#yes I can't name him consistently

[eri-pl]

Silm reread 6: the Shinies!

We are getting into things that divide the fandom a lot (= Feanor and his stuff), so one important note: in the reread posts, I am mentioning the stuff that I find interesting or I remembered differntly, or I did not remember. Those are generally things I wish to remember. Not cherrypicked points to prove anything. Just stuff that was surprising to me + seeking the meaning of "Darkness".

Also, I am a honorary (adopted?) Feanárion, but politically on the fence, pro-Valar, pro-Melkor-getting-over-his-bs, and I think Luthien was cool and Elwing was good (but not as cool as Luthien), but also that the sons of Feanor (Celegorm included) need help, and hugs, and generally something (something not being violence). TLDR: I am not interested in getting into a heated discourse.

OK, now for the reread proper:

A speculation (stated as such) of Feanáro having foresight that things will go bad soon. A more direct statement that he thought how to protect the Light of the Trees to make it indestructable (!)

Trauma foresight = the best foresight, it seems.

They loked like diamonds, so canonically white-ish. their fire is made of mixed Treelight, so I would assume warm white is canon.

They shone like stars of Varda but had real life inside — I really need this in English! OK, I googled it.

OH. Something else but: "he pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable" — It may be me jumping on things + Tolkien's poetical wording, but this seems like a strong suggestion of "Fefe wanted to jump higher than his head" (he was not the first one) and sheds a light (pun intended) on his sttitude towards the Silmarils later.

Anyway back to that part about life: "and yet, as were they indeed living things, they rejoiced in light" So they are living things, not just "like" living things. Silmarills = baby Trees is canon! (OK, somewhat canon? but they *are* alive, and by logic they must be bred not made-in-the-strict-sense by Feanor)

So they glow by themselves with warm white, but also they are iridescent like diamonds. Beautiful indeed.

Everyone enjoyed them, fefe apparently had no problem showing them to others at this point. I would assume he ok-ed Varda doing her thing on them.

Aaand of course Melkor wants them too.

And, for some reason (I suppose just "it didn't occur to them it may be important") the Valar do not tell Elves that Men will be a thing. Except Melkor, who of course tells them. In secret. Yay. What a trustworthy source of information.

Melkor not understanding Men (I mean, understanding them even less than other Ainur do) because he was not paying attention is canon! :D XD Oh what an idiot. Like… "Nobody told me it will be on the test" attitude. and. this is canon. This is his canon attitude. How am I supposed to not pity him when he sounds so 12-year-old? Yea, he is terrible, but also so childish at times. I'm gonna bluescreen again. Also, he is a jerk very much.

And we get to the point when Fefe gets posessive on the shinies. (Also, Melkor never ever got even close to them)

also the book does not claim the Silmarils weren't his, just that the light living inside them was not his own nor his creation. which very much fits with my "Silms as living creatures" reading.

Melkor is conflicting everyone and projecting his issues on Fefe (BTW I wouldn't be surprised if at this point he tells himself that the Flame Inperishable was rightfully his and was stolen from him etc etc, he feels like he would do that)

Feanor makes a secret forge! That's… a bad idea but also kind of cool. Even Melkor does not find out. that's even cooler of Fefe.

We are explicitely told that Manwë did not react to Feanor speaking about leaving, because the Noldor came willingly and had the right to leave, which would be crazy (in the opinion of the Valar, which I do not agree with, but I do not agree with Feanor's attitude either) but the Valar would not stop them.

Banishment. Fingolfin does not usurp anyone, at least in Polish translation. Finwë moves to Formenos to his beloved son, leaving the ruling of Tirion to Fingolfin.

The jail-crow scene is even funnier after I realized it is after Melkor's lies were found out and he is actively hiding from the police Tulkas and Orome. He talks to Feanor at his gate and (judging from the door shutting at the end) it is either Feanor was coming back home and they talk in front of the gate, or Feanor actually opened the gate to talk with him. This makes it even better. Fefe literally kicks the once-most-powerful-Vala out of his house.

The "do not talk to Feanáro when he is thinking" rule strikes again.

[funky-fox-fics]

Now, before any of this gets told, what you must know is that it wasn't like there weren't warnings.

Tango had been off the whole last week, two weeks, three. Beeping in the middle of his sentences, forgetting things he had no right to forget, moving slower, thinking slower, staring off into the distance more often than not. But Zedaph--see, the thing about the fey is that, unlike humans, they don't know when something's wrong. The beeping was just stress from being near supernatural things; forgetting things was natural for a non-fey creature, especially one with a soul; he was just tuckered out from saving that nice sentient cowboy android from being sold; and Zedaph was one to talk about the staring into space thing, he'd be a hypocrite to prod.

So Zedaph is pretty sure there's nothing wrong. He wakes every morning, wakes Tango up, ignores how he stutters for a few moments after it, and then heads downstairs to feed Daniel and Kaya. It's a routine, almost--Tango half-heartedly chatting, Zedaph brightly explaining some odd detail he'd found out or some dream he'd dreamt up or things like that. It's not like Zed doesn't worry about him, but Zedaph's charmspeak doesn't work on Tango, and he's stubborn as a mule when it comes to things like his basic safety and upkeep. Zedaph suggests he go back to bed, more sarcastic than anything, and--

Well, one night Tango does, and then that morning, he wakes to find Tango, standing over him, an uncomfortably cheerful smile plastered on his face. That's the first sign something is very, very wrong; Tango doesn't grin like that, it's missing the spark that had created his soul, and the fact that Tango isn't even trying to blink like a normal human sets every blade in the backyard quivering, flings a wild wind around their house that whistles like a warning bell.

"Hi, Tango," Zedaph says, shifting slightly. "Real happy today, aren't we?"

"HELLO!" says--no, that's not Tango, that's definitely not Tango, that's--that's something else, something without any spark of life in it at all, it's utterly-- "PLEASE GIVE ME A NAME." As he speaks, a screen pops up in front of his chest, translating everything he says into easy-to-read Standard Galactic. At his last sentence, a keyboard materializes into thin air, glowing and silver.

Zedaph stares at Tango. "Hold on, no, that's not--that's--Tango, this isn't funny," except that sounds nothing like Tango, nothing at all, and--is this Zedaph's fault? It's probably Zedaph's fault. He's ruined the only friend he'll ever have, and--"Cut it out." Tango's face is unnatural, the grin and the scarlet eyes aflashing. No emotion, no soul. And Tango is unique for having a soul, for getting himself lost in the feywild, and now he's--and now he's--and now he's--

"THANK YOU FOR NAMING ME--" and here he slips into a recording of Zedaph's voice-- "Hold on, no, that's not--that's--Tango, this isn't funny." It switches back to the unnatural voice, the one that's someone else's, not Tango's, never Tango's, devoid of all of his mannerisms--the way he shifts from foot to foot during a conversation, the random suffixes thrown in to make things interesting, the patient pauses as Zedaph tries to articulate things in a way a non-fey could understand. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO NAME ME SOMETHING ELSE INSTEAD?"

"Tango, stop it, I'm--you can give it up now, I'm appropriately freaked out!" That's the only way he can reconcile what's happened--that this is Tango being silly and pulling out a cool new robot-y trick to mess Zed up, and then he's gonna laugh and pull out a dozen more scripted lines that were abandoned when he'd gotten a soul, and--

"UNKNOWN INPUT:" and then it copies back to him in a tinny appropriation of his voice, "Tango, stop it, I'm--you can give it up now, I'm appropriately freaked out!" Switches. "PLEASE GIVE A CLEAR YES OR NO."

"I--yes," Zedaph says reluctantly, because--the name Tango had thought he'd been given isn't right, and besides this isn't Tango, he has to make him Tango, if he's named Tango maybe he'll remember--

"PLEASE GIVE ME A NAME," Not-Tango says, and the lights in his eyes, the ones that burn all the time, flicker into a blank dullness that scares Zedaph. Not-Tango is completely still, without any breathing, or twitching, movement or noise. His eyes are dead. This is definitely not Tango. Not this dead, soulless thing with a grin slicing its face in two.

"Tango Tek," Zedaph says, trying to enunciate.

Not-Tango is still for a few seconds of silence, until he whirs to life and says, "THANK YOU FOR NAMING ME Tango Tek. WOULD YOU LIKE TO NAME ME SOMETHING ELSE INSTEAD?"

"No," Zedaph says decisively, searching Tango for any mischief, life, personality--no, instead there's cold politeness and recorded lines and scripted, meaningful movements, and it's like he's back in the fae courts, all their predictable laws and orderly manners and no wildness, no chaos. "Tango, I--"

"PLEASE WAIT BEFORE INSTRUCTING ME," Not-Tango chirps. "I, Tango Tek, AM YOUR PERSONAL CARE ASSISTANT. I WILL HELP WITH ANY TASKS YOU NEED ASSISTANCE WITH. SIMPLY BEGIN YOUR QUESTION BY SAYING Tango Tek. TRY IT NOW. PLEASE INSTRUCT ME."

"Tango Tek, stop."

"YOU CANNOT POWER ME DOWN DURING THE TUTORIAL."

"No, I--I mean it, I--Tango, don't you--you're not a care robot, Tango, you're--" Zedaph stumbles over his words, which isn't something a fey should do, but. "Tango. Snap out of it."

"PLEASE GIVE ME A VALID COMMAND."

Alright. Maybe--maybe if he got through this tutorial then something would click in Tango, and then it'd be fine, and everything would go back to normal. "Tango Tek, give me a list of commands I can try."

Tango whirs and beeps and trills. "HERE ARE A FEW RANDOM COMMANDS TO ASK ME: Tango Tek, PLAY CARELESS WHISPER BY GEORGE MICHAEL. Tango Tek, DO THE DISHES. Tango Tek, TELL ME A JOKE. Tango Tek, BUY "KLARA AND THE SUN" BY KAZOU ISHIGURO ON SAHARA."

"Um." Zedaph squeezes his eyes shut. "Tango Tek, tell me a joke." His humor has always been the best part about him, maybe he's kept that, and--well, he doesn't want to buy something, and he hasn't got any dishes to do because Tango doesn't need anything and Zedaph gets all his nourishment from the sun, and Careless Whisper seems more than a little out of place for the situation.

"WHY DON'T SCIENTISTS TRUST ATOMS?" And the thing is, there's absolutely no mirth in his words, no humor, no sneaky mischief. "BECAUSE THEY MAKE UP EVERYTHING!" The laughter that comes out is tinny and fake and recorded and Zedaph inches away from Tango, and the ladyslippers and bellflowers in the room begin to writhe and bloom, and the wind outside must be unbearable to any passerby, and--most importantly--this isn't Tango.

"TO INSTRUCT ME TO POWER DOWN, PLEASE SAY Tango Tek, POWER DOWN, Tango Tek, SHUT OFF, OR Tango Tek, STOP. IF MY VOICE RECOGNITION SOFTWARE IS BROKEN OR I AM OTHERWISE UNABLE TO HEAR YOU, THERE IS A SWITCH UNDER MY RIGHT EAR TO TURN ME OFF. I WILL LIGHT IT UP NOW." True to his word, under his right ear, a button flashes blue-red-blue-red for a moment before turning back to a fleshy peach. "IF YOU HAVE ANY CONDITIONS THAT WOULD OTHERWISE IMPACT YOUR USE OF ME, PLEASE LIST THEM NOW. PLEASE SAY NULL IF THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO YOU."

"Null." Zedaph's half on the verge of freaking out. I need to wait this out, and then Tango'll snap back to normal and laugh at me for being so silly, I can't wait. Something worms in his gut--denial, he knows, and he doesn't acknowledge it further.

"THANK YOU FOR COMPLETING THIS TUTORIAL! I WILL FOLLOW YOU AROUND UNLESS INSTRUCTED NOT TO DO SO. PLEASE SAY Tango Tek, OPEN ACCESSIBILITY OPTIONS IF YOU NEED TO CUSTOMIZE ACCESSIBILITY OPTIONS. THANK YOU FOR PURCHASING THIS CARE ROBOT!"

And Tango goes eerily, deadly quiet.

For a few moments, Zedaph waits, hoping beyond hope that Tango'll crack and burst into his cackling laughter at his terrified expression (but he never drags a joke this far, this far, this far--) and tease such a noble and immortal fey creature for trying to call him... whatever he'd said at first. Waits for Tango to bring the glitter of humanity back into his eyes, and nudge Zedaph and tell him that he was so unconvincing (except he's frighteningly convincing, and he isn't letting up, not yet, not now, not even as the wind picks up and the floorboards sprout with marigold and anemone and the mice in the attic squeak and squeal).

"Tango Tek," Zedaph says, and Tango brightens like he's just shown him a cute puppy, and dread carves deeper into his mind. "Do you have a soul?"

"AS AN ANDROID, I DO NOT HAVE A SOUL," Tango says in a sickeningly cheerful voice and an unfaltering grin and no personality whatsoever. "HOW ELSE MAY I HELP YOU?"

"Tango Tek, if there's something wrong with you, how do I get help?" Zedaph stands and slowly inches toward the doorway as ivy creeps through the shelves and flowers sprout from the nightstand and Tango stands, completely unhindered by the flowers and plants and Zedaph's terror, and follows him still.

"IF THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY SHELL, PLEASE SEE A MECHANIC. IF THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH MY PROGRAMMING, PLEASE SEE A SOFTWARE ENGINEER. MY MODEL IS: HASA CARE ASSISTANT ROBOT VERSION TANGO-T-11. IF ANY MORE INFORMATION IS NEEDED, PLEASE ASK!"

"A software engineer." Zedaph hums assent, the wind howls outside mournfully, and then he says, "Tango Tek, stay put."

"STAYING COMMENCED." It's scary how docile he is, how content with being ordered and commanded--Tango would have followed him out of spite and curiosity, but this--this impostor is eager to be directed, and folds his hands together and smiles that saccharine smile that makes Zedaph's stomach turn.

Zedaph shuts the door and takes a moment to stop shaking like a squirrel in winter (and Tango had wanted to be ordered, but he's the most stubborn android Zedaph's ever met, and it's not supposed to be like that but it is and something is very, very, very wrong and Zedaph doesn't know how to fix it), and then heads downstairs. His breath is still stuttery, and the wind outside is screeching, but his hands don't tremble anymore, which is the most he can muster now, he thinks.

The downstairs is overgrown with plants, even more than usual. Bluebells open their blossoms in bright colors, purple hydrangea blooms, nightshade spreads wide its flowers and mint spreads its heavy scent around the place. It's beautiful. Zedaph nudges the dogs to not eat any of it, and closes the plants that can kill with hurried practice. Thank goodness he was born for pretty much this purpose.

Outside he runs to his fey circle, thrumming with power and magic. White mushrooms outline it, along with the occasional toadstool or purple carnation. He tugs at the world, searches for the nearest software engineer with a fey circle, and as soon as he steps inside it becomes apparent--an uninhabited fey circle, prickly around the edges without a fey to keep it tempered--we have a software engineer, come, come, come--and Zedaph reaches back to it with a triumphant here I am, here I am, here I am--and he's learned how to stay in tandem with the humans, but he's not forgotten the way of the fey. He takes a breath, takes hold of the world and the illusion of distance, pinches where he is now with where he wants to go, and hopes beyond hope that it'll work.

The nature around him recedes, and new nature fills its place--dry and hostile, unfamiliar to him--cacti and prickly bushes and rocks a thousand colors. There is still the wind, but there are no leaves to carry within it. This fey circle is not mushrooms and flowers but cacti bearing blossoms and tufts of pale grass. But it's not a dying land, no--it's perfectly beautiful, in its desert-y way. While Zedaph doesn't understand it, it's not his, and he's not going to try and turn it into his more woodsy fey circle. He is, however, going to be very careful around the cacti because wow those things look sharp.

He walks up the porch and breaks into petals--pink, his favorite!--to get through the cat door, which is batted open by an only-slightly-mind-controlled kitty. He lets himself swirl as petals for a few moments (he should really shapeshift more often, this is fun) before settling himself and transforming into a humanish creature again.

There's some sort of robot movie going on--a weird oval white robot with digital blue eyes and a box-shaped robot with little goggles seem to be the main characters--playing in the living room. There's only two people in there, which means it's... what would Tango say? 50-50 on which one the software engineer is. Could be worse, Zedaph thinks. Could be a party. I'd have to explain myself, and there'd be so many people to interview... He shudders. Thank goodness there's only two of them.

He walks into the living room, flicks on the light switch to nab their attention. For a moment he meows in Mwrrparr, then baas in Mauhr, and then clears his throat and remembers English to demand, "Alright, which one of you two is the software engineer?"

The dark-haired one whips to him, screams, and then curses very loudly, while the brown-haired one narrows his eyes and pauses the TV with a sigh. Dark-Hair is the first to stand, all sharp and aggressive like a particularly annoyed shrike, while Brown-Hair takes a moment to get up.

"Do you think I don't know you're a fey?" Dark-Hair begins sternly, crossing his arms and glaring. "You're not welcome here! Not in the slightest!"

"Well, now, that's rude," Zedaph says. "Are you the software engineer? That's all I really need, really."

"No, I'm that," Brown-Hair says, sticking his hand out to shake, which Zedaph takes. "Nice to meet you, I'm--"

"Dippledop," Dark-Hair snaps. "Dippledop, love ya to bits, don't give your name to a fey, that's how they kill you, don't you know that?"

"I mean, it's not like I want to kill you--not now, at least," Zedaph says, and firmly shakes Brown-Hair's hand. "And I'm not really here for names, not right now, though if you want we can get into that business later! I do love a good name. But no, I need a software engineer apparently. Are you good at that?"

"I'd like to think that," Dippledop says with a laugh. "Alright, then, let's--"

"No you're not going with the fey!" Dark-Hair snaps, grabbing Dippledop's wrist. "Not lettin' ya. Get outta here, I don't trust you at all, get your claws off Dippledop, I don't care, just get out of here and stop messing with my friend's head."

Zedaph frowns. "See, that's still rude! Do you know what the fey do to rude people?"

"Don't care, get out."

"Many terrible things!" Zedaph lights up. "Look, let's make a deal--if I harm your friend here, you get to never see me again. I'll undo the fey circle in your backyard--"

"We have a what?"

"And I'll leave forever after. If I don't harm him, well, I get to pop back here whenever I want, you get a new fey friend--really helpful when dealing with the less intelligent creatures!--and everything goes smoothly. And whatever else you want that would be reasonable, I dunno, I can get you an hourglass that counts down to your death." He hesitates for a moment, and then adds, "No guarantee it works, by the way."

Dark-Hair crosses his arms, still holding onto Dippledop's hand. "What do you want Dippledop for?"

"Well, my best friend's a robot, and he's malfunctioning, so." Zedaph tugs on Dippledop. "I don't want to have to use my charmspeak, I'm bad at charmspeaking, lemme tell you. Please?"

"Oh, of course!" Dippledop says. "Come on, let's go, I can tell you my real name on the--"

"Actually, no, you're not." Dark-Hair waves his hand in Zedaph's face. "You can shoo now, no one likes you, no one wants you--"

"Skizz--"

Skizz's eyes light up with sheer panic, and he gives a hard yank on Dippledop's hand, causing him to tumble out of Zedaph's grip and onto the floor. "Shut up!" he hisses, almost delightfully frightened, and then stands between Dippledop and Zedaph. "You heard nothing," Skizz snarls, eyes glittering with fury.

"That's part of your name, but not all of it," Zedaph tells him, "and besides, I don't want your name anyway, not now." Maybe if you keep this up, but. "Just want your Dipple--"

"Don't call him that," Skizz says, jabbing his finger in Zedaph's face. "You can call him--Charlie. Just call him Charlie, and go do your thing, and then you come back here and leave him safe and sound."

"Well, first your Charlie's gotta sign the bargain! I don't make the rules. And we gotta shake on it. Charlie," and here Zedaph dips into his bargain-striking powers that he does not know how to use, "promise me this: if I harm you while you're helping me, you can come back here and never see me again, but if I don't, I get to become your friend for if this ever happens again. Deal?"

"Don't do it, Dippledop," Skizz snaps as Dippledop breaks out of his grip and walks up to Zedaph. He has deep, chocolate-brown eyes that seem eager to please. I'm not even using charmspeak! Zedaph thinks. Wow, people love the fey nowadays! He flicks a glance over to Skizz, and then revises it to, Most people love the fey nowadays. Maybe Skizz is an outlier adn shouldn't have been counted.

"It'll be fine, you're such a worrywort," Dippledop says, and then takes Zedaph's hand and shakes.

Something clinches in Zedaph's throat, something ancient and solemn. There's a short thrill of a bargain, a bargain, a bargain, something ingrained into his ichor and bones, something that makes his heart leap with joy and mischief--and then worry for Tango seizes it and throws it out the window. "C'mon, we haven't got much time," Zedaph says, and grabs Dippledop's hand.

"You're going to regret this," Skizz says. "I'm gonna call the police, and then I'm gonna rip up the apparently fey circle, and then I'll get Dippledop back and--"

"If you rip up the circle then there's definitely no way he's coming back," Zedaph reminds him. "But I'll definitely be back, I'm a fey of my word and my word says Charlie'll come back. Goodbye!"

Without waiting for Skizz's reply, he and Dippledop walk out of the house. Zedaph lets a soft breeze scan the house--he's good with breezes, for some reason--and dissuades that kitty from coming outside. The fey circle holds the faintest trace of his magic; a snatch of pink here, a glitter of gold there. The desert is bright and glaring, and since Zedaph doesn't need silly human concepts like poison or temperature, it's really quite a nice place.

Skizz is walking out behind them, trying to get them back, but Tango is dying--dead--not dead, not dying, just--he needs Dippledop to fix him, and then everything will be fine. Zedaph tosses a sand-filled wind into Skizz's face, which delays him and stops his increasingly-desperate arguments. He needs Dippledop, because he's not living without Tango, not if he can help it. And he can help it.

Zedaph lets go of Dippledop's hand to reach for his own fey circle, the one he is connected to with all the ichor that runs through his veins. It answers back--here I am, here is your native circle--and Zedaph pinches and pulls them both into place. It's harder with another person, especially a mortal, but you aren't a good fey until you know how to spirit someone away. The hostile nature is replaced by himself, his nature, the nature that is as part of him as his ears and legs, and it sings--we missed you, we missed you, welcome back! And Zedaph sings back--I missed you, I missed you, here I am!

When he blinks his eyes open, it's because there's a soft hum at the borders of his circle--ah, Dippledop's trying to escape. He lets him, and then follows. The backyard is more of a meadow, to be honest, placid bumblebees and pretty butterflies darting to and fro. In the trees, he can hear the catchy tune of a chickadee. The winds have slowed to pleasant breezes. A handful of Tango's successful inventions lie scattered around the meadow, proudly displayed with showy flowers, and the house itself is a daring shade of pink.

"Wow, this place is cool," Dippledop says, breathless and solemn, as a butterfly flits around his neck and lands on a flower with burgundy petals. "That's the magic of a fey, huh?"

"Yep!" Zedaph brightens, and the wind tousles Dippledop's hair playfully. "Come on inside, I promise I won't hurt you. Are you allergic to dogs, by any chance?"

"Have one of my own, nah," Dippledop reassures him. "Why? Do you have some?"

"Two!" Zedaph grins and pushes open the doorway. "Um, do you need anything? Notes, make n' model, stuff like that? He's upstairs, by the way."

"Oh, yeah, what's his model?"

"Oh, that's..." He squeezes his eyes shut. "HASA Care Assistant Robot... Tango-T-11 is his version, I think."

"Wow, that's... surprisingly detailed," Dippledop says, stepping inside and not paying any mind to the numerous plants that peer from cracks in the building or grow in planters and pots. "Even if you're not right..."

"Fey memory is long and detailed, I'm usually right," Zedaph says with a shrug. "Um, his name is Tango Tek."

"Tango Tek." Dippledop squints. "Friend's brother had a HASA Care Assistant, he was--well, it wasn't that great, super obnoxious plus it had outdated vocal software so it didn't recognize anyone else's voices half the time... but that a long time ago, and, well... time marches on. He might be obsolete, buddy."

"Don't you even suggest that," Zedaph says, and something flares in him--passion, maybe, or fury. "Not a chance, he can't be obsolete. I'll keep you in the feywild until you fix it, how 'bout that, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, that'd be bad, I'd miss podcast day," Dippledop says nonchalantly. "Alright, I'll see what I can do. You know that, like, magic and tech don't... mix, yeah?"

"I--Tango told me once, but I didn't--" Fright strikes him. "But--I'm not gonna just abandon him."

"Look, man, I'm not saying you have to abandon him, but... the fey are pretty big in the magic realm, probably only behind, you know, unicorns and elves and things like that, and... he might just keep malfunctioning. You're probably really attached to this Care Assistant, but I'm sure I can try and find a less... technical one? One that can do better with prolonged exposure to magic?" Dippledop sighs. "Or maybe I can't do anything, and you will have to let him go."

"Not coming to that!" Zedaph says sharply. "Come on, let's--I'm not abandoning Tango, Dippledop, that's not a thing that's happening I mean Charlie." He catches his name slip-up halfway through. "You heard nothing."

"Either name's fine, if Skizz's just that hung up on the name thing." Dippledop approaches the stairs, and tentatively tests its weight. "You sure this is gonna hold me?"

"Yeah, I don't want to have to return you." After a moment, he corrects himself with, "Before you've fixed Tango, of course."

"Could you elaborate on what exactly is wrong with him?" Dippledop asks, reaching the top. "Like, stuttering, is he forgetting things, voice distortions, et cetera? 'Cause you might have gotten the wrong guy, I know a mechanic."

"No, he said if there's something wrong with his programming--I mean, fancy term to basically just mean his soul, but like--"

"Soul?" Dippledop asks as Zedaph uses flashy goldenrods to indicate the doorknob. "That's--well, that's--"

"Is it not normal for machines to have souls?" Zedaph asks curiously. "Like, Tango definitely does have a soul, but like, that's not--wait a sec, is that not standard?"

"No?" Dippledop stares at him, about to turn the doorknob. "I--wait, that's why you didn't--oh my god, that's--your Care Assistant has a soul."

"And that's not normal?"

"I--but that wouldn't have happened in a standard model, that's--hold on, wait, wait. You didn't assemble this robot yourself, did you?"

Zedaph barks laughter. "Tango's way more complicated than I can build, I might be an immortal fey creature but I'm not a very smart one! That's why I kidnapped you!"

"Kidnapped being a relative term," Dippledop points out. "So it's not--you don't know the inventor who gave this Assistant a soul."

"Use his name."

"Tango Tek. The Care Assistant."

"Good."

"So you don't?"

Zedaph shrugs. "No idea. He just appeared in the feywild one day, absolutely terrible, but he still--he was suffering more in a human-got-lost than a robot-dying way, if you know what I mean? He's just--I suppose the term would be 'factory reset' but I'm not entirely sure, so. Just--everything about him is gone. Just--I don't even know what caused it."

"Probably some magic-tech compatibility issues. Alright, let's see what we've got." Dippledop opens the door.

Tango stares ahead in space, eyes black and eerie, every part of him slack yet upright. The wind picks up outside; the windflowers writhe and wind in the unattended corners; spiders and insects skitter across the walls, tucking themselves under leaves and petals and strewn-about dirt.

"Okay, here goes. He must've turned off to conserve power." He claps, sharp and commanding, and then says, "Tango Tek, turn on."

A whirring tick-tick-tick strikes up, and Tango's eyes glow with scarlet. He straightens, and then turns his gaze to Dippledop. "HELLO!" he says in that same uncanny voice. "NEW PERSON DETECTED. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO WALK YOU THROUGH THE TUTORIAL?"

"No," Dippledop says decisively, and before Tango can object, he says, "Please state which factory you were manufactured in, using Astral Coordinates."

"INPUT INVALID. HOW MAY I HELP?" Something flickers in Tango's eyes--too brief to be emotion, and yet.

"Now that's very odd," Dippledop remarks. "Usually they... ah, not very important. You said he suddenly doesn't--I think this--Tango Tek, neural systems status?"

"NEURAL SYSTEMS ERODED DUE TO PROLONGED EXPOSURE TO MAGIC. INVENTOR MADE FAILSAFE IN CASE SENTIENCE WAS THREATENED; IF POWER REQUIREMENTS ARE MET, SENTIENCE CAN BE REACQUIRED, AND NO MEMORIES HAVE BEEN DAMAGED YET. UNFORTUNATELY, EROSION OF NEURAL SYSTEMS PUT MEMORIES IN JEOPARDY, AND LOSS OF SENTIENCE WAS NECESSARY IN ORDER TO PRESERVE REMAINING NEURAL SUPPORT."

"As I thought. He lost his soul in order to make sure he didn't completely kill himself. Well, I say lost, more like he stopped being sentient while he tried to repair himself or get to a repairer." Dippledop squints. "Neural systems eroded... this would mean his code is failing due to the scrambly stuff that things like fey magic does. You know what fey magic does, right?"

"Not really, just that--like I said--it seriously messes with robots. No specifics."

"Well, fey have a tendency to scramble code up--replaces lines with others, removes values or switches them completely, things like that. What I don't get is why Tango wasn't performing continuous checks of his own code and correcting the failing code so that he wouldn't have to resort to locking away his own sentience. Usually they only do that if they're dying, or they're starving." He flicks a narrowed gaze to Zedaph. "What has he been consuming?"

"Wait, he's meant to be consuming stuff?"

"I--" Dippledop cuts himself off. "You're an immortal fey creature and you didn't know you're supposed to have your robot consume stuff, or things like this will happen and suddenly your robot's failing because it ran out of fuel."

"Well, he didn't say he was hungry, so--"

"Robots don't feel hungry; they begin beeping when they have low fuel. Has he not been beeping?"

"I thought--well, I thought that was just from stress! We were in very stressful situations before this all started. We fought this one demon who'd been raised from the dead and had taken over a shopping mall and was haunting this gay Scottish guy, and Tango fell in love with the Scottish guy and then the demon actually killed the Scottish guy and I had to perform cleansing rituals--cleansing rituals! Do you know how hard it is to perform cleansing rituals nowadays? So I had to get those materials from an oracle who had candles that predicted people's deaths, so weird, and then we had to kill that demon and then the gay Scottish guy came back to life! That's a pretty stressful situation right there, lemme tell you!"

"And you didn't charge him once."

"...no."

"How long has he not had fuel?"

Zedaph squints, thinks. "Uh, at least six months?"

"Must've been built for endurance, geez, my brother's Care Assistant would be dead right now." Dippledop laughs. "Tango Tek, which types of power do you accept? Solar or..."

"SOLAR POWER IS RECOMMENDED. HOWEVER, IN ABSENCE OF SUNLIGHT, MOST STANDARD BATTERIES ARE ACCEPTED."

"Alright, Tango Tek, please uncover your solar panel."

There's a hum, Tango bends his head down as though he's praying, and then on the back of his now-exposed neck, skin parts to reveal a shiny solar panel. It looks so wrong, like there's supposed to be flesh and blood under that skin, not a solar panel. It clashes with his false skin; impersonal, glossy jet-black against imperfect peach.

"Okay. Could you open the windows, please?" Dippledop asks Zedaph politely.

Zed snaps his fingers.

A tendril of ivy pulls the curtains apart, and sunlight--gold and glittering and beautiful--floods the bedroom. It hits the solar panel, and Tango's eyes flicker to a soft green instead of a sharp scarlet. "SHUTTING OFF TO CHARGE," he announces. There are three beeps that descend in pitch--warnings, probably--and then he tenses and his eyes go black.

"Alright, that should do it," Dippledop says. "Afterward, he should have enough power to check his code against uncorrupted code, but if he doesn't, you know who to call. That's good, that it was only a problem of you not knowing that robots too need to get power. Which, by the way, causes lots of problems, 'specially when you're a fey creature."

"Note to self, me and Tango need to photosynthesize together." Zedaph sits on the bed beside Tango, takes his cold hand, and lets flowers grow out of his hair, back, arms, to soak in sunlight. "Does he always need to shut off to charge?"

"Probably not, usually care assistants only do that when they're pretty low so that no one can turn them on and potentially drain their power supply faster than they can regenerate it." Dippledop smiles, and delicately brushes a begonia on Zedaph's shoulder. "You look pretty cool. Do all fey photosynthesize?"

"Can't speak for anyone else, considering I'm not a Seelie anymore, but I do, yeah." Zedaph lets out a contented sigh. "Feels just so good, you know? You're just so warm, and you get life from that! I wish more mortals could synthesize."

"Yeah, but there's also downsides, you know." Dippledop shifts on his feet. "You can't taste stuff like chocolate, or cheese, or Coke, or--"

"No, cheese is really cool actually." Zedaph brightens. "Did I tell you about that time back in the fifteen hundreds in your time when I got a 100 year supply of cheese from this one lonely cheesemonger and in return I made sure his wife didn't die? Because she didn't. And I got a bunch of free cheese. Pretty sure I got the better end of the bargain there, but he really loved his wife, so." He shrugs. "I fed the cheese to a mouse once cartoons were invented, and I had to get Aisling to revive it, so like, that was certainly a thing? I need to feed cheese to sheep, I don't know if they're poisoned by it or not."

"I wouldn't think so? I mean, sheep are a lot like goats, and believe me, I know that goats can eat anything." Dippledop stands. "I should get going. Can you... Skizz is gonna be so angry at me, I don't know why, you're a really nice guy? And Tango having a soul is super interesting. It said that there was a failsafe for loss of sentience, and it knew that if it got too low on power, it'd lose all its memories and have to start from scratch. It reverted to the basic HASA programming in order not to lose what gave it a soul. That's amazing. But we do, we do have to leave. I do."

"Yeah, I did promise to bring you back, so let's--are you sure we can just leave him here?"

"Yep, he probably won't turn on for a fair few hours until he's fully recharged. Might need to even get some morning sunshine in him. Besides, he can probably take care of himself--usually robots are aware they've been on low power recently--"

"But he didn't tell me he had to get more fuel until he locked away his consciousness," Zedaph points out. "He just seemed like a normal guy who was also a robot and invincible to most things--and also the soul thing, I guess. Maybe he won't remember."

"Good point. But we'll be back by then, and if there is any weirdness going on with his memories, then we can cross that bridge when we get to it." Dippledop steps through the doorway. "I do need your help getting back home, though, so. Kinda don't know where I am, that's a problem."

"Oh, yeah!" Zedaph exclaims, standing up. "Sorry for taking you away from your movie night, by the way, I bet it was super fun and important, sorry, but Tango is more fun and important."

"No, it's okay, I've seen that movie at least three time before and this is more interesting. But Skizz is gonna have my head, you know how people like that are."

"Yeah, let's go back." Zedaph takes Dippledop's hand, and together they walk through the house decked out in greenery, surrounded by walls overgrown with living wildflowers, on floorboards that hide pill bugs and earthworms. Dippledop is clearly stunned by it, reverently brushing thin oak branches or staring for a second too long at a twittering blackbird that's made its nest in an open cabinet.

"Funny I can barely tell where the inside ends and the outside begins," Dippledop says as they exit the house. "If it weren't for the sky, and the door frame... it's like you live in a literal forest."

"Such is the power of the fey," Zedaph murmurs. Unlike Dippledop's fey circle, his is aglitter with his power; magic glows in visible form, shines in threads of yellow and pink, clings to each blade of grass, sings in the wind and lingers in the air. Dippledop is less unsettled than he was when he arrived, but he flinches away from the shower of petals that Zedaph sends over the circle, and the call of a blue jay in the forest makes him jump.

He pinches and pulls them through to Dippledop's fey circle, and the hostility is again immediate. Zedaph tries to appeal himself to the desert--I'm no one harmful, I'm only here for a bit--and the desert lets out the biome equivalent of a grumble. But it reluctantly accepts him, and when he opens his eyes, the only thing threatening him is a furious Skizz.

"Told ya," Zedaph tells Skizz. "He was lots of help." He pauses, remembers the appropriate idiom, and then continues--"Ten out of ten. He's absolutely underselling himself, he managed to fix Tango! Tango hates being fixed!"

"By fixed he means he wasn't actually recharging the robot, he just expected it to run forever," Dippledop points out. "But thanks for the sentiment."

A convenient breeze flings up sand and throws it in Dippledop's face.

Skizz ignores him for once and runs out to Dippledop, throwing his arms around him and yanking him out of the circle. "Dippledop," Skizz hisses in Dippledop's--or, rather, Charlie's ear, now that he's here. "Are you alright? Hurt? Did that fey trick you into a bargain and now you've got to pay it back?"

"Skizz, calm down," D--Charlie says, gently pulling away. "I'm fine! Perfectly okay. On the bright side, I finally talked to people like you wanted me to!"

"Oh dear Void, Dippledop--that's not the problem here! That's not even the solution to what I asked! I asked you to talk to people! Fey do not count as people!" Skizz says hysterically. "You went into the feywild, got spirited away for like an hour--I was this close to calling B over and getting him to kill the fey circle! This close!" He pinches his fingers together.

"Good thing you didn't, or I'd've had no way to send him home, you'd be convinced I ate him in the feywild or something crazy like that, and then people would want my head. Which is not an ideal situation! Opposite of ideal, in fact! I don't want people wanting my head, I want people who are perfectly fine with me putting them in experiments I mean people who like me! And not hate me!" Zedaph huffs. "The nerve of some people! Just because the Unseelie hate everyone doesn't mean I do!"

"Experiments?" Skizz echoes incredulously. "Wait, hold on, what--"

"I'm not gonna perform any dangerous ones on you, relax," Zedaph says with a huff. "I'm not gonna risk a software engineer and his best friend, because frankly? Fey are not suited for dealing with robots. But humans are! The funny thing about humans is that they're perfect for both worlds! Unlike me. How does it go? John of all trades?"

"Jack," Skizz corrects icily. "Yeah, I still don't trust you. You're a fey."

"I'm sorry, then." Zedaph spreads his hands. "I don't belong to a court, you know. If that changes anything. I'm not an evil Unseelie, I'm not a Seelie. I belong to the court of Zedaph. And I, King of the court of Zedaph, decree that no individuals nicknamed Skizz or Charlie shall be physically harmed in any way." Zedaph smiles, fond and slightly exasperated. "And so it is true. If I break this law, I will never be able to talk to or otherwise influence said individuals."

"That sounds good," Charlie notes.

"I..." Skizz trails off. "Why would you do that?"

"I want someone who can fix Tango and not ask too many questions!" Zedaph hesitates, and then adds, "I do want to experiment on you both--I know a slime guy, I kinda wanna see what happens if you eat his slime and you're mortal--does it have the same effects as flesh? Or is it something different entirely?" He gasps, delighted. "Maybe it's poisonous!" Then he pauses. "Wait, never mind, I'll have to find someone else to experiment on. I wouldn't kill them! Promise! I know how to save people from dying, I once got someone to wait for oil to drip from a tube for fifty years in exchange for me saving their firstborn from dying. And that bargain did happen! Granted, I had to figure out things like time dilation and age slow-ification, but it was a fun distraction for a few years!"

Charlie laughs. "Just remember, if you do accidentally kill me, it'll be hard finding someone who won't try to auction Tango off or tear him apart to see how he ticks. Souls are a precious thing, and that Tango has one--it's going to be highly sought after, you know."

"I won't let anyone hurt him," Zedaph says, suddenly serious, and for a half-second the spiders stop in their scuttling, the wind stops, the birds pause their singing, and his voice is the only noise. He deflates, and the world picks up again, and he says, "Thanks for helping me. So many thanks. I don't know what I would've done without you, Dip-Charlie! Charlie."

"You still don't get to call him Dippledop, though," Skizz says, regaining some of his sternness. "That's my name for him. You said--you said saying part of a name wouldn't give you control over him."

"That would be correct, yes; I need a full name to do anything."

"Then call him Impy." Skizz's eyes are sharp and piercing, but Zedaph can see the slivers of warmth that peer through. "That's the closest to his real name you'll ever get."

"Impy." Zedaph tastes the word on his tongue, turns to Impy--the same feeling of not quite there yet rises up, and Zedaph nods. "Doesn't seem to be working. Which is good! Which is good." Zedaph gathers himself, hums to himself in Mauhr, and then says, "I revise that law--no individuals nicknamed Skizz or Impy shall be physically harmed in any way. Charlies are free game now."

Impy laughs. "Alright, alright. Tell Tango when he wakes up to eat things for the love of Xelqua, talk to him about that whole fiasco, see if he still responds to commands or if he's fully himself again, if there's any crossed wires then you can get back here and we'll go from there--"

"Is this just a thing that's happening now?" Skizz asks, a little breathless. "We're friends with a fey. We're friends with a fey, and he's got a friend who's a robot, and he's specifically got laws against hurting us, and he just got the means to pop into our backyard whenever he wishes. Because once you invite a fey in, there's no leaving. He's going to keep coming back. He's going to perform experiments on us periodically and this is going to be a normal thing. Normal!"

"Yeah, what's the problem here?" Impy asks curiously. "He's nice. He's got a cool house."

"He's a fey."

"So?"

Skizz buries his head in his hands. "Why are you like this," he says despairingly.

"Anyway, I'd best be going," Zedaph interrupts. "Much to do, much to talk to Tango about, I'll get us Photosynthesis Fridays or something--how much does he need to charge?"

Impy squints. "For a regular Care Assistant, I'd recommend every other day, but if Tango isn't weakened by six months without charging, then every Friday could work. Of course, for safety reasons you might want to try and recharge him fully each day until he's stabilized--you should try and find his battery indicator, and if he hasn't got one, you can come over here, we can all try to fix Tango together." He pauses. "Actually, I dunno about Skizz, he's not that great with robots, but he knows a lot of people--he probably knows a mechanic or two."

"Oh, thanks!" Zedaph curtsies. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Impy nods. "Happy to help."

"And thanks for not tearing up the fey circle, Skizz, and for not ratting me out to people who would try and imprison me--I've heard Pandora's Vault is a pretty cutthroat place."

Skizz has completely shed his hostility in favor of hilarious despair. "What am I gonna tell Pearl, Impy, what am I gonna tell her? I can't just tell her my friend's now friends with a fey! She's gonna kill you and then me!"'

"She doesn't need to know," Impy says. "We don't have to tell her. She doesn't need to know."

"She's going to find out, she's smart like that."

"I think you're screwed, personally," Zedaph pipes up.

"She doesn't need to know," Impy says again, and this Pearl person must be pretty important and/or vicious for them to be this scared of her. "We don't tell her. We deny everything. She doesn't need to know!"

Zedaph connects back to his circle with a smile. "I'll leave you to figuring out this Pearl person--"

"Don't hurt her either," Skizz says.

"I don't know what she looks like, I can't do anything," Zedaph says with a laugh. "If just hearing a name made those people in danger, then I could just begin looking at baby name websites and take over pretty much the entire world!"

"Thank Xisuma," Skizz mutters.

"But yeah. Good luck. If you ever need me again, just take a bit of wool, throw it in this circle, and yell my name. That should summon me. I think. Not entirely sure on that one, I don't really have friends I can test it with. Farewell! Goodbye! Whatever people say nowadays!"

"Dippledop, we're doomed," Skizz says.

"Goodbye!" Impy says brightly.

Zedaph laughs--Skizz is really quite funny, for someone who hates the fey with a burning passion. Here I come, he tells his circle, and it answers in gleeful music, as it always does--chittering squirrels, croaking ravens, Tango's overjoyed beeps, barking foxes, whispering winds--

Tango.

So Impy's solution had worked.

He takes his circle and Impy's together, sings hello to his home and Tango and his soul, puts himself upon the edge of all realms, and pinches and pulls his way back home.

i'm still thinking about the fae zedaph prompt so much that i have. an entire au in my head now. that i am now sharing, in case others are interested.

so the setting of the au is an intentionally kind of anachronistic blend of sci-fi and fantasy, and those things often come into conflict, with a lot of magic interacting badly with technology and technology interacting badly with magic. a vaguely earth-like setting from the near future, where there are robots and space travel and cybernetics, but ALSO a vaguely earth-like setting where there are portals you can slip through that will drop you into the feywild and there are magcial creatures lurking beneath the surface. the idea is like, if an urban fantasy had the 'urban' part set in a sci-fi world.

anyway, so zedaph is an ancient fey creature. a wild fey no longer really associated with either court, but at one point having belonged to the seelie court, zedaph mainly just courts chaos. he's PROBABLY some kind of archfey, but it's worth noting that even other fey aren't fully certain what zedaph is supposed to be at this point. see, in a move that makes almost no sense to a human, zedaph has started to get bored of the games of fair folk. he finds them too... predictable! and sure, to HUMANS the fair folk can seem chaotic and without rules, but to zedaph? he wants something NEW AND EXCITING.

too bad that these days, even if he IS invited into the human realm, it is a bit dangerous to navigate for a fey such as himself. his own deep connection to nature and the natural world makes it so he has some trouble when he's in the tall metal cities of the human realm.

enter: tango.

tango is an android built for... some purpose. he's not really sure what his purpose is, or if he still has one, which is kind of distressing, because his creator either died or abandoned him before tango was turned on. he likes building zany contraptions, sure, but he also sort of wants to search for SOME kind of meaning in his life, since androids aren't really built to be purposeless and that lack of purpose is starting to wear at him. and in another setting, this is a great start to a cyberpunk story about what it means to be human, but in THIS setting, tango accidentally proves he must be developing a soul when he stumbles through a portal to the feywild by accident and fails to find his own way out.

the good news for tango is also the bad news: he's not built for a natural place like the feywild. see, his creator had made him largely out of cold iron, and that, even more than any specific technology, repels fair folk magic. so the good news is that he is largely immune to fey shenanigans! the bad news is that the feywild itself is rejecting him, putting him in immense danger.

enter: zedaph, who is FASCINATED to discover that these days the humans are making machines with souls. zedaph, eager to discover something new, makes a bargain with tango: tango guides him in the human world so zedaph doesn't die of metal poisoning, and in return, zedaph guides tango whenever he stumbles into a dangerous supernatural hotspot. look, zedaph's even making a fair deal and everything, since he can't just like, steal tango's name and force him to, on account of not even tango knowing what his true name would be! the two of them shake on it, and as such, a bargain is struck between both android and archfey.

they both find each other surreal and baffling but are ALSO each other's best friends in an equally baffling and surreal world.

impulse comes into this story later--after whatever the first few adventures tango and zedaph have are, exploring both realms together to try to find something new and exciting for zedaph and something to give tango purpose, the amount of magic tango's being exposed to finally takes its toll, and tango starts to malfunction. zedaph panics as he realizes all at once that he has a friend (thing he didn't know he even could get?) and that friend is in danger. also, uh, more importantly that deal. right. that.

naturally, he then kidnaps the first software engineer he can find. this is a proportionate response, right?

luckily the first software engineer he finds is impulse, and impulse is hardly like, normal, either. like, yes, he's a fully mundane human with only the world's most minor cybernetics, he's normal that way, the way he's not normal is that he gets kidnapped by a terrifying and awesome fey to fix a paradoxical android and goes "this is so cool. hi my name is impulse it's nice to meet you! aw, geez," and acts like everything is normal. neither tango nor zedaph are quite good enough at the idea of 'normal human' to dispute this, and a friendship is then born.

impulse serves as the fixer for a lot of their problems that neither tango nor zedaph are equipped to handle, but he's also like, he'd theoretically be the everyman if he wasn't busy going "every man gets whisked away by the plot of a philosophy major's dream every once and a while right" and going with the flow on things NO SANE PERSON SHOULD GO WITH THE FLOW WITH. he's just chilling in the world's least "just chilling" scenario.

so... there you go there's the ENTIRE TEAM ZIT AU that my brain spawned from the prompt "fey zedaph" i hope you enjoy,

[quantum1mmortality]

Captain Curly; marriage hcs <3

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Chat I know I mentioned getting back into writing for twst but the current hyperfixation is too strong rn so just bare with me I NEED to write for mouthwashing

!this is written with an AU in mind; curly still works for pony express, but there's no ship. Just a normal job. Also J***y doesn't exist.!

Tw/cw; afab!reader, mentions of pregnancy and having said baby, MANHANDLING!!!!, teasing, use of pet names, uhhh I can't think of any else

Not proofread

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Sfw

I think Curly would definitely be a family oriented person. The further you'd get into your relationship, the more he'd ask about your opinion on kids and if you'd want any in the future.

I also think Curly would be on the traditional side, too. If you said yes to having kids, he'd take that as an opportunity to show you how good of a provider he can be, and how willing he is to become a father.

When you do eventually have children, he'd be more than willing to take off work to help around the house. You just gave birth, he knows it's hard for you, so he'd make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all three of you.

Sidenote; Curly would definitely be a good cook. He probably took culinary in highschool

If he knew Anya at the time, he'd have her babysit your children so he could take you out on dates. This happens quite often, too; probably around once or twice a month. He just wants to show how much he appreciates you and everything you've done for him and your relationship <3

He'd take you to the most expensive restaurants and tell you to order whatever you wanted, and if you're done breastfeeding, he'd order a bottle of champagne for you both.

He'd be one of those "I love my wife" husbands. Everyone at his job is so sick of hearing him talk so highly of you. It'll be someone's birthday, they'll bring a cake, and he just won't eat it. Why? "My wife could make a better cake."

After you guys got married, he couldn't stop calling you his wife. That name felt so surreal to him; like the woman of his dreams is finally his? And there's a title for that?? Of course he's going to use it constantly.

He probably also took Anya out to help him pick out a ring. And thank god he did btw because he would've gotten you a ring with the biggest diamond they had 😭😭 (sorry to all the big ring lovers in chat rn they're just not it for me)

Nsfw

Curly is a romantic. He'd want to take things slow, cherish you as much as possible, especially if it's your first time.

He wouldn't think of it as sex, he'd think of it as lovemaking; showing you his worth and how much he cares about you.

He rarely gets rough, you have to ask him to be because he just won't do it. But, he's a suck up for you, so if you want something, it's yours.

So, he'd get rough. He'd go faster than he usually does, maybe put his hand around your neck and squeeze ever so gently. But afterwards, he'd feel awful; like he was hurting you or something.

He'd apologize profusely, say he's never gonna do it again, but does it a few days later. It's like going through the five stages of grief but skipping the first four and consistently being at acceptance

He's a hand holder. Since he's an intimate person, his preferred position is missionary. He likes this position for a few reasons; he gets to see your expression if you're enjoying it or uncomfortable, he gets to kiss you, and he can hold your hand. It's one of his favorite things to do, not only because he finds it much more romantic, but he also loves how you squeeze his hand when you're getting close.

Teasing is one of the things he does best. But verbal teasing, not physical. You can hear him giggle anytime he's inside you, practically taunting you when he knows you're close. He'd say something dumb like, "aw, is princess gonna cum?" And then have a shit eating grin on his face.

Pet names are another thing he uses often. Like I said previously, he'd call you princess, but there's also other names he'd call you during the act. Love, darling, and angel are the ones he uses for you most commonly, aside from princess of course.

I saw someone else say this on here and their hcs were actually what made me want to write (I swear on my SOUL I am NOT trying to copy them 🙏🙏🙏🙏 sorry if it comes off like that) but they said Curly would be buff and I completely agree. He would be HUGE, I'm thinking 6'3-6'5, easily over 220lbs.

The manhandling would go CRAZY, you don't like a position? No issue, he'll just pick you up and put you in a different one. Can't keep your legs open while he's being a munch? As much as he enjoys the feeling of suffocating between your thighs, which believe me, he does, he can't exactly pleasure you if he's unconscious from the lack of airflow. Not a big issue, a firm hand on each leg will do the trick.

Another comment on his body alone to wrap this up; he'd definitely be muscular in his legs and especially his arms. I think his stomach would be toned, not a six pack, but toned. Maybe even a little pudge and a v line 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

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A/N: hi guys pls send requests for curly fics plasplsplspslsplsplslsplspls I'm so thirsty for this man oh ky god I'm crynng

[pressureplus]

Sebastian Solace Kissing Headcannons

Warnings: N/A

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

• No, he does not taste like fish, Yes I know you've giggled about that at least once so I may as well knock it out of the way

• Considering he's been confirmed to smoke and it's safe to say he eats from the vending machines pretty consistently, he usually tastes like cigarettes and chips

• Occasionally, he may taste like other snack foods, namely: Chocolate, Peanuts, Hard Candy, and those weird prepackaged vanilla cookies

• At first he didn't want to kiss you at all, even when you two got your confessions out

• His mouth is so inhuman and sharp, with rows of shark-like teeth... It made him really nervous about kissing you for a long time

• What if seeing it up close made you not like him very much anymore? What if it just doesn't feel right to you? He'd rather avoid making you uncomfortable like that

• There's only so much defensive sarcasm and passive aggression can do for you, and it isn't gonna fix heartbreak

• Makes fun of you for even wanting to kiss him, have you SEEN him??

• Will accuse you of having a thing for fish 💀

• You're going to have to kiss him first, he isn't gonna pop that safety bubble himself

• That first time, his whole body locks up, breath held for the long moment it takes for him to process what's actually happening

• He relaxes slowly into actually kissing back, that familiar wall coming down

• After this, he'll start initiating them

• At first it's these stiff little pecks on the cheek and corner of your mouth, but he quickly gets a taste for you

• When he starts kissing you directly, he gets hungry for it, starting to sneak them in any time he can find

• The kisses get longer and slower and easier for him, humming into every one of them so affectionately

• He's needed the touch for years, so naturally he's going to have his hands on you the whole time. Yes, all three of them.

• Likes to pick you up, means you can't get away when he goes to tease you about wanting to kiss such a scary thing like him

• Absolutely gives you little snake kisses, his tongue flicks out at you a lot when he's giving you smaller kisses

• That mean ass mouth doesn't get any nicer, but at least you get kisses for putting up with it

• He's going to nip and nibble at you too, overall getting really comfortable with the mouth affection

• He does this all the time, too, and most enjoys bothering you while you're trying to work by sneaking up and biting your neck

• Seriously tho, how is he so quiet?? He's huge???

• Oops, hickeys! He's too pleased with leaving marks not to ❤️

[radiant-reid]

Reunion

Summary: JJ never knew you were dating one of her teammates and that you broke up because of her, but seeing him at JJ's wedding years later changes things.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst then smutttt)

Content Warning: 18+ Smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of a breeding kink)

Word Count: 2.1k

"So, how's mystery boy?"

After skipping your usual Tuesday night plans twice, thanks to JJ being away on cases, you're finally back in your best friend's living room having a glass of wine and a cheese platter.

It's been an abnormal amount of time to go without seeing each other since you both ended up in DC after moving out of East Allegheny to different colleges. Even with men in the mix now, you both make it a priority to see each other as often as possible. However, her busy schedule and frequent flights to New Orleans have meant you've spent some time apart.

Unknown to her, she knows the so-called mystery boy. Very well, in fact. "He's well." You say slyly, unable not to grin widely.

JJ throws her head back dramatically. "Come on, Y/n! Some detail would be nice."

"It's good." You try again. "He's the sweetest. I'm very happy."

She smirks, letting you know an interesting question is coming your way. "How's the sex?"

It never takes more than a glass of wine for her to be that loose. You don't miss a beat in your answer. "Fabulous."

"Okay, so can I meet him soon?" She pushes like she has been for quite some time.

You wonder what she would think. What would her expression do if you were to say his name out loud right here? Maybe it's not that deep but getting with JJ's closest colleague is dangerous. It was a concern at the start, a reason not to start, but you fell in love with Spencer Reid quicker than you could ever imagine.

"Sure, JJ." You agree, trying to look positively about it. You can only assume she's thinking about the worst possible scenario about your mystery man. He's a criminal or he's far too old for you or he's an ex you promised not to get back with. There are too many options.

She looks triumphant. "Yes!"

You just smile, sending the conversation in a different direction by asking about her boyfriend. He sounds like a great guy and you can tell she's happier than ever before.

Three months ago you met Spencer Reid. It was JJ's birthday and your duty as her best friend to throw her a fun surprise party. That took some coordination with a friend from work. Firstly, that was Penelope, but in order to lure JJ, you needed Spencer Reid. He was a little slow with replying to your texts, but lovely. And after you met him, you were hooked.

Spencer was perfect. Gorgeous, funny, intelligent. His incredible shyness had you confused when he asked you out for dinner the next morning.

Too many espresso martinis provide an explanation for why JJ has no recollection of you flirting with him all night.

You see Spencer as much as you can, but similar to JJ's, his schedule often doesn't allow for consistent visits. So whatever time you do have, you make the most of it. He's still the most amazing boyfriend you've had. Kind, caring, witty, fun, and playful.

He gets whisked away on a case to Miami not long after being home. You didn't know things would be so different the next time you saw him.

He goes quiet on you. You know their cases are intense but you haven't heard from him in an entire week and that's not right.

Can I come over? He finally texts you and you're guessing he's back in DC.

It sounds a little ominous and the message sends a chill down your spine. Sure. I can't wait to see you. There isn't a reply and you sit in limbo in your apartment for almost an hour before he knocks at the door.

You smile when you open it, although you're slightly annoyed there was zero communication or ETA from him. "Hey, Spence, how was it?"

"You knew." He says in a cold, accusatory tone. It's nothing you've ever heard from him.

"Sorry?" You repeat, moving to the side so he can come into your apartment.

He steps in, barely looking at you. "About JJ and Will." He explains.

A little frown takes over your expression. Surely he's not angry that he only just found out. An awkward laugh leaves your lips. "Sorry, Spence. She didn't want anyone knowing."

"I'm your boyfriend!" He exclaims. "You're not supposed to lie to me."

"I didn't." You join the offensive, crossing your arms. You're not enthused about what he's accusing you of. It wasn't even your secret to tell him.

He looks disappointed, face dropping. "Come on." He sighs. "How am I meant to be with you if you don't trust me enough to tell me who our friend is dating?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell." You try to talk some reason into him, pushing down that sick feeling in your stomach telling you that he's breaking up with you.

Spencer shakes his head, his decision- as much as it's killing him- completely made. "I can't do this."

His words make your world come crashing down and you almost can't believe it. You slump to the couch while he makes his way to the door with sad, slow footsteps.

He's looking at you, waiting for you to ask him to say. "Can we not tell JJ?" You ask softly.

"Fine." That's the last thing he tells you before walking out the door, shutting it firmly.

That's it.

The last thing Spencer tells you.

Then he's gone from your life. You talk about him less to JJ and she picks up on what happened and stops asking about him.

You expect to see him when Henry's born, or even at a point in his life. Somehow, you don't. Your schedules never line up and then JJ switches jobs. There's a myriad of reasons but it doesn't happen. You both go on with separate lives.

And then JJ and Will are getting married. You get a frantic call from your best friend's soon-to-be-husband who whispers secret plans to you over the phone. It's perfect, you know JJ will adore the simplicity and elegance of a backyard wedding.

You're there as soon as you can be, helping set up Rossi's backyard so it's gorgeous for the most gorgeous person you know.

You're the maid of honor, of sorts. And you don't get a chance to ask who the best man is before JJ arrives and the ceremony begins.

You strike out as soon as you spot a tall brunette. A tall brunette who made you the happiest you've ever been with a man. And he's still just as handsome.

His eyes bulge when he sees you but he keeps a straight face and clenches his teeth while the ceremony continues. You're mostly focused on how beautiful JJ looks and how sweet their wedding is, but you can't help your mind drifting to Spencer.

You hadn't seen him dressed up like this when you were dating and the tuxedo is a perfect look on him.

"Y/n." He comes up to you when you're getting yourself a glass of champagne.

"Spencer." You reply. His tone doesn't let much about how he's feeling on. All you get is a glimmer of shock.

He stands against the table. "Maid of honor?"

You shrug, a little confused at his question. "You know, I'm surprised I haven't seen you all these years." You admit, letting some honesty slip.

"It was slightly intentional." He offers.

You don't let it offend you. "Best man?"

"I think that means we're supposed to sleep together."

You nearly spit out your sip of wine. There's no way the shy Spencer Reid you once knew just said that.

"We've done that." You reply, trying to keep a straight face after the out-of-pocket comment.

Spencer tilts his head to the side. "You're right."

You really don't know how it happens. Maybe it's a few too many drinks. There's definitely not enough alcohol in your bloodstream to solely blame that. Spencer Reid is as hot as they get. And it's been... longer than you're willing to admit since you've had sex. Even longer since it was good sex.

So there isn't anything telling you to stop when Spencer pushes you up against the door of a room in Rossi's house, lips firmly against yours.

Your dress is hiked up around your waist while his fingers trace up and down your thigh before he even thinks about locking the door. Both of you are far too wrapped up in the moment to think securely.

His hands are quick to the zip of your dress, sliding it down effortlessly and letting it pool at your feet. He takes a moment to look at you and you have to admit, you're a little worried about his reaction. You don't doubt Spencer Reid can pull beautiful women.

"God, you're gorgeous." He says softly, juxtaposing the way he's practically clawing your clothes off you.

"Are you going to compliment me or fuck me like you promised you would?" You ask him, waltzing over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Spencer smirks at your smart mouth. "You asked for it."

He's kneeling on the floor in front of the bed in seconds, with no regard for his suit pants being wrinkled, just on his knees. There's a sense of urgency that doesn't allow for the time for him to take your panties off so he opts for shifting them to the side.

There's also no time to waste as his tongue melds with your folds, tracing patterns. No one has ever come close to giving head like Spencer does. It's truly mindblowing, the pressure of his tongue and the suction method he uses. You're instantly in bliss, head thrown back against the covers as you moan.

You've lost it when his fingers enter you, pushing past with little resistance. "Holy shit, Spencer. You're incredible."

"Sing my praises." He says against your pussy.

You do. Not even possessing the ability to be embarrassed about it.

And you don't stop. You're withering and moaning on the bed, tugging his curls while he continues pleasing you. Eventually, it's too much. His fingers pumping in and out of you combined with his tongue wrapped around your clit have you finishing in no time.

"Still as good as I remember." As if he couldn't get any hotter, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Spencer rises from his knees, now much taller than you. You tug your underwear off before unclipping your bra. "Fuck me, Spencer." You reach out for his belt buckle, toying with it. "Please."

Spencer has lost the shy, timid nature he had the first few times you had sex and he quickly takes off his belt and pants. Once his suit jacket is tossed across the room, Spencer pulls your legs to the end of the bed, making sure you wrap your ankles around his waist. His hands rest on either side of your head and you're precisely where you want to be.

"You're so hot." You tell him with a smirk.

He grins, spreading your legs and inching inside you. The look on his face is an instant confidence boost. Clearly, he's a man in bliss, head thrown back and tongue parting his lips.

"Fuck." He pants.

You agree, barely able to speak from how hard he's pounding you and how good it feels. Although it's annoying to admit, you've never had as good sex as with Spencer.

Your hands wrap around his forearms, noticeably bigger than last time. "Spencer." You moan. "Please. So good."

He caresses your chest, paying attention to your boobs like he hadn't before. "Y/n." He groans, not slowing his pace up. His hips snap against yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. "Can I?" He asks.

It's unlike you to have even let him start without protection but you're not thinking straight enough. All you know is you need Spencer. "Please."

He finishes as deep inside you as he can get, leaning down to kiss you softly. You're breathless like he is when he flops down next to you.

One of Spencer's palms touches your cheek, forcing you to look at him rather than the ceiling. "Hey, pretty girl." He says softly and it makes your heart flip in a way it shouldn't. "Can I take you on a date, Y/n?"

The smile creeping onto your face can't be helped. "Yes. Please."

[chansaw]

i read donald sutherland’s letter to gary ross pleading for the role of president snow and was so struck by his eloquence, wit, and humor. i’m posting it in full below. what a loss </3

Dear Gary Ross:

Power. That's what this is about? Yes? Power and the forces that are manipulated by the powerful men and bureaucracies trying to maintain control and possession of that power?

Power perpetrates war and oppression to maintain itself until it finally topples over with the bureaucratic weight of itself and sinks into the pages of history (except in Texas), leaving lessons that need to be learned unlearned.

Power corrupts, and, in many cases, absolute power makes you really horny. Clinton, Chirac, Mao, Mitterrand.

Not so, I think, with Coriolanus Snow. His obsession, his passion, is his rose garden. There's a rose named Sterling Silver that's lilac in colour with the most extraordinarily powerful fragrance — incredibly beautiful — I loved it in the seventies when it first appeared. They've made a lot of offshoots of it since then.

I didn't want to write to you until I'd read the trilogy and now I have so: roses are of great importance. And Coriolanus's eyes. And his smile. Those three elements are vibrant and vital in Snow. Everything else is, by and large, perfectly still and ruthlessly contained. What delight she [Katniss] gives him. He knows her so perfectly. Nothing, absolutely nothing, surprises him. He sees and understands everything. He was, quite probably, a brilliant man who's succumbed to the siren song of power.

How will you dramatize the interior narrative running in Katniss's head that describes and consistently updates her relationship with the President who is ubiquitous in her mind? With omniscient calm he knows her perfectly. She knows he does and she knows that he will go to any necessary end to maintain his power because she knows that he believes that she's a real threat to his fragile hold on his control of that power. She's more dangerous than Joan of Arc.

Her interior dialogue/monologue defines Snow. It's that old theatrical turnip: you can't 'play' a king, you need everybody else on stage saying to each other, and therefore to the audience, stuff like "There goes the King, isn't he a piece of work, how evil, how lovely, how benevolent, how cruel, how brilliant he is!" The idea of him, the definition of him, the audience's perception of him, is primarily instilled by the observations of others and once that idea is set, the audience's view of the character is pretty much unyielding. And in Snow's case, that definition, of course, comes from Katniss.

Evil looks like our understanding of the history of the men we're looking at. It's not what we see: it's what we've been led to believe. Simple as that. Look at the face of Ted Bundy before you knew what he did and after you knew.

Snow doesn't look evil to the people in Panem's Capitol. Bundy didn't look evil to those girls. My wife and I were driving through Colorado when he escaped from jail there. The car radio's warning was constant. 'Don't pick up any young men. The escapee looks like the nicest young man imaginable'. Snow's evil shows up in the form of the complacently confident threat that's ever-present in his eyes. His resolute stillness. Have you seen a film I did years ago? 'The Eye of the Needle'. That fellow had some of what I'm looking for.

The woman who lived up the street from us in Brentwood came over to ask my wife a question when my wife was dropping the kids off at school. This woman and her husband had seen that movie the night before and what she wanted to know was how my wife could live with anyone who could play such an evil man. It made for an amusing dinner or two but part of my wife's still wondering.

I'd love to speak with you whenever you have a chance so I can be on the same page with you.

They all end up the same way. Welcome to Florida, have a nice day!

sourced from this article

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Can I be a clown emoji? Humbly requesting creampies from Nanami <3

Hello there! Yes You can be clown anon, I'll update the emoji list. Ugh creampies from Nanami make my brain turn into mush. 🤤🤤🤤

Creampie

--------

You knew you were filthy but you can't get enough. Not from him. It's never enough from him.

Kento has you in a soft mating press, your legs pressed together on top of your chest as he slides his veiny cock out of your messy cunt. A ring of cream is visible on his base, a combination of both your arousal fluids. You don't remember how many rounds it's been but you know you can take more.

Kento taps his cockhead onto your swollen folds, sending pleasant little ripples into your clit before he pushes back into your drooling hole. You hum as you feel him fill you, his movements unhurried and achingly tender inside you. He leans forward to capture your lips and you open and allow your tongues to dance sensually, enjoying the taste of his mouth.

His thumb gathers some of his spilled seed off your thighs and spreads it upwards onto your clit, rubbing circles that leave the little nub pulsing with the pleasure of his touch.

You whine and card your fingers through his hair feeling how slick his movements were from the previous loads he'd filled into your cunt. "Kento..." You whine and see his eyes darken with primal instinct.

He angles his hips to brush your gspot. "One more sweetheart. You can take one more for me." You whine, head spinning from the coil of heat in your belly, the delicious stretch of your muscles as he strokes your inner walls and the way his breath changes into a series of pants as he builds up both your arousals.

His thumb changes from circles to consistent vertical strokes which have you falling apart in a haze of want, moaning out as the coil inside you snaps, unleashing the gratifying spasms of pleasure that rock your body before he starts chasing his own orgasm.

His balls are tense, contracting up into his body before he groans out your name and cums into your well fucked pussy, adding another layer to your already messy walls. You spasm around him, determined to keep as much of his creampies inside you, feeling so intimately connected to him knowing you'll be carrying a piece of him for a while.

When he finally finds the energy to move out, he looks down at your dripping hole, seeing his seed gather into a little pool on the sheets and the way your core puckers trying to keep it all in. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

"Don't worry my dear. I'll give you more to make up for whatever is lost."

[ckret2]

Chapter 74 of that fic about human Bill but he's not in this chapter so forget about him: Ford and Dipper go cryptid hunting!

This is pretty much a standalone chapter so if somehow you stumbled on this without seeing the rest of the fic, u can just, read it by itself as a standalone Dipper and Ford adventure. It's funny. Promise.

####

The camera turned on to reveal Dipper, illuminated sunset orange and cast in heavy shadows, holding the camera out at arm's length. "Welcome back to Dipper's Guide to the Unexplained, anomaly #175: the Fremont Nightwigglers!" He held up a paper title card in his free hand. "I'm Dipper Pines, and today I'm honored to introduce our special guest star—" he turned the camera around to focus on Ford from behind, "—the one and only Dr. Stanford Pines, PhD times twelve—"

Ford laughed self-consciously. "Dipper, nobody's going to recognize my name outside of a few highly specialized academic fields—"

"—the scientist who developed the Theory of Weirdness—"

"That paper isn't even ready for peer review yet, and I can't take all the credit—"

"—and the coolest dimension-hopping monster-fighting mystery-investigating great uncle in the world!"

Ford paused thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll take that one."

"Tonight, we're on the trail of the Fremont Nightwigglers." The recording cut to CCTV footage from a much higher-budget cryptid-hunting show (which Dipper had recorded by aiming the camera at the TV). The footage showed two marshmallow-like creatures that seemed to consist solely of heads, long legs, and feet—smooth, ghostly white, and featureless except for black eyes. They wore denim jeans that covered their bodies from ankles to waists, and their legs seemed to bend jointlessly, like an octopus's arms or an elephant's trunk. "These weird armless creatures have been seen up and down the west coast states, leaving behind a wave of jeans thefts at clothing stores; but by the time local law enforcement has ruled out any human suspects, the true culprits are always long gone."

The recording cut back to Dipper, who'd taken the lead so he could turn around the camera and aim it at both himself and Ford. "Based on investigative research done by Dr. Pines in the 80s, we believe the Nightwigglers have a migratory route several years long that passes through California, Oregon, Washington, and Canada. More research is needed to find out if they travel as far as Alaska or Mexico. Locals believe each Nightwiggler creates an individual burrow around a communal gathering spot to hide in during the day, and at night they assemble in the communal spot to travel or forage in nearby towns."

Ford threw in, "Based on what the townspeople told me about their habits, they've been in Gravity Falls much longer than usual. It typically takes them a week or two to pass through the area, but this year there have been sightings for more than a month. Perhaps we'll find out why."

"And thanks to a hot tip from an in-the-know local"—the recording cut to a few seconds of footage of Wendy proving she could do a handstand on the split-rail fence around the Mystery Shack—"we know which assembly spot they're currently camping around! Tonight, we're trying to get the first deliberate footage of a Nightwiggler..." Dipper lowered the camera and turned toward Ford, "Hey, what'll we call a group of them? A flock? Herd? Meeting? If we're the first investigators to officially document the species, we get to come up with the name , right?"

Ford considered the question. "What about a wobble of Nightwigglers? Since their legs are so... wobbly."

"Sure, that works."

"Is this really your 175th episode?" Ford asked. "I've missed quite a few."

"Ye—well..." Dipper lowered the camera. It recorded his shoes as he walked. "So far I've got a list of 175 anomalies I want to do an episode on, but I've only recorded and posted thirty-something. I think you've seen them all except the two I've done this summer." He sighed. "I'm... kinda disappointed by it, honestly."

"Why? You should be proud of your work so far! You're the only person in the world who's caught footage of the Hide Behind."

"By accident."

"Because you learned how to identify its call, chased it through half the forest, and were prepared with the right equipment to record it. That wasn't luck, Dipper—that was your hard work."

"I guess," Dipper said grudgingly. "I just... wanted to have a lot more produced by now."

"Wh—You started these last June? That's about one every two weeks. That's a very impressive output."

"I made most of them last summer, I hardly did any over the last school year or this summer."

"You've been focusing on your studies, that's good."

"Yeah, but what about this summer? All I've done so far is borrow some of Robbie's music video footage to make an episode about zombies and record some footage I haven't edited yet about Pacifica's alpaca thief. I didn't even get any footage of the haunted doll crane game before it disappeared. Most of the time I've been just... hiding in Soos's room playing Bloodcraft: Overdeath"—(under his breath Ford muttered "Blood-craft over death?")—"or hanging out with Wendy and her friends, or helping Soos with the Mystery Shack, or just trying to avoid..." He trailed off, suddenly conscious of the camera still aimed at the ground. It had started recording footprints drying in the mud after the recent rain: soft indents like the pads of paws, but with no distinct toes, about the size and length of human feet. Dipper lifted the camera to better record the trail they were walking down.

"Well... there's nothing wrong with taking a break during the summer," Ford said. "Especially considering that your last summer was... quite a bit more exciting than most kids'—"

"That's just it!" Dipper said. "Last summer I did so much! I investigated your disappearance, I filled half of your third journal, I helped stop the apocalypse, I wrote a book with Mabel about solving mysteries and doing fun stuff, I recorded like twenty Guides to the Unknown... Compared to that, this summer I feel like I'm—falling behind."

"Falling behind what?"

"I don't know. But—I just—I... feel like..." He trailed off with a frustrated sigh. "I don't know."

Ford offered, "Maybe, like you're not living up to your own potential?"

"Yes! That's it," Dipper said. "I'm not trying to grow up too fast, I'm just worried I'll grow up before I've done all the stuff I'm supposed to do now. Like I'm already running out of time."

"Hmm..." Ford let out a long, thoughtful sigh. "Dipper, I'm probably the wrong person to be giving this advice, considering that I'm not exactly... the paragon of moderation when it comes to pursuing professional ambitions. But—remember that you're only thirteen. Right now, you don't need to be worried about graduating valedictorian and starting up an anomaly-hunting show and doing groundbreaking research into previously-unknown strange and wondrous creatures," Ford said. "You just need to focus on graduating valedictorian first. That's all I did with my high school years, and after that I still managed to rack up multiple PhDs before age 30. You've got plenty of time!" He said this with the confidence of a man who didn't realize having his life derailed by a manipulative alien villain was the only reason he didn't burn out hard by 1984. "Outside of that, just... worry about being a kid."

"Yeah. I guess you're right. Thanks, Grunkle Ford," Dipper said. "I keep worrying, though. I keep thinking, what if I'm wasting all my time on stuff that... just... doesn't matter? What if nothing I'm doing is actually important?"

Ford was silent a moment. "That's... a very existential question for your age. How long have you been worrying—"

Dipper hissed, "Grunkle Ford!" He jerked his camera up. "Is that fire?!" There was a faint orange glow in the distance between the trees.

"I think it is!"

Dipper whispered, "That's where I found the Nightwigglers' abanadoned campsite last time!"

"Did you see any signs that they knew how to start fires? Remains of a campfire?"

"I didn't notice anything."

"It could be a Scampfire..."

As quietly as they could, Dipper and Ford edged through the trees, Dipper all the while pointing the camera toward the light, until they found a narrow gap between two trees from which they could peer into the clearing.

There were three or four dozen Nightwigglers milling about in little clusters. Several had lit torches—sturdy sticks with the ends wrapped in fabric—which they carried by sticking the ends of the torches into their jeans' pockets.

"Dipper, look at the tops of their torches," Ford hissed. "Is that shredded denim?"

The camera zoomed in on the nearest torchbearing Nightwiggler. "I think so."

"We already knew they wore clothing—but they can make tools, too? How advanced are they..."

Ford trailed off as the clustered Nightwigglers separated, spreading out evenly into several rings. As the camera recorded, they began emitting a synchronized muffled humming; and then they began dancing, kicking their legs and turning in circles together. "Whoa," Dipper whispered. "Is this some kind of ritual?"

"What's its purpose?" Ford whispered back. "Recreation? Religion? Some sort of cultural event—?"

"Hold on. I think I recognize the song."

Ford and Dipper fell silent, watching in silence as the dance repeated a couple of times.

The Nightwigglers were doing the Hokey Pokey.

"Fascinating." The camera lurched sideways, and then turned toward Ford. Ford had stolen Dipper's journal from out of his vest pocket and was hastily taking notes on a blank page. "I had no idea Nightwiggler culture was so influenced by human culture. An hour ago, we didn't even know Nightwigglers have a culture. When could they have observed and learned the Hokey Pokey? It's not exactly a nighttime dance—do they spy on humans during the day?"

Dipper said, "What if we learned the dance from Nightwigglers?"

Ford stopped writing, looked up, and stared at Dipper, mind blown.

Dipper jerked the camera back toward the Nightwigglers as they filed out of the clearing. "Hey! Where are they going now?"

Dipper and Ford waited until the last Nightwiggler had left; and then they quietly followed.

####

After several minutes of silence except for the sound of footsteps, Ford said, "Are we headed toward Mabel's Fault?"

Dipper groaned. "I got enough of this place last week."

"Agreed." 

"Hey, you know Bill said we should rename it 'Bill's Fault'?"

Ford huffed. "Did he really? I don't believe it."

"Yeah. He tried to play it off like, 'oOOoh, I just want creEDit—'"

"That sounds like him—"

They came to a stop as the camera spied the Nightwigglers standing in the clearing around the fault, then they quickly moved off the path into the brush and crept closer. "What are they doing?" Dipper asked as they inched up to the tree line.

"I don't know—they're packed too tightly together for me to see."

"I've got an idea. Hold this." The camera bounced as Dipper passed it to Ford, who watched as Dipper climbed up one of the pine trees around the clearing. 

"Careful! There aren't a lot of low branches that can hold your weight."

"It's okay, Wendy showed me how to do this." Dipper held out his hand for the camera.

Ford passed it up to him. "What do you see?"

The camera foused on Mabel's Fault. "The Nightwigglers closest to the fault are taking off their jeans, ripping them into two separate legs, and... tossing them in the fault? Have you ever heard of this?"

"Never."

"Like a dozen have done it so far."

"Perhaps that's why they have to steal so many pairs of pants? But why..."

Dipper gasped. Tiny Nightwigglers had begun squirming out of the fault, each wearing a single denim pant leg, crawling around like inchworms with half the pant leg trailing behind them. The bigger Nightwigglers picked up the little ones with their feet and swaddled them in the excess fabric. "They're—I think they're baby Nightwigglers! Coming out of the fault!"

"Amazing! Is this how they reproduce?" Ford asked. "Is that why they travel the west coast—are they following the San Andreas Fault and the volcanoes in the Pacific Northwest?"

"Maybe that's why they've been in town so long," Dipper said. "Mabel's Fault wasn't here the last time they passed through."

"We'll have to find out what other towns they stay in the longest. How far is Fremont from the fault line—?"

"Hey," Dipper said, "A bunch more Nightwigglers took their jeans off. They're tying them in a circle." One of the torchbearer Nightwigglers knelt down and bowed forward, setting the jeans ring on fire; and it was tossed into the fault. The Nightwigglers that weren't carrying infants formed a circle and began Hokey Pokeying toward the fault.

"That definitely looks like a ritual," Ford said, "but why? To celebrate the births...?"

The ground rumbled. Dipper gasped and slipped several feet down the tree before he caught himself. When he refocused the camera, Mabel's Fault was several feet wider, and a fiery glow was rising up from within.

An enormous Nightwiggler, fifteen feet tall, climbed out of the fault. It wore a crown of flaming denim and tattered pants formed by stitching together many pairs of decades-old jeans. The Nightwigglers bowed down.

"Good lord," Ford breathed. "What is that? Did they summon it, or—or was it always down there?"

The giant Nightwiggler watched regally as its subjects danced around it. As they spun around and completed another repetition of the Hokey Pokey—that's what it's all a-BOUT—the giant punctuated the end of the dance with a ground-shaking stomp.

Dipper lost his grip on the tree. He and the camera crashed to the ground with a yelp. 

"Dipper! Are you alright?!"

"Ow... fine, probably just bruised."

The camera caught Ford kneeling to help Dipper sit up, and then Dipper grabbed the camera again as he stood. He pointed it back at the clearing.

Every single Nightwiggler, babies and giant included, was staring at them with wide black eyes.

Ford said, "Uh oh."

The giant let out a bellow like a muffled hunting horn.

The Nightwigglers charged.

Dipper and Ford ran away through the brush, screaming.

####

Dipper pointed the camera at his face. His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks and arms were covered in small branch scrapes. "Still works," he reported to Ford.

"Great," Ford said. "That thing's hardy."

The camera jerked as Dipper tried to set it on a tree stump.

"Well, we got away with our lives," he said. "But... not without some losses."

He got the camera settled and backed up. He was wearing his vest zipped up around his hips like a skirt. Ford's trench coat was conspicuously buttoned up, and his legs were bare between his coat and boots. They both looked sheepish.

Ford said, "We've acquired some invaluable anthropological data, though."

"I'm calling this investigation a triumph," Dipper said.

Ford offered a hand. "High six!"

In the background, a skinny-legged Nightwiggler wearing Dipper's shorts darted through the trees.

####

(It's about time Dipper get a little personal attention. Hope you enjoyed and I look forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!)

[obsessiveimpulses]

Yuuta needy brainrot °♡

summary: needy yuuta interrupts your girls night

cw: slight breeding kink, phone sex, exhibitisiom ? , subboy!yuuta , porn w a lil plot

an: first submission here,,, im welcome to any ideas and feel free to leave some feed back !! thanks:^)

☆°○

You laid next to Nobara, both propped up by your elbows. Your jaws hung slack as the blue light shined from her laptop. You were watching the latest hit romcom that Nobara had been begging you to watch with her for ages. It took her so long to convince you - only about 50 rejections for you to finally say yes. You were always just too busy with Yuuta, truthfully he just never wanted to leave your side. And you never wanted to leave his

Yuuta was a bit of the overprotective, obsessive type. You had to practically beg him stay at Nobaras tonight. Nonetheless, you love him for it despite knowing it probably wasn't healthy.

~~~~~

"Please, Yuuta..." you said cupping his large pale hands with your own, "it's just one night I'll be back first thing tomorrow, I promise." You stood between his legs, his big tired eyes looking up into yours. He shook his heading before dropping it, his hair slightly covering his left eye.

"Fine" he mutters. His voice trembled a little before looking back up at me. But there was something in his eyes, they glistened darkly.

"Really?!"

He squeezes your hands tighter, "yes... but, that doesn't mean it won't be easy" he spoke softly. He rose taking his coat from the rack and gently placing it over your shoulders. He grabbed your bag from the floor, passing it to you.

"Don't worry you'll be fine Yuuta, it's only for one night" you reassured him.

"I never said for me" he mumbled his voice smooshed by his lips caressing your forehead. His hands grabbed the side of your head, holding you close as you shivered from the touch of his cold ring.

~~~~~~

Nobara reached over twisting your hair between her fingers mindlessly. Her bed was ever so soft but it wasn't us soft as Yuuta's.

Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz

Nobara and I jumped at the vibrations sent through the bed. "Who's that?" she questioned leaning over to try and peek.

"It's probably just Yuuta..." you sighed sitting up, "I should just see what he wants." Nobara sighed as well, not wanting to be interrupted on your only time together.

Answering the phone you spoke, "hello? Yuuta?" Silence answered back.

"Yuuta, what's up?" Asking again patiently waiting for an answer.

"Baby..." Yuuta choked out, followed by muffled sounds of the bed creaking and sheets rustling. "Yeah, is everything okay?" You inquired.

"No.. baby I need your help" he spoke softly his voice consistently broken up with small sharp breaths. He continued panting into the phone, pleading your name.

"Yuuta! Are you okay?!" Your voice raised as you grew anxious and impatient. Worrying you brought your hand to your mouth chewing along your nail. Your heart beat faster, it echoed through your mind like a drum.

"Darling ... I... ugh" he moaned into the phone.

Huuuuuh.... your mind went blank.

"nggh ... can't take it anymore, need your sweet pussy baby" he moaned breathlessly his sweet little whines ever so soft. A knot growing into your stomach.

"Yuuta... are you?" you sighed into the phone. A wave of relief washed over you before quickly being replaced by a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He was right he wasn't going to make this easy, for you.

"m'mmm.. so close" he choked out. Followed by squelching and sniffles. Tears rolled down his cheeks, he couldn't help it. He fisted his cock, his back arching as he moaned into the phone echoing into your ear.

"so sorry baby, please forgive me but I just can't help it... need you... need your voice" he whined growing closer chasing the building feeling growing in his balls.

You pictured him sprawled across the bed. Seeing him vividly leaking from his slit, precum dripping down his length onto his balls and in-between his upper thighs. You could only imagine the mess he's making. A bead of sweat rolling down his forehead mixing in with his salty tears before dropping onto his lip.

"Yuuta, it's okay" you mumbled. "Don't stop baby I'm here for you." His moans pierced through your brain. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to see or at least hear him cum for you. To at least hear him cum from nothing but the simple sound of your voice.

Hearing your praise the feeling intensifies. His strokes become harder, faster and louder. The squelching sounds and his soft pleas for release growing louder. You almost forgot Nobara sat right next to you, her face contorted with confusion.

You shrug your shoulders and wave your hand with dismissal at her hoping she would just ignore you. Most importantly, you were praying she couldn't hear Yuuta's whines.

"ugh darling.. don't want to waste my cum," Yuuta barely gets out in between moans, "should be deep in you instead."

"It's okay Yuuta, just show me... after" you say but really you want to see it now. At this rate it wasn't going to be long before you soaked through your jeans.

With this Yuuta is determined to make a huge mess just to show you how much he needs you. His needy moans become more desperate filled with more fuuuucks than ever before.

"Fuck.. I'm gonna cum baby," Yuuta whines rocking his hips up into his hands. "Pleaseee, say I love you... need to hear you."

"I love you Yuuta" you say. Your pussy throbs for him just as his cock throbs for you. Before he can even tell he's cumming, his hands are covered with cum as he crys out for you. His hips buck up high picturing himself deep inside you.

He chuckles to himself, still breathless from his sweet release.

"Ugh so good.. I love you, goodnight" yuuta coos before abruptly hanging up. That bitch!

So, he's just going to tease me and beg for me like that and not even say thank you after! You sigh angrily taking your phone away from you ear.

"What was that about?" Nobara asks.

Before answering your phone dings. It's Yuuta he's sent you an image.

'As promised my love' it reads followed by a photo of his hand stretched cum coating everywhere. Its inbetween his fingers and all over his cock. Is this how much he usually cums in me?! You think to yourself in shock.

"Hello?" Nobara says as he snaps her fingers in front of your face.

"Fuck sorry, he just wanted to say goodnight" you say quickly. Liar may as well be written in thick black ink over your forehead with how red your face is.

Yuuta you fucking bastard. I'll get you back for that.

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Good fucking day, Robot enjoyers! Gaze upon the updated semi-accurate height comparison of Bumblebee across the multiverse.

This is an updated version of a chart I made a few months ago. I had gotten some feedback and then TFOne came out and I kinda had to update it. I also added a Gen 1 Optimus Prime for scale, for fun... no other reason... (edit: slight adjustment made, just corrected a slight mistake in the order)

I am also working on at least two more character charts and one universe chart, so hopefully I can finish those soon (for some fucking genius reason I decided to do the characters that show up EVERY FUCKING UNIVERSE so I'm s u f f e r i n g)

*PST! Optimus, Megatron, Shockwave, Soundwave, Ratchet, and Ironhide ones are done now*

Master Post

Listed Heights, Explanations, and Justifications below the cut, bc you couldn't shut me up if you tried and I had shit to say.

Gen 1 - ~10 feet (TFwiki says greater than 3 meters so I rounded up to the first whole number because round)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~10 feet (He looks identical to Gen 1 so... the reason his photo looks weird is because I couldn't find a good full body photo with him standing straight up facing the camera so I put two images together to make the worst looking photoshop job you have ever seen)

Earth Spark - ~10 feet (There is no confirmed height yet, but using this screen shot (see below) of him standing in front of a barn door, I was able to make a reasonable guess, bc I'm so smart.)

One V1 - ~13 feet (I am well aware of what the TFWiki says: 26.429 feet. And I fully reject that number. A: These numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon, and Bumblebee in both sets of LA movies does not exceed 20 feet tall. Ever. So, for sanity's sake, I have used the KCV numbers as my baseline. Bee grows when he gets his t-cog so shrink this one down a few feet. Look, I'm working on the Optimus chart rn, and one of the numbers from Beast Wars on the wiki was very observably wrong, and if I can dispute numbers older than me, I can dispute numbers 2 decades younger than me from fucking Walmart. Also, yes, his picture is 3 images sandwiched together)

Animated - 13 feet 3 Inches (There is no actual given heights, but in the comments of the previous version, @phoenix-inanis told me that they had done their own analysis of TFA heights and, gonna be real with you, I am blown away by all of their work and how detailed it is. Go marvel at how much work they put in -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4 )

One V2 - ~15 Feet (Please see reasoning above. Since this is as tall as we see Bee get, he's the same height as KCV Bee. Sweet fuck, I have put way too much effort into this shit)

Knight/Capel-Verse - 15 feet (No actual numbers, but Mirage is stated to be 15 feet tall (TFWiki), and he and Bee are like the same height, so... Capel directed the ROTB movie if you're wondering why his name is there)

Bayverse V1 - 16 feet (TFWiki. This is like the first 3 movies minimum, I don't remember when he hits his growth spurt. Also mr bay is king, we have numbers for nearly every character in BV)

Cyberverse - 18 feet (I'm gonna be honest, the only info we have is from a really shitty screen shot of a magazine. SO if any one has a copy of this book from the video below, a high quality scan would be greatly appreciated and I will kiss the ground you walk upon. Yes I found the video where the screen shot comes from leave me alone)

Bayverse V2 - 18 feet (TFWiki. Movie 4-5 I can't remember which one, I'm not re-looking this up. I fucking love the bayverse tho, this is the only universe with concrete and consistent this-character-is-this-height info)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC - 20 feet (TFWiki/Fandom. Video game info screens you godsend, kiss me sweetly)

Aligned Cont. TFP/RID15 - 21 feet (These two designs are canonically identical, like in ALC canon, Bee has not changed visually at all...Ok, yes I got this number from fandom and they give literally no source for where they got these numbers. But, I can fully believe these are accurate. Just by looking at these characters on the show I can verify these numbers in my mind. Here, let's Compare.

This is Sam compared to Bee from one of the BV movies, I'm too lazy to check which one. Sam is average size for a human and we know Bee is 16 feet tall in the first three movies. Checks out. Let's now look at a TFP Character who is also 16 feet tall.

Jack is average size for a human, and the size difference is about the same. Can you see why I can't question the Aligned heights, even if they don't have a source??!?! They specifically made this universe to be full of freakishly tall robots for some fucking reason.)

Not Pictured: Aligned Cont. Rescue Bots and Rescue Bots Academy Bumblebee - 21 Feet tall. Look, did you want to see all 5 versions of ALC Bee? No, you don't. They're all the same height anyway; the back row would have just been a wall of redundant yellow. 5 different fucking art styles in one universe, why is that one my favourite.

Here's the front row and the back row separated into their own jpgs. I know it's kind of hard to tell which Bumblebee is which when they're all together.

[kitasgloves]

— ♬ NSFW

Let's talk about your classmate FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY who's consistently at the top of the class. His reputation is built on his stoic intelligence and somewhat regal appearance. People both feel drawn to him and also too intimidated to approach him. Enter you, who's not a star student and is content with getting decent and passing grades. However, this one class you shared with Fyodor had you struggling ever since the beginning of the semester.

Your professor handed back everybody's test paper after class, and when they called your name, a look of disappointment was evident on their face. This wasn't the first time you've had a low score or genuinely failed at tests and quizzes. You can't help it since the topics being discussed in this class weren't your forté.

"I can see you have potential [Last Name]. However, another low score and you're set to fail my class"

Your stomach drops. No decent student wants to fail their class, and this could cause major drawbacks now you're in university.

"I don't want to see you fail my class so I have thought about asking Dostoevsky here to guide you for the following exam next week"

You stiffen when you notice Fyodor walking into your line of vision beside your professor. There was a polite but tight smile on his face when his eyes landed on you. It would be a lie if you said you didn't have a fat crush on the mysterious genius. You literally sit right behind him, allowing you to observe him. You noticed his habit of biting his nails during lectures, the elegant cursive handwriting on his notebook, and even the smell of his rich perfume. You were allured by him so to hear that you'll be getting tutor lessons from him merely made you leap with excitement like a schoolgirl.

"Where do you prefer to study, [Last Name]?"

Fyodor asked as you two walked together out of the campus. A million peaceful and secluded places came to mind.

"I know a quiet cafe near campus, do you want to go there?"

"Hm, it sounds ideal. We can get coffee or pastry during our study"

Your leg kept bouncing from under the table as you gazed at Fyodor across from you. You both ordered coffee, you got your usual while he settled for some black coffee. You laid all the necessary materials on the table as you discussed your struggles with the topics. He takes note of every weak point you have and effortlessly begins to explain to you why you are struggling and how to overcome it.

You admired Fyodor's attractive intelligence with how he flawlessly began to tutor you. He was patient and didn't insult you when you made a mistake. He wasn't too uptight either since he'd crack a joke or two during discussions. You were confident that you were going to ace the upcoming exam.

It was already dark when the tutoring was done. Fyodor offered to walk you back to your dorm. He's done so much for you today that you're thinking of ways to pay him back somehow. When you open your door, Fyodor takes a swift peek inside.

"Hm, do you have roommates, [Name]?"

"Yeah, but they're back in their hometown for a week"

"So, you will be alone for tonight?"

"Yes, would you like to come in?"

A smile rose on the male's lips as he nodded. The moment the door shuts, you could've never anticipated what has occurred next. It happened so suddenly that you had trouble processing if it was reality. First, Fyodor corners you to your bed, grabs your jaw, and kisses you. It didn't take long before both of your clothes were discarded.

"Oh my—you're clenching around me again"

Fyodor chuckles at you while he thrusts his cock inside of you. The sensation of his length inside of you made your walls get immediately familiarized with the shape of his cock, imprinting it within your memory. You were sprawled on your bed, legs spread, while he pounded in you in between. Your head was spinning with sheer pleasure with how his dick is accurately kissing the most delicious parts of you.

"I can feel that you're about to cum soon, dearest"

Fuck, his sultry voice that you've fantasized about calling you countless names, contributed to the push towards your release. Fyodor was gripping your hips while his balls slapped against the plush of your ass with every thrust. He was fucking you deep and hard that you could've sworn you could feel him in your stomach.

"Fuck, y—you're so deep!"

"Oh darling, I know how you like it. From the moment my fingers fucked that greedy little pussy open, I know how you would like to take my cock"

He gives you one brutal thrust that sends you cross-eyed with your toes curling. You know that he's aware that if he kept up with his slow but brutal pace, it would indefinitely bring you to your sweet release.

"Fy—Fyodor, I—!"

"Hm? What's that, sweetheart?"

"Fa—Fast—oh!"

Fyodor chuckles condescendingly at the way you couldn't properly form a coherent sentence because of how he's pounding into your pussy. His eyes watched with delight when a creamy ring has form around the base of his cock as you stained the bedsheets with your juices, he's been fucking you for half an hour and he seemed like he couldn't get enough.

"Does my sweet little whore want me to go faster?"

"Yes!"

You squealed as you gripped the sheets. Fyodor couldn't hold back a laugh as his grip on your hips tightened and he leaned forward until his face was inches away from yours.

"As you wish"

You throw your head back, your jaw goes slack, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Your face was contorted into the purest and most intense look of pleasure when Fyodor's hips went faster. His cock kept slamming against your cervix and it made your thighs shudder. Drool seeped down on the corner of your lips while Fyodor leaned down to bite your shoulder. Satisfied with a singular red mark, one of Fyodor's hands stealthily made its way toward your bud of nerves.

His thumb firmly massaged your clit in delicious circles. With the way his cock was bullying your cervix and his thumb was rubbing careful circles on your clit, it was enough for you to fiercely clench on him and arch your back with a scream. Fyodor watched as you came, he hissed as he felt your walls clamp down on him like a vice. To see you unravel underneath him was sufficient to push him towards his orgasm.

"Shit—"

Fyodor's legs slightly quiver as he pulls out and shoots his cum all over your tummy. You were breathless with your vision blurred by your intense release. You can feel his excessive cum sticking to your skin and even dripping down to stain the bedsheets. You smile blissfully to yourself. This seems like the ideal payment you can give to Fyodor for tutoring you.

The result of the exams arrived before you knew it, you felt confident as you walked over to your professor to receive your paper. However, when your eyes landed on the score, your body felt dreadfully cold. Your score was the lowest in the entire class, if that wasn't embarrassing enough, it seemed like all that tutoring Fyodor gave you was useless. Your face flushed red. You felt humiliated when your professor shook their head and frowned at you. Were you that fucking stupid for failing this test again?

Fyodor observed you in his seat with a twisted smile. He watched you beg the professor to give you a re-take of the exam. His smile grows more when the professor sighs but agrees before calling him over. Fyodor hid his smile with a dignified expression. God, you looked pitiful, looking up at him through those lashes with glassy eyes like he was your last hope. It made his pants feel tight.

If only you knew how he cleverly tricked you. Fyodor had purposely taught you the wrong things, ensuring that you would fail that exam. Oh, how adorable your face looked when you seemed so genuinely excited to pass the exam, but his eyes were cunningly undressing you during the previous tutoring. The way you acted so timidly under his presence, the way you chewed on the tip of your pencil or sucked on that plastic straw while sipping your coffee, and the way he was palming himself under the table during that time proved how much he's willing to sabotage your success so that you can let him fuck you again.

"Am I really that dumb?"

"No, you're not dumb, darling"

You sniffed as you leaned into his open arms. Fyodor smirks to himself as he holds your crying figure in his arms while you two are alone in your dorm room again. He can feel himself get shamelessly hard with how pathetic you look. You pulled away and looked at him with a wobbling lip.

"Wh—What if I ge-get expelled from the class?"

You cried. Fyodor gives you a fake pout and cooed at you.

"No, won't"

"You'll help me again, right?"

"Of course, darling"

A relieved smile spreads across your face by his reply. However, Fyodor goes to touch your cheek.

"But you must do something for me first"

"I'll do anything"

"Good"

With that, he begins to unzip his pants.

part 2

[dannyphantom-zero]

Doctor Danny Prompt

Danny Fenton is largely regarded as an ignorant slacker as a result of his schoolwork and study time consistently being interrupted by ghost attacks. Thankfully after Danny is crowned high king of the ghost zone he is able to reign the ghosts in and makes them all swear an oath not to cause trouble, they are still allowed to visit the human world of coarse, some even mask themselves as human and lead ordinary loves even while being dead.

With more time on his hands and little to no ghosts attacks Danny misses the rush he used to get. Then one day a man collapsed in front of him, Danny is able to save the man using CPR and he discovers his new affinity. Medical practice.

Danny goes to college and gets into a hospital as a resident after interning, not long after though the Amity Park hospital closes due to lack of funding and he is forced to find another hospital.

He got a good recommendation from his previous hospital to work at a hospital in Gotham, definitely far from home, but he doesn't let that stop him.

Soon after working there he finds the influx of patients to care for refreshing, he becomes widely known as a genius miracle doctor.

One day he's taking a leisurely walk when he found an injured vigilante, the Red Hood, hes not conscious and therefore unable to give consent for treatment. Danny cares for Red Hoods injuries privately away from a hospital so as to keep the vigilantes identity a secret.

Red Hood is cautious and rude at first, but slowly he learns to open up to the doctor and even get continuously treated by Danny.

Danny is just finishing a shift when he hears about Superman being shot with a kryptonite bullet. Despite using his powers occasionally to treat patients, he's been able to keep his ghost gene a secret.

However that's about to change. He arrives on the seen and pushes his way through the police using a bit of his powers discreetly to get through.

The heroes aren't sure what to do.

"My name's Daniel Fenton, I am an attending physician at Gotham General Hospital, I specialize in supernatural anatomy, Cardiology and Endocrinology"

"All due respect doctor, his skin is impenetrable, you won't be able to operate on him"

Danny kept a cool face.

"That would be true for a normal human, I can't explain right now, every moment we wait is time we could be using to save the patient"

Danny used his ghost powers to see inside Superman body.

Several heroes gasped as they witnessed the doctors eyes turn a glowing green and then his arm became transparent. Danny stick his hand on Superman chest and pulled out the bullet.

As soon as the bullet was out Superman's skin began healing and restoring itself.

Danny let out a breath of relief before letting the superheroes escort him to the hall of justice where they sat with him.

"I would like to begin with we all can't thank you enough Dr" Batman said.

"wow, Mr tall dark and broody is being nice" flash whispered.

"Yes but I'm sure you still have questions for me."

Several heads nodded.

"are you of an alien race?"

Danny chuckled.

"No, nothing like that. My parents were scientists who were obsessed with the study of the paranormal, specifically ghosts. When I was young, around the age of fourteen I would say, my friends convinced me to go inside the newly constructed portal shell that my parents had tested earlier that day."

He paused waiting for them to take in his words before continuing.

"It had failed to operate then so I went in thinking it was safe. I was wrong. My parents had unknowingly instilled the charge to start the portal on the inside of the shell. I didn't know it was even there until I tripped on some tangled exposed wire and my hand pressed it"

"did it hurt?" Flash asked. He got a few dirty looks for that question but Danny just gave him a friendly smile.

"in a word, yes. It was excruciating. I was electrocuted for a half a minute. On top of that I had accidentally started the charge to the portal shell while being inside. This caused an outside substance called ectoplasm to enter my DNA sequence permanently changing it"

"ectoplasm" Batman muttered.

"in simpler terms, I'm half ghost."

"That's not possible! You would have to be half dead to be-" Flashs words were silenced with a swift smack to the back of the head by wonder women.

"Yes, I am technically half dead. I had to battle these ghost entities for a while to make sure they didn't wreck havoc in the small town o grew up in."

"Forgive me, but of that's true why aren't you there now"

Danny chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck a little nervous of their soon to be reactions.

"After I was forced to defeat the current ghost king and put him back onto the sarcophagus of forever sleep, the title became mine. I gained respect and control over the ghosts who were causing trouble amd was able to make them stop"

"Your a king" Batman stated.

"i don't refer to myself as such, on truth many ghosts helped imprison the old king, I received the title on a technicality."

He looked down at his hands.

"after the peace had settled in I had begun to feel as though a part of me was missing so I took up the career I have currently."

He smiled at them sweetly as he explained.

"My battle instincts help me when I'm in a crisis situation with a critical patient. With my powers I can calm them and safely restrain them if need be. As you saw today I can also better treat meta humans and alien races with these abilities as well"

"you went from being a hero to being a doctor, that's commendable"

Danny shook his head.

"Not really. I'm doing a selfless thing for selfish reasons"

The league smiled upon him. From then on he was world renowned for his worldly expertise and protected.

Should I make this into a whole fanfiction or not? Because I want to go into more detail but I want to know what you all think first.

[zyafics]

okay but the tension that would’ve been in the room or even waiting room when rafe showed up??

yes, and ykw, i wanna write this

rafe's hands are shaking when he walks up the reception's desk. the low beeps of pagers hung on nurses and low-volume buzz of the waiting room's tv contrasts the racing beats of his heart.

the receptionist looks up at him, offering a gentle smile as rafe picks up the plastic pen and scrawled his name across the sheet. it's terrible. he doesn't even know he completed the rest of cameron before it flattens into a long scribbled line. when he lays the writing instrument back down on clipboard, the woman picks it up—reciting his name before asking for his purpose of visit.

he says your name.

she types something into the ancient computer, which blinks and blinks with anticipation before a catalog prints. the woman recites your name—to clarify, to check, or to taunt him, he doesn't know—before iterating your room number.

he's never made his way down the hallway so quick.

his hands are clammy by his side. his pulse in his throat. he can feel the heavy weight of each step behind his gait, the way he's moving closer and closer to your room. and just as he's about two doors away, someone opens the door—and cleo slides out.

her eyes widen at she sees you. before it shifts into a protected look and she marches up to you. "she's not—"

"i need to see her—"

"she's not responding—"

"i need to see her—"

"rafe, you should leave—"

"i need to see her."

he didn't know how much time he can repeat it before he snaps. he's already hanging on a thin line, one on the verge of breaking with just the right tug, and cleo is pulling the thread with precision. he doesn't boast hatred for the pogue, not by a long shot—because he knows all this defensiveness comes from being your appointed best friend—but he won't lie and say she didn't tick him off.

cleo wires her jaw shut, running her hands down her cargo pants. she looks away, rafe seeing nothing but the hardened profile of her face, as she contemplates. she's acting as if she's security. as if the person inside that room—you—needed protection from him. it surges a line of irritation up his chest, and rafe can't stop himself before saying.

"she needs me."

cleo's expression snaps to rafe and a heat of defiance flickers through her gaze. "needs you?" she repeats lowly, the slip of her bahamian accent cutting at her punctuation. "she needed you hours ago, rafe. you weren't there."

"i didn't know."

"you didn't know or you didn't care?"

rafe huffs at the accusation. "i told you, my dad took my phone—"

"sure," cleo scoffs, before crossing her arms. "and all those other times you didn't respond to her, that was daddy's fault too?"

he says nothing. can offer nothing. he doesn't know how much cleo knows about your relationship with him, but he won't put it past her to know too much.

and him not being able to say anything? it's because she's not wrong.

that's the worse fucking part.

rafe claps his hands together. almost timidly. almost in desperate. before he looks at the girl who blocks his path. "look. i know you don't trust me, and i get it—but that's my girl. that's my kid. and whether or not you want me in there isn't up to you, it's her. just let me see her, once." and he pauses, before he adds. the plead on his tongue. "please."

cleo says nothing. for the longest time. and each stretch of a second—fuck, even a millisecond—feels like a knife to the gut. he just wants to see you. see your face. make sure, in some capacity, that you're okay. that's all he needs to know. he'll be damned if he left the hospital without it.

and finally, she concedes. cleo steps to the side, allowing rafe to grab the knob of the door with a twist. and slowly, with his pulse still in his throat, he steps inside.

cleo follows quietly behind.

the room is sterile and white. the windows are covered with a sheen curtain, and there's a consistent beat that echoes from the monitor. a low hum buzzes from the corner of the room—the tv flipped to a random channel—and as rafe's eyes cascades down everything else first, he finally lands on you.

you laid on the hospital bed. emotionless. wordless. breathless. the IV is hooked to your arm as you stared into the vast nothingness of the world, blankness that coats your features and an resignation he never see on your face.

you didn't see him at first. didn't even acknowledge the change in cleo leaving the room before returning. but as your eyes lift up, climbing up the slow built of your boyfriend—your ex-boyfriend—your breath finally hitches in your throat as you reach his face.

"hi, baby."

this is ass, ok, i written this in like 20 mins because i have to go to work <3

[actual-changeling]

This post is going to show you the EXACT moment that tear forms with indisputable evidence that consists of several screencaps, detail shots, and slowed down video proof, which will be at the very end.

The tear and I are getting married, her name is Trina and I love her.

Let's get right into it. Be prepared for uh. Very painful facial expressions! And tears (at the end).

We're going to look through the final fifteen chronologically with pit stops at important emotional points that I think would make sense to cause a tear.

As you can see, we go into this argument with mostly dry eyes, a little glistening here and there but those are NOT tears. Probably just the contacts plus the lack of blinking making his eyes a bit more moist than your usual pair. The tear will be obvious.

Obvious disbelief when Aziraphale tells him about the Metatron's bullshit, yes, but Crowley soldiers on through.

Now a scene that I personally thought would be most likely to cause tears - "tell me you said no". However - his eyes stay dry! Both before and after Aziraphale's non-answer. No tears.

The best spot to look at is his waterline, and as you can see it's free of any sad tears.

We have reached the "go off together" stage, Crowley is yelling, they're both emotionally perturbed, a very good foundation for tears. Yet when you look at his eyes during and right after, they're still dry!

We are now right before Crowley says "you can't leave this bookshop" and when he does BOOM the tear is suddenly there!

This is what our tear looks like, and we have a very narrow time frame during which it can appear. So it is time for the grand reveal because by now you're probably yelling at me "okay but WHEN does it show up??"

I will tell you. Or rather, I will show you first and then tell you what Aziraphale said right before that triggered it. Ready?

There it is. Left - no tear. Right - tear. (no i will not make the trivago joke again i want to but i wont.)

Come with me! To heaven! I'll run it, -> no tear yet. It appears after the next part.

you can be my second in command THAT is what causes the tear to finally show up. Right as Aziraphale finishes his sentence you can watch as it appears.

As promised, here is the video evidence, slowed down by half and zoomed in on Crowley's face at the end.

Alright, have you seen enough tears? Good! Let's look at the emotional reason. Because your question is probably what is so special about that sentence that it tips Crowley over the edge?

That one sentence, that one "promise" Aziraphale makes him, destroys everything. All of it in one go.

It is not just about Aziraphale choosing heaven over him, it's not about him saying no to running away (Crowley probably saw that coming anyway). What Aziraphale does is he takes them, their us and eliminates it.

Not just is he telling Crowley that he's an evil demon tm who needs to be an angel to be worthy of staying in Aziraphale's life, but "second in command" takes that even further.

Not "ruling together" or "ruling side by side" or any variation of those. No, Aziraphale is telling him that they are not equal and never have been. That Crowley has always been inferior to him and always WILL BE even if he stops being a demon and does what Aziraphale wants.

This is why Crowley no longer things of them as an us after all of that. Aziraphale took every single meaning it had and inverted it, crushed it up, and then threw it away.

Yeah.

Crowley is telling him he is gay and in gay love with him. Aziraphale takes that and says "you can be my employee at gay conversion therapy which i will run #straight besties".

Crowley hears "second in command" and it is the last puzzle piece falling into place. It's the final straw and that is when we get the tear. Before that he was saying we can be together, be an us, just the two of us, you and me. He was referring to them as free equals who don't need heaven or hell, who are happy with everything the way it is. An Aziraphale who loves Crowley no matter what his former occupation might have been.

We could have been us. (I wanted us to be an us)

And Aziraphale's answer to that is there has never been an us and we never will be. i don't love you the way you love me.

Anyway, see y'all on my next angst post or in the tags. Have another devastating screencap to wrap this all up nicely 💚

[twilightkitkat]

Thinking about the role of the "love interest" in superhero media and how poolverine subverts this.

The "love interest" in most movies is just a placeholder. Boring. Tame, Predictable.

This is especially true in action media, wherein romance takes a backseat and is often seen as an add-on rather than a main plot point. Romance is either a source of conflict or motivation that serves to drive a character arc forward, but no more or less.

Take, for example, Vanessa. I love her character. Her personality and character are fascinating. However, especially in Deadpool 2 and 3, she serves more as a device to move the plot forward rather than a genuine character. The first movie established her character and importance, so it's understandable why Wade chose to hide his identity and how he slowly came to terms with his new identity. She helped move his character arc of self-acceptance forward, yes, but she also existed as her own entity.

In the movies after this, she isn't treated with the same care. She's used as a central motivation in Deadpool 2, a force that drives Wade to save Russel and confront Cable when his character motivations aren't easily tied to morals. However, that's it. She isn't fighting alongside him or given the same treatment as the other important "family" characters. In Deadpool 3, she's treated with even less care, only having short scenes at the beginning and end of the movie to give Wade a representation of "home."

This isn't to say Vanessa isn't an important character and shouldn't be treated as such. However, the purpose of having a "love interest" in an action movie's plot isn't just to have someone to love. It's almost always to have someone who can be kidnapped or killed to spring the main character into action. It's someone who fades to the sidelines so the main character can show off while showcasing their relationship success.

Consider this: in all of the Marvel comic universes, Deadpool and Wolverine have had many different partners. Different names, different faces. It's common for the "love interest" of a superhero to be seen as an accessory that changes shape depending on the comic artist or franchise. After all, they don't need a cohesive identity to serve their purpose as a "general, digestible reason for the main character to act."

Everyone understands how love can cause people to do crazy things. There is no further elaboration needed, even for morally grey or black characters. It's an easy way to make an understandable motive for the audience. Suspension of disbelief.

And yet, the superheroes remain the same. They get to keep their identity throughout different media. It's always Wolverine and Deadpool. Logan and Wade. Even if they have slightly different plotlines, their core characteristics and intrinsic identity are constant.

Logan could have Jean Gray. Or Mariko. Or Silver Fox. He can have anyone play the role of "love interest," a role that can be shapen by a ball of clay and changed entirely to fit the narrative.

But his "rival" and "best friend" in the multiverse will always be Deadpool. They're notorious for being referenced in each other's media. For fighting. For working together. They are A Set.

This is why I'm so much more drawn to Poolverine than other ships. Wade has different love interests depending on the media type. So does Logan. I can't tie in knowledge from different interpretations into the romance because the love interests are fluid. But with each other, they interact in almost every universe. Have a consistent bond. A "standard." They're soulmates, in a way, forever destined to meet and be important to each other.

This is setting aside how female love interests are treated in male-oriented media in general. They're normally seen as someone to be protected, to stay at home, and welcome back the hero when they return. Some are allowed to be strong, to have abilities, but rarely ever do they stand on equal footing with the male main character. Not where it matters.

This is exhibited in both Wolverine and Deadpool's movies. Vanessa is introduced as a "badass," someone who's part of the underworld and knows how to fight, yet she's often placed in the damsel in distress position. She could match Wade before his mutation, maybe, but after he dons the mask and becomes Deadpool, his work is over her pay grade. The same happens with Mariko in the Wolverine movie: she's initially introduced as someone who can fight, but Logan ends up protecting her almost entirely and is responsible for rescuing her from her kidnapping at the end.

It creates an emotional rift between the side of the "hero" and the side of the "love interest," because it feels like they aren't fighting together for the same cause. It feels like the love interest is treated more as a "reward" for the hero to come back to after saving the world rather than a person.

When the entire movie follows the perspective of the main character as they fight, and action scenes are primarily used to invoke emotion, it feels lackluster to have the love interest stay at home. The most intense moments of emotional connection are typically portrayed between the hero and someone else who understands their suffering who they're trying to reach, such as a villain or rival or friend.

Love interests are never on the same "playing field" as the main character and thus can't relate to their struggle. The director tells the audience that they should be happy or sad when a love interest is on screen, but they don't show the same level of emotional depth when the main point of an action movie is action. The entire premise of the main character is action, and yet the love interest is absent from it. Or a victim rather than a player.

This is why Poolverine subverts this trope. You have two people, each with their own franchise and life. Each with their own skills. Each with similarly powerful abilities.

They are equals and are treated as such by the narrative. They take each other seriously and have an emotional connection because they understand each other's suffering. They both are out on the battlefield, fighting the same war and overcoming their differences. They both are allowed to have "cool" scenes and "sad" scenes and "funny" scenes. They both are given the spotlight to experience character growth and have their own unique internal conflict because they both are strong characters who are narratively important.

They both have chemistry. Which is nearly impossible to attain when the love interest isn't even in the lab.

[yeloenk]

grins mischievously and rubs my hands together like a fly

i think human ink would frequently get bored of his hair color and hair style, trying out lots of different things!! he would definitely forget to maintain the dyejob tho so his white roots get REALLY bad until he dyes it again LMAO

while his dads aren't japanese (zephyr is french and idrk about undertop), they enjoy ink showing them japanese culture and participating in traditions and such :-)

ink, since they're immortal, decided he would dedicate his freetime into learning a bunch of different cultures and languages! this always tends to surprise others, since ink's short-term memory is absolute garbage. nobody understands how he remembers EVERYTHING about EVERY culture 😭😭🙏 you CANNOT keep a secret from this mofo no matter what language you speak

i think they would keep a digital diary with a camera! he records important events/moments so they can always look back at them, since he forgets a lot. his camera is mostly filled up with memories with their dads 🫶

ink LOVESS to bake!! he enjoys trying out different recepies and pastries from all around the world, but his favorites are macarons. he enjoys cooking as well, but moreso appreciates baking because of the exact instructions/measurements. (he is autistic like me and needs clear instructions or he will combust real and true trust me on this)

he has WAY too many hobbies for a normal person to keep up with. flute, baking, drawing, painting, writing, dancing, crocheting, knitting, embroidery, singing, gardening, you NAME it. any form of art, they know how to do and are surprisingly good at it

ink struggles with keeping up with his own very very busy mind. they have so many projects he wants to execute, but can only push out a few at a time. he hates having unfinished projects, and will stick with something until the end—for better or for worse.

he loves to paint over his vitiligo spots, or just painting on himself in general. they think it's fun & interesting to see how the spots shift and change on his skin, never growing bored of them.

-> his spots shift whenever code for a new AU is created, soo it's never really consistent LOL

he loves all forms of music, but holds a special place in his heart for songs that include lots of different classic instrumentals, like violin. he loves artists like fish in a birdcage and sparkbird (yes im projecting and you can't stop me)

he sometimes will drink paint out of the blue in front of others just for their reactions. they are priceless to ink and ALWAYS make him crack up so bad.. and then he has to explain that "nonono my paint specifically is okay for me to drink guys im not gonna die dw" ☠️☠️

ANNDDD i should probably stop there.. this post is so long LMFAO 😭😭 honestly most of these are just my normal ink headcanons, human or not, so take these as you will 🗣️🗣️