#this is long and i didn't mean for it to be

[ao3commentoftheday]

I know tag wranglers do a lot of work connecting tags etc. Is there anything authors can do to make their jobs easier for them like trying to mostly use canonical tags or not making tag comments?

Thanks!

This is a great question, and I'll do my best to answer it but I do hope that some wranglers add on in the notes! I'm also just going to preface this with the fact that you should still tag however you like to tag. This list isn't meant to be a checklist or anything. It's just info I've picked up over the years and you can take or leave each piece as you see fit.

Okay, so the first thing that most non-wranglers should know is that wranglers see tags separately from the fic. They get a big bin full of tags to sort through and match up in the system, but they'll only see your fic and the other tags you've added to it if they decide to go look.

That's important to know because sometimes a user will tag something like [character] is so sexy and then also tag by which I mean they're a huge dork. The wranlger won't see that second tag and won't know that they're connected so your sarcastic tag will end up synned (matched up to) sexy!Character or whatever the canonical is, as if that was the meaning you were going for.

Another good thing to know is that tags can only be synned if they only have 1 idea in them. So if you tag, say, [character] is gay and autistic then the wrangler can't actually syn that to either [character] is gay or character is autistic because it only half-fits either tag. To have them synned in the database, you would need to tag those two ideas separately.

You might have already seen the post I made referencing the fact that you don't have to tag multiple versions of the same idea (unless you want to for the aesthetic) because the synning that wranglers do makes sure that tagging one idea allows users to filter for all versions of that idea. But in case you didn't know that, now you do!

Wranglers are often members of the fandoms they wrangle, but they aren't always. Sometimes they'll take on a fandom that doesn't otherwise have a wrangler because they like to do research or because they like small fandoms or for many other reasons. But that means that if you're tagging your OCs by name, you should add (OC) to the end so that they know it's not a canon character that they aren't familiar with. This is double true in huge fandoms like Star Wars where there are millions of canon characters and just as many OCs.

Wranglers don't "seed" tags in fandoms. For a tag to exist, users need to create it. The rule of thumb is at least 3 fics from 3 separate authors, but that's very much the minimum and in fast-moving or huge fandoms the bar is probably higher. Also, for brand new fandoms, it's entirely possible that they won't know you exist until you tell them. Back in January I was the first person to write in a brand new fandom so I knew I had to start the tags, and I waited until there were 25 or so works by 15 or so creators before I emailed Support because I know I have to be patient - but I'm still impatient by nature lol.

Another thing to know is that tags are kind of like proton packs - they can't cross the streams. If you put a tag in the Character field by mistake, wranglers can't move it to the Additionals. This can also work in your favour, though, because if you have a minor character or minor relationship that you want to tag because there's some kind of fandom drama happening and people want to be able to avoid them, you can tag them in the Additional Tags so that people can know they're in there, but the people who like that character or ship can still filter the Character and Relationship tags without seeing a bunch of works that don't really focus on them.

This got super long, so I'll end with your question about tag comments. I know people worry that it makes extra work for tag wranglers if you get all chatty in your fic tags but I've been reassured by more than one wrangler over the course of several years now that it's no extra work. They just shovel those tags into the gaping maw of the Unfilterable Beast - which is the same thing they do with those tags that have multiple concepts in them. If it can't be synned, then that's where they go.

(keep tagging that way, though, if you like to because that's how new concepts get created and eventually canonized)

Alright, I that's all I can think of off the top of my head, and the list was actually longer than I thought! Wranglers: please do add on with other things you wish users knew, and please correct me if anything has changed since the last time I delved into this topic!

Editing to add: a wrangler pointed out in the tags that [character] is autistic and gay can itself become a single tag if enough people use it. That's true of other tags with multiple meanings as well. They just can't be synned with existing tags in the meantime.

[pukicho]

I know they came out like a whole month ago but have you played or watched the new chapters of deltarune? 3 and 4 I mean.

I played Act 1 of Deltarune when the demo released five years ago and to be honest, I didn't really like it. It felt juvenile to me, it lacked the balance and mood and confidence that Undertale had in its writing. Even the music felt less confident to my ears. To be even more cynical, it simply felt superfluous, especially because Undertale already existed.

Mind you, I played Undertale the day it came out, so I've been a fan for a long time - I even made some shitty Undertale remixes back in the day - but I guess I thought I had simply outgrown Toby's writing style and humor by the time Deltarune came out, and merely accepted that I was not going to engage with it any further.

Despite a feeling of melancholy, I was still glad to see Toby making games for people to enjoy, but I was out.

Anyways, I decided to play Chapters 2, 3, and 4 a month ago out of boredom, and it turns out, I was WRONG. ABOUT THE WHOLE THING.

I genuinely believe that if he manages to stick the landing for the remaining 3 chapters this will become my single-favorite story ever told in a video game. Perhaps that seems a bit extreme, but it isn't. This game really is a roided-out version of Undertale. Stronger in every way, Improved across the board, and boy, that Toby, he's still got it.

I don't know how he manages to imbue his characters with so much LIFE - they're so tangible and earnestly-written - Susie especially, what a good character. Usually, I struggle to endear myself AT ALL to the characters in a story, even really well-written ones - because I'm a sack of shit - but somehow, here I am caring about Toby's purple dinosaur and goat.

I want to talk about the instanced-dialogue system in Deltarune: It's really fucking impressive. Apart from the dialogue itself being extremely well-realized in chapters 2-3-4, It's staggering how many variations on a given-scene there are based on small, seemingly-innocuous decisions made by the player during a given playthrough. I guarantee you, new bits of dialogue will be discovered years down the line that are only triggered by super specific criteria, because toby is just like that.

Every section of the game feels rife with hidden interaction. It gives the game a very mysterious element that only doubles in mysteriousness as you delve deeper into Deltarune's hidden nooks and crannies. Some secrets in Deltarune are so abstract that I almost feel like we're hitting Yume Nikki-levels of low fidelity RPG-maker weirdness, and I love that.

The music is also good.

Tobert successfully straddles the line between absurdity and sincerity so confidently in Deltarune that things that SHOULD be cringe-inducing simply end up feeling charming and whimsical instead. The story is good, the characters are good, the deeper themes and secret allusions are much more mature and complex than I had expected them to be, and I am very impressed by the writing in general, and the level of quality it reaches. And of course, the gameplay is just Undertale, so it fucking rocks.

That sly fox did it again.

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine getting married to Caleb ft. non-mc reader.

Imagine you did not even remember when you stopped breathing. One second, you were standing beneath the soft glow of the chapel lights, heart beating inside your chest like something caged but still hopeful and before you even knew it, time simply stopped.

Imagine the string quartet has been playing the same piece over and over again and now it sounds less like music and more like an apology.

Imagine the aisle is long. Beautiful and lined with white flowers and people who love you or at least pretend to and all of them are watching you. Watching as the minutes keep ticking.

Imagine twelve minutes have passes on and then, eighteen. Twenty seven.

Imagine, He's not coming. Thats the thought that slices through you like a blade and you hate it. Hate that your brain dares to whisper it before your heart is ready to accept it. But you’ve already scanned the room three times, and every time your eyes pass over the empty double doors, the weight in your chest grows heavier. Like your ribs are closing in on themselves.

Imagine Leanne's voice, your friend finally cuts through the hush beside you. "Hey." She whispers. "Let's go wait in the back for a minute, okay? Just... Just to breathe. Okay?" You nod or maybe you didn't. Maybe she just leads you and your body follows because it doesn't know what else to do.

Imagine as she takes your arm, you hear the first real whisper that makes your stomach drop. "MC isn't here either." Your legs almost give out. Not from fear. Not from heartbreak. From recognition. MC. Of course.

Imagine she was supposed to be here hours ago. You had texted her when your makeup was done. She did not respond. But that wasn't weird. She had probably been caught up with something. Probably helping Caleb. Helping Caleb. That phrase alone makes your stomach churn now.

Imagine you could feel the crack forming somewhere deep inside. Small. Quiet. But real. More voices follow. "They were at the base together this morning…" "They always had something, didn't they?" "He probably ran to the one person who knows him best." "It's always the best friend."

Imagine the way tbe pain doesn't come in one sudden blow. It comes in pieces. Slow. Deliberate. Like someone's peeling your skin off inch by inch.

Imagine you blink at Leanne as she tries to close the dressing room door behind you, blocking out the whispers. You think she says something, but you're already gone inside your own head.

Imagine as you sat in the middle of the sofa, gown spread out like wasted silk around you. Your hands won't stop shaking. Your bouquet lies forgotten on the floor. Your phone shows one voicemail from this morning.

Apple: No matter what happens, I love you.

5:13 a.m.

Imagine what the fuck does that even mean? Your hands tighten. Your breath comes out in sharp, humiliating gasps. That's not a message from someone running late. That's a goodbye. That's a pre written excuse. That's a coward's escape route.

but Imagine Caleb is not a coward. Is he? God, no. He's not. You love him. You know him. He had never... But she was always there. MC. Always just close enough. Always just understanding enough. Never stepping over the line but never quite behind it either.

and Imagine you trusted her. You liked her. Hell, you thought of her as a friend. She zipped you into this very dress three days ago and told you you looked like a walking promise. And now she's gone. Alongside him.

and Imagine for one gut wrenching second. Just one, you imagine them together. Caleb kissing her temple. MC whispering. "You deserve better than a life that cages you." Caleb agreeing. Caleb choosing freedom. Choosing someone who understands the scars you never earned the right to ask about.

Imagine you hate yourself. You hate yourself for even thinking about it. Because that's not MC. That's not Caleb.

but Imagine the doubt is there now. And doubt, once it takes root, doesn't care how much you believe.

Imagine you slam your phone face-down. You pull at the pins in your hair. You press your hands to your mouth to muffle the sound of your breathing, because if you let yourself speak, it'll turn into a scream.

"Why wasn't I enough?" That's the question that breaks you.

Imagine you hate it. You hate yourself for the shadows in your heart. You hate the silence that Caleb's absence has left behind. And most of all, you hate that you might never get your forever.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: caleb when I catch you-!!!!

[eveningcherryblossoms]

It's A Beta Life, Not A Better Life | Part 3

A platonic yandere Batfam x neglected beta reader story

Bad news: You presented as a beta in a world where betas were second-rate citizens.

Good news: Nobody but you knew about it.

Bad news again: You needed to escape because living with a beta-less pack as an unclaimed beta was just tempting fate, but you were still sixteen.

Good news again: The Wayne pack had always ignored you and chances were high that they wouldn't change anytime soon, so as long as you lay low you should be able to hold on until you turn eighteen.

Okay, that balanced everything out. The current situation might be–was awful but you could deal with it.

Now, objectives:

1) Hide the truth that you were a beta.

2) Leave as soon as you became of age.

3) Never, ever let yourself be forcibly bonded as any pack's beta.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. You appeared... normal. A little messy and exhausted, but otherwise normal. No different than usual.

No one should be able to tell that you had a dozen of the best scent blockers plastered over all your newly developed glands. On either side of the neck, on the inside of both wrists, on the inner thighs, double patches over each part. Everything covered up with a turtleneck sweater, a denim jacket and slacks, all of them–as well as all your clothes and bedding–having been laundered twice with a special scent-removing detergent.

Moving towards the corridor door, you took one last glance and sniff into the nursery where you lived. All clear–nothing incriminating to see and, far more importantly, no newly presented beta scent to smell, thanks to the high-grade scent-removing spray you'd used a bottleful of.

Good. Not even Mr Pennyworth had stepped a foot into the nursery since you were thirteen and he was swamped with duties involving the then recent arrival of Damian, but you refused to take a risk. You walked across the corridor, down the stairs, through the side entry door, and straight into Damian.

Between enough mental curses to make a Crime Alley goon blush, you wondered if even alluding to Damian could summon him before you.

Fortunately you managed to keep an impassive face. You nodded casually to the boy and tried to walk around him.

Tried being a keyword. Little alpha boy Damian crossed his arms and deliberately stood in your way.

"Reader."

"Damian."

It took your all to maintain the nonchalant air as Damian swept an imperious eye over you. Shit, did he remember it was your sixteenth birthday and so you should have presented? Did he know what you presented as?

Your knees almost buckled in relief when Damian proceeded to click his tongue and say, "Sloppy. You are still a pup at your age and act in such a lowly manner? You ought to refrain from further disgracing the Wayne name."

A wry smile very nearly appeared on your face. Damian, when not treating you like air, always criticized you for being 'disgraceful' as though you weren't–by blood, on paper–his older sibling but his wayward child. Grandchild, even.

Reminiscent of how alphas and omegas tended to treat their pack betas.

The realization chilled you. You forced yourself to shrug, self-deprecatingly so not to anger the kid, and point your thumb at the side gates. "Well, if you'd let me pass so I could reach school in time and thus not disgrace myself...?"

Damian clicked his tongue once more, but did shift ever so slightly for you. You dashed past him, freedom almost within reach, only to notice Damian's nostrils flaring and his hand snatching your arm.

"What scent is that?" He demanded.

CALM DOWN, you screamed at yourself. You pretended to be confused before 'realizing' what Damian meant. "Oh, you mean my perfume? I'm surprised you noticed it."

"My olfactory sense is superior to the presented, moreover to a pup as yours." Damian scoffed. "What brand is that and where did you procure it?"

You shrugged again, this time apologetically. "It was one of those blind box stalls in Chinatown. The bottle didn't have any mark or label. Do you really like that scent?"

"I am above such juvenile impulses," Damian scoffed, then entered the manor without another word to you. You observed his figure through the windows until it vanished at the turn that would lead him to the main building, then ran out into the street.

Damian – Clear.

You went to school by bus, as you'd been doing since you were ten. You sat at the very back next to the door and clutched your backpack to your front, making a mental note to research military-grade scent removers.

That near-escape with Damian was alarming; you hadn't anticipated him or anyone having 'superior' olfactory sense. You doubted Damian was a prime alpha–that kid would've announced it without hesitation otherwise–but if even he could smell you after all those scent removers, wouldn't Bruce realize your secondary gender the second he saw you?

You were still thinking about how to research military-grade scent removers without arousing suspicion–would it arouse suspicion? If you bought them, would it put you on some kind of list of suspicious individuals, under scrutiny, at even higher risk of being found out...?–when someone took a seat next to you. You glanced and almost had a heart attack spotting Tim.

Tim also startled upon seeing you. He blinked, opened his mouth, looked at the bus route, then looked back to you. "You didn't go in the car with Alfred?" He asked before adding, "Hi. Uh. Long time no see, huh Reader?"

True enough. The last time you interacted with each other was maybe two years ago when he rambled half-incoherently to you before falling asleep at the dining table.

"Hi, Tim," you replied with the most even tone you could muster. "I've been going to school by myself for years actually."

"O, oh?" Discomfort flickered in Tim's eyes. "So... Uh. How's school?"

"Good, thanks. How's work?"

"Good, good, it's... good."

You wanted to jump off the bus. You wanted to throw Tim out of the bus. You wanted him to stop trying to find topics of conservation and especially to not ask–

"Say, have you presented? As what?"

–that. You really wanted him to not ask that.

You deliberately sighed in disappointment and gestured at your turtleneck sweater, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Tim even though your heart was beating fast as a hummingbird's the whole time.

Tim flushed. "Oh yeah, it was–obvious huh? My bad."

"Don't mention it." The bus finally reached your stop. You practically dove down the steps with a muttered "Bye" Tim's way.

Daring to look back, you were relieved to see Tim was already shutting his eyes, probably for a nap. You walked the rest of the way to school with a lighter heart.

Tim – Clear.

You didn't go to Gotham Academy.

Oh, you did initially, but starting high school, you'd been a student of Park Row High, deep in Crime Alley.

Sometimes you wondered if anybody at the manor knew about it. You didn't wonder if they'd care–they wouldn't beyond the possibility of you, to quote Damian, 'disgracing the Wayne name'–but you were half-certain they had no idea. It could've been funny seeing as Mr Pennyworth was, according to Bruce and his chosen kids, basically omniscient.

It wasn't funny seeing as Mr Pennyworth didn't think you worthy of attention to begin with.

Your day at school went by peacefully, and you blessed every single second of it. Due to Crime Alley having plenty of... colorful personalities, it was mandatory for Park Row High students and staff alike to wear scent blockers and not flaunt their secondary genders. No one looked at you weirdly, the administration staff and the nurse didn't approach you about updating your file or getting a medical checkup. It was a breath of fresh air after so much stress.

So, naturally, things turned bad the moment you got out of school. Jason was at the gate, sitting on his parked bike.

You could strangle someone. Meeting any of the Waynes was a once in a blue moon event. Sure you knew Jason was from Crime Alley, that upon his miraculous resurrection he'd been living here again, but why here at your school, today of all days?

It didn't seem like he'd seen you. You blended in with some other kids streaming out of the gate, hoping to pass by unnoticed. Almost there, just one turn to the bus stop–

"Reader!"

You already knew you had an awful luck to be a beta, but guess it was worse than anticipated.

"Jason? Why are you calling me?"

Jason didn't answer you, but asked you back with a fierce glare, "What the fuck are you doing here? Did the old man send you to spy on me?"

He spat out the accusation. You couldn't help yourself reflecting how, once upon a time, you yearned so badly to have Bruce spare you the attention Jason now treated as garbage. That thought slid off like water off a duck's back as you remembered that now you also considered attention from Bruce and his pack as garbage.

Smiling wryly, you told Jason, "I sincerely doubt Bruce even knows I attend school here."

For a while Jason looked askance, then became doubtful, then what might be angry or upset or something you couldn't decipher, at last settling into impassivity as he jerked his head to the back seat of his bike.

"Get on," he ordered.

You stared blankly at him. A perfectly normal reaction to a perfectly abnormal act. Since when did Jason ever give you a ride?

Jason didn't seem to share your opinion. He let out a curt, bark-like noise that alphas made to wayward pups.

Their wayward pups.

Later on you would berate yourself for this. As of now, however, being treated as a pack member by Jason made your hackles rise. Without a second thought, you snarled and took a step–backward, not forward, because thankfully you still had a sense of self-preservation even when your basic common sense abandoned you.

Nevertheless it was so obviously a disobedient move, and dread filled you as you noticed how Jason's hand–draped over the front of his bike–curled lazily as though intending to scruff you.

An eternity passed during the couple of seconds Jason seemed to debate whether to actually scruff you here in public or not. You felt yourself having aged when he eventually decided to feel amused and warn you instead,

"Fine then, alpha pup. Just remember that your daddy isn't the ruler here, I am. Capiche?"

He didn't wait for your response, just revved his engine and left trailing exhaust smoke that made you cover your nose.

You would've been more irritated had you not been relieved he didn't linger on.

Jason – Clear.

Once an accident, twice a coincidence, thrice a pattern. Having encountered three of Bruce's children today, you were grimly unsurprised to see Dick right after entering the manor.

Dick on the other hand was surprised to see you.

"Reader?" He began, sounding... disbelieving? "You still live here?"

You levelled him a look. "I haven't moved out of the manor, yes."

"No, wait, that's not what I mean!" Dick hastily waves his hands. "I mean–you still live here, in the nursery wing?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," you said.

"I know, I know," Dick nodded soothingly before giving you a smile–the fake beaming smile he gave you whenever you interacted. "So, haven't presented yet, huh? I've been wondering about that!"

Sure he did. You believed him completely.

"Need to store some things in what should've been an abandoned wing?" You questioned, meaningfully glancing at the heap of boxes at Dick's feet.

He coughed, cheeks flushed. "I'll find another place to put them in."

You shrugged. "Just use the downstairs rooms, nobody uses those."

Dick perked up. "Thanks, pup!"

He went to put an arm around your shoulders, but you dodged. A frown marred his face before it smoothed back into the fake beaming smile.

"Say, Reader, if you present as an omega feel free to hit me up! I'd be happy to show you the ropes!"

You gave him an equally fake smile back. "Sure, thank you, Dick."

Sometimes you couldn't help but wonder why Dick kept making these empty promises. It was practically pathological lying at this point.

Dick – Clear.

The nursery wing really occupied an entire wing of Wayne Manor, next to the omega's side of the main building, opposite the elderly wing next to the alpha's side. It was huge, unnecessarily so for such a small pack without any mated members moreover pups of their own. Once upon a time, however, all those rooms were apparently really necessary:

The ward for home birth. The bedroom saved for the midwife or other medical staff. Another of said bedroom for medical staff dealing with pups suffering contagious disease. The isolation ward for said pups. The bedroom with enough cribs and changing tables to open a shop with. The nanny's bedroom. The dorm-style bedroom for pups aged 1 to 7. The series of individual rooms for older pups. The private tutor or governess' bedroom. The schoolroom. The playroom. The nursery dining room. The nursery kitchen and laundry. The dorm-style bedroom for the other domestic staff–housemaid, footman, cook and chauffeur detailed to attend to the nursery only. The spare bedrooms for visiting pack's pups and their attendants. The six bathrooms.

Having lived here for a year short of a decade, you feared you had developed agoraphobia. So much space with only you occupying it. Many times you thought you would've loved for there to be ghosts haunting this wing.

You had one of the bedrooms for older pups and the bathroom next to it. Over the years you had bought a small washer-and-dryer combo to put in the bathroom, a mini fridge, a microwave and an induction stove for a makeshift kitchenette in the bedroom. It was like your own little house, except you figured a real house would not make you fear that you'd be kicked out of it when the owner remembered your existence.

Or, now, that you'd be forbidden from leaving it if the owner knew what you were.

You showered with a scent-removing body wash and made sure to apply triple scent-blocking patches instead of just double like you did in the morning. You cooked your dinner, ate, brushed your teeth and washed the dishes. You were just sitting down to look up 'military-grade scent-removing spray' on your laptop when something unexpected happened:

Someone knocked on your door.

For a moment, you froze in place. Then a voice followed the knock and you hadn't known it was possible to feel more beyond freezing like that.

"Reader? May I enter?"

The voice belonged to Bruce.

Of fucking course. Nine years and you doubted you had conversed with him nine times–half of them happening before Jason's death when Mr Pennyworth still pushed you, gently yet firmly, into playing house with the pack and pretended not to notice them pushing you aside every time. And now of all times he actually came to you?

You didn't tell Bruce to come in. You closed your laptop, looked hard around your room and self for anything that would even whisper I recently presented as a beta and am still unclaimed, and it was only after double-checking there were no such hints that you opened the door.

Looking Bruce in the eye, you absently noted that he was shorter than you remembered. More like a real human being than a colored shadow lengthened by specific light arrangement.

But still a prime alpha. Still the most dangerous to you.

As subtly as possible, you shifted so that most of you was hidden by the door. "Can I help you?"

Bruce's expression was unreadable. The smile he put on afterwards was as fake as Dick's.

"Hey, chum. Dick mentioned to me you were still living here, so–"

He paused. You didn't prompt him to continue.

"So... Ah. Would you prefer staying here?"

"...I don't mind it."

"Well," Bruce visibly hesitated. "If you'd rather move to the main building–well, make sure to tell Alfred first, okay, chum? It's up to you, just–ah, I'm afraid you would have to take a room on the next floor. The ones not used by me and your brothers on the main floor were rather damaged by lack of use, I'm sorry to say."

That was a lie.

Not that you actually knew it; by your first year here you'd been discouraged from exploring. But Bruce's statement made no sense, all of those remaining rooms damaged? But the next floor ones weren't despite being equally unused?

Had it been before, hope might've soared within you. Maybe Bruce and his children shared a secret. A huge secret that you weren't privy to, that was the sole reason you were excluded by everyone all the time.

Your mind was clear now. Whether they really shared this huge secret that existed or not, it did not absolve them from their neglect. No family secret ought to justify you having to take a cab alone to the hospital for an appendectomy and pay the staff extra because you couldn't reach anyone to sign your medical forms.

Unclenching the fists you didn't remember clenching to begin with, you replied, "I prefer staying here, thank you."

Once, it would've hurt to see the palpable relief in Bruce's face.

"That's–good, that you stay here. I mean, that you prefer to stay here and get to stay here." He let out a forced laugh. "A growing alpha has to get to choose their own space, after all! I won't bother you anymore then, Reader. See you at dinner."

You didn't tell him you'd eaten. That you hadn't joined the pack for dinner since Damian came to live here. That you weren't an alpha or an omega or unpresented, because you weren't stupid.

Bruce – Clear.

Having encountered every member of the pack but Mr Pennyworth today, you refused to tempt fate. Bruce's prime alpha might've been unable to detect your beta scent under triple blockers and scent-removing body wash, but it very well could've meant that Mr Pennyworth's supposed omniscience would work on you.

You wrote Already ate. Busy studying. Please do not disturb on a post-it note, stuck it outside the door, and locked the room shut, shoving a chair under the door handle for good measure.

You didn't know it, busy as you were researching late into the night, but Mr Pennyworth did come to your door in order to fetch you for dinner. He frowned reading the post-it note, but wordlessly heeded it and turned back to the main building.

Mr Pennyworth – Clear.

A/N: I'm finally done ahhh!!! I won't say sorry for the late update bc knowing me it should've taken like weeks for me to update each new chapter but in my defense this time I really did mean to finish writing yesterday :/ Unfortunately my bestie abducted me to keep her company getting her phone repaired in the neighboring city and we finished so late I stayed overnight and was too exhausted to write anything until today 😔 I'd reminisce on the days I was young and not so easily downed but tbh those days seemed like a dream.

Edit: Made the story under read more, hopefully I didn't mess it up

Taglist: @randomlyappearingartist @bellethesleepypotato @nirvanaxx1942 @tenswife @galaxypurplerose @shycreatorreview @cupid73 @time-shardz @mikusamsan @simpingpandas @kore-of-the-underworld @elmichi0 @mirabilis-polaris @farsketch @altumsomnum @hai-there-how-are-you @vanessa-boo @ashjade19 @yandere-enthusiast @a-lurking-fae @hyperfixatedcatlover @leeiasure @luckynemi @lowkeyjarrr @lunoorbonoor @deathbynarcisstick

Please tell me if I missed anyone else! I just copy-pasted the first taglist and added the new ones but hopefully it's still working 🙏

[damselneedssaving]

「 FRIENDS DON'T LOOK AT FRIENDS THAT WAY 」

JASON TODD X F!READER

★ SYNOPSIS: You and Jason agreed to be just friends—he was even the one who proposed the idea in the first place. ...So why does he keep looking at you like you're his whole world?

★ TAGS: yearning, pining, angst, idiots in love, unreliable narrator, jason is down bad for you, but he'll deny it all to hell, practically worships the ground you walk on tho

★ A/N: inspired by tate mcrae's 'that way' <3

line divider by @cafekitsune

You don't even mean to do it. You just kinda... do.

It's like there's some sort of sixth sense in your body that can tell when he enters the room; some omnipotent being that whispers in your ear whenever he's so much as nearby, and it almost always compels you to look for him, and you almost always do.

Not 'almost' actually. Just 'always'.

You like to lie to yourself though. Give yourself a fighting chance to get over him. Which is useless anyhow, because how can you even hope to try when he looks at you that way?

When the very moment you find him, he's already staring back at you?

It's weird. It's confusing. It's this fluffy cloud of pink that you can't help but let fog up your vision until you can see nothing else. Nothing but him.

But it's wrong. You aren't supposed to. Not when you both agreed not to.

Not when he proposed not to.

You can still remember the moment he did like it was just yesterday.

It was 8 p.m. on the dot.

You had just come back from a mission that had gone awry; one that could've spelled both your deaths had you not pulled out on time.

Some cartel led by Black Mask, you can't remember. It doesn't even matter.

Jason tore off his helmet like it had personally wronged him, like he was disgusted to even be under it, his jaw taut and his teeth grinding.

You had settled onto the couch nearby, elbows resting on your knees and head hung low in your hands, buried.

"I should've been faster," he had said. And you had frowned. "If I was just a little fuckin' faster, I coulda got him."

"And gotten yourself killed in the process," you quipped, moving to look up at him, and his jaw flexed. "There was nothing you could do, Jason. We were overwhelmed. Drop it."

He almost boiled over from just those words alone, you're sure of it. He's always had a temper. Still does. Even so many months later.

The reason he didn't, however, is the same reason he proposed that dreaded idea in the first place.

Your biggest regret.

You had stood up, gaze softened with care, and said in a voice almost too quiet for him to hear, "Besides... I'm glad you didn't."

He blinked back at you, owlish, before letting out an equally as quiet, "What?"

That was enough to get you shy, but apparently, not shy enough, because even as you looked down and kicked the air like a dumb little school girl, you still managed to say, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

It wasn't quite a confession, but it might as well've been.

Silence bathed the room after you spoke, the kind that sinks in deep and twists, and you still remember the sharp pang that it shot through your chest the moment it did.

It was enough to urge you to look up, whispering promises of how it would remove the blade should you satisfy your curiosity.

So you did.

And oh how cruel Jason was.

Not in the traditional sense, no. He didn't curl his lip, or turn up his nose, or yell such profound expletives at you, that you couldn't even bring yourself to ever repeat them. Oh no.

He gave you hope.

He looked at you with wide, shaking eyes, something so dangerously close to longing swirling in his gaze, that you allowed yourself to dream for a second.

And then he ripped it away.

He ripped away all your hope by opening his mouth and saying words that didn't at all match his expression.

"We can't."

Your whole world shattered.

"What do you mean 'we can't'?" You repeated his words like it hurt to say, like the syllables shifted into sharp shards in your mouth and mercilessly punctured your tongue, leaving you to choke on your own blood.

"I mean: we can't," he said again, the same way that you did, with an added wince that just swelled your heart even more. "It'll never work out. So you might as well just forget it."

"Forget it?" You breathed out, letting out a dry laugh towards the end. "Forget it?"

"Yeah," he doubled down. "Forget it."

'Forget it', he had said, like you could just toss your feelings to the side and pretend they were never there. 'Forget it', he had said, like this whole thing was nothing more than a mere afterthought, a mistake that was never meant to happen. 'Forget it', he had said, like it all meant nothing to him.

Like you meant nothing to him.

You couldn't help yourself, voicing your thoughts out like you were wearing your heart right on your sleeve.

And the next thing he did ripped that sleeve up more than him storming out ever could.

His gaze had softened, and his stance had faltered just the slightest amount, and he ran a hand down his mouth with a small huff, letting his index and thumb hold his jaw as he said, gentle but still a little gruff, "Of course you mean something to me, doll. We're friends, aren't we?"

Friends.

"Right"—you nodded, lungs breathless and gaze so, so far away—"friends."

That was it. The moment you both agreed to be just friends. The moment he proposed to be just friends.

He proposed it.

So why, now, does he look at you like that?

The room is dark, but it does nothing to hide him, hide his gaze, only making the whites of his eyes glow instead, burn like a candle in the night.

And just like a candle, they burn with an intensity, an ever-present gaze that refuses to so much as blink in your direction, as if afraid of wasting even a moment spent with you.

He looks at you like an answer to his question—like the answer to his question, one he's tried to find for so long, he lost a part of himself in the process.

A part he looks at you like you have.

He's so close now, practically a hair away from being pressed against you in the cold, barren room.

You can feel his breath mixing with your own, tangling in a dance you're sure will never end, but God do you want it to. You want it to so bad.

So you lean forward, and you let your heavy gaze fall shut.

And you feel the way his lips brush against your own, the tingles that explode just from the contact.

But then the light turns on, and he withdraws, and your mind swirls.

And you're left to wonder if he was ever even there in the first place.

[abyssyby]

Talking about wedding banner, could u imagine how the lil twins found out their parent wedding photo and sulking cause their papa and mama didn't invite them. I wanna know how they woud react cause I think it will be cute😭 thx uuu have a nice day

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: oh NOOOO they would be devastated ｡°(°¯᷄◠¯᷅°)°｡ this got away from me again lmaoo, i hope u enjoy!!

sylus & his family | sylus x reader | light hurt/comfort (littles have big feelings!), fluff fluff, dad!sylus, mom!reader, bigbrother!kieran&luke, itty bitty twins werent invited to the wedding! (•́ ᴖ •̀)

you asked lucian nicely not to climb too high when seeking his sensory need for heights and balancing.

"just the second shelf, and maybe the third if papa is around," you begged, squishing chubby little cheeks in your palms. the request honeyed with a kiss on his nose and a chocolate schmeetie (sweetie).

the primary concern is his safety, of course. so he doesn't get hurt—no matter how badly he believes his little belly is going to help him bounce off the floor like a bubble blobbu pal. "I softy, I bounce, mama!"

you laugh whenever he says it. a laugh that morphs into a sob as you press your nose to his hair and say hopelessly, "that's not how it works, my angel."

and motherhood has always been daunting. the magazines and articles, your friends and relatives always said that the instinct the wisdom will come to you, eventually, and the blessing of always being right and knowing best will develop in time. you didn't know it would develop in the most mysterious of ways.

wailing. there is a wailing in the distance as you haul yourself from the trenches of a dream. body moving before your mind catches up. you rise from the couch in a haze, a headache pinching at your nerves behind your eyes, a strange taste in your post-nap mouth. and through the bleariness, you cannot find your children. "Lucian? Kyros?!"

your feet move, carry you to the sound of crying—whoever's it was, you needed to get to them fast. now.

in your husband's study, there sits a tall bookcase. five columns, endless rows. heaven for a little boy with vestibular needs. the middle column is sparse in material and literature, giving way to sylus's favorite mementos. jewels and small artifacts, weapons, things that looked far too archaic for your liking. fire-hazards, choking-hazards, literal death traps.

it's only natural, the scream you let out, as you find the glass that protects the items from environmental harm, wide open. and not one but both your sons in a circle of trinkets and treasures on the floor, sobbing hysterically.

you call each of their names, falling to your knees as you take them in your embrace. kyros clings to your neck, lucian uses your sweater as a tissue to wipe his nose. "are you hurt? did you fall?"

"mama, mad! mad, mad!" lucian harrumphs loudly, pushing away from your embrace and stomping his feet. your brows knit together. you reach for him despite his protests and examine his arms and legs for any cuts or bruises. while he still tries to pull away, "mad!"

"no yell to mama." kyros pitches in, turning slightly from his embrace and swiping a hand that doesn't quite reach his brother. "no mean!"

"who is yelling at mama?" sylus enters then, walking into the room with quick, long strides at the sight of you all on the floor. he takes in your confusion, how lost you look, the toddler in your arms mediating.

then he zeros in on the fiery twin with puffed cheeks and arms crossed clumsily over his chest. "lucian?"

"mad papa too!" lucian whines, stomping his feet like an angry rabbit.

"woosian, 'top it!" kyros scolds.

"angel, what happened?" you ask, finally having come to your senses. there is no broken glass, the casing was just open. the trinkets on the floor— the veil, a small sampling of stained glass, dried flowers, a tiara, a bow tie, a set of ceremonial rings and—

"where me—woosian?" your son demands, using all his strength to drag the big wedding album out from under sylus's desk and into the light. for you to see, to realize, to know the absolute sin you committed against him. "and kee-ro? you leave!"

sylus snorts. you shoot him an angry glare at how drastic the whole thing truly is. a small problem to you, a monumental betrayal to your little ones.

tak-tak-tak lucian points to his father's face in the blown-up photo. the two-page spread of you and sylus in your ceremonial silks, reminding you of the very day in the cathedral a few years back.

kyros, just as hurt, murmurs. "no ee-bite us? we sleepin'?"

you melt. oh, your sweet boys. wondering why they were left out of such an important looking ceremony. they'd seen it in their storybooks—weddings of royals and knights and creatures, then the happily ever afters. they've raved on and on about wanting to see a white-puffy-cake dress with their own eyes.

and here you all are, standing around a photo of you and their father in the attire. and them having no memory of being there, of being invited. thinking you'd snuck out on a date as they slept and crept back into the house by morning.

oh, your sweet boys.

when lucian is effectively distracted with sylus's playful raspberries and kisses on his face (him personally acting on his cuteness aggression to the bunny-stomps), only then do you gather both of your children out of the study with the wedding album. you settle back on the couch with them, the pictures between you, and explain.

"we haven't met just yet in this picture," you tell them, placing each of their hands on the page. their eyes watch as you trace the outlines of their hands on your wedding photo with a silver marker. "you were both still sleeping somewhere, but we didn't know where. so we couldn't wake you up."

"ah!" kyros giggles as your get a bit of ink on his finger. lucian gasps and forces his hand to stay still. sylus helps him keep his hand sturdy.

"did you and papa find us?" lucian asks. he looks up at you with such hopeful eyes it's impossible not to fall more in love with his wonder. you brush silver-mist hair out of his eyes and nod, "of course we did, angel."

"we'd never stop until we find you," sylus assures him, curling an arm around his middle and nuzzling his temple.

"but—but the 'appy endin'?" kyros pouts. "we missing..."

sylus reaches out to him and squeezes his ink stained hand. his own heart swelling. "we can always have another one, kyros."

"we can?" lucian perks up, turning his head to look at his father.

you laugh, sharing a quick glance with sylus who has already made up his mind. and you wholeheartedly agree. "of course. that one wasn't as happy as it will be now that you're here."

"we ee-biting?" kyros jumps, hands clasped together as if to contain his excitement. sylus's laugh shakes mountains as he tugs onto his sons' cheeks. "yes, you're invited."

the pair cheers, clapping and whooping like they'd won the lottery. in much higher spirits than they were earlier. you continue to flip through the pages of the album. the littles enthusiastically pointing to your face and swooning over how pretty you looked. and then asking papa 'why he smiling 'ike that?'

sylus asking 'like what?" in borderline offense.

kyros laughs. "'ike a tiger." then screams when sylus lunges at him to show him his tiger teeth affectionately.

you watch lucian, whose eyes are soft and fond as he flips through your wedding photos like it's his favorite storybook, trumping any fairytale of oswald octopus in his collection.

and then it comes—the feeling of right, and what's best in that moment. and it's not about proving a point, but recognizing what feels right for your kids, and making decisions with them to arrive at the best possible outcome.

seeing the joy on their faces, you conclude—having them find the album was just right, and having a second wedding just for them is what's best.

you watch as his face brightens at the sillier photos, grins at blurry ones and upside-down ones (thanks, mephisto). but then the light vanishes, dark clouds loom once more on his then sunny face.

you don't get to ask before he's angrily tak-tak-taking on the page. his twin and father's attention turns to him as they halt their little game of chase. you groan at the photo he points at.

luke and kieran, unmasked and grinning from ear to ear in their nice tuxes. arm in arm, photobombing a perfectly romantic photo of you and sylus. but lucian doesn't care about the photo being ruined. It's the fact that—"biggies there too?!"

you wince. you hope brotherhood wisdom has developed in time too as you watch your toddlers drag the heavy album out of the living room to hunt down the convicts in the photo. angry-bunny stomps and all, the big twins are in for it.

✧˚ ⋆｡ read more with the little twins here || more sylus thoughts ✧˚ ⋆｡

thank you for sending in & reading! ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ )

[heliophile-oxon]

There's plenty in the notes already about how utterly batshit and indeed downright evil this flavour of theology is, so imma just add something I think is an amusing titbit instead:

so, as many folks on tumblr will know,

The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman - a novel by Laurence Sterne, published in nine volumes from 1759 to 1767 -

discourses in humorous vein about a hell of a lot of things (while reputedly being, famously, the first example of stream-of-consciousness writing in the English language).

Now among those many things there is a scene featuring the discussion amongst some very learned men - while a difficult birth is going on in the room next door, if I remember rightly - about how dreadful it is that complications and mishaps at birth might lead to a soul going to hell because baptism didn't happen in time. So these men learnedly and seriously propose that this could be remedied by baptising the foetus while still in the womb, "by means of a little squirt" (describing a device a bit like an oil-can with a long nozzle). (what this does in practice to the woman is completely absent from their thoughts and discussion, obviously) (this is a notion actually in existance that Sterne is putting into the novel here, though I have no idea how widespread it was)

But these learned men also know very well, of course that - as was absolutely seriously believed - a baby grows from a homunculus: a tiny complete human (this is prior to the invention of the microscope) and women are mere incubators; the whole of the baby's being comes solely from the father ...

So Sterne, 100% poker-faced, earnest and Very Serious about it, proposes that really, the logical solution to all these problems is to baptise all the homunculi. Before intercourse. "By means of a little squirt" (which would of course have to be inserted well up the appropriate channel ...)

the weirdly vengeful and petty tones aborted babies take in pro-life propaganda images are so funny like this passive aggressive "was it worth it mommy?" and "it's a shame you can't join me in heaven mommy 😔" like do you ever wonder if you were aborted for a reason you little bitch ass baby

[bbgsaja]

⳽ωɩtᥴᖾ ᥙρ (ᙖᥲᑲყ ᔑᥲʝᥲ x ᖴ!ᕼᥙᥒtᥱɾ!ᖇᥱᥲᑯᥱɾ) ρt 己

summary - you've fallen for your rival band's rapper and the other girls are in similar positions, can you convince him not to side with Gwi-Ma? warnings - none

part one ��� part three

"How is a Huntrix girl so bad at this?"

You glared up at Baby's smirking face, though there was no real heat behind it, "This is different!"

As you tried coordinating your steps, you accidentally skipped one and messed the whole movement up, tumbling forward. You face-planted the ground, earning laughter from the demon.

"These games are dumb anyway," you grumbled as you stood back up, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Baby chuckled, then smirked at you, "Or maybe you just suck."

You smacked his arm hard.

The last few days had been a blur. In between practices for the Idol Awards show and juggling your secret dates with the Saja Boys rapper, you had been so occupied that time just flew by.

You found out that the other girls were guilty of the same thing when you were attempting to sneak back into the tower one night.

All four of you met by the elevator.

And just stared at each other.

"So..." You clasped your hands together. "Shall we go up?"

The elevator ride to the top was awkward. Your eyes darted from the mirror to the lights to the floor buttons, everywhere except your bandmates' faces. Theirs seemed to do the same, and the air was thick with tension.

As soon as the doors opened you all scattered, sprinting to your rooms. Slammed doors echoed throughout the penthouse.

A few minutes later, four doors opened and you all emerged, speaking simultaneously and pointing at each other. Not a single word was understood, except for 'store', 'walk', and 'stars'.

"Wait!" Rumi yelled, stopping all of you from talking. "Where was everyone?"

"The park," you blurted.

"Grocery store," Mira mumbled.

"A walk?" Zoey tried, but she'd always struggled to lie to the group.

"No, where were we really?" Rumi shook her head. "Be honest. I'll go first." She took a deep breath. "I was with...Jinu." She winced, like she expected all of you to rapid-fire insults her way.

You, Mira and Zoey exchanged looks.

"At the arcade..." You started, "...with Baby."

"Mystery and I went for a walk," Zoey admitted, which supported the notion that she could not lie. She just omitted Mystery's name.

The three of you looked at Mira, who was grumbling under her breath. When she noticed you all giving her expectant looks, she sighed heavily.

"Fine! I was with Abby and Romance..." She crossed her arms. "Romance wanted to see the stupid stars...or whatever."

You and Rumi snickered, "You went stargazing?"

The look she gave you both made you quickly shut up, but you couldn't hide your amused smiles. She just groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"So...what?" You asked. "We're just all dating them?"

"I mean...they don't seem bad," Rumi offered.

"I told you they were nice demons," Zoey agreed.

"But they're still here for a reason," Mira argued, though she didn't sound so sure of herself.

"Okay," Rumi nodded, "Let's just wait it out then. We don't attack now. Maybe we can, I don't know, convince them to help us stop Gwi-Ma?" She looked so hopeful you didn't want to crush her spirits.

"You mean I have to actually flirt back?" Mira groaned.

You shivered as you thought about the long job ahead of you, "Great...sounds fun."

"I think I can get Mystery on board," Zoey beamed.

"That's because he listens to everything you say!" Mira answered, "You have it easy."

"Yeah, Zoey, you have a golden retriever boyfriend," you rubbed your face. "I've got...a little gremlin with an incredibly high tolerance for spicy food."

"That's better than a lovesick idiot and abs for brains," Mira pointed out.

"True."

After realising that your friends were developing feelings for their respective Saja boys just as you were for Baby, you felt a little better. You weren't the only one who was starting to believe that not everything you'd been taught about demons was true.

"Is that not...hot?" You eyed Baby warily one night when the boys were hanging out in your building.

The rapper looked up from the bowl of ramyeon, "This is supposed to be hot?" He looked back down at the bowl. "I don't think whoever made this added enough spice."

Abby happened to walk past at that moment, and when the smell of the ramyeon reached his nose he promptly passed out.

You looked at Baby.

He shrugged.

You blinked, once, twice. Then you opened your mouth to say something, but stopped short when Zoey walked by with Mystery following closely behind her.

On what looked like a leash.

"He kept barking at and biting random strangers on the street," Zoey explained, "So I have to keep him near me."

You didn't even know what to say to that.

Then you heard sniffing, and jumped when you turned to see Mystery smelling your hair. A low growl emanated from behind you, from where Baby was sitting.

"No, Mystery!" Zoey tugged on his leash gently, and he backed away from you.

The growling stopped.

Abby finally woke up, rising to his feet and stretching. Your eyes dropped to his exposed stomach, only for the growling to resume behind you. You turned to see Baby with his teeth bared at Abby.

"Baby, stop growling!"

"Then tell them to stop annoying me!"

"How are they annoying you?"

"They're standing too close!"

"Too close to what?" You raised an eyebrow.

"You," he growled again, finishing his ramyeon in one very big gulp before grabbing your hand and pulling you to him.

Out of the blue, two voices in complete harmony rang out from the direction of Rumi's room. You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose.

"They're singing again. Someone remind them that we're performing two different songs!"

Later that evening, you took Baby to your room to escape the chaos of the others. He instantly reclined on your bed, laying back like he owned the place. You laid down next to him, yelping when he tugged you close and wrapped his arms around you.

Cuddling you like you were a plushie.

"Baby," you tried speaking, your voice muffled by his chest being pressed against your face. Suffocatingly so.

"Hmm?" He hummed, not bothering to move.

You managed to pull away just slightly, at least enough for you to breathe and speak freely, "You don't want the other boys near me?"

"No," he confirmed.

"Why?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, before avoiding your gaze when he answered, "I don't remember my human life. I never had a purpose before this band, this mission to...destroy you." His grip tightened on you.

"Everything recently has been about this band, and every new experience in the human world, I shared with them." Finally, his big blue eyes met yours.

"But then I met you. And I started to...feel something different. Something I know they don't feel towards you. So I just want you to be...for me, or whatever." He added that last part to sound casual and nonchalant, as was his trademark attitude.

"Oh," you managed, no other words forming in your mind. The butterflies he gave you bloomed in full force, your heart racing.

"With you, I feel human," he reached up, fingers hovering over your hair. He hesitated, before running his fingers through it, his eyes following their trail.

Your breath hitched at those words, and when his eyes flicked to yours to gauge your reaction, he found nothing but adoration in them. He'd expected a little fear, maybe hesitance, some disgust...but there was none of that.

"Then stay with me and be human," you finally breathed out, when your brain caught up and reminded you how to speak.

His eyes widened a fraction, "You would give your heart to a demon?"

"It was yours from the first time we hung out alone together."

He surged forward and kissed you. Not gently, but clumsily. It was a fervent kiss, a mess of tongue and teeth. It was driven by raw emotion, something he hadn't felt since becoming a demon. He wanted to consume you, to bind you to him, to make you one with him.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless and panting, cheeks burning. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought it might burst from your chest to place itself in his hands.

"Tell me...how to fight Gwi-Ma."

[deadwizardsoci]

i bet the "till was completely fine with everything ivan did and reciprocates his feelings fully, he was just surprised when he was kissed which is why he reacted the way he did" alnst fans clutched their pearls watching karma (if those fans have any media literacy like at all)

i absolutely love my miscommunication tropes. delicious.

i saw someone say that till started to love-admire mizi because they were friends and had a good bond together while, in contrast, his bond with ivan had always been somewhat of a rollercoaster, and i 100% agree with that. ivans inability of expressing his feelings in a healthy way and tills obvious rebellious nature aswell as impulsivity resulted in useless and meaningless fights. then, all of a sudden they were all buddy buddy and hanging out like friends do. it was all obviously incredibly confusing for till, seeing as he bases and diminishes his feelings on someone from what their general relationship looks like (like we see him doing with mizi). obviously, he wouldn't know how to classify his and ivans bond, because as i said some days there was affection, some days there wasnt. because of ivans lack of social awareness, there were some obviously uncomfortable elements in their time together aswell, even if they werent being hostile with one another at the given moment.

this in no way goes to say ivan is "the bad one". all of his issues, aswell as tills, result from a lack of understanding of basic human emotions and needs. having grown up as literal pets for a species that is nowhere close to relating to their issues (and even if they were, unwilling to get all touchy and vulnerable with them and solely treating them as nothing more than what they see them as— entertainment), they'd certainly have trouble dealing with it when their complex emotions inevitably surface. they live and grow with no validation of their feelings, no instructions, nothing, therefore, how could we blame either one for how their relationship turned out?

i personally think till did reciprocate ivans love, maybe even as fiercely as him, but while he tried showing it and, as seen in karma, quite literally pushed his love down till's throat, till decided to keep the distance because he couldn't understand it, didn't know how to deal with it. this of course also doesn't mean he was fine with being kissed. he still didnt know what his feelings for ivan looked like (he had no time to even process them as they'd been so complicated for so long, and he obviously avoids being vulnerable, even within himself), he was in an extremely sensitive place, grieving mizi and on top of it all was the natural panic and fret of his fight or flight to stay alive in such a situation, where death is looking you straight in the eye.

perhaps it was hard to realise seeing as the music and his lyrics kept going, but till's exhaustion (a natural grieving response) overcame him and he eventually gives up. he knows he could die. he knows he will die. but he is simply too exhausted to continue.

ivan notices, and goes over to him not because he sees an opportunity to get revenge, but to lower his own score so till can win either way. he sacrifices himself for his sake. he goes over and forcefully kisses him, even as till pulls away, he keeps going, making the audience think he wants to hurt him. he goes as far as putting his hands on his neck to give the impression he's being strangled aswell, and in the end, his sacrifice is worth. he's not doing it because he wants to, he's doing it so till can win because he loves him.

also would like to say, for the other side of the fandom thats like "ivan is a monster! he made till uncomfortable and wanted to hurt him because he was rejected!", NO BUDDY. ivan's hands are shaking as he goes on to grab him, he's even pressing on the sides of his neck, not forwardly blocking his airway, and even if you missed all of that, HE QUITE LITERALLY GOES ON TO STARE AT THE SCORE AS HE DOES IT. he braces himself to be shot and PULLS AWAY FROM THE KISS AS TO NOT HURT TILL ASWELL. he lets go the very moment blood spills from his mouth, at peace with the thought that till survives. and yeah, obviously till is grabbing at his own neck after 😭 while not fatal, the discomfort was still there, and mixed with the previous panic, it was much more intense.

then, gazing down at ivans body, he understands what his intention truly was.

in the next round, till avenges ivan by trying his best to beat luka. we can see this from his physical desperation, both in body language and expression

he is also on his mind CONSTANTLY. he is grieving a love he didn't even realise he had until it was too late. he quite literally hallucinates luka as ivan the whole time, finally understanding how he loved him.

wild that i have to make this post. its so clear. everything is SO clear. if you paid slightly more attention you could tell so too 😭😭😭

[dollkuna]

⚡︎ fratboy!gojo had been burning a hole through you with his stare all night. you'd been laughing with some random guy, acting like gojo wasn't even there. besides, the way that dude was looking at you? ew, he though.

you batted your lashes, tilting your head with what you hoped was an innocent smile, up at the stranger. one hand twisted a strand of your hair, the other clutched a half-empty plastic cup — a drink gojo hadn't bothered to get you.

honestly, it was grating on him, having to watch you like that. watching some other guy who was practically drooling over you. so, yeah, in his slightly-messed-up mind, his actions were totally justified.

now, your gaze was fixed upwards again — but this time, it was on him. where it belonged, in his opinion. your lashes were slick with tears, mascara smudged artfully across your cheeks, your hair mussed from his fingers tangling in it.

he'd cornered you in the bathroom, cutting the ridiculously long line and just barging in (scaring the absolute shit out of you without so much as a word). but hey, it was his frat house. his rules.

"j— jesus," he grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head. "you say you're virgin, huh? taking my cock like a damn slut, cherry." your hands were busy too, one sliding up and down his length, the other cradling his heavy balls.

you were practically choking on him, your moans and whimpers swallowed by his thick shaft. at first, he'd actually tried. tried to be gentle, remembering that you'd only he one other time you'd only done this one other time — with him.

but patience had gone out the window fast. now, he was using your face, each thrust of his hips sending the blunt head of his cock slamming against the back of your throat.

gojo thought he'd died and gone to heaven. your mouth was so hot and wet, eagerly engulfing every inch he offered. "you— you're doing s'good," he choked out, his jaw tight. (you might've heard a tooth crack.)

you were gagging, and a part of him was terrified you'd actually throw up, but damn, you were determined. and who was he to stop you? after all, the initial idea had been to take things slow, maybe learn a few new things. this definitely counted as new.

"w— was it worth it?" gojo asks, likely rhetorical. "whoring off to some idiot like that, huh?"

drool slicked your chin, followed by a stream of tears. your cheeks hollowed with each deep stroke, feeling the frantic throb beneath your tongue, the way he strained against your mouth. the pressure built, a dull ache spreading in the back of your throat as he thrust deeper.

you didn't get a warning, just a slight tremor in his grip on your hair before his heavy balls clenched, and he spilled thick, hot seed into your mouth.

it caught you off guard, but what really threw him was the way you swallowed every last drop. every single bit.

his eyes were wide as he helped you stand, watching you brush off your sore knees.

"ch— cherry, you know you didn't have to... i mean, i should've pulled out, i'm sorry—"

you give him a lop-sided grin, "don't be silly. i wanted to."

oh. oh.

gojo might not be your boyfriend, but he sure pressed a soft kiss to your tear-streaked, mascara-smudged cheek like one.

[chornayadrakoshig]

I'm going to add another perspective as a person from a different side of fandom.

One of my navite languages is Russian so most of my time reading and posting fanfiction was spent on Ficbook. The thing is, unlike ao3, that site is monolingual (recently they tried expanding by creating separate sites for English, Spanish, and Portuguese I believe, but they aren't well known). And while there are a lot of native Russian speakers outside of Russia (like me), most of their user base is in Russia.

And the thing is... They are for profit site. They have ads (increasingly more and more over the years). They have "gift" system where you can pay real money to send someone a digital sticker (that back in the day was original illustration at least - now they are heavy on AI-generated shit), and the site gets all that money. They have paid features (e.g. free accounts can only download 10 fics per day and paid accounts can download 100). Some users suggested to move site to donation-based system (or another tier of paid accounts where you'll remove ads in exchange of donations without getting other paid features - ppl wanted to support the site but didn't want paid covers and promo and stats and shit). The site refused, saying that project won't survive on donations, it's not a realistic system (which might be true since they are for-profit and they have paid developers on stuff, but still). So, they kept relying on ad revenue and paid accounts.

And because of that they were trying to walk a thin line of "don't be banned by Russian government" for years. Technically, they moved their servers to EU long time ago (though as far as I know they still hire developers in Russia). But they rely on ads traffic and paid users and ban would mean they lose a big chunk of it simply because Russia is cracking down on vpns and there is some laws around putting ads on banned sites which cuts out actually relevant companies who could've advertise there and bring more clicks and more revenue.

After annexation of Crimea the site added a rule forbidding to write fanworks about "recent world tragedies and political conflicts" with a limit of "6 month after the situation stabilised". However many people noticed that the thing that actively gets blocked is anything pro-Ukrainian related to Russia-Ukraine war, for example a work where author supported Ukraine and urged russian ppl to protest in his author's notes, not in the body of work.

While they don't have it written in their rules, the site deleted multiple works with graphic depiction of suicide because Russian government bans anything beyond brief mention.

And in the recent years, when Russia introduced stricter laws about "gay propaganda", the site added rules about tagging: the category and all additional tags have to be correct, if you miss a warning or mods decide your off-hand mention of lesbian couple is too much for "mentions of f/f relationships" tag, your work can be forcefully edited or in most cases just deleted. No warning, no emailed copy. If you don't have a backup elsewhere, you're fucked.

At one point they considered creating "Slashbook" and basically moving all queer works off the main site into its own reservation, so in case they'll get a ban, it won't affect the main site. They even started accepting donations for that but soon quietly ditched the idea and started making an english fic site.

A year ago, when Russia decided to ban the site completely - for many repeated violations of "gay propaganda" laws they tried to resolve it... by soft-blocking queer works themselves, so a user located in Russia opening a fandom tag will see "this work is not available in your country" placeholder on anything with m/m, f/f ships, trans characters and some kinky tags. The placeholder was non-clickable, didn't have link to work or the author. The authors from the area would be able to post the work but most users won't see it. And some smaller russian fanfiction sites like fanfics.me of fanficus.com were able to get away with it - but Russia refused to unblock Ficbook and basically ignored them since. yay.

So. The site dependent on ads and profit will think about ads and profit first, their users second (if at all).

So, the other day, when I was discussing AO3's policy on solicitation, a tumblr user came at me saying that AO3's "no monetization/solicitation" rules were "bullshit" because nexus mods allows fan created mods to get paid.

Look at me.

Look at me right now.

AO3 protects you.

AO3 protects you and your works. 

It protects your works from copyright strikes and DCMA takedowns.

It protects your work from advertisers.

It protects your work from overzealous legal challenges.

It protects your right to post adult content.

AO3 is non-profit and AO3 will never try to use you or your work to make a profit for themselves and AO3 will go to bat for you if someone tries to legally challenge you or your works.

Please respect AO3 and its mission.

[chibinasuu]

The Sweet Scent of Tobacco | Sanji x Reader

Summary: You hated the smell of cigarettes. You never thought there would be a time that you miss it. Tags: sfw, f!reader, no use of y/n, spoilers for zou-wano

You despised the smell of cigarettes.

That acrid tang of burnt tobacco, and that stale, musty odor that clung to every surface long after the light died—there were not many things that smelled more unpleasant to your nose.

And yet here you were, leaning against the railing of the Polar Tang's deck, a cigarette awkwardly slotted between your middle and pointer fingers in a poor imitation of what you saw a certain chainsmoking chef do every single day.

You stared at the lit end of the cigarette, the tiny ember glowing against the darkness of the ocean. A wisp of smoke curled towards the night sky, bringing along that smell—albeit a lot more subdued than a smoker's exhale—that you hated so much.

You didn't smoke it. You never had the urge, plus, Chopper would kick your ass if you did, but you supposed secondhand smoke wasn't much better either.

"I didn't know you smoked."

A low voice came from behind you. Too preoccupied with your thoughts, you didn't even hear the ship's Captain approaching you.

"I don't." You chuckled humorlessly, "I guess I just… miss the smell."

Your host didn't inquire further. Instead, he said, "Dinner is served. Come in whenever you're ready."

"Thanks, Torao."

He scoffed, "Don't call me that."

You heard his footsteps padding away from you. The door to the inside of the yellow submarine creaked on its hinges, then clicked shut, and suddenly it was silent again.

You stayed outside for a few more minutes until the cigarette burned out, taking a deep breath before you joined your companions at the dining hall.

If your crewmates saw you that night clutching a familiar tobacco-infused dress shirt to your chest as you slept, they didn't comment on it.

For the first month or so after you joined the Straw Hat Pirates, Sanji thought you hated him.

"Why do you never spend time with me?" He slurred one night after one too many glasses of wine, "You always run away after I give you afternoon snacks. You never sit next to me during meals."

His blue eyes brimmed with tears, lips quivering as he whispered, "Do you hate me?"

Your eyes widened, "No, Sanji, of course not!"

Quite the opposite, really, you added silently.

Sure, the tobacco smell that always accompanied him never felt pleasant to you, but that was not the only reason you had not been spending as much time with Sanji as you would have liked.

In the short time that you had been sailing with the Straw Hats, you had found yourself inexplicably drawn to the chef with a heart as golden as his hair. Truth to be told, it had become quite a struggle to be around him with the way your heart threatened to jump out of your chest anytime he was near.

A pout was still visible on Sanji's lips as you stammered out a pathetic explanation of how you could never stand the smell of cigarettes for as long as you could remember.

"Sorry," you smiled sheepishly, face burning with embarrassment, "I definitely didn't mean it to seem like I was avoiding you."

The frown on Sanji's face turned upside down at your confession, his whole face still bright red from the alcohol, and maybe from something else too.

"So, you don't hate me?"

You shook your head, "I could never hate you, Sanji."

He let out a relieved chuckle before passing out.

Sanji tried to quit smoking after that.

The keyword being: "tried".

You even saw him exchanging his vice for lollipops once, gnawing on the stick long after the candy melted, just to have something between his lips.

He gave up and opened a fresh pack of cigarettes a couple of days later.

You watched his blissful face for a while as he inhaled the earthy blend of tobacco for the first time in days, before walking over to him. Ever the gentleman, Sanji immediately snubbed out his cigarette when he noticed your approach.

"You don't have to quit smoking because of me, you know."

"I know," he sighed, "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable around me."

You smiled, "Believe it or not, I'm getting used to the smell anyway."

You nudged your shoulder against his, "But I'm still gonna remind you that smoking is bad for you! By the time you're 40, you'd be known as Blacklung Sanji!"

His laughter boomed across the deck at your mediocre attempt at a joke, "I'll keep that in mind, sweetheart."

So, no, Sanji didn't stop smoking, but he did make an effort to minimize the smell for your sake.

He bought fragrant soaps to scrub his hands after smoking. He left his suit jackets to hang in the wind out on the deck. He changed shirts after some of his longer smoke breaks, even if that meant he had to do twice the amount of laundry.

And the more you got used to sharing a space with the blond chef, the more your heart danced whenever he smiled at you. The more your face burned whenever he showered you with compliments. The more your stomach filled with butterflies whenever his fingers brushed yours.

The more your heart ached when you arrived at Zou and found out that Sanji had left to marry an Emperor's daughter.

You poured a generous amount of chilled sake into two cups, handing one over to your raven-haired companion.

The view of the sky from the balcony of Oden Castle was beautiful. It was a cloudless night, with countless stars dotting every inch of the horizon.

You clinked your cup with Robin's and downed its contents.

After a moment of deliberation, you took a cigarette out of the pack you stole from Sanji's abandoned bag on Zou before you left for Wano.

"Do you mind if I light this?"

The archaeologist smiled, "No, go ahead."

You flicked a lighter—also one of Sanji's—and let the tip of the cigarette catch fire.

Only the faint chirps of crickets could be heard as the familiar aroma filled the air between you.

Sensing your ever-present unease, Robin mused, "He must've had his reasons."

"I know." You sighed, "And I know he'll be back. He promised to in his letter. Not to mention Luffy and the others are coming to get him."

You let your head fall onto Robin's shoulder, "I'm just tired of not knowing what's happening over there."

Robin gently caressed your hair, "He'll be here before you know it."

You tried to believe her.

The click-clack of your hurried, geta-clad footsteps echoed through the empty streets of the Flower Capital.

You had just returned from your intensive kunoichi training with Shinobu when Usopp greeted you with an excited, "They're here!"

Three days. He'd been in Wano for three whole days, and you didn't have a clue.

The stalls that lined the streets were all vacant, but still, your head whipped back and forth as you scanned their signboards to find the one that you were looking for.

Usopp told you that the soba shop was a big hit, and the cook insisted on serving everyone in line even until well after what was supposed to be the closing hour.

Your nose found it before your eyes did.

A savory and umami scent wafted from the humble stall. It smelled like the sea, owing to the kelp and bonito flakes that made up the base of the broth. But underneath that, you could also pick up an almost imperceptible scent of burnt tobacco and smoke mixed in with the complex aroma.

And there he was.

He was alone, the last of his customers already retiring for the night. The bright yellow-and-white stripes of his yukata stood out in the dark as he dried some freshly-washed bowls, readying them to feed more hungry guests the next day.

Sanji looked up, the half-smoked cigarette falling out of his mouth when he noticed who his visitor was.

He stepped outside of his stall, eyes boring into you as if he couldn't believe you were really here.

Your lips formed his name, but no sound came out, held back by the tightness in your throat. So, without a word, you leaped forward, enveloping him in a crushing embrace.

You could feel Sanji's heartbeat quicken underneath your touch. His arms fumbled around for a moment before cautiously settling around your back. When you didn't show any signs of letting go, Sanji allowed his hold to grow tighter, pulling you in until every inch of you was flush against him.

There were a million things that he wanted to say to you—how he missed you, how sorry he was for leaving, how glad he was that you were okay… but the only thing he managed to choke out was, "I-I, uh, probably smell like cigarettes."

You inhaled the scent that emanated from him. That scent you once avoided so much, had unknowingly become a source of comfort and warmth.

"You smell like you, Sanji." You chuckled, "And I love it. I missed it."

You took a shaky breath as you suddenly felt tears building in your eyes, lining your lashes as you looked up into his eyes, "I missed you. So much."

"Oh, sweetheart," He sighed, his fingers lightly brushing your hair, "Believe me, there wasn't a moment that I was away that I did not think of you."

You didn't miss the way his eyes flickered to your lips amid the charged silence that followed, and you found yourself inching closer in anticipation.

He leaned in—slowly, carefully—giving you all the time in the world to back away should you choose to.

Feeling emboldened and impatient, you surged forward and closed the gap yourself, finally connecting your lips to his.

Sanji all but melted in your arms, clutching tight to the silky fabric of your kimono as if he never wanted to let go ever again.

Your lips parted as his hands moved to cup your cheeks, angling your face to kiss you deeper.

He tasted like cigarettes—sharp, smoky, and stale.

And yet, it was the sweetest thing you had ever tasted.

a/n: hey y'allll i'm baaaaccckkkk 🥳 it feels good to actually finish something after months of not writing anything 😅 i initally only wrote the first part of this fic as a warm-up drabble to get back into writing, but i liked how it turned out, so i decided to continue it and post it as a full-length fic! this was inspired by my own hatred of cigarette smell—it's so strange that my favorite character is sanji, when i know if i met him irl i wouldn't even come within five feet of him because i knoooww that man stinks of cigarettes 😭 but anyway, i hope you enjoyed this!! as always, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

taglist: i don't actually have a taglist but nyla, this one's for you 😂 @softlypaintedseafoam (feel free to let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged!)

⟢ masterlist

[shadowlord420sgf]

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ Abandoned & Aching

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ xxXShadowl0rd420Xxx | Skips x reader ୭ ˚.

⌗ summary: You left Skips waiting, aching—now that you’re back, he won’t let you go until he’s felt all of you again. word count is 1.6k

⌗ warnings!: female reader, fingering, p in v, missionary, creampie, established relationship, porn with feelings, everyone & everything is desperate, skips is kinda emotionally deranged, fucking on the floor (sorry florence!), i think: hurt + angst with comfort

⌗ author’s note: (you can also read this on my ao3!)back with everyone’s favorite sad emo boy ☹️ thanks for all the support I’ve received on my fics it actually means a lot to me and i love everyone!! like and reblog if you would peg skips 💕 also my irl friend: @funnygirlwriter104 gave me the idea for this fic, check out her dirk one!

It had been some time since you’d last paid Skips a visit. You two had left off on a high note, he asked how you slept and told you about his efforts of keeping the silverfish away. Cute. However, you couldn’t help the excitement you got from speaking with other objects around the house. The dateviators just made you so curious that you didn't notice how you strayed away from the person, or shadow, who loved you the most...

Your ignorance wasn’t on purpose though, so many objects were really so entertaining! You especially liked helping Maggie solve cases, or going on extreme adventures with the Hanks. But none of that changed how you felt about Skips. If only he knew that, instead of assuming that you’d left him for good.

So, when you focus your dateviators on the shadow of Gaia one morning, what you find is a bit unexpected. It’s your beloved Skips, obviously, but something seems to be off with him.

“Hey you.” He greeted, looking a bit surprised that you were in front of him. “I was wondering when you’d come back to see me.”

You winced internally. It couldn’t have been that long since you spoke to him, right? Either way, you felt terrible for being the reason his voice sounded unsure, and a little hoarse like he hadn’t used it in a while.

“I—I know, I’m sorry,” you said gently, stepping closer to him. “I didn’t mean to be gone for so long. I just got caught up with everything—”

“It’s okay,” Skips interrupted quickly. A little too quickly. “You don’t have to explain. I mean, you’re here now, right? That’s all I wanted.” He gave a shaky smile, eyes flickering across your face like he was trying to burn it into his retinas.

He gazed at you like that for a moment before speaking, barely loud enough for you to hear, “I just… I thought maybe you didn’t wanna come back. Like Benji and the others, you know?”

Oh my god, you’ve fucked up this time. You’d left him alone for so long that he compared you to his old friends from way back in his Thiscord roleplaying days. You knew how important those memories were to him, and how hurt he felt as his companions drifted away. You never wanted him to feel like that again.

You stepped even closer, and he didn’t move away. He never would.

“Skips…” you started, finding the words to apologize, but you didn’t get far. He surged forward and wrapped his arms around you like he couldn’t stop himself, pressing your warm body against his cool one. He buried his face deeply into your neck, breathing in. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss this. You missed being in the comfortable darkness and silence around Skips. Everything was just so natural with him.

You hugged him impossibly tight, and it still wasn’t as hard as he clung to your body. Your hands tangled into his hair and he made a let out a noise that you swear was a sob. Oh Skips… His voice was muffled against you, “I really fucking missed you. I kept thinking maybe I did something wrong, or maybe you found someone better. Or maybe you just—”

He cut himself off with a shaky breath. “But you’re here. You came back. You came back for me.”

His words made your heart shatter inside. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “There’s nobody like you, Skips. No one.” You whispered, not a hint of dishonesty in your voice. “Of course I’d come back for you, I love you.”

He paused hearing those last three words. You’ve said them to him before, and always meant it of course, but it changed something in him at this moment. There was a beat of silence, and then his lips brushed your jaw. Then your cheek. Then—finally—your mouth.

It wasn’t a careful kiss. It was desperate, uncoordinated, messy. Like he was scared you’d vanish again if he didn’t taste you right now. His hands were everywhere—your neck, your waist, clutching tight, tugging you closer like there still wasn’t enough of you against him.

You groaned at finally feeling his lips on yours again, after so long. “I need you,” he gasped between kisses, eyes half-lidded, voice wrecked. “I’ve been needing you every single night and—I didn’t think I’d ever get to touch you again—please…” Skips was practically whining for you.

You nodded, touching and kissing him all over just like how he was doing to you. “Ah…Need you too, Skips.” He groaned again hearing your sweet voice that he missed so much.

“I need you,” he rasped again, grinding his hips against yours with a frustrated moan. Oh how he wishes your clothes weren’t in the way. “I need to feel you. Now. Please—just—let me have you.”

“You always have me…” you mumbled against his lips. “I’m yours—fuck—I promise.” You both needed each other more than it was possible. It would never be enough.

“O—Okay, can you uh…get on the floor for me?” Skips panted, barely getting the words out. You obeyed him with a smile, pulling off your shirt in the process. Shit, everything you did drove him crazy. Skips did the same before slotting himself in between your thighs, where both of his hands gripped. You felt like melting under his gaze… His dark eyes were actually staring into your soul.

Skips moved his hand higher and higher up your thigh, until his fingertips met with your clothed core. Your back arched up a little at how the small touch sent heat throughout your entire body. Skips chuckled, “So wet already, huh? Knew you missed this as much as I did.” Moving your underwear to the side, he pushed a finger into your wet cunt, and groaned as you did.

“Missed touching you like this,” he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, and you cried out his name. “Missed the way you whine for me when I touch you just like this—fuck.” He always knew exactly what to say.

“M—Missed it too—” You couldn’t bother to answer him properly, not when he was so close to making you come all over his fingers and make a mess. “Ah.. Skips, I’m—I’m close,” you managed to blurt out, hips squirming under him.

Just then, he pulled his fingers out of you. “I know, Penumbra… I always know,” he was right, “And you know I’ll make you finish— But it has to be when I’m inside you. There’s nothing I missed more than that.”

His words alone could’ve made you come undone. They made you forget how close you’d just been, made you wetter than you already were. “Yes—Yes, please I need you… need to feel you, Skips.” You mewled, hands reaching for him on instinct & dragging him down into another kiss that was all tongue and teeth and desperation. He kisses you back with more force than you gave him. He’d never ever let go of you.

Skips was quick to slide off his pants along with his boxers in one impatient motion, allowing his hard length to spring up. You couldn’t help but moan a little at how perfect he was. He gave himself a few quick strokes before positioning himself between you again. “Are you ready, my Penumbra? I sure am…” You nodded, voice too broken to say anything except a “Please…”

With that, he pushed into you, agonizingly slow. You both gasped at the feeling, the familiar stretch of his cock and the wet warmness that enveloped it. You two stayed like this for a bit before you whimpered, “Skips… y-you can move, please I need you.”

“Right. S-Sorry, I just missed this—missed you— so much.” Before you could answer in agreement, he crashed his mouth against yours again, hips rocking into you as he began to move—deep and slow at first, like he was savoring the feeling of being inside you again after so long.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, digging your heels into his lower back as he hit that perfect spot in you again and again. You were already so close, pleasure building fast, curling deep in your belly like it had been waiting for him this whole time.

Your moans turned into soft sobs, overwhelmed. “Skips—fuck, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he gasped, voice cracking, hips stuttering, “Me too—just… come with me, please. I need it. I need you.”

Before you knew it, your orgasm ripped through you like a wave crashing, sharp and hot and all-consuming. You cried out his name, clinging to him like your life depended on it as your walls clenched around him, pulsing hard.

Skips let out a broken, guttural sound—his body trembling as he followed right behind you, spilling inside you with a low groan pressed against your neck. His thrusts slowed but didn’t stop, like he couldn’t bear to pull away just yet, even as the continued thrusts made you both twitch and whimper.

“Don’t leave me like that again. Please don’t.” Skips begged, still panting. You kissed him yet again, breath heavy. “Never—I’ll never leave you Skips.”

Later, Skips had you tell him what objects you were hanging out with, giving his own input on them. He scoffed when you mentioned that you had to talk to Scandalabra, who Skips refused to interact with. Something about the light contrasting with darkness? It didn’t matter.

There was really no one like your Skips.

[mars4hellokitty]

We'll never have sex

Hockeyplayer!Vi x reader :)

| The notorious fuck boy has seemingly put her days of sleeping around behind her after getting in a committed relationship. But between her teammates and the reputation bestowed upon her, the pressure to please you becomes overbearing |

wordcount : 2k

cw : none really? angst if you squint really hard but other than that it's just tooth rotting fluff :p hurt x comfort. ALSO MY NATIVE LANGUAGE ISN'T ENGLISH SO PLEASE BE MINDFUL 🙂‍↕️🙏🏾

a/n : THANK YOU SO MUCH @applejusue FOR PROOF READING FOR ME MUAH ILY ALL 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

I just lost my ficginity guys 😓💔 I'm so so so so so so so so scared about posting this idk why it's probably like fine for my first try????? idk roast me to death or give me love idk idc um i don't think I'll write that much in the future??????? honestly who knows? ok i know I said roast me to death but dont be too harsh or I'll cry ☹️ OKAY HAVE FUN READING BYEEEEE

Milestones in relationships weren't something Vi was too familiar with, yet it felt like everyone around her had an internal checklist of these stages, which they expected their relationship to follow:

1. Dating

2. Officially being girlfriends

3. Saying ‘I love you’

4. Having sex

The hockey player was a notorious fuck boy in highschool, a reputation she has yet to be able to redeem. Because of this, her teammates are a bit…

Vi’s gaze traces up and down the aisle, trying to find something that you'd like. It was your anniversary and she wanted to get you something small to celebrate that, without the price hurting her wallet.

She grabs a box of chocolates she knew you loved, temporarily ignoring how many shifts at the Last drop it would cost her as she holds it gently.

Her teammate, Maddie, scoffs at her.

“I'd never spend that much money on such a prude.”

Vi's jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as she huffs through her nose.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I didn't think you had it in you man, a few years ago you wouldn't even have had a girl around for a week, let alone 5 months!” another girl shoots in, her seemingly sinister snicker making the other ones laugh all over again.

Her teammates laugh.

Like it was unbelievable that Vi would be with someone without putting her tongue in them.

“Just quit it, alright?” She huffs, pushing past them to get to the cashier. Pretending as though their words didn't feed her already growing insecurities.

Of course she'd thought about it, why you two hadn't done it already, were you just not ready? Did you not like her? Was she disappointing you?

Was she even worth more than what she could do for others?

Her mind churns and wanders, not noticing the line diminishing until the cashier has to gently bring her back to earth, waving a hand in front of her eyes.

Vi flinches slightly, putting the chocolate on the conveyor belt with an apologetic expression.

Her teammates had left her — How predictable — leaving her to take the long route to the dorms.

On the way there she made a plan, she had to. You were going to leave her unless she stopped being all sappy and just fucked you already.

———————————————————————————

You had prepared everything, walking around and decorating the limited space you had in your dorm before your girlfriend was coming over.

You had your friends on speaker as you paced around, excitedly showing them everything you had bought as you neatly wrapped her gifts.

“I hope she'll like it!” You say excitedly to your friends, grinning.

The friends look at each other slightly before turning to talk to you.

“Look… It's been 5 months right?” She says carefully, trying to gauge your reaction.

You nod, not quite understand where this conversation was headed.

“And you haven't had sex?” Her question earns a groan from you as you keep tidying up.

“No we haven't, there's no deadline is there?” You ask sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

You didn't get why people put this timeline in front of you for no reason. Why couldn't you two just go at your own pace?

You were aware of Vi's past, and had a healthy dose of skepticism before you two started exclusively dating but she proved herself time and time again.

By this point you trusted her completely, which is why your friend’s unnecessary comment annoyed you.

“We're just looking out for you girlie, intimacy is important you know!” She says, trying to cover for the other friend.

Just as you were about to respond, the doorbell rings.

“She's here! "Bye!" You hang up before they get the chance to say anything, rushing to the door with a grin.

———————————————————————————

Vi nervously shuffles from foot to foot, the plans that were previously swirling around in her head now plummet to the ground at the sight of you.

She's more nervous than usual, smiling sheepishly as you hug, wiping her hands on her pants when you aren't looking, running her hands through her hair enough times to probably make it greasy despite her definitely showering properly before coming here god why was she such a mess?

You didn't seem to notice, or maybe you did and just didn't want to comment on it. Maybe you found her so disgusting it turned you off?

“Do you like it?” You smile, showing her how you've decorated the place.

You pull her out of this anxious trance, as she looks around.

You had put in so much effort, for her? She hugs you gently.

“Thank you baby, happy 5 month anniversary.” You say sweetly, kissing her cheek gently.

Vi usually loves it when you kiss her cheek, it's a comfortable way to show intimacy, but now it's gotten to her. What if you kiss her other places instead of her lips on purpose?

Vi fidgets, picking at the skin of her scabbed knuckles.

You place the gifts you've wrapped neatly in front of Vi, smiling.

“Open it!” You coo, smiling as she takes the gifts, opening them.

The first gift is a bunny plushie dressed up as a hockey player, including the puck and the ball. You smile, proud that you got your girlfriend something she'd enjoy having.

A smile creeps up the pinkettes face. “Thank you babe.” Her hand reaches for yours, kissing it gently.

You giggle, enjoying her chivalrous ways of thanking you.

“I could thank you in other ways, you know?” Her voice gets low, watching your body language as she turns your hand, kissing up your forearm.

You shiver slightly, your breath labored ever so slightly.

“What- what are you doing?” the words slipped out, slightly shocked.

The pink haired girl freezes, looking up at you as she slowly pulls her lips away.

“I'm sorry I thought you wanted-” She begins, her eyes searching your face as the tears sting behind them.

A worried expression paints your face as you move closer towards your girlfriend.

“Thought I wanted what?” You ask softly, looking up at her.

“We've been together for almost half a year and we haven't had sex!” She blurts out, the words hanging in the air for a beat too long.

“There's no deadline, Vi.” You reassure her, grabbing her face gently, letting your thumbs caress her soft cheeks.

“But haven't you been waiting?” The pinkette asks, the statements from her teammates sticking to her like glue.

“To have sex? no?” You answer as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like sex was just something you randomly chose one day to want. Like it hadn't been plaguing your mind like her teammates said it had.

“But they said…” She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Who's they, Vi?”

“... "My teammates."

You groan, having made it clear that you've never liked them a long time ago.

“Violet Vanderson, listen to me alright?” You say sternly, yet your voice is laced with love.

“I’d love you even if you told me you never wanted to have sex” You say, matter of factly. Her eyes water as your thumb reaches up to wipe it away.

“You mean more to me than that, you know that right?” You reassure, search her face for any sign of her taking your words into account.

Her tough exterior finally crumbles, her face scrunching up as she cries, her face in your hands. You pull her into a hug, soothing her gently.

All those years, only being pursued for one thing, convinced her she wouldn't find someone who wanted her for more than that. Someone who would hold her while she cries in a kitchen decorated to celebrate their 5 month anniversary.

“I love you, not just what you can give me. I love all of you.” You cooed gently, kissing her hair.

“I love you too.” She sobbed, burrying her head in the crook of your neck.

———————————————————————————

You stay like that for a while,embracing each other as your hands drawing soothing circles on her back ever so gently.

When the pinkette looks up at you, her glossy powder blue eyes slightly red from all the crying, you simply smile.

“Do you want to sit on the couch? you still haven't opened the other present I got you.” You coo softly, kissing away the remaining tears.

Vi closes her eyes for a moment, soaking in the kisses, as if the soft plush of your lips would heal the wounds deep in her soul.

Without any warning she simply picks you up, playfully running over to the couch with you.

You laugh, playfully scolding her to slow down so she doesn't drop you. Your girlfriend gets the gift you got her as she sits down, placing you on her lap.

You turn to face her, straddling her lap to see her reaction better. “Go on, open it.” You urge her impatiently as she laughs.

“Calm down princess, I will.” She smirks, unwrapping the gift gently. The neat wrapping is undone carefully, a silent appreciation for your wrapping skills.

Her smirk widens into a smile as she opens the small box, finding a silver necklace with a violet colored stone inside.

“I know you don't wear these kinds of necklaces very often but it reminded me of you and-” her soft lips met yours before you were able to finish your sentence.

It wasn't rushed, heated, hungry or ranchy like she had planned it to be before she entered your dorm.

It was simple, sweet and loving, and she wouldn't want it to be any other way.

She takes notices of you smiling in the kiss, smiling as well. Vi’s unending stamina takes a toll on you as you gently pull away, needing air.

“So I take it you liked the gift?” You say in-between catching your breath.

“Liked is an understatement. I loved it, thank you so much.”

“I can put it on you if you want?” You suggest, gently taking the necklace out of her hands.

Vi nods as you lean in, breathing in the smell of your perfume as you lock the necklace.

You place a kiss on her neck, a gentle peck.

“It tickles,” she responds, grinning

“I love you” You murmur gently, pulling away

Vi hums gently in response

“The necklace looks really good on you, violet on violet.” You grin.

The pinkettes blue eyes roll at you, caressing your hips gently.

“Did you want to watch a movie?” You ask, turning around to reach for the remote.

“Sure, why don't you pick something princess?” She murmurs gently, placing her chin on your shoulder.

The tv glows gently as the time flies by as you watch the movie, occasionally switching positions as you talk about everything and nothing at all.

The credits roll on the tv screen, Vi spooning you gently. She peaks over your shoulder to check-in on you only to see you sleeping. She smiles, kissing the top of your head gently as she closes her eyes.

———————————————————————————

She's convinced their coach hates them when the fluorescent lights in the ice rink attacked her eyes early in the morning.

The harsh sounds of the ice-skating blades slashing through the ice echo throughout the rink, in sync with the swish from the hockey stick perfectly leading the puck through the different obstacle courses.

At some point during the practice you had come, holding a water bottle as you waved excitedly waiting for her to see you.

Her heart skipped a beat as her powder blue eyes met yours. You came to her practice, with water.

Such a small gesture, yet so considerate.

You really did care.

Your gaze kept Vi in a trance —well until Coach Sevika came over— momentarily distracting her.

Maddie skates up next to her, nudging her slightly

“Hey Vi, you got any action last night?” Maddie snickers.

Vi smirks “Why, do you need any tips?” She shoots back.

Her teammates all collectively ‘ooo’ and Maddie scoffs, crossing her arms.

“N-no! me and Caitlyn are doing just fine!”

“If you must know, we watched a movie and fell asleep.”

Her teammates quiet down.

“and that's.. that alright with you?” Another one of them quipped, gauging Vi's reaction.

“Yeah. We're taking things at our own pace. One step at a time.” She answers, smiling as she looks up at you again.

Besides, there's no deadline, is there?

Taglist : @lolitalovess @korn-dawg @usuck

[cacodaemonia]

Okay so because I'm suspicious of anything I see on the internet, especially if it's very cool or I agree with it, I tried to find the original image. The links in the post are broken, and google reverse image search didn't work, but when I looked up the USGS (United States Geological Survey) employee credited at the bottom of the post, I found an article from 2014 in The Analytical Scientist that includes the image! So it's real, but the age of the image means it doesn't show up anywhere else but Tumblr and Facebook posts.

Anyway, yeah, here's the blurb that accompanies this very cool image:

Submitted by Jacob Lowenstern, United States Geological Survey While sampling waters from a hot pool at Yellowstone in March 2007, I stumbled upon this dragonfly, replaced in its entirety by amorphous silica precipitated from the water. The “fossilized” insect didn't stay visible for long, becoming buried over subsequent years by further deposits.

Petrified dragonfly

Ever since I read a book on fieldwork in Ethiopia’s volcanic regions that described insects turning into stone before the geologist’s eyes demonstrating a sort of instant fossilisation in a silica rich volcanic hot spring, I have been searching for a decent photo of the phenomenon to share this cool story with you.

Keep reading

[willwasnotfound]

Other kind of demon

Hello everyone, here goes the next part of this little thing I started, again, thank you sm for the love u all give me, it means a lot to me, rlly!

Again, English is not my first language, so any error of grammar can happen in here lol

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

More singing demons.

Y/N stood quietly in there, the men weren't moving, it was like they were analyzing her, searching for something. She was not scared, she could easily run away from them with whatever they tried.

"You're not a human." One with black hair said, it was hard to know that they were different since they were wearing the same clothes, almost as a uniform, the only thing that made them different, was their hair.

"Wow, you deserve an award, you just discovered gravity." Y/N rolled her eyes, demons tend to point out obvious things, but please, they still seemed humans.

"Why are you here? I thought Gwi-Ma just let us out." He spoke again, the other four just stared, as if they couldn't talk.

"Gwi-Ma sent you?" The man nodded, making Y/N roll her eyes, it was probably a bad thing that they were there. "May I know for what?"

The man whit lavender hair growled— literally, getting a slight jump from the girl, he looked more human, but why was he acting like a dog?

"You're not one of us, are you?" One with pink long hair spoke up after that for Y/N's surprise.

"Why would you say that?" She turned around to look that the men started to get closer to her.

"He doesn't trust you, and he don't usually gets agressive with demons." He said again.

"I mean, the 'usually' is key." She shrugged, until she felt a hand on her shoulder, it was the first man that talked to her.

He wasn't dead, she felt that, but still, she noticed some vague memories return to her, making her push him away.

"Interesting, your patterns didn't show up." Oh, so it was for that.

"You're the traitor!" The other pink haired man laughed, grabbing her arm with a grin. "Gwi-Ma will probably do us more favors if we bring you back."

She stayed still, quiet, thinking. She needed to stop remembering, to scape or this men will probably be a problem.

She quickly turned her own body into a shadow, disappearing from the men's gaze to only go to the rooftop of a near house, watching them, her eyes shining, not with gold, instead with a shade of blue.

"What makes you think I would let you bring me back to Gwi-Ma?" She chuckled, the 5 men, concerned about where was she, searched for her, the first one to find her was the one with blue hair, moving to also be on the same rooftop.

"You're weird, how could you even leave Gwi-Ma?" The man started to fight with his claws, useless against the shadows surrounding him, but he was trying.

"Long story, why are you here?" The others quickly joined the 'fight', amusing to Y/N's eyes, since they were trying to get rid of literal shadows.

"Souls, what else." The black haired one said. "And for the hunters, of course."

"Ohh, I get it, he sent me with a similar reason." She maked the shadows disappear, making the one with pink short hair fall as he tried to reach one. "You do know he probably won't do whatever he told you, right?"

"It probably didn't work for you because you never returned." The blue haired chuckled, looking that their friend that was still on the ground.

"Well, there are other ways to survive." She made presence again, her full demon form showing up. "I could show you."

The more demons souls she consumed, the more powerful she got, it was a win-lose situation. She could kill them more easily, at the cost of the voices, she didn't like it, but it was what it was.

The men stepped backwards, doubting about the truth of her words.

"She is a danger for our species." Gwi-Ma told them before letting them be on the human world. "She betrayed us, is one of the hunters, never trust her, I made the mistake to make her powerful, more than I should have."

"You're a traitor to the demons, why should we hear you?" The one that she started to assume was the leader asked.

"That's probably something Gwi-Ma made up so demons won't hear me." She was cut mid sentence.

"He said you're with the hunters too."

Oh well, that wasn't a lie at all.

"Well, that might be true." She hummed, crossing her arms. "But I got rid of the voices, and I think that's not betrayal, it's just- being freed."

"If you're whit the hunters, why would you help us?" The long pink haired one spoke again.

"You are still humans." Her gaze darted to the lavender hair. "At least you still look like ones."

A silence stayed in the place, until the leader spoke up again.

"We're here to do a boy band and get the fans from Huntrix, to destroy the Honmoon." He muttered, her body changing to his human form, being followed by the others.

"As I said, Gwi-Ma send me for the same thing, and that's how I got freed." She did the same, returning to be a human. "If you want to know how, just let me know."

With that, a 'puff' sound appeared and she disappeared, back in an alley, finally letting out her breath, like she wasn't even breathing back with damn.

This could go both horribly wrong or absolutely great.

Hi hello, I’m badly obsessed with Abby now that I think about it, anyway, here my friends, eat, eat

(Idk if this all makes sense)

Taglist: @just-set-things-on-fire, @gremlinartstudio, @amery-benson-cvii, @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone, @katzline, @megunian