#which is also getting precariously full

[quillyfied]

Oh the agony of “too hot in the afternoons to move out my summer wardrobe, too chilly in the mornings to be without my winter wardrobe, and this closet can only fit one of those at a time.”

[convoloutedinjoke]

competitiveness and rules brain and mortal fear of becoming a disposable outsider going hand in hand in hand < ---------- is thinking about the loneliness again

[evilminji]

You Know How There Are Those AU? Where SUPER Injured Ghosts Need To Retreat To Their Core?

No one seems to be USING that to its fullest potential! For SHENANIGANS! Because! Who?? Could POSSIBLY carry a Halfa's Core safely... but another Halfa?! A FULL ghost would KILL them. A human would be killed! What terribly precarious peril we find ourselves in! Oh nooooooo!

Well, no worry!

As much as Dani fuckin HATES this. That there is her brother. Her Template. Her Clone Daddy and Bestest of Bros. Like HECK she's gonna let him suffer for centuries and possibly DIE. She can take it, Doc! Pop him in! We'll go road tripping and-

What do you MEAN "No"?

Unstable??! Of course she's unstable! But the-.... Oh.

Turns OUT? Dani? Can hitch a ride in DANNY for Emergency Medical Aid... but NOT the other way around. Her body is too loosely held together. He would parasiticly consume her from within. Instead of feeding off her Ecto System like injured ghosts are supposed too, because she's a CLONE? AND an unstable one at that? His Core would just... see her body as free ectoplasm. All of it.

He'd eat her.

Which mean Frostbite can not and WILL NOT allow that.

But he's HURT! That big, off screen, cataclysmic Fight To Save Everybody From *cough cough mumbles* and settle us all in the DC universe, REALLY messed him up! What are we supposed to DO!? He can't STAY like this!!!

Enter-> My FAVORITE DCxDP Trash Ship! Vlad&Lex!!! *horrified screaming from the crowds, someone shouts "oh god, no! Please!"* Ha! There are no gods here, silly billys! Only two terrible, terrible HIGHLY Dramatic, self serving, incredibly damaged, gay peacocks. In Business Suits that cost more then your house is worth.

They're AWFUL~♡

And! Vlad was sent ahead to lay the ground work. Insure there would be no GIWs. Also because no one could stand him and his EXTENSIVE criminal record. But that's besides the point.

But!

You know what he found? A Business Nemesis. Who he routinely dates and/or Dramatically Hate Fu-*coughs* I mean, attempts a Corporate Take Over(tm) off. You know how it is. Business. He ALSO gets to make it no secret he's a "Meta", thanks to the INCOMPETENCE of one Jack Fenton, because that- *seething rant*

Yet? Dispite his STILL burning hatred for Jack? And his finally letting go of Maddie? You know what he STILL wants?

For Danny to be his Son.

*Gets a call from Frostbite*

...............soooooo........ what you're SAYING is..... I can be pregnant with Daniel.

You, Frostbite, need ME, Vladimir Masters, THE ONLY OTHER HALFA, to carry Daniel around inside my body, in what to all appearances resembles a pregnancy, in order to heal him. Because I am an Older And Stronger Halfa Upon Which He Relies.

:)

*instantly begins plotting*

Just? Imagine. Vlad is a FUCKIN LIAR. No one but him would even KNOW what was going on! He just? Rocks up one day, like? *falsely demure* "oh I couldn't POSSIBLY has any scotch, Lex! >:) I'm eating for Two~☆" and just? Deals the MAXIMUM amount of psychic damage he can.

Probably says it at their weekly, public, Veiled Threats Brunch.

It makes front page news. Luthor choked on his eggs. The paparazzi lost their SHIT. Vlad is doing the FULL Celebrity Mom Thing. The classes. The photo shoots. The Gucci sunglasses as he peruses high end strollers. All while HEAVILY suggesting that not only is "The Baby" Lex's.... but that he's going to withhold the child and deny Lex any access.

Danny isn't even aware. He's in a lovely lil medical coma. Dani is trying to find a good spot to plop down Amity. She just know Vlad is being... Vlad. Meh. He can handle it. Dan? He's not even IN the human realm and is not sure he wants to be.

But over in the LEAGUE? Everything's on fuckin FIRE.

Kon is losing his SHIT and Clark is thousand yard staring into the void. Kon's half brother is in the hands of a... Less Then Ideal... Meta that Batman is PRETTY sure is highly suspect. Might be a deliberate weapons experiment. Certainly is a hostage. And the DRAMA.

Lex has never been worse.

He might actually stab his...partner? Vlad. At the hospital. The SECOND the child is born. There are already long term kidnapping plans in the making. He's hiring lawyers. Getting VICIOUS. There have been talks with DEATHSTROKE. By BOTH OF THEM.

Clark wants to cry.

@hypewinter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @babbling-babull

[seat-safety-switch]

Glues! You might not be aware of it, but adhesives rule the world around you. No matter what two objects you want to stick together, some egghead in a chemistry lab has worked out an elaborate concoction that will do so. Now you just need to figure out which one it is, and also read some instructions for the first time in your life.

I've never liked glues, probably because of the aforementioned "read the instructions" thing. They either set too fast or not at all, and they make a sticky mess when you knock them over onto your precariously-balanced workbench full of other failed projects. For me, the correct fastener was a bolt, or a rivet, or if you put a gun to my head some kind of stupid finger-pinching clippy thing that would work twice and then break forever.

Nowadays, things are going in a different direction. Fasteners vibrate and come loose. Bolts would rather not stay bolted, if it's all the same to you, pip pip cheerio, sorry about your axle there chap. They also cost money, which bosses don't like. So, automakers and engineers use more glues. Glob goes here, then job goes here. This means that, whenever something else they make breaks, you're going to be spending all afternoon slowly heating up and forcing apart some sticky mess. As a cool bonus, it will also fill your work area with deadly fumes.

What finally turned me in favour of glue? The local autobody shop had to throw out a whole bunch of autobody epoxy. This stuff is hyper-sticky, meant to glue whole cars together. All I had to do was pour it into their dumpster, and then back my rusty shitbox of a daily driver in there. Sealed up all the rust holes, and probably permanently entombed some of the trunk mice in there as well. No more wet feet! No more poop in the glovebox!

Sure, when it comes time to change the rear tires, it's going to kinda suck to get them off the wheel. Hey, wait, when they pop a hole in them I can probably just fill them up with glue too! What idiot ever thought to put air in tires in the first place? Get with the modern era of industrial adhesives, suckers.

[pearlzier]

hiii! i hope you’re having a good day/night ^_^ i was wondering if you could wirte either sam or dean winchester with a bimbo reader!! smut or fluff i dunno ahhh TY!!

☆ ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ this took me so long m'so sorry ml !! ۫ .

☆ warning ; tad bit suggestive i mean. it's dean ,,

“pass me the fuckin’ uh..” dean ran his hand through his hair, crouched beside baby. it was a one in a million day where dean had no shit to do, so he found himself doing checks on baby even if she was in perfect shape. doesn't mean he can't check in on his girl, whilst his girl is sat on the precariously stored chair. yeah, he'd told you if you fell he'd absolutely laugh at you however he knew full well that he'd literally perform an act of magic on you to keep you safe.

“uh, screw driver?” you bat your lashes at him, legs rocking as you typed on your phone, snorting out a laugh at the emoticon that charlie had sent you. of course, you liked to help dean out. but the weather was so good, and the sun was good for your skin, or so that forum that you read at the library when you went with sam said. also, you and charlie had a lot of gossip to catch up on, so.. you weren't on your game as much as you usually were.

a soft laugh slips past dean's lips as he shakes his head, looking back at the toolbox in your lap. you watch as he gets up, his hands a little stained with car oil, which in fact, does not suit the white colour of your babydoll top, clinging to the curve of your chest. which dean took much pleasure in, but besides—so you squirm back a little when he comes closer, “dean, you cannot touch me with your hands like that, i love you, but no—”

“relax, sweetheart, just tryna get a wrench,” dean teases, “can't a guy get a wrench? jeez,” he raises his hands teasingly before he carefully grabs a wrench from the tool box. not before swiping his thumb over your nose which causes you to squeal, and he quickly makes his way back to baby before you can retaliate.

“dean!” you gasp, rummaging for your pocket mirror in the pockets of your baby pink hoodie, finding it and soon looking at yourself in the mirror. a little smudge of darkness glistens on your nose and the pout you give dean makes him cackle a little.

“c'mon, it adds character, don't you think?” he does a little tinkering under the car, to which you have absolutely no clue what he's doing. did you want to know? no, not really. you wanted to know why you had oil on your nose! you knew why, but why dean did it was a mystery, and you huffed.

“you'll know what character is when i'm done with you,” you mumble back sassily, giggling when you see the surprise fill dean's gaze. so, he rises from where he is, and saunters his way back over, having used a rag to wipe down his hands so you wouldn't throw a little hissy fit.

“is that right, hm?” his green eyes lift to yours, and leaning against the chair, he bites his bottom lip. hell, he likes when you get fiesty with him. “gonna show me character?” his low, gravelly voice cooed softly as his hands brushed over your sides.

this knocked you down a few pegs, because to be fair, if your bombshell of a boyfriend is speaking like that and holding you like this, well, who isn't gonna get a little flustered. “uh—yeah, character.” you do notice how his eyes flit down to your cleavage for a vague moment, and you speak up, a little uncharacteristically but in a way dean adores—“eyes are up here, deano.”

a groan slips past his pink lips, and you soon find his green, piercing eyes hooded and looking up at you. “tease,” he mutters under his breath, and a flush dusts his skin that he never expected to happen. “think i know where your eyes are, doll, just enjoying..” he traced a finger over the lace containing the spill of your tits, “the view. know you're enjoyin’ mine.”

you thought he wouldn't notice! you'd been staring at him for a while now, considering the fact he'd blessed you with the sight of not only his arms in a tank but sweats? your man was a slut, you couldn't even deny it. “dean, stoppp,” you mumble, getting a little heated as he brushes his fingers over you. “shut up.”

he pouts playfully, pressing his forehead gently against yours. lifting his thumb to your glossy lips, he pulls it gently before letting it go, a giggle slipping past his lips. “now you're being mean, pretty baby,” his hands slide down from your chest to your thighs, squeezing them gently. “mean to your ol’ dean?”

you push at his chest playfully, tapping your acrylics against his chest with a little laugh. this causes dean to dig his fingers into the meat of your thigh a little and pull you against him. “you were bein’ mean to me first, dean!” his brows raise, “you know exactly how. oil? nose? coulda’ gotten it on my top!”

he rolled his eyes at your behaviour, it's not like that top was expensive anyway. you two got it when dean had literally stolen 20 dollars from a wallet he found on the floor this one time. but that's besides the point. “can always get you a new one,” he shrugs his shoulders, flashing the signature winchester smirk. “kinda always been itchin’ to rip this one anyway. doesn't do that body justice.”

“dean,” you two were literally outside the motel, you couldn't do anything like dean was absolutely suggesting. and judging from the way his hand was sliding up under your skirt to cup your ass, well, he was suggesting a lot. he gives a gentle squeeze, growling softly before he lifted you up off of the chair, causing you to squeal. “dean!”

he swung you over so you'd sit on the hood of the impala, watching as your little skirt hiked up. a grin played on his lips and he sighed softly. “how'd i get so lucky, huh?” dean lifted ring clad fingers to brush the side of your face. “grumpy hunter like me.”

“fine ass hunter like yourself,” your retort was instant.

“i didn't say it, you did, so it ain't braggin’,” dean wiggled his eyebrows instantly, drawing you impossibly closer as his hands groped at your thighs gently. he was clearly a big fan of your body.

“dean, there are people walking past,” you nudge him, not before placing a glossy kiss to his cheek. he shrugs, glancing over at a passing woman and her boyfriend on the street. in usual dean fashion, he gives your ass a pat and winks at the couple, not that you realise.

“well, maybe, they wanna piece of this fine ass,” he squeezed, looking up at you through his lashes. “they'd have to go through me, first though,” literally before you can even realise it, you've been hiked up over his shoulder with your ass practically out.

“dean, my skirt!” dean acts oblivious, but slides a hand over you to keep the view at bay, a laugh slipping past his lips. “relax, sweetheart, i got you,” does this calm your nerves? no, not really, but, you relax into his grasp.

“you're the worst,” as you shake your head, your earrings shimmer under the dim lights of the motel as you make your way in. dean's practically a deer in headlights looking at you before he focuses again, and taps the doorframe of where sam's in.

“keep an eye on baby, alright? got some uh, things to be doin’, sammy,” it's like sam didn't even have to ask as he saw dean give you a playful swat on the ass, herding you to the bedroom. 

“yeah, sure, whatever,” sam was ninety-five percent sure he might have to go do his research in the impala because knowing you two? you were loud.

tags ┆.ᐟ ᰍ ︵ @onlynextdoor ۫ .

☆ 𝜗𝜚 ( your honor, i loveeee himmmmmmmmm.... lmk if u wanna be tagged in spn works lolz

[blacktabbygames]

All of the things we've had to keep under wraps have finally been unveiled to the public, so we thought it'd be a great opportunity to catch folks up on the workings of our studio for the past couple of years! A "State of the Studio" sounded too grim, so we're calling it a State of the Union instead, which still works, because we're just the two of us, and are married and spend all of our time making our games anyways. Some TL;DR if you don't want to read a 4,000 word essay on running an indie studio (though you shouuuuuld)

We wrapped our full time work on Slay the Princess — The Pristine Cut about a month ago, meaning we've been back at it for Scarlet Hollow for a little while now, but also juggling that with unpacking at a new place and planning an actual wedding to make up for the one we had to do in our tiny apartment for covid reasons!

Prior to Slay the Princess being announced, Scarlet Hollow's funding was in a precarious spot, but we're now able to comfortably self-fund the entire rest of the game without any outside support, meaning we get to stick to our original vision without publisher interference and without running the risk of having funding pulled. (Hello 2020s-era video game industry, so happy we're not in the middle of you!) (Note: this part is a huge deal it's so ridiculously hard to make money doing games. It's an extremely all or nothing space!)

Episode 5 remains enormous — I mathed it out and had we not done Slay the Princess and somehow managed to still have enough money to eat, we MAYBE would have finished it right about now.

We'll be getting out the first alpha builds for Episode 5 to testers later this year, probably mid-fall.

Episode 5 will come out some time in 2025, but we don't want to pin down any specifics until we're confident about our timing.

Thank you all so much for your patience and support, it means the world to us!

[tojisun]

sex w simon on his bike??👀

i didn’t understand the vision until it hit me!! TWICE [heart eyes]

!! public sex (p in v and oral); THIS IS NASTY HHHHH; female reader // biker!simon mlist

જ thinking about simon fucking you against his bike, with your elbows resting on the padded seat, your back arched to present your ass to him which he greedily squeezes and pulls at, all the while groaning and rumbling in ecstatic amazement.

murmured pleas slip through your kiss-swollen lips, begging the universe or whatever’s out there that: 1) simon’s bike won’t topple to the side at the press of your weight against it, and 2) no one would see the two of you.

you stifle a squeak at feeling your skirt flipped up to the small of your back before a loud ri—ip sound echoes in the empty lot, the cold air hitting your bare skin instantly now that simon’s ripped your stockings open.

“god, baby,” simon rumbles, his voice hissed out in a barely contained snarl. “you and y’r fuckin’ perfect ass, i swear.”

“couldn’t you have waited ‘till we’re home?” you snark, feeling your cheeks flood with warmth when simon’s hand travels further down, greedy as it tugs at your flesh.

“‘course not,” simon replies, pulling away and leaving you trembling at the onslaught of cool air.

the sound of simon unbuckling his belt makes you freeze, your jaw dropping open for a quiet gasp, your own protest flying from your mind as nothing else pulses within you but your own desire. one that calls for simon.

simon slots himself against your back with ease, one of his arms circling your waist to tug you up, positioning you so that your ass presses against his chub perfectly. it makes you giddy—simon’s display of his strength; him manhandling you. but also, simon covering you with his bulk. simon towering over you.

fuck.

your eyes flutter close at feeling him kiss the back of your head, then he’s sliding in. in, in, in.

you pant at the continuous press, your jaw slack in pleasure as every inch of simon’s long cock breaches past your slick walls. you don’t realize you’re crying, the hiccuped rasps of your breath ringing loudly in the empty lot.

god, you’re so full. so fucking full.

“s’fucking wet,” simon moans, bumping his forehead between the valleys of your shoulder blades. “s’fucking good.”

you keen, pussy fluttering at the thick stretch of his cock—at how deep it is—feeling your legs quickly turning to mush.

you know you won’t last long again. you never stood a chance at holding back when simon just knows how to fuck you good, after all.

you don’t even snark at simon’s giggle at hearing your dreamy sigh.

-

જ thinking about giving simon head while he rests against his bike, the thing precariously propped up with nothing but the damn leg stand.

it doesn’t stop you from getting down to your knees anyway, jeans scratching against gravel as you scoot towards simon’s pelvis, nuzzling against his thigh, ignoring the rough fabric of his cargo pants.

simon croons, his big hands falling to hold the sides of your head. you hum, eyes fluttering when simon repositions you so your lips are hovering just above his chub.

“may i?” you ask, not breaking eye contact with him.

simon’s lips wobble and you don’t know how you must look but you can guess—desperate and a mess as you pant for your love’s cock. you can guess because however it is that you may look, it makes the pupils of simon’s eyes expand as it devours the dark browns of his irises.

he can’t hold back just like you.

“f’course,” simon murmurs, his voice grave and deep, almost akin to his morning rasp that always makes you burn with desire.

there is a heartbeat, a moment of building tension, before it peaks, tipping, and then you are fumbling with his pants, your trembling fingers reaching for his zipper before you’re tugging it down and pulling his cock out.

it’s already so hard, flushed at the tip with pre- beading on the head like a pretty pearl, and your mouth falls open, tongue lolling out to catch the drop before it drips down the length of his cock.

that first touch, first taste, is all you needed before you begin lapping at it with passion, drool building atop your tongue and pooling where his cock is pressed. you map the webs of his veins, taking note of the shiver that racks his body, and you hum when simon’s hold on your head tightens before loosening again.

“jesus, baby,” he gasps. “y’r so fuckin’ greedy with it, yeah? so greedy of me?”

you nod despite the difficulty of it, your teary eyes flicking up to meet his again. simon’s so flushed, and you think of how pretty he is as he stands before you like this.

you suckle on the head, mewling as more of his pre- dribbles into your tongue, flooding you with his taste.

more. you want more.

simon’s hips buck into you, thrusting his cock past the inside of your cheeks to meet the back of your throat, and you choke, pooled tears finally slipping past your furrowed eyes. even then, the sudden breach of his cock doesn’t deter you, instead, it makes you squirm, your panties gathering slick as your cunt weeps for his cock, almost like it’s jealous of your own mouth.

“you’re so…” simon’s voice trails off, and when you blink your eyes open again to meet his gaze you see the awed look shadowing his face, almost like he couldn’t fathom just why, exactly, are you so full of passion.

but it’s simon.

do you really need anything else more than that to stoke the flames of desire sitting in the pit of your stomach?

simon’s eyes crinkle, his smile wide. “wow, baby.”

a kick of a giggle makes your throat vibrate and simon moans, drawn out and loud, his head falling back to expose the column of his throat.

see? he is so beautiful bathed in his pleasure.

pleasure he is receiving from you.

hhshshehrhrh this is me fr. me rn! this is also me!! AHHHHHHH i want him bad :((

[cloudbug08]

Hello! Could I request some Cg! Logan Headcanons please? Thank you 💜💜💜

CG!Logan Howlett Headcanons

Of course! I hope these headcanons come across as accurate and you enjoy them :) some of these obviously won’t be that integral or reliant on his actual character traits, some are just cute parental things I think he’d do or would enjoy doing :)

🐾He’s quite stern, not mean, not to you at least, but he definitely stands his ground when it comes to rules.

🐾He can still be lax though, but he also wants you to know that any of the rules put in place are to keep you safe, healthy and happy, and maybe save him from a few grey hairs.

🐾Definitely tries to prove he can also be a “cool dad”, what’s a late night watching movies gonna hurt, and maybe a few snacks sneaked from the pantry.

🐾He wouldn’t have any actual preference for names, whatever you feel comfortable with goes, but he secretly would prefer “daddy” or “papa”, something about them just make him feel all warm.

🐾Same thing with pet names for you! Whatever you like goes, however, he will be partial to a “honeybee” (cause he’s your honey badger, duh!) and a “sweetheart”

🐾Expect to be picked up and carried everywhere, he loves having you near him, unless he’s in a dangerous or precarious situation of course.

🐾PURRS, and I mean full on rumbling chest, content purrs, he loves laying with you on his chest, just purring.

🐾speaking of, he’d definitely hiss and spit at anyone who got too close to you, you’re his kit, his only kit, he needs to keep you safe.

🐾Because of his heightened senses, he’d definitely be able to smell you and scent you, pressing his nose to your head because you smell so young, like a milky newborn smell.

🐾Bundles you up in his nest, yes, he has a nest, filled with blankets and furs, don’t ask, and your stuffed toys, all of which he’d scented, Wolverines are very territorial.

🐾Absolutely piles food on your plate, Wolverines work extremely hard to provide food for their young, he feeds you before he feeds himself, ensuring you’re getting all the nutrients you need.

🐾Frowns if you don’t finish your plate, he’s not mad at you, he just fears he’s not feeding you adequately enough, but once he knows you’re just full he rumbles a purr, pleased.

☆*:.｡. o .｡.:*☆

I hope y’all enjoy these hcs, I really enjoyed doing them and spouting about irl Wolverines ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

A Fierce Dillema

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): None, just some introspective fluff and controlled chaos with everyone's favorite deity <3

Masterlist

“(Y/n).”

You awoke to the gentle calling of your name and a firm hand on your shoulder. A groan left you as you tried to turn away, to hide in the downy pillows and scattered sheets of your bed, but the voice was too persistent to ignore. A quick glance at your nightstand revealed that it was four in the morning, which was only cemented by the fact that the sun hadn’t even risen yet. 

“(Y/n),” the voice, oddly familiar, continued to press. “Wake up.”

Wake up, he said. You already had an inkling of who would dare disturb your slumber, and it only became clear when you saw the Fierce Deity’s silver-haired reflection on the glossy surface of your alarm clock. He was wearing his armor and that blade of his was secured to his back, which undoubtedly meant something significant had occurred since you bid him and the other boys goodnight six-ish hours ago. “Oh my god, what happened?” 

There was a slight pause. You could practically feel the tension through the calloused hand on your bare shoulder and sincerely hoped he hadn’t gone out and killed someone… or set the kitchen on fire. Again. You weren’t sure which was worse, because at least a body was easy enough to hide when you had nine heroes at your disposal. 

“Can humans consume deer meat?”

What? 

You had to physically turn around to convey the bafflement you were currently feeling. Ever the gentleman, he removed his hand and took a respectful step backward. Now facing each other, you looked him straight in the eye and asked: “Is there a deer in my kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“...Is it for breakfast?”

“Yes.”

…Okay. You were an adult, so you would handle it as such. It was a minor miracle that he had the foresight to talk to you before attempting to use your stove (you hoped). Besides, you did say that you were going to teach the boys about your world until another portal showed up to dump them somewhere else, and Fierce would be no exception. “I’ll be down in five. Do I need to watch meat-cleaning videos or did you put that sword to use?”

The Fierce Deity, destroyer of gods and civilizations alike, looked almost offended by your assumption of his sword usage. You watched, amused, as his voice took on a scolding tone. “I would never, it is much too large for such a task.”

“Whatever you say, buddy,” you slid out of bed with the grace of a waterlogged snail, arranging the blankets in some haphazard semblance of a made bed. Fierce quickly made himself scarce, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

Your relationship with the deity was an… unusual one. You had been cleaning when you accidentally knocked over Time’s precariously placed traveling pack, only for a vaguely-humanoid mask to fall out. You proceeded to snatch it up and the shit that followed was wild enough to be the star of a bestselling novel on Booktok, because there was no other way to describe it when a seven-foot, fully-armored man materialized two feet away wielding a sword that was as long as you were tall. Chaos had ensued and a fight nearly broke out between the newcomer and Sky, of all people, in your kitchen until Time managed to calm everyone down. From then on, he had simply coexisted in your home, though there were occasionally spats between him and the other boys. Traditionally, Time was the one to break it up when it happened, but you also discovered you yourself had some sway to him when you screamed loud enough. 

Recently, however, Fierce had become unusually devoted to helping out around the house, going so far as to attempt to duel Wild for the right to cook dinner. It had taken a full minute of scolding to get him to pipe down and watch Family Feud with the others, though you got the vague sense that he was pouting as he watched you from the couch. His behavior only ramped up when your boss blessed (cursed) you with more hours at work and you returned home to learn that, in the span of five hours, he had managed to not only break your vacuum cleaner, but nearly maim the mailman for “invading your territory”, to which you informed him that things were drastically different in your world and promptly bought a “guard dog on duty” sign to hang on your mailbox. 

A quiet creak of the floorboards outside reminded you of who you were keeping waiting. With a muffled curse, you threw on a half-decent shirt, leaving your axalotle pj pants right where they were, and dashed outside to meet the deity. He was leaning against your wall, arms crossed over that mouthwateringly muscled chest (you had eyes), but seemed to snap to attention when you barreled into the hallway. “Let’s cook this bitch!”

And so you did. While the gorey mess practically dripping from your island wasn’t particularly enthusing, you sucked it up and retrieved a pan, turning the stove to the max. A bit of oil later and you had a butchered flank roasting on the front burner, while a large pot filled with bones boiled away. Fierce was very considerate of your lack of knowledge on this sort of thing, quietly handing you the finished cuts when you requested them. He hardly spoke, choosing to listen as you prattled on about nothing in particular. Within the hour, you had an entire pile of roasted meat on a serving plate, and several members of the chain had begun to trickle in, likely drawn by the delicious scent of food. It was only when everyone was downstairs did you notice that he had disappeared. Despite the minor fuss the younger boys raised, you grabbed some food and went to find him. 

It was on the woodpile in the very corner of your property where you tracked him to. Even with his impressive bulk, there was still space to sit on the stacked logs, so you plopped down happily. Fierce looked at you with a surprised expression, but said nothing. So you did instead, offering him the plate. “I hope you know I’m not going to let you run off without eating after all you did.”

He took the plate. “It is nothing.”

You shrugged and began peeling the orange you snagged earlier. “Maybe to you, but not to me. You gave us a break and I’m grateful.”

“I stole sleep from you.”

“And?” You honestly had no idea why he thought you cared about that. Sure, waking up early sucked sometimes, but you weren’t made of glass. You popped an orange slice into your mouth. “I’m an adult.”

There was silence, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as one would think. The sun had long since risen, bathing you in warm golden hues that not even the gentle breeze could chill. It didn’t even dawn on you how strange you must have looked–sitting next to an actual deity while dressed in a stained t-shirt and printed animal pants–or how unusual your life had become. 

“I have a question,” said the deity. You listened intently before answering–it wasn’t often that he initiated conversation and you didn’t want to spoil it. 

“...I have an answer.”

If you had looked closely, you would have seen the subtle quirk of his usually flat mouth before his expression reformed to something more solemn. You wondered if you should have mentally prepared for this conversation. “You do not fear me… why?”

You blinked, trying to process what had just been said to you. “Excuse me?”

As if sensing your bafflement, the Fierce Deity elaborated: “I could end your existence with a sweep of my sword. Thousands have recognized this, but you either deny or remain oblivious to it.”

Ouch? You knew little of his backstory beyond being imprisoned in a mask for countless years by someone named Hylia for–... well, you don’t think he had informed you, but it was far from warranting fear. If he had wanted to hurt you he would have done so already. You were honestly a bit offended he thought so little of you. “Is that all you think there is to it? I’ve told you before and I’ll say it again: you’ve done nothing to warrant my fear, so I don’t know where you’re getting this from,” you paused, realizing how harsh you sounded. “...Sorry, I just… I don’t see you that way.”

“Then how do you see me?” asked the deity, and you were caught off guard by the genuine curiosity in his pupil-less eyes. Was he… self conscious? It was a laughable thought, that the Fierce Deity was capable of such an emotion, but it was the only one that made sense in this dance of conversation. 

That begs the question… how did you see him? ‘A person’ was your first thought, but it was what anyone would say. An acquaintance? Yes, but then it made your relationship seem almost transactional, which was not what you were aiming to convey. He was clearly looking for reassurance beneath that stoic facade and you knew an opportunity like this wouldn’t come again. 

“A friend,” the words rolled off your tongue before you could stop them, but what could you do besides continue? “You’re my friend.”

It was simple, really, though that didn’t stop him from looking completely and utterly baffled. “You consider me… a friend?”

Why did it sound like such an affront when he said it like that? Your orange was long gone, but it didn’t stop you from fiddling with the peel in your hands. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” you responded honestly, because, really, you wouldn’t have. “You don’t sound like you have many friends.”

There was a sort of bitter melancholy in his tone that you knew all too well. “I have none.”

You grinned and reached up to pat his shoulder, emboldened by the rising light and your own sense of duty. “Until now.”

For the first time in forever, The Fierce Deity, vanquisher of worlds and gods alike, smiled. Truly smiled. You could have sworn his porcelain cheeks seemed a little less stark when he took your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of it like in the fantasy novels you read as a child. Then, before you could choke out a flustered response, he leaned close and said. “I vow to not disappoint you.”

It was almost impressive how quickly you recovered from the shock of his actions. With a small laugh, you laid your hand on his shoulder, warm as an inferno, and whispered. “You could never.”

Is this the same AU as Knightmare In Toronto? Who knows!

[wiisagi-maiingan]

I love watching youtube videos about tiktok and influencer drama, mainly because I'm completely disconnected from stuff like that (I have never watched an influencer video in my life) so it gives me the thrill of true crime without the tragedy exploitation aspect, but sometimes I also feel completely disconnected from the youtubers too?

Like every youtuber has to offer up a million disclaimers about how they aren't judging influencers or whatever and that's usually fine but like. I do feel that there ARE points where people need to be judged for the content they're sharing and promoting and profiting off of!

"I'm not judging tradwives or saying their content is bad—" I am!! I am absolutely judging tradwives! Extremely harshly! Because the entire "tradwife" movement is conservative propaganda based on misogynistic and patriarchal ideas about history with no basis in reality or in our modern world! And tradwife influencers explicitly target young women and especially teen girls and try to convince them to put their entire lives in the hands of their husbands, which is a horrific recipe for domestic abuse!

These women making hundreds of thousands of dollars off tiktok videos (and often coming from extremely wealthy families) are out here telling young girls that they don't need an education, that they don't need their own income, that if they're just pretty enough and obedient enough then they'll find a rich husband and never have to worry about anything ever and it's fucking scary! And I don't know why we are tolerating it!

We know what happens when people, especially women, give up complete control to their partners. We know what that leads to, resentment and extreme control and total lack of options when things go from totally fine to constant arguing to violence. These influencers, who ARE making extremely significant personal incomes from their jobs as influencers online, lie through their fucking teeth about how perfect it is that their husbands do everything for them and all they have to do is take care of the kids and home (with the help of nannies and housekeepers and personal chefs off-screen. . .) and about how they've escaped from capitalism, meanwhile the people actually in those situations who AREN'T making all that extra cash are either already in abusive relationships or they're in incredibly precarious positions where they could end up abused or thrown out with nothing in an instant.

I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to be a homemaker or stay-at-home parent. I don't think it's wrong to not want to go to college or have a 9-5.

But you NEED options. You need full access to your own money that can't be monitored or controlled by a partner. You need access to a vehicle. You need a life outside of your home and family, especially friends who are willing and able to help you if needed. You need the ability to survive on your own in some way. Because if and when things go wrong in the relationship, THOSE are the things that will save your life.

Also remember that again, these tradwives DO have jobs and their jobs involve selling a fake lifestyle and fake ideals. They are getting paid BIG TIME for the shit they peddle to you, whether that's through the millions of views they get (both from genuine fans and from haters, the algorithm doesn't know or care about the difference) or the many sponsorships they get, they have incomes that they are not disclosing. They have help that they are not disclosing. Many of them started out with extreme wealth but lie through their teeth and cosplay as fucking homesteading peasants. It's all a lie to sell shit to you. Don't buy it.

Disclaimer: Please do not nitpick this post, it's very late and I'm ranting and if this leaves my circle of followers I will regret it deeply. Be nice. Tradwives dni, you're all annoying.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod - SpiderMan Kiss

Requested: No

Warnings: None

It just seemed so funny and cute when you saw it on the tv. You couldn’t help but want to try it. Which all lead to you climbing up onto the large doorway into the living room, trying to find the perfect angle to lean over without falling and busting your head open on the hardwood floor. And lucky for you, this was the exact moment your lover decided to come home, heading right for your location.

Ghost

Ghost nearly punches you out of instinct when your head pops out from the top of the doorway. As it is, his fist is clenched and raised, and he pulls it close to his chest when he realizes it’s just you.

“Bloody Hell, Love.” He mumbles, ignoring your giggling. “The hell are you doing up there?” He asks, eyeing your precarious position as you don’t even bother to explain, simply cupping the back of his head and pulling him in, nudging his balaclava up just past his lips before kissing him. He hums, pleased at the affection as he deepens the kiss, cupping your cheeks in his large palms. It only clicks with him when you pull back, making him chuckle. “I think I’m supposed to be the one hanging, Love. Since I’m the one with the mask and all.”

Soap

Soap practically jumps out of his skin when your head pops out from the top of the doorway, slipping and falling back on his ass, cursing a bit when he realizes that it’s just you.

“What are you doing up there, Love? You could get hurt!” He says, brows furrowed as he stands back up to his full height, examining you quizzically as you motion him closer. He does so slowly, pleasantly surprised when your mouth presses against him, but he eagerly kisses back, tongue playfully prodding at your lips. “If this is the reward for getting scared by you then by all means, do it again.” He chuckles, breathless as you pull back.

König

König was so distracted when he came in that he didn’t even notice your head at the top of the doorway at first. It wasn’t til your heads butted together (gently, thank god) that he finally looked up.

He blinked at you. You blinked at him. He was….so confused, but didn’t have time to ask questions before you were pulling up his mask and planting a sweet kiss on his lips. He was still standing there when you climbed down, so confused that there might as well be question marks floating around him like some sort of cartoon.

Alejandro

Alejandro also wasn’t paying that much attention when he walked into the house, too busy on his phone, texting Rudy something or other. That was when he noticed you out of the corner of his eye, looking like some sort of deranged ghost or something. He immediately jolts and curses, backpedaling as he clutches his chest, like that would calm his racing heart.

“SANTA MIERDA!” He shouts, taking a few deep breaths while giving you an annoyed look. Even your chuckling is not enough to soothe his irritation as he walks closer, ready to scold you for scaring him like that, only to be cut off by your warm lips melding against his, stealing his breath away. He blinks at you, suddenly soothed, though he does demand a few more kisses before you can come back down.

[sharkenedfangs]

— SUFFERING FROM A FEVER, BUT I REALLY NEED TO FUCK A FEMBOY OR TOMBOY . . .

it’s getting bad again , robin . hnnngh . . . fuuck .

Running down bad with a fever, my words make no fuckin’ sense and half of what I’ll write will be incoherent, horny bullshit but I gotta— I gotta fuck a motherfucking femboy or tomboy in the ass. Either will do cuz’ sure I’m suffering like hell here, stuffed nose, annoyingly itchy throat and godawful temperature, though I’m pretty sure cummin’ inside one of those two or even fuckin’ better, both — will do just fine. Seriously, I mean it.

some slut shaming, weird gender roles, y’know.

FEMBOY ROBIN. Really, really gotta. Y’know, there’s nothing more embarrassing than to properly wear such a skimpy skirt in the own, tight confines of his narrow room with your watchful gaze carefully set upon him, but what’s even worse? Same thing in public, comfortably sat atop your thighs as if nothing is amiss because yeah, surely, nothing is. Nothing wrong with two boys casually hanging out which, said boy is humiliatingly dressed up like a girl right now — who no one truthfully knows nor is consciously aware of. Cock pitifully tented against the front of his summer dress, yellowish material darkening in shade from the oozing pre uncontrollably spilling forth.

And, it’s not like you’ll actually try anything with the towns-folks eyes hidden amongst the lurking shadows, right?? You wouldn’t— you’re not truly like them, the fuckin’ perverts. Shamelessly slobbering over every inch of his untouched, pristine skin, skirmish legs and nervous fingers tentatively messing with the hem of his silken skirt as if your firm grip isn’t steadily increasing along his plush thighs. Like, you’re not ‘discreetly’ spreading his legs apart so that an unfortunate passerby may consequently catch a perverted glimpse of his cock all flushed and leaking for you. Quivering tip, hot and red, trickling out more beads of pearly pre-cum to messily stain at the ground below. It’s not that he means to get all hard like that! Shit— this is solely your fault for deftly exposing him to a hefty crowd like this, your little, pretty ‘girlfriend’ you coyly call him as, might as well proudly show her cute, pink cock to the world if she’s gon’ be such a crude, perverted freak ‘bout it. Only deserving of the typical ‘girlfriend’ treatment which merely entails the usual of having his slutty hole stuffed full of cock, his own miserably swaying with every subtle bounce of your hips upwards, flushed against his ass. Whoops, better luck next time! Try not to dress like a little, fuckin’ whore if you don’t wanna get publicly fucked in broad daylight, Robin!

As for TOMBOY ROBIN? Would it have been any different for her case? Treat ‘em equally, they say — fuck, yeah — you definitely will, with your face snugly nestled between the gap of her thighs, wobbly lips and scrunched up features straining from every careful lick of your wet, pink tongue provokingly huffing against her bare cunt. Uh-huh? Pretty girl likes that or maybe, you should openly refer to her as your pretty, innocent boyfriend, arm contentedly slung over her shoulder because ain’t this how friends typically treat each other as? Promise, they do, Robin.

If anything, it’s an actual tradition to help each other out as good buddies habitually do, as per usual. Yeah, that also naturally involves your skillful fingers knuckles deep inside her drooling cunt, sickeningly wet squelch! of your digits fervently being sucked inside by the wet, welcoming heat of her pussy. Like that? Dizzyingly spreading her folds apart, relish in the slick dripping out as if you’re not the byproduct of it to begin with. Precariously squished against the bricked near in an isolated corner within the school yard and, hell— you’re acutely reminded of the possible consequences that may unfortunately come with it, knowing what that shit headmaster does to said students caught misbehaving or plainly fuckin’ on the school’s ground. Does it stop you, however? Fuck no, and neither will Robin’s adorable, feeble whimpers, bouts of ushered protests wistfully sent your way as if you’re not currently, crudely spreading her cheeks apart to display her two, needy holes for your viewing pleasure. Teasingly rubbing along the edges of her slippery cunt to then, promptly fuck her ass raw as a ‘boy’ should take it. What’d ya mean you want your needy, puffy clit rhythmically toyed with while you’re at it?? A real good boy properly takes what he’s given, alright? So, fuckin’ suck it up and keep quiet till then, ‘kay? “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, do you, Robin?”

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic feb 26 - bed - 1047words - cw: drinking—aka reg picking up a drunk james from the pub<3

for laurie @itsjaywalkers because she's a gem and also i was listening to wallows typing this out mwah

James wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye as he straightens back up, belly hurting and cheeks straining as he claps Peter on the shoulder, laughing and shaking with his whole body.

His head feels pleasantly heavy and his vision is a little blurry, alcohol warming him up from the inside and James thinks Peter isn’t far off with the way the flush on his red cheeks starts spreading along his entire face as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Oh god,” James snickers, sucking in a much needed breath, chortling slightly on the way in which makes Peter send him a weird look and then in return makes James break into another fit of giggles. Everything is just so funny right now.

Peter joins right in, while simultaneously trying to take another sip of his nearly empty cup of beer, his laughter preventing him from actually swallowing. 

Predictably, he ends up coughing and James pounds him on the back with one hand as the other maintains a white knuckled grip on the round bar table to keep himself upright as he tries not to piss his pants from laughing.

Once Peter got himself back in order he clears his throat violently, warily eyeing his remaining beverage, “Shit, I don’t think I should finish that.”

James snorts, “That’s barely two gulps, Pete.”

His blonde friend groans, head sinking into his palms, “I think Benji might already have my head if I turn up back home like this.”

James turns solemn all the sudden, nodding in understanding and rubbing Peter’s back soothingly. Benji loves him though so it’ll be fine, James knows that, but he still wants to be there for Peter, obviously.

The other man grumbles something into his hands that James doesn’t catch over the music and loud noise of people.

“What was that?”

Peter’s head tilts back up, “What about you?”

James blinks, trying to decipher what his friend means through the alcohol clouding his brain.

Pete’s lips tug into a lopsided smirk, “How’re you gonna get home to your loverboy?”

“Oh,” James makes, understanding now. “Regulus said he’ll pick me up.”

“Mm,” Peter grunts into his cup, downing the flat beer, “Premium service.”

James feels himself turn a little more gooey where he’s draping his full weight onto the precariously wobbly bar table, and he sighs long and dreamily, “Yeah, he’s the best.”

“Hi, Regulus,” Peter says, head tipped to the side at a 90 degree angle.

“Yeah, obviously, Regulus, who else?” James makes, nose scrunching in confusion.

“Hello, Peter,” a voice says from behind him and James thinks he might nearly break a few cervical vertebraes in his haste to turn around.

“Baby,” James gasps when he sees Regulus standing there in all his beautiful glory. Head cocked to the side slightly, arms crossed and a mild scowl on his face. He’s in one of James’ grey printed hoodies and sporting some dark green and blue plaid pyjama bottoms that always make his butt look a little bigger, according to himself. James loves Regulus ass though, he loves that it’s perky and petite and perfectly bite-sized for when James is—

“I texted you,” Regulus says in lieu of greeting James, lips pursed into a pout James also would like to bite, “And I called four times.”

Another, softer gasp punches out of James and he fumbles for his phone in his jeans’ back pocket for a second, tapping the screen to see the missed calls and messages. 

James’ expression tips into a frown, a wounded noise coming from his chest as he shuffles closer with his head ducked, palms slowly reaching out to Regulus’ hips. “I’m so sorry, love,” James mumbles, tone apologetic and Regulus’ eyes narrow, “I swear I wasn’t ignoring you, I just didn’t hear.”

Regulus averts his eyes with a small tut, arms tightening where they’re crossed.

James can’t help but whine. The last thing he wants right now is for Regulus to be mad at him, “Baby, please, I promise.”

When Regulus doesn’t budge, James twirls one of his dark curls around his index, playing softly and contemplating giving into the urge of peppering his boyfriend’s face in kisses. He doesn’t want to make it worse though. 

James scrambles together all his might and tries navigating through the drunken haze of his brain and body, concentrating to remind himself what usually makes Regulus fold.

“We were just talking about you, too,” James tries. “Petey can confirm that.”

“Oh, I do not want to be dragged into this, thank you very much.”

James grumbles, rolling his eyes and simply winds his arms tighter around Regulus. It elicits a small inhale and yes, that’s good and it makes James tug his lower lip between his teeth, humming in satisfaction.

Regulus eyes snap back around to him, eyelids fluttering and James slips into a victorious grin. He leans closer and lets his lips brush over his boyfriends, inhaling that distinct citrus and bergamot smell of him, before he breathes needily, “Missed you so much, Reg.”

In the next second there are palms thumping against his pecs, punching a breath out of him before he’s reeled back in by the lapel of his flannel, Regulus glowering at him, cheeks flushed, “Ok, that’s officially enough of you, menace.”

James giggles and quickly squishes Regulus cheeks to plant a kiss on his slack mouth.

They bid their Goodbyes to Peter and make sure he’s got a cab that’ll bring him home safely and then James lets Regulus tug him out of the pub with their fingers intertwined.

Once they’re outside of the crowded space James can’t help himself when he snatches Regulus around the waist and squeezes him with a happy groan.

“James,” Regulus chides, voice tight and flustered, “Let go, we’re in the middle of a sidewalk.”

“But I love you so much,” James slurs into the space between the hoodie and Regulus’ exposed neck, nose nuzzling the skin contently.

Regulus sighs and James doesn’t have to look to see the smile playing at his rosy lips, “Let’s get you into bed.”

“Aw yeah, bed,” James snickers, reaching one hand around to grab at Regulus’ butt.

Regulus yelps and James ends up with a bruise on his ribcage that throbs softly once he cuddles up with Regulus under the sheets half an hour later.

[falling-star-cygnus]

❗4GGRAVATE NATION❗ come get y'all's food, i have another headcanon :D [semi-supported by canon, once again]

anyway, i was rewatching Alhaitham's trailer bc of a fanfic i read, and i realized that he's probably the most flexible out of all of them. -> think about it:

Tighnari and Kaveh both use weapons that require a lot of arm strength [even if Kaveh levitates his with Mehrak, he's still got those creaky old man artist joints] which somewhat limits the range of motion in the shoulder area that doesn't nix Tighnari from being quick on his feet, just for the record, i am aware of his acrobatic abilities. But a lot of his gameplay is focused on footwork and jumping

Cyno, on the other hand, despite having a weapon that allows for more of a lithe build- fights like a claymore user. He's a very heavy hitter, and his attacks focus more on relentless force rather than the precision of other polearm characters which is kinda cool if you look back at Kaveh, who DOES fight with precision despite having a claymore

and then you have Alhaitham, who in his original gameplay would arc almost completely into the splits to kick his sword down [i'm still so distraught that they lowered his leg, BRING IT BACK-] it is impressive that he can kick his sword whilst in a mid-air flip though, and still maintains a very aerial style of combat -> also, he can teleport- why don't more people talk about that?

Kaveh comes home to find Alhaitham sitting on their divan, reading one of his books like usual His hands are full of blueprints, with his charcoal balanced precariously on top, but he manages to close the door and start towards his room to set his stuff down. The charcoal hits the ground Alhaitham, glancing down at it: ...hm? Kaveh, pausing; ah- shit, Alhaitham can you grab that for me? My hands are full. Alhaitham, looking back down at his book: Yes, I can see that. Regardless of his 'disinterest', he shifts as if to stand up. And then doesn't. Alhaitham arches over the backrest of the divan to pat at the floor until his fingers brush the charcoal. He places it back onto Kaveh's stack and settles back into his book Kaveh: ....you could have just stood up- Alhaitham: I could've not grabbed it at all.

Cyno and Alhaitham get caught up in a fight with some Eremites on their way back from a ruin exploration or smth [idk i have a headache] It's a pretty evenly matched battle for most of it, but one of them manages to pin Alhaitham with his blade. Cyno makes to help him, but is quickly blocked by another enemy Cyno, scowling: Alhaitham-! The scribe dismisses his blade in a flurry of golden sparks, only to wrap his thighs around his foe's neck and twist to have the advantage- now having the Eremite pinned, he resummons his weapon Both Cyno and his opponent freeze mid-clash Cyno's Enemy: ...you wish that was you, huh- The general mahamatra attacks twice as viciously

Alhaitham had gone to Tighnari for some minor medical assistance, having been closer to him than the Birmastan [and also just generally not trust it more than his friend] Tighnari had suggested that he rest a little bit before heading back home, to which the scribe easily agreed and settled down on his friend's couch for small nap When the fox goes to wake him before it gets too late to safely travel back, Alhaitham blearily stretches backwards over the armrest until he's nearly in half- sighing a little as it works out a few kinks in the small of his back Tighnari blatantly stares Alhaitham, pausing as he works his boots back on: ...Everything ok? The fox covers the lower part of his face and offers no more than a thumbs up

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

okay yay! Thanks for answering all of my questions, I was worried it felt like an interrogation 😟 In that case I’m chock full of ideas but for an issues that plagued me 2 days ago, I wanted to ask for a domestic-ish fic. I am….terrier or bugs..like deathly afraid…like I have to wake my mom up at night or worse in order to save me…so I wanted to ask…

Whether we are in a Some or a full-fledged relationship, who is willing to rush from work or a social engagement to come kill a bug that ran into the house for me bc I call them crying & also not make me feel embarrassed or dumb over it & how 🥲 pls any 127 or Dream except jw or the Chenji, for female reader please

Ok, I couldn't pick just one member so here are the members I think are most likely to rush home to kill a bug for you! I’ve been meaning to write more for 127 so enjoy! 

Members who would be willing to rush home to come kill a bug for you ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

JAEHYUN

(I feel like Jaehyun is pretty laidback and chill so he wouldnt really mind doing something like that for you. I feel like he's not one to get annoyed easily over silly things so he probably wouldn't even think twice about your reaction)

He was on his lunch break when his phone buzzed incessantly, the screen lighting up with your name. His heart sank as he noticed the string of missed calls—five, maybe six—all back to back, which was highly unusual for you. You always respected his work schedule, making a point to avoid disrupting him during the day. A sense of dread washed over him. Something had to be wrong.

He quickly dialed your number, his pulse pounding in his ears. When you answered, your voice came out choked and shaky, “Hello?” The strain in your tone sent a jolt of anxiety coursing through him, and he felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

“Baby, it’s me,” he said, trying to maintain an air of calm despite the panic bubbling inside him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Jae, please come home. It’s an emergency,” you managed to say, your voice wavering as tears streamed down your cheeks, making it difficult to speak. Fear constricted your throat, leaving you gasping for air.

His heart raced as he absorbed your words. The urgency in your plea twisted his insides into a tight coil. “Okay, just breathe. I’m on my way,” he reassured you, his voice steady despite his racing thoughts. The heaviness of unease wrapped around him, but the simple confirmation that you needed him ignited a fierce determination within him.

With that, he jumped into action, throwing his things into his bag and rushing out of the office. The world outside blurred into a haze as he sped towards home, the car’s engine roaring like his frantic thoughts. 

Each traffic light felt agonizingly long, each second stretching into an eternity, but luck was on his side today; he didn’t work far from the house, and in less than twenty minutes, he was pulling into the driveway, his heart pounding in sync with his footsteps.

When he burst through the doorway moments later, adrenaline coursing through him, he rushed through the house, calling out for you. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw you standing precariously on the couch, broom in hand, wobbling slightly as you tried to keep your balance on the cushions.

“Jae, no! In the kitchen, go!” you shouted, your voice laced with urgency, but it came out in a frantic rush, leaving him unsure if he understood what was happening.

He raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of confusion and concern, as he approached the couch again. “What’s going on?” he asked, but you wailed in despair, “No, Jae! You’re not listening! Hurry before it gets away!” 

Hesitantly, he finally veered toward the kitchen, cautiously obeying your frantic direction while you stumbled over the couch cushions to follow, not daring to let your feet touch the ground until you felt certain it was safe again. You perched against the armrest, leaning over as far as you could to keep an eye on him.

“What am I looking—” he started, but before he could finish, you interrupted him, your heart pounding with urgency. “There, Jae! There! Get it!”

He quickly redirected his gaze to where you were pointing and squinted, initially seeing nothing. Then, just as his patience began to wane, he spotted a beetle scuttling across the stove. Relief washed over him; he finally understood the situation.

With determination, he reached into the junk drawer, pulling out a piece of cardstock and a plastic lid. He deftly scooped the bug onto the cardboard, trapping it beneath the lid. As he walked back into the living room, he noted the tension radiating from you, your eyes wide with fear. He cast you a reassuring smile as he passed, making his way to the front door. You relaxed slightly, finally allowing a tentative foot onto the floor, following him to the entrance. He gently released the tiny intruder outside, your eyes locked on the scene as the beetle vanished into the grass.

As he returned inside, the raw tension that had coiled within you drained away, leaving you feeling weak in the knees. 

“Was this the emergency?” Jae asked softly, concern still etched on his face.

A fresh wave of tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Guilt washed over you; you had dragged him all the way from work just to help you with a bug. “I’m so sorry, Jae. I just can’t handle them. I really tried, but it—”

“No, no, no, baby, I’m not upset,” he interrupted you gently, shushing your growing distress before pulling you into his embrace. He rocked you back and forth, his hand soothingly rubbing your back as you cried softly against his chest. “I was so scared—I thought something had happened to you. I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Do you promise you’re not mad?” you sniffled, looking up at him with teary eyes.

Jae pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and then flashed you a dimpled smile that warmed your heart. “I’m not mad. I’ll get rid of all the bugs for you, just ask. Do you know why?” he asked, pulling you back slightly to look into your eyes.

You shook your head, your curiosity piqued, urging him to continue.

“It's because I love you,” he said softly, his gaze steady and filled with warmth. 

In that moment, all your worries faded, replaced by the comfort of his words and the safety of his arms.

Doyoung

(Doyoung is another member who I don't think would really mind going through the trouble of coming home to kill a bug for you. Now, I will say he probably thinks it's a little silly, but he would never tell you that. In truth, he finds it really adorable and loves the way you sometimes depend on him.)

He was already on his way home with the groceries when your call came through, ringing sharply in the quiet of the car.

“Hey, I’m almost home,” he said with an upbeat tone.

“Please hurry! There’s a bug—and it’s—IT’S FLYING, SHIT!” you yelled into the phone, panic echoing in your voice.

Doyoung could hear you racing through the house, your breathing heavy and irregular, accompanied by the sound of crashes that made his heart race. He pressed down on the gas, urgency pushing him forward. 

“Try to calm down, love. I’m almost there,” he said, attempting to soothe you, but his own heart was pounding at the chaos on the other end of the line.

“IT’S CHASING ME—” was the last thing he heard before the line abruptly cut off. 

That alone spurred Doyoung to speed home, anxiety creeping in as he recalled how much you despised bugs, and how clumsy you could get in your panic. The last time you encountered a moth, you’d sprained your ankle in your frantic escape.

Not long after, he pulled into the driveway and could already hear your distant screams while he fumbled with the keys to the front door. As he unlocked it and stepped inside, he couldn't help but chuckle softly at the scene before him. You were darting around the living room, all but obliterating the tidy space in your attempt to evade the offending insect. Little did you know, your chase was futile—the bug was nowhere near you anymore.

In a moment of sheer panic, you ran straight into his chest, the impact causing you to stumble backward. 

“Whoa, babe, it’s me. Where is it?” Doyoung asked, concern lacing his voice as he steadied you.

“I thought it was chasing me,” you huffed, the exasperation evident in your tone. Your wild eyes were filled with both fear and embarrassment, and Doyoung felt a surge of protectiveness.

Before he could respond, the unmistakable buzzing of insect wings echoed through the room, sending you into a full-on retreat behind him. “Doyoung, please!” you wailed, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his shirt.

“Alright, I’ve got this,” he said, his demeanor shifting to one of calm resolve. He peered over his shoulder, scanning the room for the source of your terror. “Just stay right here,” he added, turning to face you, his serious expression softening when he saw how scared you were.

With purpose, he stepped forward, determined to handle the situation while keeping you safe. The buzzing grew louder, and he focused intently, ready to shoo away the intruder and restore peace to your chaotic home.

With careful movements, Doyoung scanned the room, honing in on the erratic flight pattern of the bug. It was hovering near the window, darting back and forth as if trying to find an escape. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the moment of levity and focus on the task at hand.

"Okay, I see it," he said, steadying himself. "Just keep behind me, alright?"

You nodded, gripping him tighter for reassurance. Your heart raced not just from fear, but also from the sheer relief that he was there. Watching him take charge made you feel a little less frantic. 

Doyoung approached the window cautiously, glancing back at you to make sure you were still safely behind him. "It’s just a bug, remember? You’ve faced worse," he murmured, trying to soothe both of your nerves.

With a sudden bolt of bravery, he swung open the window, and the insect buzzed around aimlessly, momentarily disoriented by the sudden gust of fresh air. Doyoung waived his hand, trying to guide it outside without harming it.

"You got this," you whispered, peeking from behind him, your voice barely above a whisper. 

With a swift flick of his wrist, Doyoung guided the bug toward the open window. It buzzed a few more frantic circles before finally darting out into the evening air. As soon as he closed the window, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“See? All taken care of,” he said, turning around to face you with a triumphant smile.

You launched yourself into his arms, relief flooding over you as you buried your face in his chest. “Thank you,” you breathed, your voice muffled. “You’re my hero.”

Doyoung chuckled, holding you tightly. “No heroics here, just doing what needs to be done.” He pulled back slightly to meet your gaze, a playful glint in his eye. “Speaking of what needs to be done, come help me bring in the groceries so I can make dinner,” he said, tilting his head toward the door.

You opened your mouth to protest, but given all he’s done for you today, you don't argue. “Alright, but if I see even one more flying thing tonight, you’re on your own!” You warned, a teasing smile creeping onto your lips.

Doyoung laughed, a light, melodic sound that eased the remnants of anxiety in the air. “Fair enough. I’ll keep the kitchen bug-free while you load up the bags.”

[binomech]

in which @medusaesque and I ponder the Kim skill tree (under the cut because it's long, as usual) ft. en dehors (a psyche skill from her latest comic)

medusaesque: i was really proud of en dehors.. human interaction is a complicated dance but if you listen to the music learn the chirography and practice your moves MAYBE you can reach out and dance

binomech: yes yes yes

binomech: ponders. god i didn't realize you meant the ballet meaning

binomech: i don't know if you care about what my brain thought en dehors was mentioning but i concocted a whole string of bullshit as the philosopher in me is wont to do

medusaesque: do tell 👀

binomech: so en dehors is a legal term in french as well as many other things but. it's the term that is used to separate criminal charges for military officials -- the punishment is different whether the crime was comitted in the line of duty or as a civilian (en dehors de l'armée). it's also a concept in contemporary queer theory in francophone circles that lines with the theory of marginality which tl;dr is an utopian proposal talking about whether or not it is possible to live a full life in the margins of society and when does a margin stop being a margin. marginal both as in a footnote in a book margin and as an oppressed group of people. en dehors is a way to describe emotional detachment. en dehors is synonym with en coulisses, is what happens in the backstage, the dirty unrewarding work that no one ever will see unless they look for it. an exogamous marriage -- an union that happens outside of the socially expected bounds of the group, is also called mariage en dehors. the marriage that isn't approved by the church is also a mariage en dehors. en dehors, paumé, a vagabond who can't find a place that will take him in.

binomech: anyway.

binomech: it literally did not occur to me to think about the classical dance thing i was like Lost In The Sauce

medusaesque: WOW i knew the queer theory thing its part of why i chose it for kim (and of why i even know a classical ballet term lmao) but i did Not know the legal term! thats fascinating

medusaesque: goddamn

medusaesque: you made my thing much cooler

medusaesque: i just thought of kim living in the margins and the way he might approach venturing out of them and reaching out- calculated and measured but passionate like dance

binomech: it's very GOOD

binomech: i'm like wow... this reading... is so flavorful!!!

binomech: my approach was so devoid of warmth and i like that... idk how do i put this

binomech: en dehors position in ballet is precarious and precise much like kim's demeanor towards his existing is precarious and precise but like you said it is rewarded with the potential of a group dance

binomech: his composure and poise being the only chance to be part of the in-group

binomech: and also of course the marginality of a queer racialized experience at large but specifically the exhilarating bravery of dipping your toes into the main text

medusaesque: yeah!! thats how he literally dances but also how he navigates any other social situation

medusaesque: i imagine every time he puts his hand on harrys back or shoulder its an en dehors check

medusaesque: not too light, not too tight, definitely not too gay

binomech: man every time i think about this i'm like fully cognizant of my biases because i am white and i know race is crucial to kim's embodiment and exitence but all i can do is washed out analyses based on secondhand recountings of friends and theorists. so i focus way too much on queerness and disability

binomech: like the disability in text is so fucking blatant to me but it's like 3 lines so it could be easily dismissed and i'm scared of getting fanon-brained about it

binomech: so when conceptualizing skills i'm like. am i being true to canon kim. what would canon kim do bracelet

medusaesque: nah it's defiantly there

medusaesque: the disability i mean

binomech: like... yes he has a 7/10 shooting score (unbelievable that this is High to people) and he can drive and he can do fucking crosswords but I just... i think a lot about my own experiences and about how people normally conceputalize the spectrum of blindness and i pick a comically large hammer and squash the world

medusaesque: well first of all its really meaningful to find that kind of connection in fiction even if you arent 100% accurate to the source material and secondly kim canonically has really bad eyesight and it affects his relationship to vulnerability and lack of agency

medusaesque: so id say ur good

medusaesque: like dealing with being thought of an a spy, with fetishization, with the whole model minority thing..

binomech: yeah!!!

binomech: anyway yeah disclaimer of the bias that permeates these takes

binomech: a lot of people with visual impairments (moderate, severe or total sight loss) share this experience of the internal and external existence of the body being severed

binomech: something that i have experienced a lot, for example, is people telling me my face is overly expressive. something that a friend of mine who is fully blind since birth gets told a lot, is how stony faced she is.

binomech: they both have the same source: i struggle enough to see facial expressions on other people, to match them with a topic or tone of voice, as she does as well obviously. for me that has resulted in making my face move in what i can sort of glimpse from the motions and shapes of other's faces, to my friend it has resulted in her having been told how to move her face into smiles and frowns and gestures that are a mask to her and that do not come naturally

binomech: it's an act for the benefit of others and it's calculated

binomech: it's a very jarring feeling, to become aware of just how big the space between how you exist in the world and how others see you exist in the world is

binomech: and i think this is true for kim for disability reasons and for asian guy in a predominantly white environment reasons

binomech: and the moment you understand this gap is very traumatic

binomech: i think about kim's expressions being described as unreadable, subtle, sometimes not entirely matching his tone and i think about his face being the mask of composure to harry

binomech: there's also the precision that permeates all of his being: the orderly environments, the tailored clothes, even the color choices of his belongings

binomech: clutter is a hazard for bvi people on a practical level. having control over your appearance is a way to increase your chances at respect. all the important things must stand out because you Cannot lose them.

binomech: a bright orange jacket, a blue car and notebook, halogen square reflections to remind you who is safe and who isn't, who is a pothole and who is a tree shade

binomech: also if it is indeed severe hyperopia that he has, it does get worse with age

binomech: i suspect it's something more on top of that; i am nearsighted and have astigmatism but my actual disability comes from glaucoma, not from those, which are what i wear glasses for

binomech: anyway, it's really disheartening in general to have a degenerative condition but it's even worse when you base your personal value on how much of an asset you can be to the police

binomech: when i was a teenager i would study the visual clarity text charts so that i would score higher and they wouldn't tell my parents that my eyesight was getting worse because then i might not be allowed to do things i liked

binomech: i imagine a straight up adult kim lying to keep his license and the immense frustration of realizing that your best is a 7/10 when handling a gun

binomech: and knowing it's all downhill and the issue was never the words on a paper slip, that it DOES have consequences on your life and sense of self

medusaesque: god that really got me in your fic. kim and the way he tries to hold on to things that are slipping away

medusaesque: to be capable and power through. return from the sea. fight another day

binomech: shoutouts to the crushing weight of wanting to be a pilot for a commune that no longer exists, with an airforce that no longer exists, that wouldn't even take you in because you're a seolite crip

medusaesque: glory to the ghosts of us (or who we wanted to be)

binomech: howling

binomech: but yeah i do think Clinging is a big character trait of his

binomech: clinging while refusing to admit that's the only thing keeping him from falling off

binomech: again i think kim is both fully aware of how he's one misstep from his life falling apart and to some extent knows that it's a structural issue, but if it's a structural issue then it means he can't fight it alone, and you can't fight with others when the only thing you can trust is yourself

binomech: so he's got this stupid ass cognitive dissonance that has him listening to speedfreaks fm in a police issued vehicle when he should not even be allowed to drive

binomech: he plays with risk because a part of him knows that it's not a game

medusaesque: but he would never let anyone take away from him or even touch

binomech: EXACTLY

medusaesque: the thrill of danger.. from a man that the first thing you learn about him is that he would hurl himself in death's way for you

medusaesque: who outlived everyone

medusaesque: it's a dark game

binomech: not to bring quotes from other places but: "you will die for a cause, but you won't fight for one?"

binomech: kim doesn't realize he's not a sprinter, this is a fucking marathon

binomech: he seeks the thrill and the danger because going out in a blaze of glory is easy, having to apologize for all the wrong you've done and the principles you've betrayed is Hard

binomech: it's humiliating

binomech: and he won't be taken for a fool

binomech: he has a mask that is both keeping others from seeing him and him seeing himself

binomech: if his body isn't him, then he isn't lowvis, he isn't seolite, his body is a tool for justice through the RCM

binomech: and it's fucking hard, he sometimes feels the full extent of his humanity and limited individual power

binomech: so he sublimates his hopes and needs for the city that he loves. he's not a moralist but he still hopes to be a forget-me-not and a piece of the sky

binomech: an indistinguishable part of a whole

medusaesque: to be a part of anything

medusaesque: an unquestionable, necessary part

binomech: if a piece falls from the sky the sky just crumbles

binomech: he's necessary even if no-one notices

binomech: he has to be. otherwise, what is the point?

medusaesque: its all would be for nothing

medusaesque: people are more valuable than machines, it's always darkest before the dawn, sunrise parabellum, after the pale the world again, a blue forget me not a piece of the sky...mantra after mantra of this will eventually be worst it. there's belonging and worth at the end of this road

binomech: anyway all this meta was CONTEXT for skill talk -- i think that kim's mask is not a dramatic one but a folding screen, a blind (haha) to protect himself and to isolate himself. i think the ability to Spot the Beacon (both visually and emotionally) would also be very important. the flawlessly crafted cog in the machine. en dehors, as established. something full of desire that could be fulfilled if you reached out 5 centimeters to the left. dogged perseverance in the face of loss. thrillseeking.

binomech: honest to god give kim o&m aids i beg of you. he would hate a guide dog but. a fucking pocket magnifier. a light cane even if it's just for checking or social visibility (he would Despise it). a fucking psychic beam that tells harry to tell him minutiae about the world. anything

binomech: i feel like that is also a skill that i cannot conceptualize succintly - the awareness and fear of the unknown-to-you

binomech: be it the pale be it all these troves of information everyone else gets just by existing that could just pass you by i feel like that is also a skill that i cannot conceptualize succintly - the awareness and fear of the unknown-to-you

medusaesque: working together with volta do mar maybe?

binomech: absolutely

binomech: i think that volta as canonically physique tracks with my impression of kimskills

binomech: which is that they are uhhh

binomech: god anytime i try to say anything about kim it just turns into a 5 levels deep rabbithole context

medusaesque: the jacket descriptions fucking kiiled me

medusaesque: 'distant eneny of himself' howling....

binomech: in the constructed language toki pona, which is a language that is meant to be able to express everything in the world in an extremely limited amount of terms, there is a core word: selo

binomech: i promise i'm going somewhere with this bear with me

binomech: (quoting lipamanka's semantic space dictionary)

selo describes the outer layer of an object. It doesn't matter what the object is. For example, skin can be selo, and bark can be selo. This can get extended into the metaphorical. What are outer layers for? Usually, they protect that which is inside. perhaps an attempt to ignore bigotry could be described as a selo. But in doing so, you're framing it as an outer layer of your mind. selo for "protect" has a different vibe when compared with awen's protect meaning. With awen, a protection is an act of maintaining, perhaps from afar with no risk to yourself, but with selo, protection always puts something at risk, be it the skin of an apple, the walls of a castle, or the case of a guitar. selo don't always have to contain anything important, even though they usually do. Balloons are usually empty (save for air) and they can still be selo. In fact, a vaccum chamber's walls could be selo, even though they literally have nothing inside of the (save for "dark energy" or whatever don't @ me I'm not a physicist). As a verb, selo can mean "to surround fully," or "to become the outer layer of (something)." Some people use this for hugging, which is very fun.

binomech: selo, then, becomes: a shell. a protective layer. a barrier. a surface level understanding. a cover.

binomech: volta do mar as a physique skill AND as an associated trait to the jacket

binomech: your traitorous race. your traitorous job. your traitorous parents. your traitorous senses. distant enemy of yourself: seolite, communist, cripple, faggot.

binomech: and you wear it as armor

binomech: those will take the hit

medusaesque: GOD. thats so...

medusaesque: yeah

binomech: everyone associates it with the pale because of the canon references to volta and the voltas being poems and other artforms that can... filter the pale, as it were, to protect the mind

binomech: to put a net between the unknown horrors and the known horrors, to make the incomprehensible palatable to the mind

binomech: to make the harm from the Other match the harm from the Self

medusaesque: the kind of compartmentalizing kim excels at