticed, saving him for the time being as your attention turned to her again. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “figured I could use some exercise.”

He cleared his throat, just a way to try to fight the lump forming in it, but it unintentionally caused both women to look at him again— once again, he found himself uselessly floundering for a response, and only getting out a soft ‘er’ before you said something.

“Aren’t you cold in just a t-shirt, Mr. Murphy?” you asked him, tilting your head.

“It’s fine,” he choked out, “I was feeling kind of hot anyway.”

You smiled at him, then waved goodbye to his wife as you pushed your earbuds in and continued walking down the street— you were acting so innocent that he started to feel like he’d dreamed up the whole thing.  

She probably saw him staring, watching you jog down the sidewalk, that ass looking terribly familiar covered by the athletic leggings; but she didn’t say anything, only shutting the car boot to get his attention as he finally carried the paper sacks into the house.  "She's sweet, isn't she?" she broke the moment of silence as they walked up the driveway together.

“I-I guess,” he tried to sound as non-committal as possible.

“You don’t think so?” she pressed, apparently noticing his cryptic answer.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “maybe she’s not as sweet as she looks.”

[sugudoe]

have you ever considered jjk men (maybe.. maybe toji...) and a reader who seems so strong very brave not scared of curses takes everything in stride what have you. but absolutely just crumples at thunderstorms 😭

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: mention of blood and reader being a kiIIler ╱ anxiety attack

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hope you like this, i know it was supposed to be cute, but i got carried away. also, this reader had an encounter with reader from “on my way”, you can read if you want, but there is a basic explanation about what happened.

Your line of work had stained your bones and soul a long time ago, hardened your expressions and emotions. You don’t get to smile when you took someones life, is a constant thought you have.

Weakness, as a hitman, is equally tainted by the blood you take. As any human being — even if you may act more like a predator or beast sometimes — you have some of your own, hidden away from prying eyes and, as of recently, your boyfriend Toji.

Relationships aren’t supposed to have secrets, but one or two won’t hurt him, specially as pathetic as this, you think.

But still, those tangled nots you made on the door that unlocks your sensitive part, all untie at Toji’s house — it takes thunder in the sky and lighting on the floor, all followed by a blackout.

You had been in the shower, scrubbing away all the blood from a disgusting mission, the red liquid sticking to your skin, soaking up to your interior, but you held your head higher, pretending it was nothing.

Of course, the moment the house shook with the lightning, you had no reaction but to scream. Stupid, isn’t it? The fear of blades and curses and even jujutsu sorceress is not enough to cause a reaction out of you, it barely changes your heart palpitations. There is a need of more fingers to count how many of those have you fought and won. But, there is always light at the darkness absorbing you. Light as in the one that falls from the sky and strikes at you, the perfect pattern of scars along your back, a reminder — long ago, one sorcerer could summon those, and you survived by miracle, by mercy.

Toji never noticed those scars before, your intimate life was always rushed by the return to a mission, lights out and the focus solely on the feelings. Now, though, he sees them. When he crashes his door down, a long silver sword in hand, frantic eyes shinning in the dark, and turning into frightened and curious, that’s when the energy comes back — when you are bare and scared, in your most unprotected moment. Fat tears rolling on your face, you avoid his, while you reach the towel and put over your body. You leave the bathroom and your stunned boyfriend behind.

Save yourself some grace and morality, your reputation and maybe dignity, you put Toji’s shirt and shorts and fall on his cold bed, trembling under the covers with the crescent sound of thunder up in the clouds.

Could mercy be revoked by the one that hurt you? She could be up there, in the clouds, looking for you. That’s a constant thought you have had since that terrible day, the fear that with the storms might come your prey that turned predator.

You flinch when Toji’s large arms cradle you into his chest. He is silent, except for his unhinged breathing, much like yours, when his hands move under your shirt, cold fingers softly touching your thick scars — the perfect copy of what had hit you that day, sometimes, the pain comes back and it’s a constant memoir of what you felt. Today, with his caress, you don’t feel much. You don’t feel anything, except for the tears still escaping and the burning on your throat.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “you’re not supposed to see me like this.” weak, you add in your head.

“If not me, then who?” Toji asks, moving you so you can face him, and not your back. “You’re not weak, whatever happened, you survived, don’t think I could. I can’t barely handle tasers.” He cleans the tears from your cheeks, soon, replacing his finger with his lips in multiple soft kisses.

“I’m supposed to be stronger than angry clouds.” You whisper.

“You are.” he moves back to search for something in your eyes, maybe he found them, because a small smile forms on his face. “Yeah, stronger than clouds, than your scars, than your fears. I see you, and I see someone powerful.”

“I’m supposed to be like you,” you keep trying to make him understand you, how weak you are, “fearless.”

“What makes you think I’m not scared of anything?” Toji cocks and eyebrow before snickering. “I believe my strength comes from luck, and I’m afraid one day this luck will wash out down the drain some day.”

“Like blood?” you ask, he nods.

“Like blood, from my enemies, mine. Maybe one day I’ll find out.”

“I hope you never do.” You raise your head, chin resting on his breast. “I hope you stay for a long time, keep being this lucky bastard who fights anyone with ease. And I hope you stay to comfort me.”

“In all the storms there is, be in the sky, or in your head. I’ll be there.”

Toji kisses you, hugging your body and, you could guess, your soul. Your broken and ugly devastated soul, he loves it with care and no prejudice. In his arms, there is no lightning that can reach you, no thoughts of being hunted — who would come your way with him protecting you?

[multiverse-imagines]

A request from SkyDragonGrandeeny of ao3!!

I've seen in the show that Vash has a lotta of scars, and he claims their symbols of his unrelenting mercy, even against enemies who try and kill him (thanks knives ya jerk). I also heard he doesn't like girls to see them, since he believes it would gross them out or they would run away at the site.

Since Vash is a adorable dork, I would love a fluff story when the reader discovers the scars, like maybe he took a shower like in the show and had no shirt on afterwards; but instead of any kind of disgust, reader is instead worried for Vash. Afterwards with reassurance he's fine, reader is becomes flustered/shy because Vash is a lot more ripped/stronk looking then expected. oh and yknow his shirts off oops. (That red coat hides how much muscle he has like oh lawd-)

A/N: I'll never get tired of writing for Vash's scars! It makes me love him even more 🥰

Just For You

"Why don't you grab your little boyfriend, and tell him dinner is ready?"

"S-sure, Granny!" Your face tinted red as you led yourself out of the dining room where you had just set the table for dinner, and up to Vash's room.

With a quick knock, you entered to see Vash standing in only a pair of sweatpants, prosthetic arm in hand, his body paused in the motion to put it back in place. A towel was draped around his neck.

"Vash, dinner is...O-Oh… S-sorry." Was all you could muster out. You wanted to just say dinner was ready and leave him be, but something froze your feet in place. You took in the sight of his eyes closing, and jamming the prosthetic arm into place. He rolled his shoulder and wiggled his fingers to recalibrate.

"I didn't think you'd get to see me without a shirt this early." His voice broke the silence. You'd only been traveling for seven months, and dating for one. How you had never seen him without a shirt in that time was beyond you, but he had told you his body wasn't worth seeing.

"Told you It's not pretty." He said as if he'd been reading your mind.

You had always thought he would be lanky, much like an old T-shirt left on a clothesline, but you didn't realize how right you were in a much different way.

An astonishing amount of scars riddled his body. Some long, some thick, some small lines, others appeared to be large patchy chunks that skin had grown back over time.

Stunned by the sheer amount of them, you hardly felt your body move to him, your hands nearly touching them, but stopping short. It was as if you were to touch him, he would crumble away.

"You can touch them, ya know." He softly whispered, which still caused you to visibly jump. Giving him a quick glance of eye contact, you began tracing along the large scar that disappeared over his shoulder.

You felt the ragged skin that bordered his prosthetic arm, and traced along the long thin scar that resided there. The metal grate covering his missing pectoral was cold to the touch, and still damp from his shower.

"This is what I get for not killing my opponents. I show them mercy, let them live their lives, and I take the damage." He maintained his whisper as your hands continued to explore his torso.

You wondered if he remembered the story behind each one, not that you would ever ask him to retell such traumatic events. How many were there in total? How many more would he obtain before someone got a lucky shot and killed him?

You made your way to see all of the scars on his back as well. There were so many more. Another grate under his right arm, two metal pieces like bolts in his side, a triangular metal plate on his scapula.

"You don't deserve that." Your eyes were plastered with sadness, not looking up at him, "I'm glad you don't kill, but… this. This is so much." You laced your arms around to his front, pressing your face into his back in a hug, "Do they hurt?"

"Only when it gets a little too cold out, or when I have nightmares of the injury. It's nothing compared to the phantom pains in my arm though…" he paused with a disgruntled hum, realizing that maybe he was opening up too much too soon. A pause between the two of you felt like a whole hour, but was merely a moment.

"Please stop letting yourself get hurt." You squeezed his waist, a slight tremble beginning to form within you, "You're just as important as all of those people you save, ya know? Especially…" to me, is what you couldn't say to him yet, "You can't save the world if you're dead, Angel." You recovered.

"M'not gonna die." You could practically hear the rolling of his eyes.

"Yeah, you're too stubborn for that." You gave his waist another squeeze, only to finally feel the muscles underneath. You took a step back, and took a second to see his rippling muscles beneath the battlefield of scars. His back was well defined, noting every curve of his body.

You didn't know how you never noticed how well defined his body was. He always wore baggy clothes, much like the gray sweatpants that were sitting a little too low for your little heart to handle.

You wondered if it was: 1) to throw people off, 2) because he was tall and no fitting medium fits a tall man like him, or 3) to be comfy and not so sweaty in the blistering heat. Whatever it was, you were beginning to enjoy that this was a show that only you had tickets to see right now.

"It's not that I'm stubborn." He turned around to face you once again, and you couldn't help but notice the little muscles under his ribs, and the sheer sculpture of his upper arms, "it's just that I've got someone to look after now, ya know?"

You were too absorbed in viewing his chiseled abs, and starting to wonder where that little V of his hips led to, when he lifted your chin to create eye contact, "So I'll do my best not to get hurt anymore. Just for you, Mayfly." He had this smirk on his face that had 'I caught you looking' written all over his face.

"Good. I'll hold you to it." Your face heated up instantly at his expression, he laughed

[allwormdiet]

Insinuation 2.9

And now everyone is cool and nothing is wrong :)

Y'know, obviously the actual violence involved in the bullying, both physical and social, is like the chief source of harm for Taylor, but I think what's almost equally terrible is that it's made her into her fourth-worst enemy after the main trio, scared of being disliked and trying so hard to find ways to justify not bowing to others

Also, I don't fully know enough about Alec to say, but low-key I get the sense that Taylor just doesn't like him that much, which is a little funny but also a little sad

Yeah, like, he's a little immature but this kinda feels like her interpreting his words in bad faith

This is kinda cute? Alec is being a bit of a brat, yeah, but Brian is immediately charmed by someone else who automatically did a Responsible Thing and Taylor clearly flourishes with his attention. I'm sure they both think they're the token sane ones

Maybe it's just me but I think Alec's power can be pretty busted. Like that's a great way to get an enemy to score an own-goal if they're not careful with their weapons, or if they're on a flight of stairs.

Also think I'm getting a marginally better read on his character through this chapter. He does seem to be earnest, or at least trying, the sarcasm comes off as much of a front as Brian acting like an adult or Lisa acting smug.

Rachel speaks up and it's just to defend her dogs, this is relatable

Also smart call on the infosec tbh

Also also, lmao Taylor's still mad and not shy about that, very telling that she's still thinking of Rachel as Bitch

Makes sense that Rachel has to be careful about what dogs she can use her power on, it only takes one beast like that to go off the rails and cause a whole world of hurt that she didn't mean for. Five bucks says there's a story to how she learned that one.

Sweet But Heartbreaking: The Hebert Family Story

Few things, semi-conflicting in my head but I'll talk through it all anyway

I like the Undersiders and know that they're broadly good kids, or at least trying to be good kids, but I don't think they're so upright that they're above doing crime that would cause harm to others, even if it's "just" financial loss and a scare

And it's interesting to me that as much as Taylor likes them, as much as Taylor yearns to be on this team with them (to the point where she'll tolerate Rachel), she still sees herself as in some way apart from them, even better than them, because she's a hero. Or going to be a hero at the least.

Wonder how long that attitude can hold up

Current Thoughts

I like seeing the Undersiders play off each other more, and I like seeing Taylor slide into a niche alongside them. Had I the power I would make the next *checks notes* twenty-eight arcs just about them all being friends and having adventures, but I do not, so. Reality will ensue at some point, I imagine.

I think it's a little easier to see Taylor's exact problems with more people to bounce off of. She's got this ongoing struggle between needing to belong, needing to fly under the radar, and needing vindication for what she's been put through, and it's given her some bad habits. The self-loathing is a major component, but as I'm looking at it I think her swiftness to dismiss others as less-than-her could just as easily be a byproduct of Emma's tender mercies as a lot of her other bad habits. All of Winslow High has either participated in her suffering, or else stood by and did nothing about it; is it any wonder that she feels alone in a crowd, that she's so harsh in how she views others who provide any reason to doubt their intentions towards her? Rachel is obviously an extreme case but she even raised her hackles a bit with Alec back in 2.7 and what he said could barely count as teasing.

Little shocked that this arc is over already, but I guess it's longer than Arc 1, so maybe I'm just getting wrapped up in the flow of the story and getting thrown by the interruptions. Interlude next, then my meditations on Arc 2

[akirenhell]

"I am ghoulified...Inside youuuu~"

Soooo, even though I haven't played any of the games, the Fallout brainrot got me tight enough to binge the TV show AND learn some of the lore, cause HOLY SHIT, the attention to detail they put into it is impressive.

As some of you have probably seen, I did show some sneak peeks of this guy a few reblogs ago, but now here he is in full color!

Sooo, this is Mucky, a rather special ghoul due to the fact his hair has actually survived the massive doses of radioation he has gained and his incredibly slimy and filthy skin, which always looks like its melting down from intense heat. He's a bit of a celebrity in the wastelands, strolling around with his band looking for a good place to perform his music (which is the equivalent of 90s industrial rock, mind you).

Personality wise, he's pretty crass and cocky, but if you hit his right points, he can get pretty shy and flustered. Regardless, he's not exactly an asshole, for he can be pretty polite at times despite how violent his music can be.

(Backstory and fun facts under read more)

Before the Great War, Mucky's name used to be Michael (something he has long forgotten about). He was considered an outcast due to his rather radical way of thinking and not following the "American norms" of what's good and not, especially when it comes to music, one of his few favorite pasttimes and the only way he had to fully express himself.

However, ironically enough, music was also the thing that almost lead him to his doom. One day, the once human called Michael actually managed to release an album of his own music, and even though it wasn't a massive hit, it was very well beloved by specific groups of people, which were those that were unsatisfied with society.

Due to the fact his music could be considered "commie propaganda", Michael was almost murdered for this by none other than the Enclace. Yet oddly enough, what saved Mucky was the same thing that doomed humanity, for his failed assasination attempt happened the day the bombs fell.

Despite getting severely burnt and hit with a massive dose of radiation for him to turn into a ghoul, Michael survived the attack by hiding in a sewer, where something strange happened. Call it whatever kind of luck you want, but due to the radiation and his slowly melting skin, his body managed to mutate with the sewer waters, thus turning him into a foul smelling, slimy ghoul made of muck.

Hence his new name: Mucky. Promptly given by those who considered him a freak of nature (mostly humans who hate ghouls, obviously).

The rest of the years after the war remain fuzzy, but eventually, Mucky, alongsides a group of ghouls that found comfort in his music, made their way towards Necropolis, the city of the dead; where the filth ghoul settled down and, with an uncertain future but a strange yet newfound liberty, he started to work in his new albums to share with the rest of the wastelands. Be it with humans, ghouls, super mutants, it doesn't matter; for music is one of the reasons why he managed to remain sane even to this day.

And maybe the real reason why he hasn't gone feral yet.

Post-Fallout 1, Mucky obviously left Necropolis due to the Master's invasion on the city. Thankfully, he didn't leave alone, for two super mutants actually joined him as bandmates thanks to his mercy.

And so begins his life as a rockstar in the wastelands.

Facts:

-Mucky has a little cat companion he named Scatticus, which he found in an abandone vault where they ran cruel experiments involving both animals and humans, which Scatticus is the only that remains. The cat, oddly enough, can talk due to a device that is linked both with his collar and his brain, and he's a sassy little bastard.

-Mucky has a love-hate relationship with old, 50s music, which really was another reason why many considered him a weirdo in pre-war times.

-Due to an incredibly strange chance of luck (and possibly genes), Mucky is one of the rare exceptions in which a ghoul could become a super mutant. While exploring a vault to look for equipment he could use in his instruments, the ghoul got ambushed by a pack of irradiated wolves that gave him chase, with one of them alongsides him falling into a vat that was full of an alternate, very rare version of the Forced Evolutionary Virus. From it came crawling away a large, filth covered wolf, the complete contrary of the scrawny ghoul.

Luckily, if you can even say that, once he grew exhausted enough, Mucky reverted back to his ghoul form. However, there is still the chance he can revert back to that hellhound, especially if there's massive amounts of radiation neraby...

-Mucky is originally from Ohio, but due to the fact he spent pretty much of the time out in the open after the war "touring", that gave him a great amount of knowledge regarding the wastelands and the commonwealths he could get in. If you need a trip somewhere, he will gladly take you there. Though, he might ask for something in return...

-Mucky can be pretty skilled with technology, even using pieces of weapons as ways he can improve the sound of his instruments when playing.

-He's a huge menace to both the Enclace and the BoS, especially with the fact his skin and foul stench can corrode metals. Yes, even the one from a power armor.

That's as much as I can name about him, but if you have any questions about Mucky, please ask! I'm pretty new into Fallout, so if I have made any mistakes or it's there anything I could change, please do let me know, cause really, I mostly made this OC for fun.

[all54321]

A “Delivery” (Part 2)

Part 1, Part 3

I decided to make these guys unhinged, because that’s fun. Also there’s extreme pining this time.

I’ve also decided to add a Part 3, because I’m having ideas. Probably also featuring more pining.

—————

The Bad Boys arrive at their place at midnight, earlier than Scar expected. They’re clad in their leather jackets and sunglasses, with only Jimmy wearing his properly.

Cleo nods in approval, “you’re early.”

“Of course,” Grian replies, voice clear of the humor in it when he was chatting to Scar earlier. “These things go easier when you’re prepared.”

She grins, “it is.”

Scar zones out of the conversation as he stares at Grian. He always looks good in leather, incredibly good. How could Scar not fall for him looking like that. Scar doesn’t really care that he’s losing focus to stare at Grian, Cleo’s briefed him on the plan already and no one else is here, so Scar will gladly take the chance to stare when there’s no repercussions.

He startles out of his staring by an elbow to his side, he quickly looks over. Bdubs is staring at him seeming unimpressed while Cleo looks at him expectantly.

“Uh… y-yes?” Scar mumbles, uncertain. He casts a glance at the Bad Boys, relieved to see them talking together, unaware of Scar’s earlier staring.

Bdubs shakes his head, exasperated. Cleo seems to share the sentiment, but takes mercy on him, “I was asking if you had everything prepared.”

“Right, yes, I do,” he replies, still caught off guard a little.

“Good, we can’t trust them to play fair.”

“You have got to say something,” Bdubs says, nodding his head towards the Bad Boys.

“Quiet,” Scar hisses, casting another glance at them. Thankfully none of them seem to have heard.

His brother just rolls his eyes, “this is just getting painful.”

He’s saved from responding by the Bad Boys rejoining them, they stand in a line but Joel takes the lead, “we’re all set.”

“Are you prepared for the worst?”

Immediately after Cleo finishes speaking, Grian pulls out a Glock from where it’s hidden under his jacket. Scar wouldn’t say he’s swooning over Grian with a gun, but damn does he look hotter holding one. He doesn’t hope this goes bad, but Scar would love to see Grian in action with that gun. He knows the Bad Boys’ reputations, but he hasn’t seen what earned them it though. He would love to see it, especially Grian. Scar would love to see how much of a badass Grian can be.

Cleo nods, “so you’re all ready to go?”

“I have one question first,” Grian says, putting this gun back.

Cleo raises an eyebrow, “go ahead.”

A grin spreads across his face, “will we need explosives?”

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

“I have plenty of kinds, short fuse, long fuse, destructive, not destructive, and some other fun ones.”

“What do you plan to do with them?” Bdubs asks quizzically.

“Anything you want,” he replies easily, though the maniac grin remains on his face.

“Preferably non destructive,” Cleo replies, “we don’t need to cause structural damage. And only use them if you have to.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Do you have any here?” Scar asks, curious.

Grian casts an evaluating glance over the three of them, “I can get some easily enough.” His tone is guarded, wary.

As eager as Scar was for their deal, he forgot one crucial thing, they all play dirty here. They will always keep their cards close and only reveal what’s needed. Scar would never betray Grian, no matter what, but he can’t say the same for any of the others on either side.

Scar lets out a breath, if this meeting goes well, hopefully it can lead to a more steady alliance with the Bad Boys. Maybe one that’s built on more then just business.

“Right, we’ll meet you there,” Cleo says, voice holding no argument as she holds out a slip of paper.

Joel snatches it and reads it over, nodding as he shoves it into his pocket. “Come on, Bad Boys.” They give one final parting nod before heading out to their truck. Grian’s eyes linger briefly at Scar, before he turns around to leave.

“Scar,” Bdubs says, tone chiding.

“I’m focused,” Scar counters, turning to face his family again.

“You better be,” Cleo says, a warmth back in their tone that’s only present when they’re talking to their sons, “we all need to be prepared for things going wrong.”

[z-paladin]

Alright so Kogu (Who I have given the Saiyan Name Aiko from the Daikon Radish - which Goku grows - cause I didn't wanna just use Kakarot again. This is a whole different flavor of the same guy.) And Turles

I messed with the things said in the actual episode, because I have some Thoughts. RHatAF is all about Mixin Shit Up, so I'm sure they won't mind me playing with their text right back.

Under the Read More cause I thought a Normal Amount about this concept.

Alright so - Universe 11 Saiyans If the Uni 6 Saiyans have Semi Roman aesthetics by Cabba's armor and Uni 7 Saiyans have Barbarian Aesthetics pre-frieza's "employment", then I wanted to nail down a Look for Uni 11 Saiyans. What better to contrast the major focus on the Pride Troopers to translate the Fighting Spirit of the Saiyans to Biker Gang Vibes. I imagine that they mostly fight among themselves for Zone Control on the planet. Mad Maxing it up all for fun and profit.

Now These Fucked Up Brothers While Aiko goin to Earth, if Universe 11 even has one of those, would be fun, I had a thought for something else. The boys? Twins - much to Turles' utter annoyance to be compared to Aiko. Turles gets his hand on a fruit of the tree of might somewhere and decides "Either we use this to take the planet over for ourselves or we just blow it up and get a new one." Aiko hits him with the classic "We Fucking Live Here Don't Do That" The fight still happens between them, but the way that Aiko absorbs the tree of might is getting punched in the chest will the fist Turles holds the fruit with. Being a shitty little brother and Not Wanting Their Home Destroyed, puts his own energy into the fruit to have it take root in HIM instead of the planet... Which he ends up destroying anyway once the seedling has his way with him. Oops.

Now for the shambling corpse in the room - Super Saiyan Gia. Figured if Rose got to have a fun name, this plant-y green form they described should get one too. I imagine rather than the hair going Up it's more, like, always Billowing in Unseen Wind, spreading the influence of the Tree of Might. How much of Aiko that's left is...not very clear. It's like if he stood still too long, the body would just fall right off the bones of wood. He must keep moving, keep fighting, if any piece of Aiko wants to live.

What Uub does to this thing that was once a Saiyan is frankly a mercy to not just all the universes but to what remains of them.

[shinxeysartgallery]

So explain how the solver posession stuff works as of your au

It's really long, so I'm gonna put it beneath a "read more" tag.

Okay, so basically the Solver entity loves eating planets, but it can't eat them as-is, nor can it interact with this plane of existence without a host. There's some sort of a vulnerability within the code of Worker Drones specifically, where the entity can take control over them if certain criteria are met. In most cases, it seems total non-core death or near-death are what trigger a weakness and allow the entity to gain a foothold over the drone. (If the core is destroyed or too damaged, the entity is SOL.) It uses the drones to destabilize the planets' cores so it can then eat them.

When the entity gains a foothold, it grants its host a nerfed version of its abilities. How much control the entity has over its host is dependent on how often they use their new powers, their willpower, and whether or not they've been patched or otherwise modified. Unpatched/unmodified drones are completely at the entity's mercy, and the more they use their powers or the weaker their will, the more likely it is for them to fall under complete possession by it. (That's a big part of why it tends to target drones when they're at their weakest moments. You're more likely to make a deal with it and/or be more susceptible to possession when you're on the verge of death or at a point of sheer despair.) When a drone is patched, they still retain the code the entity implanted in them, but it completely blocks out its ability to take full possession over them. (This is why drones like Yeva are still able to use their abilities without fear of losing control.) Certain modifications to drones can also block out Solver possession. In my AU, nuclear energy and gemstone energy are the only known elements that can do this. Some bullshit about the frequencies and energy they emit completely blocks out the Solver entirely, so it's even unable to so much as implant its code into their systems. In the case of drones who were already under the Solver's control and later had their cores swapped out, they still retain the coding in their systems, but it's useless to them now and can't activate.

And speaking of the coding, all unmodified/un-patched Worker Drones are susceptible to the Solver's influence, but not all of them have the coding in their systems - it's only when the entity gains a foothold that they're given a copy of that code. Even when the drone is not actively using their Solver abilities, the code is still retained in their systems and running in the background. We know things like regeneration are completely involuntary on the drones' part, and the Solver coding being a background process is exactly why that works. This is also explanation for why Solver-based drones are hurt by sunlight. As it turns out, the Solver program uses up quite a lot of RAM, even as a background process, and I'm sure we all know what happens to computers when too much of its GPU is being used at the same time. If the Solver drone is not using their abilities (or not using them often), they tend to do better overall. If they're using them frequently, this can cause them to quickly overheat, as directly using the program takes up much more RAM than it does just running in the background. The sunlight adds to this, making them overheat much faster. It's been confirmed by Liam himself that the Disassembly Drones run hot enough to melt flesh (though that may have been one of the things that got retconned), and I figure this is why they seemingly need a constant supply of oil. The oil they're drinking is basically being used as a coolant and taking the heat away. (This is also why the possessed Workers require drinking oil to cool off.) With an even more nerfed version of the Solver code than the possessed Workers get, they still always have that process running in the background as well, which is likely the explanation for why they run so hot. Just like with the possessed Workers, Disassembly Drones cannot be exposed to direct sunlight, as it will cause them to overheat. (And I theorize this weakness could be eliminated if they had a better means of being able to cool off, as well as completely eliminate the need for the oil drinking. Or, finding a way to get into their systems and outright delete the Solver code, which would get rid of the program and not let it run as so much as a background process anymore. Though, that would also mean they couldn't use any of its abilities anymore - including the regeneration - unless otherwise modified.)

Once a drone is full-on possessed by the entity, it's officially taken as a host and it's near-impossible to break its control at that point. The only way to stop it at that point is to find some way for the drone themselves to break through. (In rare cases, administering a shock to their systems - sometimes literally - can also accomplish this.) Once a drone has been taken over by the Solver in any capacity (whether full-on possessed or not), the only way to truly stop them is to destroy their core, thus severing the connection to the entity. Their cores act as their brains and contain all their coding (including personalities, memories, etc.), which also means that this is where the Solver program is being stored. (Explains why the Solver cores [like Nori] are still sentient and some are still able to use Solver abilities.)

All Solver-based drones (so yes, that includes Disassembly Drones) are officially assimilated into the hivemind as the entity stores backups of them. Their feelings, their thoughts, their memories, their personalities... It knows and stores all of it. Drones that have been full-on possessed at least once are more attuned to its abilities and may also be able to tap into that hivemind at times. (Which is explanation for how Nori knew about the Disassembly Drones, Cyn's plan, & Doll and Uzi becoming infected, despite her having no way of knowing any of that.) The backups are how the Disassembly Drones are able to come back good as new, even after total core death (Like we saw with J in Episode 2.), and how the clones can exist. Since the entity is keeping their data stored, it's also able to directly mess with it. The clones all retain the same memories - provided they're memories the Solver entity WANTS them to keep.

Much like how it knows their thoughts, feelings, memories, and all that, it can rip them away from a drone at any time and leave them as nothing more than a hollow husk being puppeted around. (Implied to have been what happened to Proto when Cyn turned them into THAT.) Much like how it can take away memories, it can also implant false ones (which is why N didn't remember anything at first and fully believed the lie that the Disassembly Drones were sent by JCJenson to take out the rogue Worker Drones) or alter existing memories to twist their truths. Though, because they're still connected to the hivemind, sometimes certain things can trigger them to recall memories that the entity erased or altered. Traumatic memories that were erased or altered may also sometimes manifest in the form of nightmares. Due to the deletion/alteration, they can't manually recall these things, but a backup of them still exists within the hivemind itself. The entity knows it all and stores it inside its own database. The connection to the hivemind and the ability to tap into it is likely how this occurs. (Not all Solver-based Workers have been full-on possessed, but all of the Disassembly Drones have been at one point [the Earth massacre]. As mentioned before, the drones that have been full-on possessed are indeed capable of tapping directly into the hivemind, though it's rarely done intentionally. In most cases, they can only access their own data, but ones who have directly been hosts at one point may also sometimes get memories that are not their own.)

Since it can just rip away all of a drone's personality and memories, leaving them as nothing more than a killing machine with pure bloodlust, why doesn't it just do that for all the drones it takes, you might be wondering. Well, that goes into the entity's more childish personality. The end goal is for it to eat the planet, but the journey to that point is treated like a game to it. Allowing them to make deals to keep their memories, allowing them to retain their personalities and individualities... it's nothing more than entertainment to it; the drones are basically its toys. It has absolutely no regard for any kind of sentient life other than its own. It would be much more efficient if it had decided to turn ALL of the Solver-based drones into something like Proto, but then it wouldn't be fun!

It's like using cheat guides for a video game: you get to the end of the game faster, but you never actually have any fun getting to experience anything outside of what's outlined by the guide.

And one other little thing: you probably noticed that I haven't mentioned the flesh thing at all. Why exactly does the entity turn its hosts' insides fleshy? Well, the exact reason is unknown, but it's theorized that it's for a few reasons: 1.) Done as way to include non-drones in the assimilation process. Might be due to Cyn's promise to Tessa to not discard her. Unlike drones, humans do not have a set of coding that can just be backed up onto a system. Tessa may not have been the only human to attempt making a deal with the entity and it may have been the result of an attempt to assimilate the humans into its hivemind. 2.) It also may have been done as a way to alter the drones into something new that was just for it, as if it's to say "Look! These are MINE!" Something that set them apart from the other drones. Also might be done as some sort of a control method/reminder that they're owned by the entity. "See? You're really NOT like those other drones anymore; you're a MONSTER! They'd never accept you if they knew, so I'm all you have!" 3.) It's done as a way to protect the cores and, in a way, the hosts. Regular drone cores are pretty useless when separated from their bodies, whether they're damaged or not. But Solver cores can actually move around and do things. They may have been changed in that manner to allow them the maneuverability that regular drones don't have as a defense mechanism of sorts. The core would be able to manually return to its host body [N's and Uzi's cores in Episode 8 after Cyn tore them out] or escape and collect materials to rebuild a new body [J's core in Episode 2]. (Theoretically, a core could steal the body of another drone whose core was missing, too.) 4.) It's an unintentional side-effect of the Solver possession. No one really knows how exactly the entity's powers work or their source, so it may just be something that happens as a result of its control. 5.) Or, it's most likely some sort of a combination of all of the above! It could've originally been an unintentional effect that was later weaponized by the entity.

Anyway, there's probably more I'm forgetting rn, but that's the gist of it. Sorry for the long post. lol

[diverbots]

any genji headcanons? i need more genji thoughts from you

This got REALLY long so it’s under a read-more.

- He didn’t really have any “true” friends other than Kiriko during his teen years, I feel like a majority of the people that were his friends were afraid of him because he was part of a crime syndicate (and Genji knew this pretty well! He just didn’t want to admit it.)

- He didn’t appreciate his time with his father all too often, and he constantly wishes he did. He’s gone now, and even during his younger years he didn’t get to spend much time with him since he was off doing other things. He doesn’t understand Hanzo’s constant need for approval from him, but he gets incredibly lachrymose whenever he thinks of his father protecting him from the clan elders.

- Genji constantly has to put up with maintenance and regularly takes around two hours to fully clean his body of dust and grime. It’s aggravating, but after awhile (and speaking to Mercy and Zenyatta) he gets a lot of meditation and relaxation out of it. He gets sick very easily if he doesn’t perform them.

- While Genji’s favorite food is ramen, I think his favorite snack are prawn crackers! They’re a bit plain sometimes, especially if you eat them constantly, but it’s a indulgence he had when he was younger.

- If he hasn’t taken the sword or shurikens, he probably would’ve had twin said as his next option (he gave Kiriko some kunais and didn’t want to copy her, y’know?)

- Doesn’t like taking his faceplate off cause it’s always too cold!!! Or too hot, he doesn’t care if his scarring is seen as “scary” anymore but the temperature difference whiplashes him (this is me coming up with excuses for his faceplate staying on, I like it like that BDNSNSNFNS)

- He and Sojourn used to talk frequently, she was an important figure in his life but there were some moments where she couldn’t give him the help he needed, always directing him to Mercy for other things that she really didn’t understand. I’d say they’re good friends though, as much as Cassidy, Tracer, and so on, despite how much the game doesn’t show it!

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Asking because your blog has been sympathetic to non-Feanorian apologists, you’re a great & thoughtful writer, and there’s no neutral space to express it otherwise... every fic with Thingol in Fourth Age Valinor has him punished & humiliated to teach him the value of redemption. But Thingol already has a redemption arc. He did something wrong, suffered personally for being wrong, then tried to redress it (fosters Túrin to make up for Beren & Lúthien). Why is Feanorian redemption more important?

I struggled with this in the latest chapter of my fic. My intent wasn’t about him being punished or humiliated, and I included the chapter with Legolas and Gimli to show that he has changed and grown. But dealing with Maglor specifically (or any of the sons of Fëanor) being back is especially difficult/frustrating for him and he finds it deeply unfair. He’s not wrong! It is unfair. Mercy is inherently unfair.

Yes, Thingol has already had a redemption arc, and that matters to me. But when people are under a lot of strain, there’s always a temptation to revert to their worse instincts. The events in this chapter felt, to me, like something Thingol would realistically do. He was resisting the urge to take out his anger about Maglor’s return on Elrond, who requested it, or Legolas and Gimli, who facilitated it, but he felt he had a perfect right to take it out on Maglor himself. (And he’s right, to an extent! As Elrond said, if he’d pulled Maglor into to yell at him, he’d have a right to that. The issue was intent, that he didn’t just want to confront Maglor with the harm he’d caused, he wanted him dead. I feel like it’s also relevant to say that no one who had been through the Halls would have been in danger of dying in that situation - they don’t Return until they’re ready to confront those things. But Maglor has spent seven thousand years confronting nothing, which puts him in an unusual situation and a still fairly breakable psychological/spiritual state.)

The second reason I brought it up, something I couldn’t find a way to include in the chapter, but that matters to me a lot, is that you don’t get to accept mercy yourself - which Thingol has, he’s returned from the Halls of Mandos despite making some very serious mistakes and dying in a particularly stupid way - and then decide that other people don’t get to recieve it. Thingol can have improved from the person he was in Beleriand while still being a person with flaws.

But, at the end of the day, the construction of this chapter was about Maglor’s arc. I’ve had the fic outlined for a long time, and I’m very much ‘plotter’ rather than ‘pantser’ - I don’t know how to make major changes in the middle of a fic and have the stuff that follows still work. And I like the stuff that follows. So I went ahead with this chapter even with reservations, because I needed something to push Maglor to the brink (and because I liked Elrond’s speech, and the fundamental idea that there is value and worth and the capacity to contribute good even in people who have done very wrong there.) Fëanorean redemption isn’t more important than Thingol’s redemption (I’ve got a fuc idea for a conversation between Thingol and Finrod after Thingol returns from Mandos that I quite like, but I haven’t been able to get it down on paper), but Maglor’s redemption/reconciliation arc is the focus of this fic. And I understand that there are already thousands of fics about that and very few synoathetic ones about Thingol, which is frustrating!

So, given the kind of complaints I’ve been making frequently on my blog over the last few weeks and even yesterday, I did feel hypocritical about writing it, and if it didn’t connect, I get it. I hope you’ll be able to look past it and keep reading. If it helps, the only actualy consequences to Thingol from this are his great-great-grandson being mad at him for a while; it’s no longer central to this fic, but I have every expectation he and Elrond will patch things up in time.

[bluiex]

I have made a part 2 (of 3) to the mafia au, where everyone is at least somewhat unhinged and Scar heavily pines.

(Tumblr keeps crashing every time I try to send this :/)

—————

The Bad Boys arrive at their place at midnight, earlier than Scar expected. They’re clad in their leather jackets and sunglasses, with only Jimmy wearing his properly.

Cleo nods in approval, “you’re early.”

“Of course,” Grian replies, voice clear of the humor in it when he was chatting to Scar earlier. “These things go easier when you’re prepared.”

She grins, “it is.”

Scar zones out of the conversation as he stares at Grian. He always looks good in leather, incredibly good. How could Scar not fall for him looking like that. Scar doesn’t really care that he’s losing focus to stare at Grian, Cleo’s briefed him on the plan already and no one else is here, so Scar will gladly take the chance to stare when there’s no repercussions.

He startles out of his staring by an elbow to his side, he quickly looks over. Bdubs is staring at him seeming unimpressed while Cleo looks at him expectantly.

“Uh… y-yes?” Scar mumbles, uncertain. He casts a glance at the Bad Boys, relieved to see them talking together, unaware of Scar’s earlier staring.

Bdubs shakes his head, exasperated. Cleo seems to share the sentiment, but takes mercy on him, “I was asking if you had everything prepared.”

“Right, yes, I do,” he replies, still caught off guard a little.

“Good, we can’t trust them to play fair.”

“You have *got* to say something,” Bdubs says, nodding his head towards the Bad Boys.

“Quiet,” Scar hisses, casting another glance at them. Thankfully none of them seem to have heard.

His brother just rolls his eyes, “this is just getting painful.”

He’s saved from responding by the Bad Boys rejoining them, they stand in a line but Joel takes the lead, “we’re all set.”

“Are you prepared for the worst?”

Immediately after Cleo finishes speaking, Grian pulls out a Glock from where it’s hidden under his jacket. Scar wouldn’t say he’s swooning over Grian with a gun, but damn does he look hotter holding one. He doesn’t hope this goes bad, but Scar would love to see Grian in action with that gun. He knows the Bad Boys’ reputations, but he hasn’t seen what earned them it though. He would love to see it, especially Grian. Scar would love to see how much of a badass Grian can be.

Cleo nods, “so you’re all ready to go?”

“I have one question first,” Grian says, putting this gun back.

Cleo raises an eyebrow, “go ahead.”

A grin spreads across his face, “will we need explosives?”

“What exactly do you have in mind?”

“I have plenty of kinds, short fuse, long fuse, destructive, not destructive, and some other fun ones.”

“What do you plan to do with them?” Bdubs asks quizzically.

“Anything you want,” he replies easily, though the maniac grin remains on his face.

“Preferably non destructive,” Cleo replies, “we don’t need to cause structural damage. And only use them if you have to.”

“Of course, of course.”

“Do you have any here?” Scar asks, curious.

Grian casts an evaluating glance over the three of them, “I can get some easily enough.” His tone is guard, wary.

As eager as Scar was for their deal, he forgot one crucial thing, they all play dirty here. They will always keep their cards close and only reveal what’s needed. Scar would never betray Grian, no matter what, but he can’t say the same for any of the others on either side.

Scar lets out a breath, if this meeting goes well, hopefully it can lead to a more steady alliance with the Bad Boys. Maybe one that’s built on more then just business.

“Right, we’ll meet you there,” Cleo says, voice holding no argument as she holds out a slip of paper.

Joel snatches it and reads it over, nodding as he shoves it into his pocket. “Come on, Bad Boys.” They give one final parting nod before heading out to their truck. Grian’s eyes linger briefly at Scar, before he turns around to leave.

“Scar,” Bdubs says, tone chiding.

“I’m focused,” Scar counters, turning to face his family again.

“You better be,” Cleo says, a warmth back in their tone that’s only present when they’re talking to their sons, “we all need to be prepared for things going wrong.”

Curse tumblr for crashing after sending this beauty omg

Grian *has a gun*

Scar: god i love this man he is so perfect

[sunrayretriever]

ok so im gonna put this one under a read more since its just my thoughts and not actually like. safety information that everyone should know (again nobody is obligated to read especially this because its fucking long and just a heads up im gonna get kinda gruesome so :\ but if u read all the way thru then u are a real one and i wanna kiss u sloppy style

meyah okay so. follower, come here im gonna tell u something. im not a professional. im not a meteorologist. all of my research and information is found online and by myself. but i have seen the damage that the earth inflicts on us. it is not an act of god, and i really dont care for when people say 'mother nature is pissed'. this is real. this is real life. the damage done to people is real. lives are torn apart. entire families are wiped away with the debris of their poorly constructed homes. if you survive, theres a million different ways you could be injured, and not just physically. the trauma, the grief, the emotional pain of losing not only lives but your home, your business, your car, your pets, your livestock, your city's infrastructure, your community... to lose it all is something that makes me choke up just thinking about..

ive seen videos of people huddled in shelters above ground screaming and crying and praying and the sound of wind and glass crashing and debris flying and sirens going off is pure horror.

something even more terrifying is videos of people STANDING NEAR WINDOWS AND GLASS DOORS AND EVEN OUTSIDE during tornadoes. glass nails 2x4s bricks furniture cars. they become bullets in those winds. wood can get embedded in telephone poles. do you know how incredible that is? its hard for even me to believe!!! and here in the united states IT HAPPENS PRETTY OFTEN!!

cw im about to show u destroyed houses!! click away now if u dont wanna see but i really wanna show anyone who DOES wanna know abt the damage these fuckers cause!!!

so i want you to imagine here. this is your neighborhood. let's say we have an EF5, the most intense a tornado can get. now, a tornado can be rated an EF5, but that doesn't mean it does EF5 level damage THE WHOLE WAY. shall we take a look at how your neighbors houses fared?

mmkay so here we have EF0 level damage. about 35-40% of the tornadoes in the united states are rated this level.

not too bad! shingles are replaceable!

as we go on we pass by a house with EF1 level damage.

whoa! 35% of tornadoes in the US are this level!! but it's JUST the framing of the roof, right? thank goodness the house stayed mainly intact! hopefully everyone followed their safety plan and got to shelter right away!

looks like the house a couple miles down got hit with EF2 level damage.. their entire roof was blown right off, exposing the whole house and everything in it to rain, hail, wind and debris from the tornado... but its just the roof, right? i mean, only between 15-19% of tornadoes get this strong...

EF3 level damage. 6% of tornadoes are this level. everything but some walls and the roof were destroyed. where will that family live now? who's going to help them clean up?

EF4 level damage. almost all above-ground structures are vulnerable to a tornado of this strength. this was a well-built, permanent home. look at how the tree snapped. these winds can uproot the entire thing. thats a 4ft+ tall projectile. thank god only about 1.1% of tornadoes in the US are this strong... but what could be stronger than that?

EF5 level damage. 0.1% tornadoes are this strength. the last one on record was in 2013, moore oklahoma. it destroys virtually everything in its path, and can rip people out of their basements if their door isnt reinforced. the memories from that home are gone. completely gone. there are appliances and vehicles that were never found from tornadoes this intense.

and these are well anchored, permanent houses. mobile homes were destroyed and twisted back in the EF2 level. anything above that turns them into smithereens. lost to the mercy of the winds.

"so james," you say my lovely follower, "what's the whole takeaway from this? what's the point?"

and i grab your hand very gently. and i look you in the eyes. autism be damned, we are locking eyes. and i ask you this:

what if it was you? would you know what to do? are you weather aware? do you have a plan on where to go when your towns tornado sirens go off? does your own even HAVE tornado sirens? what about your pets? the people you love? do they know?

for a while i felt bad for.. trying to spread this around. i felt like i was being a downer. i dont know why but it felt taboo to talk about... i dont know if it makes people uncomfortable or scared but.. it needs to be talked about. we cannot stop the weather from doing this but we can make sure we're safe. we can keep ourselves safe.

i don't want you to be afraid of these storms. i know plenty of people who have a fear of severe weather. fuck, for the first 23 years of my life i was one of them! when the tornado sirens would go off, even for a routine test, my stomach would turn and i would panic. after the 2022 december tornado outbreak, i was watching the news and i heard about the damage caused. i thought 'what in the world could do something so devastating?' and i think it changed my life forever. i went from fearing them to ACTIVELY WANTING TO SEEK THEM OUT. and not only is everything about weather fucking awesome, i know how to keep myself and everyone i care about safe. i can tell my dad when to get ready to go to the shelter before the sirens go off. i can check the radar and tell my friends in other states how big the hail is gonna be before it even gets there.

and it.. really wasn't hard. even a basic sense of weather safety can help. knowing myths from facts helps EVEN MORE!

the earth is so beautiful, my friend. a tornado swirling around in a desolated field in kansas is something that even in video takes my breath away. when it rains, i run outside to see the rainbow that usually forms afterward.

but with this beauty comes a price.

[qdbs-writes]

Hi can u please write headcanons for the cullen clan with a witch fem reader likw their reaction to them finding out that u have powers like wanda maximoff from the marvel

Can this be longer then usual please i love ur sm its unbelievable❤❤❤❤

aw thank you nonny, i can't do individual character gifs or else my elderly macbook will combust

Cullens Reacting to Fem!Scarlet-Witch!Reader

Carlisle Cullen

He had his suspicions that you weren't a standard human, but he could never quite put his finger on why he got that vibe from you.

You were admitted to the tiny Forks hospital emergency room after you'd fainted in the street. And for what should've been a very regular medical check, strange things seemed to be happening.

The lights and electronic heart monitor flicked on and off without warning, pens and papers on his desk seemed to move when he turned his back. Waves of red light danced just beyond his sight.

For what his centuries of medical practice told him, you'd be fine, only suffering a slight headache. But the moment you left the room everything appeared to function perfectly again.

Carlisle grew up in a society that endlessly feared the power of witches casting curses and plagues on the people, and he found himself unable to forget what he was taught after he met you.

Carlisle was a man of science, but after living for so long, nothing could explain what had happened with you that day without magic.

Esme Cullen

Esme first meets you at a charity event to raise funds to support overseas humanitarian crises, one of the many charities Esme heads in her free time.

She's busy organising baked goods at a long central table when you walk in, shuffling your feet and glancing around nervously. Seeing your discomfort, Esme goes up to you immediately, asking if you're alright and if she can get you anything.

You insist that you're fine but want to dedicate some time to help support the charity. Esme is delighted to have some more help and asks why this particular charity's cause spoke to you.

You mention that you came from a now collapsed Eastern European state and that you'd come to America to seek safety and justice for everything that happened to you and your people under that corrupt government. That you want to support groups that seek to protect people who are at the mercy of callous and greedy leaders.

Esme is incredibly moved by your story and your values and goes to fetch the paperwork for you to become a volunteer. But then she remembers something that came through the Vampire intelligence network a while ago. The country you came from had been experimenting on its people, giving them abilities that would make them more powerful than vampires.

She stops to consider that maybe you were one of the people they experimented on and that you might have powers that could surpass all vampires. She chases that thought from her mind, for now, reminding herself that she's in no position to be interrogating you if that was the case.

Edward Cullen

At first, Edward was none the wiser of you or your abilities. You were just another girl at Forks High. But slowly, as the days went by, he didn't so much as notice you but instead noticed your influence.

On your first day of school, he stood behind you at the lunch line. The two guys in front of you kept thinking about how excited they were to be getting the last slices of pizza. Suddenly their minds abandon pizza so when they go to order they get the salad option instead.

You drop your hand to your side and get the second-to-last slice, turning to Edward and giving him a knowing wink. Despite the panic gripping his dead heart, Edward shuffles up the counter after you and orders the last pizza slice to keep up appearances.

For the next period, Edward is consumed with thoughts of 'Can she read minds?'. If you could read his mind, you hid it well by ignoring all the panicked thinking he was directing at you. 'Perhaps she's tormenting you on purpose. Can YOU read my mind?', he asks again.

Again you give no indication that you can hear his thoughts. Suddenly, the teacher calls his name, expecting an answer to a question Edward did not hear. Then a soft, ghostly voice reverbs in his head 'The answer is 42'. It was a voice that sounded exactly like you.

Edward awkwardly mutters the answer before the teacher rewards him for being correct. He turns to look at you on the opposite side of the class. So you couldn't read minds then, but could still project your thoughts onto others? Very interesting, very interesting indeed.

Alice Cullen

She recognised you immediately the moment she saw you arrive at Forks High. You had been the one she'd had visions of for months on end.

But you looked different from her visions. Your face was not strained as you contorted a swirling red mist in your hands. Your eyes did not glow red as the tips of your fingers turned black as if dipped in ink.

No instead you seemed almost painfully ordinary as you scrawled long division calculations into your notebook during class.

Alice wondered how to discuss you with her family, from what she saw, you had the power to bend Forks, if not the wider Washington area to your will alone.

Maybe it was best to leave you alone, keep you away from the hidden madness of vampire clans and werewolf treaties. The Volturi would certainly not rest until you were a vampire under their thumb.

Alice decides that if you're as smart as you are powerful, then you'll quickly work everything out for yourself and whether or not you really want to be involved will be up to you.

Emmett Cullen

He genuinely had no idea you existed, you kind of merged into the background with all the other kids at Forks High. That was until the egg incident.

To this day, neither you nor Emmett has spoken about what happened, and he firmly believes that was for the best. But now there is a permanent tension between the two of you, you both know about the other, but you're both unwilling to admit any of it.

It happened on a late October evening, and Emmett was launching eggs into the side of the school building with all his vampiric strength. After all, no one was around to see it, so why would it matter?

Another egg practically evaporated as it hit the brick, splattering into thousands of tiny yoke fragments flying in every direction. It so happened that you had just stepped out of the gymnasium, with egg bits flying toward you at supersonic speeds.

But before the shattered egg could coat your hair, a red barrier of mist emerged from your outstretched hand, deflecting the remnants of egg to land either side of you.

That's when you notice Emmett and Emmett notices you. You both stare at each other, frozen in time. At some point in your impromptu staring contest, you and Emmett silently agree that neither of you would ever talk about what happened and what you were, Emmett certainly wasn't in a position to be throwing eggs in a glass house.

Jasper Hale

When Jasper was mortal, his mother always used to tell him and his sisters scary stories of evil witches who would snatch them in the night if they ever went out wandering.

Jasper never really paid those stories any mind, until he met Maria, and suddenly he began to understand why powerful women should be feared.

You didn't strike him as the 'witchy' kind, no black cats, no large pointy hat, no flying broomsticks, no bubbling cauldron. But just like Maria, you had this aura of some kind, and you certainly weren't no vampire.

He'll admit that he never saw you do anything particularly magical either. But he did notice that people can get scared out of their wits when you're about.

At the same time, there seemed to be this sadness in your eyes, and an exhaustion that didn't truly belong on anybody as young as you.

Jasper goes against all his instincts and begins to investigate you. Over time, he makes you feel more and more relaxed in his presence, maybe you'll let something slip.

Rosalie Hale

Rosalie was used to having people look at her, even in her mortal life, very few could tear their gaze away from her. But today was the day she made eye contact with you as you looked at her.

There was this indescribable energy in your gaze, almost a power. For the first time in her immortal life, Rosalie felt nervous by looking at a human.

As you retreat your eyes and continue onto class, Rosalie realises that she'd stopped pretending to breathe, artificially filling her cold lungs with air once more.

Despite her best interest, Rosalie couldn't get you out of her mind, She found herself following you, watching you in class, seeing where you sat during lunch. And the longer she looked, the more tangible this aura of raw power you had seemed to be.

It was like this shift in the air, the room, the people around you. Apart from this, there was nothing about you that wasn't completely ordinary.

She'll admit you were pretty, not as pretty as her, but then no one really was. For now, she'll keep on watching you, perhaps you'll slip up and reveal what you really are.

[sugarylawliet]

remember when L and light were chained together for a while ? well, bear with me, what if Light’s gf (the reader) wanted to have sex with Light during that period of time which leads to somewhat of a threesome?

i love this idea omfg

> warnings: nsfw/smut, threesome, spit kink (i couldn’t help myself idk how i manage to fit this into every fic i write), i’ve never written a three person nsfw fic before so..,, bare with me. why did this develop lowkey lawlight undertones as i wrote it idk. also i didn’t proof read so if there are mistakes i’ll fix them later LMAO

> tag list: @deidarascumdumpster  @v3inbunny @ygm1slt @dracomalfoys-wh0re

“Ryuzaki, tell me again how long this’ll be for?” You fiddle with the long chain of the handcuffs, one end connected to your boyfriend’s wrist and the other to L’s. Tonight was supposed to be a movie night between you and Light, maybe something more, but of course, like always, some aspect of the investigation got in the way; this time being the raven-haired man who sat on the other side of you. 

“Well Y/N, like I said, until I can be 100% sure Light is not Kira, the handcuffs will stay on for monitoring purposes. I’m sorry, really, I know you’d like some alone time, but you can just pretend I’m not even here.”

“Pretend you’re not here?”

L nods innocently, apparently oblivious to how fucking weird it would be for him to just sit on the side lines while you have alone time with Light. 

“Ryuzaki...no offence, but it’s pretty creepy to just have you sit there and watch while Light and I...Especially since you guys can’t really even move much without the other moving too.”

“Well, we’ll figure that out when the time comes, I suppose,” L sighs, “but I’m afraid I can’t take the handcuffs off. You’ll have to think of a solution- Light is a very smart man, I’m sure he can think of something.”

You sigh deeply, turning your attention towards Light, who’s fingers began dancing up your jaw, pulling you into a short kiss.

“Light, c’mon...”

“Hm?”

“Ryuzaki is right here...”

“Shh, it’s fine. You don’t mind, Ryuzaki, do you?” He looks at the man who sat quietly next to you.

“Me? Oh no, I don’t mind at all. Please, continue.”

Light moved his lips down to your neck, licking and sucking at the soft flesh. The chain around his wrist clatters against itself as he moves his hand to tightly grip your jaw, roughly moving your face to bring your ear close to his mouth.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, “You know Y/N...don’t think I haven’t noticed you have a little thing for Ryuzaki...”

“H-huh?”

“Don’t think I don’t notice, the way you’re always touching his arm or lingering around him too long, bending over in front of him when you drop something. Is it to get my attention? To make me jealous, hmm?” You could practically hear his smirk through his words.

“N-no Light, I promise.”

“God, you’re such an attention whore. Wouldn’t you say, Ryuzaki?”

“Oh, well...” L purrs, throwing his arm on the back of the couch behind to you move closer, “I’d say I’d be flattered, if that were the case.”

“Well, if she’s so desperate for attention, maybe we’ll give her some attention, hm?” Light traces his pointer finger along your body, moving from your neck down to your collarbones, your stomach, and inching closer to the place you wanted him most. He gently rubs your inner thigh, not daring to touch you as a means of teasing.

“Mmm, I think we found the solution to our little handcuff problem...” L dances his fingers along your collarbone, softly making their way to your cheek and gently pulling you into a kiss. L was attractive, you’ll admit, but something inside your chest still felt a bit weary at L kissing you so tenderly right in front of Light. It’s not that you didn’t want it, no- you wanted this more than anything. Perhaps it was the prospect that Light would be dripping with jealousy, his ego hurt yet again by the detective; that the two of them would treat this as another pride game.

Light’s hands finally make their way under your skirt, pulling your panties aside and dipping a long slender finger inside you. You gasp, arching your back and picking up your hips slightly at the sudden pleasure. L places his free hand on your hips, guiding them back down as he hums in your ear- his lips were so close to your ear you could practically feel his smirk and his silent breathy laughs tickled the side of your head.

L slides his hand up your shirt, cupping your breasts for a moment before moving his fingers to the clip in the back. “May I?” He purrs. You nodd, allowing L to unclip your bra and push your shirt up- you help him pull it over your head so you sit bare chested before the two men.

You inhale sharply as L attaches his lips to your chest, swirling his tongue around your nipple. The touches from both of the men already began overwhelming you, as Light quickly slipped a second finger inside you and L stimulated your breasts. You rake your fingers through L’s thick charcoal hair, bucking your hips in pleasure as Light picked up his pace. “Mm, fuck, Light...”

L brings one of his hands down to rub your clit with his middle finger, his speed not showing any mercy or hesitancy. Your moans grew louder and louder, Light maneuvering his fingers to twist and curl inside of you to hit your sweet spot.

Yes, there was no doubt, the two enemies saw this as yet another competition for pride.

Your breath hitches in your throat as your hips buck higher. The two men notice your approaching climax and quicken the movement of their fingers. You release before getting the chance to even say anything or restrain yourself- you hoped Light wouldn’t be upset.

Light pulls his fingers from you, scissoring them together to watch the stickiness string together and pull apart. “Open up”, he commands, pushing his fingers into L’s mouth. L swirls his tongue around Light’s fingers, the brunette pushing them further down the detective’s throat before promptly pulling them out. 

“Y/N, be a good girl and get on all fours.” You obey, placing yourself on your hands and knees on the couch. 

“Ryuzaki,” Light states blankly, looking at the dark-haired man in front of him. L stares in Light’s eyes back, nodding. L then moves in front of you as Light moves behind you. Somehow, the two men always knew exactly what the other was thinking verbatim- you guessed it comes in handy in times like these.

You hear the clicking of Light’s belt behind you as he unbuckles it, folding it in half and smacking your backside with it, causing you to yelp. Light chuckles,  “Mm, I love those pretty little sounds from you...”

Both L and Light pull their pants down slightly to pull themselves out, releasing the strain against their pants. L runs a few fingers through your hair, gently cohearsing you to look up at him as he gazes in your eyes with a slight smile. “Open that pretty little mouth for me...”

You flatten your tongue against L, slightly sucking on the tip of his cock before he pulls your head up slightly by your hair, spitting on you. “Don’t tease.” He says sternly. You nod meekly, allowing L to bottom out your mouth as he begins to thrust his hips into you.

Behind you, Light teases your entrance, slightly putting the tip of him inside you before bringing it back out in a agonizingly teasing manner. You whine around L loudly, desperate for Light. The vibrations from your sounds cause L to throw his head back with a throaty groan, moaning your name. 

After enough teasing, Light finally pushed inside of you. He rocks into you, the sensations from both men overwhelming your senses. Your moans grow louder and the echo of your whines and the other mens’ heavy breaths and pants filling the room.

“Mm, fuck, Light...Ryuzaki...” 

L pets your hair, smiling as he watches you, “You know my name, Y/N, say it...”

“L....fuck, L....” You cry, feeling your second orgasam approaching. 

L pulls out from your mouth, releasing on your face with a deep sigh as you stick your tongue out. Mouth now free to talk, you moan Light’s name, “Light, I’m gonna...”

“Do it, Y/N. Cum for me and Ryuzaki like the little attention whore you are. God, you’re such a fucking slut. Getting off on two guys, such a bad girl....”

Light’s words only egged your climax on, and soon you came with a loud moan of both mens’ names- Light finishing soon after.

You collapse onto the couch, the three of you breathing heavily. L pulls you into his arms, your back against his chest, and holds you caringly. It’s a type of loving touch you never felt from Light, but it felt nice nonetheless.

“Light, be a darling and bring some towels?”

Light nods, leaving the room to fetch a few towels to clean up. You’re left in L’s arms on the couch, your eyes fluttering closed in comfort as he strokes your hair.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Eat Your Words | Tom Hiddleston x Loki x Female Reader

A/N:  It is Tom’s birthday!  My third one here celebrating.  And boy did I bring the filth.  Please read the warnings. And huge shoutout to @frostbitten-written​ for giving me the plot idea!  You are a smut sister of the first order!!

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Loki x Reader

Summary:  You mercilessly tease your husband about how amazing Loki is and how good he would be in bed.  You never realized that could be a reality.

Warnings: SMUT, sexual acts include: vaginal sex, anal sex, masturbation, anal fingering, double penetration (mouth and vagina, vagina and ass), oral sex (m receiving), a bit of voyeurism, a small bit of m/m kissing, cursing, aftercare, vaginal fingering

Taglists are open! Let me know if you wanted to be added to my tag list!!  Thank you for reading!

-

Tom knew about your not-so-secret obsession. You were a horrid liar and more so talking in your sleep.

“What are you reading, darling?” Tom tried peeking over your shoulder, but you slam the laptop shut.

“How about mind your business, Hiddleston?” You scrunched your nose at him.

“So more Loki porn.” he smirked as he walked past.

“The word is smut. And no.” You stared him down and he stared right back at you, leaning over the arm of the sofa. He raised an eyebrow. You squirmed in place. “It was fan art.”

“Cock or no cock?”

You grew hot. “Cock.” you threw a pillow. “Happy?”

Tom caught the pillow in the air and placed it back on the couch.

“No. How many times do I have to tell you to not throw the pillows?” His face broke out into a wide grin before plopping on the couch. “What is your fascination with Loki, darling? You realize I play Loki?” He clutched his chest. “If I wasn’t so self-assured, I might become jealous.”

You set your laptop down and sat up, rubbing his thigh. “Darling, I’m sorry…” Tom turned and smiled at you. “… but there is no way you can compare to Loki.” You burst into giggles and took off running, Tom fast behind you. He crouched down at the entrance to where the stairs are. The only thing between you and freedom was your husband.

“Take it back.” he growled.

“No. You are impressive, Tom. But Loki has the cock of a god.”

“One of these days you are going to have to eat your words.” Tom’s face broke out into a grin.

“Make me, Hiddleston.” you grinned back, bouncing back and forth.

He stood up, smile gone. “You don’t really want that, darling. Don’t tempt me.”

“Oh, what, you have Loki staying in the spare bedroom?” you mocked. “Get real, honey. Loki is a fiction and you are the man who plays him. You are my husband and I love you, but no one could fuck me like a god.”

Tom sighed. “I warned you, darling. If I catch you this time, I will show no mercy.” He chuckled. “And neither will he.” he muttered under his breath.

You barreled towards him before attempting to duck under his arm as you shoved all your body weight against him. Tom rolled his eyes and easily lifted you onto his shoulder.

“Put me down, Tom!” You pounded your fists against his back.

He carried you up the stairs and into the guest bedroom, dropping you onto the bed and walking towards a chair in the corner.

“Why am I here, Tom?” you glanced around.

Tom gestured to the other side of the room. “Ask your boyfriend.” he smirked.

You spun around to see a flash of light dissipate in the air. To find Loki standing there. In full armor.

“Now Thomas,” his voice deep and resonant. “We haven’t officially discussed my title.” he smirked as he strolled to where you are sitting.

Loki hooked a finger under your chin and took you in.

“What do you think?” Tom asked from the corner. He shifted in his seat. “She’s feisty.”

“Excuse you?” you snapped back. “I don’t know what you think you are playing at Hiddleston, but…” You stood, wagging your finger at him. Loki snatched your wrist, pulling you back against him.

“You married well, Thomas.” Loki hummed. Tom smiled from his chair. Loki cupped your cheek. “Very well.”

As he pressed you against his torso, you noticed Loki’s erection hard against you. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off… again.

“Tell me, pet.” His fingers ran down from your temple to your chin. “Is this how you imagined it?”

Your brow furrowed. “Imagine what?” You pushed away from him, only to slam back against Tom. “I don’t know what kind of joke this is…”

“Enough!” Loki yelled and turned away. “I know all about what you say about me, dove.” He settled into the chair once occupied. “How you read stories about my prowess in bed.” He took off his boots and wrist guard. “Drooled over art of my cock.” With a flick of the wrist, he removed his tunic and armor, leaving himself in just his trousers. He leaned forward licking his lips. “Dreamed of me fucking you.”

You gasped and glared at Tom. “YOU TOLD HIM!?”

“Not that he needed to.” Loki shifted in his seat and lowered his trousers just enough to pop his cock free. “Any hacker could find your browser history. And reading stories about being fucked by me and your darling Thomas…” Loki clicked his tongue as he stroked his shaft. “… naughty.”

Tom reached over and cupped your face. “Is this the fantasy, darling? Me AND him?” He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Just say the word.”

You stared up at him and then your eyes trailed down to find Tom sporting a raging hard on. You shifted your weight and peeked around Tom to spy Loki still stroking himself. He gave you a wink.

“I don’t have all day.” Loki called out.

You had to admit the thought of the whole scenario was too erotic for words. Your mouth was suddenly dry, all the moisture in your body, pooled elsewhere.

“Yes.” you nodded.

Tom smiled and leaned in to kiss you, slipping your straps down off your shoulders. You reached out and cupped his cock through his jeans. A flash of light covered you and Tom, causing your clothes to disappear.

“Much better.” Loki growled from his seat, now naked as well. He motioned the two of you towards the bed. “Go on. Entertain me. Show me how well you fuck your wife.” His lips curled into a devious grin.

Tom eased you onto the bed and crawled on top of you. He could sense your nerves. “Just think of it like when we met on set. And my modesty sock fell off?”

You chuckled and nodded. Tom nipped at the spot behind your ear and you let loose a soft gasp. His hands traveled down to squeeze your breast, teasing your nipple into a hard pebble.

Loki grunted through his teeth.

“Darling…” Tom moaned, twisted so you were on top. His fingers find your folds wet. “Wet already?”

“Of course she is.” Loki commented, he stood and walked towards the bed. He ran his hand down your back and cupped your ass before slipping down, plunging a long finger inside of you.

He hummed. “Thomas, if you don’t move things along, I may just take her myself and make you watch.”

“Why don’t you both take me right now?” you purred, placing kisses along Tom’s neck and chest while Loki curled his finger inside of you and Tom lazily played with your clit.

“What a splendid idea, pet.” Loki commented. “The best idea I’ve heard so far.” He grabbed you by the waist and hauled you up, placing you on the bed on all fours.

Tom shifted around to be behind you, smoothing his hands over your ass. He bent over to whisper in your ear.

“Remember darling, how you commented about the cock of a god?”

You noticed Loki kneeling in front of her. His cock dripped pre cum from the tip. He was big, even bigger than Tom.

“Fuck me….” you hissed. Tom pushed into you with a snap.

“As you wish, darling. But now it is also time to eat your words.”

Your jaw dropped open to snap back at Tom, when Loki pushes his cock into his mouth.

You groaned against his cock, gagging slightly as he pushed most of his impressive length down her throat.

Loki groaned. “Thomas, she is exquisite. Why have you been hiding her away?”

Tom gripped your hips and snapped against you. “The same reason I hide everything away from you. I don’t want to share.”

You moaned as they thrusted into you in conjunction. Loki was more forceful than Tom. You hollowed your cheeks to suck off Loki.

“You’ve never had a problem sharing before.” Loki growled and pulled Thomas towards him, leaning over you by the scruff of his neck.

Loki’s lips pressed against Tom’s and he moaned. Loki pulled Tom’s head forward and slipped his tongue into Tom’s mouth. Tom groaned as he did the same.

You overheard the lips smacking and the mental image tipped you over the edge and you screamed around Loki’s cock and clenched hard around Tom, shuddering.

Loki pulled away and chuckled. He lifted your face to stare at him. “Did you cum little pet at the sounds of me making out with our dear Thomas?” Loki averted his eyes to stare at Thomas, who had pulled out of you, blushing. “What a naughty girl.” He shifted to lie back on the pillows. “My turn, Thomas.”

Thomas grunted. “She’s not prepared for me yet.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at him. “Whose problem is that?” Loki spread his legs wide. “Come here, pet, and ride me.”

You crawled over to Loki and straddled his hips. You grabbed his cock and lowered yourself onto him.

“Oh god…” you moaned as you settled against his thighs.

“Yes I am.” He gripped your hips and rocked you back and forth.

Tom stared at Loki. “Can you at least hand me that bottle?” He gestured at the bottle of lube on one pillow.

Your eyes widened. “You’re not going to…”

Loki magicked the bottle into Thomas’s hand. He squirted some on his fingers.

“You’ve been training, haven’t you? Wearing the plug I got you?” Tom’s hand slid between your cheeks, massaged your tight entrance, pressed you against Loki’s chest. “Or is that something else you have been lying to me about?” He slowly sunk his well lubed finger into your ass.

“FUCK…” you hissed. Tom stilled as did Loki to allow you to adjust.

After a few moments, Loki gave you ass a soft smack. “Pet…”

You rocked up and down on him as Tom slowly plunged his finger in and out of you. Soon he added a second one and you cursed again as he scissored them inside of you, opening you up.

“If you would train properly, this would be easier.”

Loki cupped your face. “And next time it will be me.” He kissed your lips. “Although I must say, fucking your cunt is a treat. So wet and tight.” He growled.

Tom pulled out his fingers and squirted out some more lube and ran his hand along his shaft.

“Loki…” Tom gave the god a knowing glance.

“Right…” He pulled you tight against him and kissed you with a passion. His fingers found your clit and stroked it.

Tom eased into you, he panted when he was fully seated against your ass. You were so incredibly tight around him.

“My god… darling… why have we… Loki….” Tom threw his head back when he gently thrusted into you.

Loki released your lips softly, a small trail of saliva connecting your two lips. Your eyes locked for a moment and you saw it, those same kind eyes. Loki smiled which turned to a smirk and soon he was full on grinning.

He bucked his hips and gasped. “You clenched even tighter around me.” He leaned down to purr in your ear. “Let’s see how you milk my cock as you come undone.”

The two of them alternated thrusting into you. Soon you were reduced to a whimpering moaning mess. The only words you knew were “yes” and “don’t stop.” Soon your orgasm washed over you, stronger than ever before.

“FUCK!” you screamed in a now hoarse voice. You spasmed and clenched around both of them before your vision went white.

“Ah… AH!” Loki moaned as he thrusted twice before spilling inside of you. Tom soon followed with a deep grunt, filling your other hole.

You fell against Loki’s chest, sweaty and spent. Loki smoothed down your hair. “You were exquisite, pet.”

Tom crawled beside the two of you, rubbing your back. “You did so well, darling.” He leaned down to kiss your cheek and lips and then pecked Loki’s lips.

“Hmm…” you hummed, still coming down for your high. “Thank you.”

Loki pushed the two of you up and leaned you into Tom’s arms. “Why don’t the two of you get cleaned up and meet me downstairs?” He licked his lips, taking in your form. “We have much to discuss.”