#you care about my body and words cannot describe how I do not give a FUCK

[neverendingford]

.

[rationaliity]

church — chase atlantic

' i'm about to take you back to church well, tell me your confessions, baby, what's the worst ? baptize in your thighs 'til it hurts cuz i'm about to take you back to church '

requested

you were sunday's favorite. as pure as a lamb, his perfect little toy that he could do whatever he wanted with, even though he wouldn't tell you to your face. no, his actions said all that he needed to say, there was no need to speak his favoritism openly when you accepted him so easily.

you, his darling favorite, were on your knees, looking up at him from where he stood behind his pulpit, your head bowed to him in reverence, one hand curled over the other closed fist in a prayer. " forgive me, father, for i have sinned. " the words flowed effortlessly from your mouth, and he almost found himself unable to keep a calm look on his face, content with your piety.

with your head bowed, all you could hear were his footsteps as you prayed for his forgiveness. fingers hooked underneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. sunday loved this view of you on your knees in front of him, your eyes begging for a forgiveness that he was so willing to give, for a price.

" tell me of your sins, " his voice was as smooth as butter, his hand never leaving your chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes as you confessed. and of course you would, who were you to ever disobey a direct order from sunday ?

" i have.. been touching myself, father, " you admitted, and he swore he could see you melt underneath his piercing gaze. " i know it's wrong, so every time i.. get close, i stop. i know it's not right to orgasm with such sinful intentions, but i.. father, the need.. these sinful urges are taking over my body, my mind. everything. i can't stop thinking about being touched by another. "

sunday is a man who's mind always precedes before his bodily needs. but with you looking up at him, begging him to do something to help you with your urges, even he couldn't turn a blind eye to his favorite believer in need, now could he ?

" this is quite unbecoming of you. i can't even begin to describe my disappointment in you, " although his voice was gentle, his words were biting, reminding you of your place beneath his elegance and divinity. he had the ability to be kind, but he could also ruin you. you could bend to his will, or you could break. he didn't care either way, as long as he had you right where he wanted you.

" i'm sor- "

" i'm afraid apologizing isn't going to make up for your actions. you know as well as i do that acting on such carnal desires are nothing short of blasphemy, " his lips curled into a smirk as he guided your head closer to him, your body leaning in subtly to his, until you were just inches away from him, and his legs were on either side of your body.

" how can i trust you not to act on these desires again ? one should, no, one must ensure that you never act senselessly again. be not afraid, i will take care of your desires. your reverence has never faltered, my precious devotee. i would not be in this position above you if i could not qualm your running thoughts, your aching body. "

" father, please, " you pleaded, the words falling off of your lips like you were about to cry, your bottom lip pouting just a little bit. " i cannot continue to live like this with these thoughts. i need you, father. " you were in the corner of his cage, caught up in his web of desires, but even if the door were open, you would stay.

" then worship me, " sunday commanded, his tone leaving no room for arguments. you only nodded, breathless, as your eyes so lewdly flickered down to his crotch just inches away from your face, his free hand unzipping his silver pants, the sound of the teeth of his pants coming undone enough to make your head spin. you hadn't realized that his hand on your chin had loosened, allowing you to look at him as he freed himself from his pants.

he wouldn't take his clothing off completely, that was entirely off of the table. even when committing such baseless desires. no, he was teaching you how to properly worship a man like him. your god. his hands were clean of sin, it was yours that needed his grace. what was the most efficient way of giving you the body of god himself ?

you didn't need to be told twice to worship him, something that sunday admired from you, always so obedient in everything that he said. you took his cock into your mouth, letting the fat tip of it rest on your flat tongue for a moment as you looked up at him, swearing the sun was in your eyes the way his bright golden eyes were looking down at you, scrutinizing your every move.

sunday didn't move, needing you to prove that you could do such a simple task without his assistance, and a god does not chase after his people, and you did not disappoint. your pretty lips wrapped around his cock so perfectly, your head bobbing up and down as you sucked, eliciting small groans of pleasure from him. drool slipped through your lips and onto your cute little white church dress, dampening the fabric.

your eyebrows were creased together as you worked your warm mouth along his shaft, your focus evident. although he was the one being pleasured, you looked like you were in ecstasy, losing yourself in his pleasure, cock drunk and only thinking about the way his precum tasted in your mouth, like holy water.

" what a perfect little lamb, " sunday purred, his chest rising and falling quickly, his bottom lip in between his teeth. you looked up at him the moment he spoke, your eyes cloudy with desire, but still determined to listen to his every word, hanging off of them as if they were your commandments. " purifying you from within, yes, this is the ideal. my innocent, pure acolyte. your defiling of your own body was sacrilegious, but don't worry. i'll save you. "

sunday was sure controlling you was his claim, his birthright. he could give and take away from you freely as he wished, and you were to give him your everything. and in turn for your everything, of course he could give you his blessings, in the form of exactly what you craved from him. as your mouth worked up and down his cock, the lewd sounds filling up the otherwise silent church, echoing within these holy walls, he felt the pressure threatening to burst out at any moment.

his hand grabbed your hair a little tighter than he expected to, quickly pulling you off of his cock. you hesitated for a moment, the suddenness of his actions catching you off guard, momentarily breaking the spell he had you under, your eyebrows furrowed together as you looked up to him. his free hand gripped his own cock, stroking the length with rhythmic strokes.

" did you think that i would be so generous ? " he asked, his voice holding a hint of condescension. " beg for it. beg for my blessing. beg for your god. "

" fa- g-god- " you stuttered out, his hand in your hair holding your head at the right angle so you could look up at him with your big, doey eyes. you weren't even looking at his ministrations in front of you, solely focused on his face, his radiance. " please- please, i need your blessing, god. i need you to bless this sinful body of mine with your holiness, " the words fell from your lips like a prayer, a mantra that he'd have you repeat over and over again. " my god, please. "

sunday felt his need come to a fever pitch at your prayers, and he threw his head back, moans slipping out as his orgasm exploded outside of him, coating you in his essence. thick ropes of cum splattered onto your face and chest, covering your hair and your forehead like the crown of thorns. his hand dropped his cock, letting it rest on your face, covering one of your eyes as his tip leaked cum into your hair even more as he caught his breath subtly.

" such devotion, your baptism has cleared you partly from your sins. " he murmured, finally releasing your hair, his eyes on how lewd you looked covered in his cum, his cock resting on your face as if that was all you were good for. but his price had been paid, and now he was ready to grant you his forgiveness. " go, sit in the pew. spread your legs for me, and i'll take care of the sins plaguing the inside of your body, too, where the baptism has not yet reached. don't worry, i will make sure your body is completely free of sin, inside and outside, my little dove. "

[testrella]

you're my religion priest! s. geto x f!reader pt.1→pt.2

synopsis: y/n moved into a small and tight knit town to take care of her elderly grandmother. what happens when she attends a sermon with her grandmother, and finds herself lusting over someone she cannot have.

fandom: jujutsu kaisen ⌗ priest suguru geto x female reader⌗ modern au content warnings: mild cursing, smut, head (giving), religious themes(?), slight degrading at the end, angst(?) public sex, NSFW.

author's note: over 11k words, u guys have fun

“..in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the holy spirit. amen.”

father geto finishes off the sermon with the routine prayer. he takes the opportunity being on stage to scan the loyal audience. it was the regular, older people he preaches to. the same people who boast about him being so devoted to God at such a young age. how that when they were his age, they were off sinning. he thinks about the constant praises about being a young devoted follower, but it immediately stops when he sees her. 

a young lady, who seemed to be around the same age as him, sitting in the very back with an elderly woman. even though she was dressed as modestly as possible, the black floor length dress immersed your body in all the right places.

when did he allow his immoral thoughts come to mind

 “oh father! you must meet mrs. johnson’s granddaughter- maybe you can convince her to turn to God.” an elder of the church whispered to the priest. she gently pulled him to the side, off of the stage. 

“as you must have heard by now, edith’s grandbaby is out of control. rumor has it that she’s been caught using multiple different contraband, and premarital sex! can you believe edith would allow this to go on for so long?!”

geto mentally sighs, gossiping was always an issue at church. especially since it was located in a very small town, there wasn't much to talk about. when you were new to town, the locals went wild. fabricating very detail of your life, and spouting that nonsense through their teeth.

“with respect dear mary, the scripture speaks strongly against gossip. i’ll talk to the young lady, but please watch yourself. for there is no greater sin than sin.”

she nods while looking down, unable to meet geto’s gaze. too embarrassed to voice her concern furthermore, she mutters “yes father, please forgive me.”

“i am not the one you should be asking for forgiveness, ask the man above. now if you’ll excuse me, i’ll introduce myself to the newest member of our church.” he smiles gracefully before making his way towards mrs. johnson and her ‘scandalous’ granddaughter. 

he takes small steps towards you, puffing his chest out as he walks with a sense of pride. sure you were a pretty girl, but he was only interested to guide you through your religious journey. 

“father geto, i introduce you to my granddaughter. this is y/n. she’s only 20, and she recently moved into town to take care of me. isn’t she the kindest?”

he loses his train of thought. he's unable to bring himself to utter a single word. you were much more gorgeous up-close. if he were to describe your beauty, he’d be too overwhelmed, and wouldn’t know where to start. maybe he’d start with the way your nose fits your face perfectly. or, how your smile molded perfectly with your faint smile lines. 

geto snaps out of his trance, and quickly introduces himself. 

“i’m father geto. welcome to this church, i hope your stay has been great so far.” he purred. 

you squint your eyes at him. almost as if you already knew the rumors going around. nonetheless, you shake his hand. 

“like my grandma said, i’m y/n. i do hope we cross paths alone in the future.”

he blushes from the way you shaked his hand, but also put your other hand on his. solidifying the handshake more than it needed too. not only that, the last comment you made. crossing paths.. alone?

“my confessional booth is always open before my sermon, and at 9 PM on sundays. if that’s what you mean of course.” 

you puff your chest out and let out a dramatic sigh. taking in your arms, and letting them rest to your side, you open your mouth to speak. he stares at your lips, refusing to make eye contact.

“the sermon did end, i guess i’ll have to see you later tonight.” you assured him before walking over to your grandmother who made conversation with someone else. he watched you walk away, allowing himself to sneak a peek from behind. 

later that day, geto was having lunch. he finds himself unable to focus on his best friend's story, the words going in one ear and out the other. all the plays in his mind is you, and what you could possibly up to.

“satoru, i think i was seduced today after my sermon.” he spilled out, no longer able to contain his thoughts. 

“gross! how old was she? 50? 69? HA, get it? 69?” 

geto rolls his eyes at the blue eyed ‘man’ who acted immaturely any chance he got. maybe he really should have kept his thoughts to himself. it was better than trying to converse it with an actual man-child.

“goodness satoru, no. she was a few years younger than me. 4 years to be exact. she’s one of the elder’s granddaughter, and the way she spoke to me made me feel like i was sinning. i didn’t even do anything!”

“well..”

his eyebrow quirks as satoru began his sentence. 

“did she have big tits?” 

geto’s face quickly turned from curiosity to disgust. he abruptly stood up from the table, placing both hands on it for support, and got all up in satoru’s face.

“how could you ever speak so unashamedly about a lady like that?! let alone speak like that in front of a priest!”

“well forgive me father, i didn’t mean to offend you and your girlfriend,” satoru said sarcastically while putting his hands up defensively. “i’ve said worse, and you’ve never had a problem with it until now. she must’ve had big tits for you to go all preacher mode on me.“  

as much as geto didn’t want to admit it, satoru was right. there were many time's geto allowed the white haired man to say the most diabolical stuff known to man. even listening when satoru would describe women’s bodies in detail and occasionally his one night stands. why was this any different?

“excuse me, is that you father?” 

there is was.

the seductive voice he met only hours ago. both boys slowly turn their heads to the h/c girl standing right in front of them. their eyes met with the beauty talked about earlier. only now you were wearing a shorter version of the dress you wore earlier. 

“m-miss. y/n? i’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time. what brings you here?” 

you only acknowledge one of the two men in front of her, and of course it was geto. your eyes met his, and never shifted away. it was almost like a dance of temptation, daring him to do further than just eye contact. the dark aura coming from you was overwhelming him, or maybe it was just your strong perfume. 

“i apologize for the disruption, father geto. my grandma asked me to run some errands. i guess i’ll have to speak with you later tonight.“ 

before geto could get a word in, you once again walk off. just like before, he once again glances down there. 

forgive me Lord, for i have sinned. 

“dude what the fuck was that..” the white haired man questioned. he also noticed the thick tension that was stirred by non other than you.

“i d-don’t know. i cannot see her tonight. i’m scared she might tempt me into.. into doing something that’s against the scripture.”

he now finds himself in the confessional booth, anxiously waiting for your arrival. it was currently 9:47 PM, you were late. it did not help his anxiety at all. he’d give you until 10:15 for you to arrive. anything later would have to just be scheduled on another sunday. 

he lets out a deep breath before he hears the clattering of heels. geto takes a peak out of his curtain only to be met with a sultry gaze. he quickly closes off his curtain, and subconsciously wipes his sweaty palms on his lap. this was like any other confessional, there was nothing to be conspicuous. 

“father geto? are you there?“ you ask in a voice just above a whisper. 

geto swallows whatever was in his mouth before speaking.

 “of course i am.“ 

“ahem, forgive me father. i have sinned since i first moved into this town. actually, i sinned today after the sermon.“ 

he stays silent. he’s tempted to ask what you’ve done, and if it possibly had something to do with him. but you answer his unspoken questions before he can think about it for too long.

“before moving into this lovely town, my grandmother sent me a picture of her priest. goodness, i didn’t know what to do with myself.“ 

he was determined to stay stoic, and not to speak unless it was to say a prayer. but her hushed voice and the strong tension made it difficult. the air seemed to thicken every time she finished a sentence. geto couldn’t escape your magnetic pull of lust.

“a-and if i may ask, what did you do to deal with your problem?”

“i couldn’t resist myself. after i saw the photo of him, i began to have lewd thoughts. every night leading up to my departure, i’d touch myself thinking about him. then..”

she lets out a small moan, but geto would describe it as a small whine. now he was breathing heavily as his boxers started to tighten up. there was no way he could get hard in the church. it was sinful. but he was here to help you, and allowed you to continue.

“i met him today. after the sermon i started using objects to make myself feel satisfied. but it was nothing compared to his large hands shaking my hand. i can only imagine him using his hands going inside of me instead of holding a bible. even now, i cannot resist his voice..” you confessed as heavy breathing came from your end. 

“..come over to my side dear. let me help you.” he whispered.

you waste no time he notes from the sounds coming from the other side. your heels clacked once or twice before you pulled the curtain from his side. 

he studies your face very carefully. there was a light red tint spreading across your cheeks, and your ears were bright red. his eyes then wander down to your very revealing shirt that showed a lot of cleavage. the shirt was accompanied by a matching skirt, a very, VERY, short skirt.

you walk into the tight fitting booth. before he can get his hands on you, you kneel down in between his legs. your pretty little head lays on his left thigh.

“forgive me father. how can i ever make you forgive me for my sins?” you lift your head and your hands start to wander on the edge of his pants. “tell me father, there must be a way..”

geto feels a bead of sweat going down his forehead. there were many times that grandparents introduced their grandchildren to him, in hopes they get married. or, when satoru would convince him to agree to a blind date. his answer of rejection was always the same. 

‘i am devoted to the man above, i musn’t be distracted.’ 

where was his reasoning of rejection when he watches you pull both his pants and undergarments off? 

you grab his dick and painfully slowly lick the tip of it. leaving any pre-cum on his tip, now in your mouth. a slight moan leaves his mouth. this was a pleasure that he’s never experienced before. devoting all 24 years of his life to God has never brought this much fulfilment. 

where was his reasoning of rejection when you put his whole dick in your mouth without any hesitation?

your sudden move of deep throating him caught him off guard. he’s now holding your head in a gentle manner, as gentle as he can be. geto is lost at words, he can only moan uncontrollably while playing with your hair. the only thing he can fixate his eyes on was your beautiful hair getting tangled into his fingers. 

where was his reasoning when you made him finish in under five minutes even though it felt like an eternity for him?

you continue to suck him off, hollowing your cheeks for a better suction. your hands wander down to his balls, giving it a small massage. you're not sure what you did right, but it worked. geto was now praising your name instead of the lord’s. he feels an unfamiliar knot unwinding itself. 

“y/n.. please i feel..” he lets out a breathy moan instead of finishing his sentence. his eyes shut close to full enjoy the euphoric feeling. why did he want to reject your advances in the first place? he can't seem to remember. 

“father..” you cooed while taking off his shirt. of course, the hot pastor with a big dick was also very nicely built.

“oh geto, why do you hide this from me?”

your hands wander his chest then it starts to follow his happy trail. your movement was haltered when he reached out for your chest.

“the same could be said for yourself. show yourself to me, please. i beg.”

his eyes looked like a puppy who had been kicked. there was no sane woman in the world who would say no to his violet eyes. your hand then reaches out for his, and then place his hand on the hem of your shirt.

“take it off for me, father geto.”

being enchanted with your hypnotic gaze, it drew him like a moth to a flame. he lifted your shirt, taking your bra off as well, and stared with admiration. you had an art of seduction that was compared to no other. he watches you sit on his lap as you lift your skirt. 

this is sin. he was sinning. 

but he didn’t stop you as you sat slowly onto his dick, moaning in joy. he watches you go up and down painfully slow.

“c-can you go a little faster..?“ he moaned into your ear. being too embarrassed by his request, he buries himself on the side of your neck. taking in your scent, leaving small pecks on the spots you sprayed perfume. 

“you’re t-too big geto~” you whined into his ear before you attached your lips onto his. 

he was an inexperienced kisser. an inexperienced everything actually. it was easy for you to take the lead by biting onto his bottom lip. he opened his mouth to let out a small whine of pain and you took the opportunity to slip your tongue in. 

you feel yourself juices slide down your thigh onto geto’s lap as you continue to bounce on his dick. large hands start groping your ass, giving you a smack on one of your cheeks. you yelp in response. it was unexpected from a priest.

“father, use me. be as rough as you want with me.” your hands start undoing his bun, turning his hair into a disheveled mess. 

“i-i shouldn't be so mmm- rough on you.” 

you felt honored by his insistence on being so gentle. his grip on your waist tells you a different story. it was obvious he wanted to go faster than the pace you set.

“please geto, for me at least.”

oh, how could he ever deny your requests? 

his grip on your waist tightens as he lifts you up and rams into you. all pent up sexual frustrations he’s ever had in the past 24 years are being taken out on you. throughout the heavens and earth, you were his only sole purpose in life. the way you took him in so good without any complaints was proof enough. 

marks form on his shoulder and back from the scratches you were leaving. it was the only way you could hold yourself up. if not, you’d fall right into his arms while he’d continue to show no mercy on your pussy. 

geto was starting to feel what he felt earlier when you were in between his legs. his eyes gaze at yours, and gets a site he’d never unsee. small tears started forming, threatening to leave your eyes. your mouth agape as one hand held onto his shoulder, the other groping yourself.

“father geto, i-i’m ahh, i’m so close~”

on sync, the both of you came at the very same time.

geto found it more ironic than disgust when he saw the scene unfold. priest of six years, never had a temptation once in those six years. his lap was now covered in cum from not only his but the new girl in town. the new girl who easily seduced him

“forgive us lord, for the father and i have sinned.” you purred right into his ear, almost biting it. 

he massages your waist before finally putting you on your two feet. you're barely able to stand up without the support of the wall.

"y/n, we can never do this again. never speak to me unless it's about my sermon."

now it was his turn to leave before you could get a word in. he pulls his pants up and swiftly puts his shirt back on.

"you were sent by the devil, and i've failed my lord. stay far away from me you whore."

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Comfort

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Light mention of politics, fluff

Length: 494

Summary: Bucky comforts you during your time in need.

A/N: Normally I’m not one to be overly vocal about my beliefs, but after the shit show that was the election, I can’t not be. If you know me, I believe that everyone deserves rights, no matter who they are, how they identify, who they love, etc. The type of hate that we see now is only going to increase and I cannot stand by and not say anything. My page will always be a safe space for everyone, no matter what. I wrote this partially to comfort myself, but now I am posting it for everyone else who also needs this. To my friends who are going to be affected by this, I am so sorry that this country has failed you. I am sorry that your rights will be affected by this. I am sorry that people carry this immense amount of hate and don’t know how to mind their own business. Know this; My page will be a safe space for you to be yourself, even in this horrible time. You have someone in your corner who will not judge you and cares for your overall well being. We may not know each other, but I support you.

This is not proofread, I just wanted to put this out.

I do not consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You lay in your bed, thinking about life. It’s a tough pill to swallow. There are no words to describe the devastation you feel for your friends and family. You continue to stare up at the ceiling, thinking about how much you wished Bucky was home.

Bucky had left a few days prior on a mission. While it shouldn’t be much longer, you still wished he was home. You wished that you could lay in his arms and cry while he held you, telling you that he would do everything in his power to try to help you.

You are so lost in thought, you don’t hear the front door to your apartment open. 

Bucky quietly opens the door, hoping to not disturb you. He gently locks the door and takes off his boots, leaving them by the front door. Alpine is the first to greet him, rubbing against his leg. 

Bucky picks her up to pet her, giving her a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Hey girl, is she still in bed?”

Alpine purrs to say yes and rubs herself on Bucky’s chest. Bucky frowns slightly but he knew you would be like this. He walks to your shared bedroom, knocking on the door.

“Doll?” He asks tentatively.

Your heart jumps before you turn your head. “Hey, Buck.” You whisper with a small smile and tears in your eyes.

Bucky gently puts Alpine on the bed and cuddles up right next to you. “I’m so sorry, Doll.”

You only nod your head and turn your body to be engulfed by him, wrapping your leg around his waist. “You just being here is helping.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, only rubbing your back and kissing your temple as you cry in his arms. If there was anything he could do, he would do it. But that’s not possible and he wants to destroy everything because of it.

“I got you, Doll. You can cry, scream, punch, do whatever you need to do.”

You shake your head. “I just need to be with you.”

Bucky nods. “Then we can lay here and waste the day away. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head once more. “No.”

Bucky frowns slightly. “Doll, you need to eat. It’s almost 3 pm.” Alpine meows in agreement.

“I know, I just couldn’t pull myself out of bed.” You reach for Alpine and she lays between you and Bucky, purring at her favorite humans.

“Ok, well do you want to order food?”

You shake your head and scrunch your face. “I feel like if I eat, I’m going to throw up.”

Bucky looks you in the eyes. “Baby, I know. But you have to eat. How about I make you some toast? It’ll fuel you and isn’t super heavy.”

You nod. “Yeah, ok.”

Bucky kisses your forehead. “I know Doll, but we’ll get through this. I will do everything in my power to make sure that you’ll be ok.”

[stargirlrchive]

folklore: this is me trying ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ folklore masterlist

summary: widowed!jake sully x female!reader, no use of y/n, angst, marriage of convenience, jake being mean? but he is a grieving boy!, mentions of death, TW!! it is not explicitly mentioned in this chapter but in this series it is eluded to death during childbirth, it might be mentioned later on, but i will do my best to not go into too much detail

word count: 1,898

sempul (n) - father ; sa’nok (n) - mother

‘ite (n) - daughter ; ‘itan (n) - son

comments: hi honeys, i am really excited about this series, i hope you enjoy it as much as i do. that being said, with what i mentioned in the summary, if anything seems like it will be too hard of a read, pls skip past this, your mental health is far more important! but i will do my best to not dive deep into the topic. but ok tysm, love you all!! byeeee mwaaaah ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

next ✩

- pandora, omitikaya forest, 2162 -

You swallowed roughly when you felt a lump form at your throat, desperately trying not to cry as the tears swelled your eyes. How did you end up in this situation? Why was Eywa punishing you this way? “When we mate-I do not wish to create Tsaheylu. That was reserved for Neytiri and I.”

Jake’s words continued to echo in your mind, “What?”

You could feel the frustration seeping out of him, tense and angry, as if what he said made perfect sense and you just didn’t understand. It was not fair, not to you and he knew it. “You-that is taking so much from me.” Your bottom lip quivered, it felt like someone had shoved a piping hot metal down your throat. “I understand we do not love each other, but-but this is something we look forward to our whole life and you will not even give me the courtesy of mating with me properly? Hold no true loyalty to me, nor I to you?”

Your tears began to fall in the next instant, bursting out as you refrained from holding back and sobbing loudly. Mo’at had come to both of you separately, informing you that Eywa had called upon her after the passing of Neytiri. The Great Mother wanted your path to cross with the Olo’eyktan.

Jake’s ears felt hot as they pressed down flat against his head, he was angry. Angry that the world had taken his mate from him, angry that the clan was forcing him to move on, angry that you did not understand where he was coming from. Besides his four children, there would never be anyone he loved more than Neytiri.

The thought of bearing his soul to you was too much, he would not risk his heart again. “I love Neytiri, you and I-we don't love each other, you said it yourself. I would never disrespect her by giving that part of myself to anyone else.”

He was being mean, he knew it too. “Many words have been used to describe you, but no one ever said you were mean. You are being cruel.”

Jake let out a deep breath, eyes starting to leak tears of frustration as he watched you cave in on yourself. You were mourning your future, what could have been for you, what you were never going to have.

“I had to let you know before this continued any further. Eywa has given us signs, I will respect her wishes and treat you with dignity as my wife, the kids-they love you. Neytiri loved you. And I am sorry I cannot give you a life filled with love but I can protect you. I will stand beside you through every moment.”

You said nothing, heart heavy with grief. “I know it is a lot to ask, but I need your help. Please.”

Your eyes caught Jake’s, tear stains down his face and as he pleaded with you, begging you. “You understand I will be giving my life to you. Depriving myself to find someone who loves me?”

Jake’s ears turned downwards, still pressed tightly against his head and he felt the guilt web it’s way through his entire body. He felt the rejection coming and he did not blame you. It was not a fair trade, he got a wife to look over his kids, care for him and his family and you got a love-less union, being upheld for appearance sake only.

Your throat dried up as he stayed silent, tears never ending from your eyes as they flowed down to your neck and chest.

“I’m trying, look-I cannot do that to Neytiri. I have never loved someone so deeply, when she and I promised ourselves to each other it was because we both knew that was right. We both knew we were meant to be by one another’s side-and creating Tsaheylu with you, it would rob the sentiment because we do not love each other, you said it yourself. I-I do not know how to phrase that gently, I do not wish to hurt you, only to be honest.”

There was a beat of silence, it was so defining that Jake's ears started to ring uncomfortably. You owed so much of the person you were to Neytiri and because of that you would not let her children suffer, “I will do it.”

Jake’s head snapped up, fear and gratitude on full display for you to see, your eyes had concealed themselves, your stare was cold and devoid, resignation as you came to terms with your future. “How will we go about this? I-” You paused and let out a breath through your nose, “I cannot stand in front of the clan and lie, celebrate as if this is normal, or joyous.”

You grumbled out quietly, “Feels like a death sentence.”

If Jake heard your last comment, he said nothing. His brain was still trying to process you agreeing to do this, why you would, he does not know.

It was as if you were reading his mind, “I am doing this for the children only. I know Neytiri would want someone to raise her kids, she would never want them to lack the love of a mother. And although I am not one, I loved Neytiri as if she were my sister, and for that the kids will never not know kindness from me.”

Jake’s shoulder sagged with relief, the last few months had been so very hard. He was trying to be a good father and help his oldest three process their grief while trying to not let his own swallow him whole.

You felt so nauseous, something swirling in the pit of your stomach trying to force its way up your throat. This was too much, too raw for you to accept. You pitied yourself but pitied the man before you even more. Jake’s throat felt rough, as if someone had forced sand down his mouth, “I will announce that we have mated at tomorrow's feast, that it happened the night prior.”

Your eyes dilated in fear, “You want me to leave with you tonight?”

“It is the only way I can think of to get Mo’at to stop pressing us. If they know we plan to mate, then they will watch our every move.”

Jake was trying to be sympathetic, trying not to be mean but he needed everyone to get off his case. He needed to start healing from the pain that leaked into every aspect of his life from the second Neytiri was taken from him. And he was right, you were tired of the sympathetic looks being sent your way as you walked by.

Everyone in the clan knew of the love Neytiri and Jake held for each other, you never stood a chance. The whispers were the worst of it, and at times you wondered if it was true. You wondered if Eywa had truly turned her back on you.

“Fine. I wish to let my parents know, they will not expect my sudden departure.”

Your voice and face were void of any emotion, cold as if the flicker within you had died, Jake felt the guilt embed into his soul. Everything he touched burnt out, fizzled and turned to ash. But he would not let that happen to his children, he would not let them feel the loss of a mother and your love for Neytiri drove the both of you to put your feelings aside.

Jake was about to thank you, as much as he did not want this he knew this was a larger sacrifice for you. The words were on the tip of his tongue but he watched your body go rigid as the tent entrance was thrown open. Your mother and father had walked in, followed by all of your younger siblings. The happy chatter died as they saw their oldest daughter and the Olo’ekytan in their family home.

Small streaks of tears down your face instantly put your parents on edge but your father turned to Jake to greet him properly. “Olo’eyktan Sully, how are you?”

Jake's fingers reached his forehead, head tilted downward as his hand extended forward, “I am doing well, and yourself?”

The small talk ensued as you stood by the corner of your home, trying your best to avoid your mother’s concerned gaze. “‘Ite, what is the Olo’eyktan doing in our hut?”

Jake tensed up, fear gripping at his throat as he watched you with careful eyes, he was not sure if you would be able to do it. Lie to your family, from what he had gathered from Neytiri you all had a close bond, even more so after your sister Zewlay was killed by the RDA.

“Sempul-Sa’nok, Jake and I-” You paused, trying to force the words out of your mouth. Jake cut in quickly as he saw your form begin to shake, his legs making quick work as he crossed the tent to you, stiffly wrapping an arm around you to keep you up.

“Your daughter and I have mated before Eywa.”

Those eight words sealed your future and it was deathly quiet besides the gasp that left your mothers mouth as your eyes pooled with tears. “Oh ‘ite! I am very happy for you both.”

The tears fell from your eyes instantly, “Thank you, Sa’nok.”

Your mother instantly pulled you out of Jake’s hold, engulfing her arms around you as your body shook, “Why the tears my sweet girl?” Her voice dropped quietly as she whispered into your ear, “Are you not happy with the union?”

You pulled away from her, eyes jumping to your fathers as she wiped at the tear stains. Confusion evident in his gaze,“No-no I am just sad to be leaving you all. I just do not wish for you or Ma’Sempul to be angry with me.”

Your father said nothing, still trying to process what your mate had said. After a short while he slowly made his way to Jake, your fathers head was held high as he kept eye contact with him. Jake would not be shocked if your father would have strangled him, he was eerily quiet as he approached him, “Take care of my daughter, ‘itan.”

Relief flooded your system, eyes drifting towards Jake’s and you gave him a small nod, reassuring him all was well. “We must celebrate! Let me call on Mo’at and begin the preparations.”

“No!”

Your mother stilled and confusion littered her features, “Sorry Ma’, Jake and I do not want such a fuss over us. That is why our union was kept for just the two of us. He will announce it during tomorrow's communal feast and that is all.”

Your mother was about to protest but your father removed her from you, “If that is what you wish ‘ite.”

You nodded swiftly, moving towards Jake as you refrained from tensing up again, “Yes-I will pack some things and leave tonight.”

Your family was happy for you, they knew with the Olo’eyktan by your side you will always be loved and protected by the clan. “May your union prosper against all odds. Though we know the Great Mother makes no mistakes.” They could not have wanted anyone better to love you, oh how wrong they were.

“Thank you, Sa’nok.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[shkika]

Since my wrist is killing me and I can't draw, have my ramblings about machines having souls and being able to become husks and also just Ultrakill thoughts! Predictions about the ending if you squint??

im just having fun here

Like I'm so deranged about how machines being intelligent and actually conscious is handled in Ultrakill. The build-up, even if accidental(?), is SO SO CLEVER and gradual (as gradual as ultrakill can get). How that fits into the overall narrative and how the tragedy of this game manages to be so awesome??

First with how I love the way "Machines are living beings" idea is handled. It starts from the introduction and establishes the world so well in so few words it's so lovely. You get introduced to the machines as war weapons. They need blood to survive and humanity has been eradicated. That's all you need to know.

You start with the basic information that these machines don't want to die. Which makes sense, it doesn't have to mean they are actually alive. It makes sense a machine would look for any way possible to keep itself running to continue doing it's job.

And then immediately in the prelude you meet the Swordsmachine. A part of a specific group of machines the terminal calls "scrapheads" which modify their own bodies. While at first that does not ring as anything that's especially noteworthy. A machine trying to upgrade itself is nothing unheard of. It's to be better, stronger, more efficient.

Except that's not exactly what the Swordmachine design is about according to the game. It is mentioned to have very impressive combat prowess compared to other machines, however what it is also referred to as is "beautiful". The design is appreciated almost like a piece of art. And some of it's parts don't even wield a practical purpose, the mentioned example being it's voice box.

It is not ONLY about utility. It is also about art!!

Alright. That's interesting. Let's give an even more outrageous example. Skipping Limbo for now, there is lust where we are introduced to Mindflayers. Which?? Are so wild??? And mysterious? We don't know what and when they were made for (ALTHOUGH I VERY MUCH HAVE HEADCANONS ABOUT IT) their bodies are described as completely seperate and useless to the machine. And yet it is stated they act very lovingly and take care of their bodies. So much so in fact that they SELF-DESTRUCT if it is harmed.

V2 in the first fight is a rival to you as any other machine, however once it's arm is stripped away from V1 the confrontation becomes PERSONAL. The second fight is not simply about the lack of resources anymore. It is to reclaim what was lost. Whether that be the arm or something else. Even the very terminal entry itself calls it revenge.

And of course. With Violence it is revealed that with all of this. Machines can also make other forms of art like poetry. Which is even more interesting is that the machine which did that was first EVER machine to use blood mind you. An extremely old design, yet it could make art to express it's feelings.

Machines are capable of modifying, changing, expressing and LOVING themselves. They make art and some are frequently seen attacking you in groups! Those are clearly intelligent beings. And I mean. Duh. everyone playing Ultrakill knows that. Obviously. Like. Yeah.

So then why isn't the fact that these walking weapons probably have souls more discussed? What makes a soul? Why would machines not have them? If they can do all that people can on an emotional level.

And what happens when these machines die? What exactly is stopping them from ending up hell? Obviously heaven is unobtainable. Their very reason for existence, is to cause pain and suffering. The means through which they need to keep themselves alive is to cause suffering. It makes sense they'd all become hells beloved children. Doing what is in their nature is an art form to it.

What's even more is that the game itself supports the idea that some are souls. Surely hell cannot create them since everything made by hell are demons, which are very easy to recognize by the stone exterior.(?? unless im wrong??)

And there is no feasible way for machines like the Guttermen and Earthmovers to be their actual living counterparts. On a basic level they LACK the means to be alive. The people inside the Guttermen need to be alive in order for them to function. When opening them in-game they are just skeletons. Nobody has been supplying them with blood for a long time. Because it's hell. The game itself states that death is a luxury in hell. It does not happen easy.

Earthmovers need sunlight to power them. And the game specifically put them in an area that is clouded. There is none to be seen in violence. No they are just trapped in place, forced to shoot each other for all of eternity.

Machines, when they die… go to hell! Probably!

Some of the machines you kill, perhaps reccuring enemies go to hell (Thank u l@/little-tornad0 for the addition hehe)

When you die.

You respawn! Hell keeps you going. Hell wants torture. Hell wants bloodshed. Hell wants entertainment and you are the purest form of it.

It makes me think a lot about the potential ending of the game. About the themes. I don't think this means inherently that hell is a perfect self-sustaining organism that can go on like this forever. Gabriel says machines are destroying it and leaving nothing behind. Things are clearly going south in some way. And it'd fit the themes better if it was all going to uh.. hell lol. If it was all going to collapse. From the main theme of the game literally being "The fire is gone" to the name of the last chapter literally being named "Godfist suicide"

Also for what it's worth the Mirage secret is awesome meta-commentary on the idea that everything will die. Everything is destined to end. It is up to you how your each that end.

I think this is what Ultrakill will kind of be about at the end maybe. Gabriel will die out with a bang doing what he wants.

V1 itself is clearly NOT killing efficiently to survive, but for fun. Before it all ends. It's going out with a bang.

And with no new humans or machines that can enter hell in the long run. Perhaps it's very being too will decide it wants to go out with a bang.

In short. uh machines have souls. everything will die but not in a sad way. but in a very cool awesome way. thats pr awesomesauce

[multi-fandomdisaster]

Happy new year, everyone! As a gift to start up 2025, I give you all something I promised you all a good while ago!!!

✨BEHOLD✨, my favorite (alive) Ted details from TGWDLM (acquired during a soundless/no-audio rewatch I did of the musical to study his body language) (except as I go on, it gets more and more uncoordinated and chaotic):

(Heads up: this is gonna be really long, and as such, I'm gonna put the list under a cut as to not take up as much space. We're covering EVERY scene he's in [alive] within an ENTIRE musical. Buckle up, fellas!)

His shoulder shimmies during and after he says the "cute little barista" line

Honestly during that whole segment, the stark difference between Paul's near-complete lack of motion while Ted never STOPS moving

Actually, I don't think there's a moment in the whole musical where he's completely still and I love that

Also Ted seems so happy to be there talking to Paul lol

His little tippy taps on his mug while Bill speaks

He looks over to see the pot of coffee in Charlotte's hands when Bill makes the "coffee in the sugar joke"

His little lip twitch after the "I heard, I wasn't there" line

His facial expressions in the back while Charlotte's talking about Sam singing that morning

How fluffy his hair is during the alley scene in comparison to how it was slicked back the last time we saw him

"Paul," *tap tap* "get in a trash can!"

His apologetic grin to Emma after Paul says "Latte Hottay" and the way it IMMEDIATELY falls as soon as he looks back at Paul

BONUS: the way Paul flinches when Ted touches his shoulder

"My ID's in my back pocket-"

His incredibly confused expression when the cop grabs his arm and starts fake-driving with it

The "look at this guy" point at the dancing cop during the bridge of Show Me Your Hands

The way he starts vibing to the song during the bridge of Show Me Your Hands (this will return)

The way he plugs his ears as soon as the one cop starts imitating a siren (Bill and Emma also do this)

The double take he does when Sam pulls a gun on Charlotte

He uses the trash can lid as a shield

His visual "you're going great" as Emma's talking about Hidgens

The confidence and the smile as he says "A king"

He puts a hand through his hair as he looks down at Sam

He's very touchy with all of his friends. First the shoulder pats with Paul (which Paul seemed very uncomfortable with), and now the shoulder hold and back pats with Charlotte

He slightly extends his pinky when pointing

He often stands with his hands in his pockets and gently sways, shifting his weight thoughtlessly back and forth from one foot to the other. Bro literally CANNOT stand still

Okay, scratch the slightly extending his pinky. Bro just full-on points like this ->🤘sometimes (except with his left hand. Is Joey Richter a lefty? I ask because Ted primarily gestures with his left hand)

The little flourish (and/or fumble) with the handcuff keys as he puts them in his pocket

He rubs his hands together and cracks his knuckles as Hidgens is talking about the blue shit

His crossed arms and general bored body language as Alexa dims the lights

As soon as everyone else leaves, his body language immediately opens a little bit as he (and this is truly the only way I can describe this) swaggers over to Charlotte and IMMEDIATELY touches her shoulders, rubbing them soothingly before full-on holding her to him. Touch is this man's love language, platonic or otherwise, and nobody can convince me otherwise

I love the way he looks at Charlotte. You can tell he genuinely cares about what she me saying, and he looks confused and maybe a little hurt when she pushes him away. You can also see the exact moment the confusion weans as he determines the next words he's going to say.

HE DOES STOP MOVING AT ONE POINT! TO LISTEN TO CHARLOTTE!!! HE STOPS ALL MOTION TO FOCUS ON WHAT SHE'S SAYING!

His smirk on "always will be"

Okay, but like- Charlotte moves so much in this scene in comparison to Ted. Her shoulders, her face, her head; my girl's practically squirming the whole time. And I know it's mostly to drive in the joke with dramatized...flirting? I think? General horniness? Is that what's happening here? (I'm aroace; I don't pick up on/understand this kind of stuff lmao), but it's still a bit jarring to see a character deliberately moving their body so much that it makes Ted look practically still in comparison lmao

He doesn't look genuinely mad during the "I'm not your therapist!" line. He looks mildly annoyed if anything. Maybe a bit frustrated?

I genuinely feel like Ted doesn't like Sam. The two have technically never been seen interacting before, and yet the way Ted points at and states his opinions of Sam is done with so much...idk, "rigid matter-of-fact"-ness. He just...flat out does not like the guy

I have SO MANY EMOTIONS about the "This guy is a scumbag. You could upgrade to a sleazeball" line-

There's a lot of emotion in his arm gestures when he says that Sam's a scumbag. To me, it again looks like he genuinely doesn't like Sam, and he's trying to convince Charlotte that he's bad.

Then he calls himself a sleazeball, and he states it like it's a fact. It hurts even more to me how there's a slight smirk on his face when he says "you could upgrade" and then his face goes completely serious when he finishes the sentence with "to a sleazeball" and points to himself.

He doesn't look proud. He looks resigned to the title

And then he HOLDS THAT POSE, his hands/arms bouncing a little to drive in the point

I feel from that through the "but you refuse to be happy" line, we see a little bit of the caring inner side of Ted before he re-defaults back to his usual more asshole persona

UGHHH I LOVE THIS SCENE SO MUCH-

"I'm gonna go hit on that crabby barista" ✌️

Off topic, but we need a left hand emoji equivalent for every hand gesture emoji in my opinion lol

Ted is MANSPLITTING in that chair. His posture is so bad (and looks so comfy lol)

And also he's fidgeting with the bottle, looking relatively spaced out until he looks at Bill speak

Ted is 100% at his most asshole when he's drunk

Why does bro look like he has a headache at the beginning of this scene?

This goes for the whole show, but my man SERIOUSLY talks with his hands

Is that a bottle of Jack Daniel's? I feel like I should have noticed this earlier, but I never bothered to look lmao

He taps on the bottle every once in a while

"Oh" *nods with unimpressed frown* "My head" *nods with unimpressed frown*

He also stops moving between reactions. Like he's processing the stupidity of the threat in real time lmao

And then he stands up and sets the bottle down so he can go right back to his usual dramatic full-body movements as he makes fun of Bill

Okay, but it looks like he's genuinely having a lot of fun as he's making fun of Bill, and then gets pissed off again once he remembers he's supposed to be pissed off lol

I feel like there's not many details I can go into with this scene that people haven't already picked up on just by watching because Ted's a focal point in the scene

"That's what sense Bill taught me" *bows with the bottle of Jack Daniel's in his hands*

Wait, when did he pick the bottle back up? Is this a case of the "they put multiple shows together for the YouTube video?" Probably. Alternatively, Ted can canonically summon bottles of booze whenever he wants /silly

Bro is SO ANIMATED. He will NOT let this joke die on his watch lmao

I'm sorry, but his reaction to the light smack on the back of his hand gets me every time. Why don't we talk about this more often???

He looks SO OFFENDED (and a bit confused) when Paul takes the bottle away from him

The force in that "WHATEVER!" I stg I could feel that through the screen lol

Apparently he could feel the force of that "WHATEVER!" too because it lowkey looks like he's catching his breath after he says it

Man, I wish we could see Ted during the whole conversation between Paul and Emma. I wanna know what he's doing. I wanna know if he's listening along, or if he's spaced out and doesn't give a shit

UGHHHH I WISH THIS WAS AN AUDIO WATCH BC THE WAY TED SAYS CHARLOTTE'S NAME WHEN HE SEES HER BEFORE JOIN US (AND DIE) HURTS ME IN THE BEST WAY POSSIBLEEEEE

*sigh* I'm gonna need to do another watch through at some point that's just me listening for his dialogue during songs, aren't I?

Also I wanna listen to Jamie sing because GIRL CAN SINGGGG

Bro's just standing there watching Charlotte and Sam approach like🧍‍♂️, except slightly crouched, like he's ready to run, but he has no idea what the hell is going on

From a different angle, it looks like he moves to the dino pose™️

HE RUNS A HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR AGAIN!!! I am FULLY convinced he does that when he's nervous now lol

He readjusts his shirt and fidgets with his hands as he tries to think of what to do, and then he goes to approach Charlotte. Then they hit the chorus and he stops. Or rather, it looks like Bill held him back

He does a double take of Charlotte at the chorus

WHEN DID HE PICK UP THE BOTTLE AGAIN??? (Ted's booze summoning powers strike AGAIN!)

Bro is so frazzled by Charlotte walking toward him with her arms extended that he does ANOTHER double take

TED STOP PICKING UP THE BOTTLE OF ALCOHOL, IT'S NOT GOING TO HELP YOU-

HIM SETTING THE BOTTLE DOWN AGAIN AND PICKING UP THE CHAIR-

Did...did Ted try to use Bill as a human shield? You had a chair! Why did you put the chair down???

Legit though, he is cowering behind Bill lol

Sam and Charlotte are NOT letting Ted have a good day lmao

The way he looks around confusedly during "ride it" like "what the hell are these guys doing to me???"

DID HE CRAWL TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE STAGE AFTER HIDGENS SHOT SAM???

At this point in the show, Ted's the only one in the main group who isn't wearing primarily white. I just thought that was interesting

Ted is STILL on his hands and knees with his jaw hanging open right up until the "musical doppelgänger" line

I love how he looks at Paul for help when Hidgens makes them sing Moana, like Paul of all people would know the words. I love even more that Paul is the ONLY ONE who knows the words

Ted's just trying to follow Paul's lead lol

Also BONUS: Paul tells TED that he didn't like that movie lol

The look of pure annoyance he gives to Bill as he sings a completely different song

The way he meanders around the back of the stage, looking down at (presumably) Charlotte

THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME HE'S GRABBED THAT BOTTLE OF JACK DANIEL'S (including him starting the scene with it)

He looks so done with everything when he's talking to Bill about him getting his daughter. He looks so exhausted. So...emotionally drained and angry and, dare I say, grieving

I think the bottle switches hands between shots

YES! WE FINALLY SEE HIM DRINKING FROM IT! I don't know why I'm excited about that lol

He momentarily stops moving to process before "Oh, I'm a fucking creep?"

The way his eyes widen during "...people who are FUCKING DEAD!"

He also stops moving while waiting for & listening to Paul's response

There's so much emotion from him during this scene, but I can't think of the words to describe it

He's just so...frustrated and sad :(

He keeps sitting back down in the same chair whenever nobody's speaking to him

AND HE TAKES ANOTHER DRINK!

YES!!! SHOW STOPPIN' NUMBER!!! I LOVE HIS VIBES IN THIS SCENE!!!

I love how he's effectively asleep on top of Emma

HIS DOUBLE-CHIN I CAN'T-

"What? Wha...? What...? The fuck...?"

The way he's facing the complete opposite direction from Hidgens and has no idea what's going on lmao

His slow tired processing about how the heck he can turn/lean around to see

He like- looks around, then tries to look over his right shoulder, then looks around again, rinse and repeat

'What's going on over there?' *scoot scoot*

His expressions range from "what tf is this guy on about?" to "this guys a fucking dumbass"

He's taking in everything occasionally nodding along

Man, I wish I had the dialogue in this scene memorized like to do for basically the rest of the show. It would make analysis of the scene a bit easier lol

The way it looks like it takes Hidgens chucking his Alexa across the room for Ted to realize he's in danger

*GASP* The first time we see Ted visibly uncomfortable with someone touching him!!! Like- a full on flinch and cringe reaction! Now, the real question is if it's because he didn't know Hidgens was gonna put his hand on his shoulder, because Hidgens is actively insane, or because he doesn't overall know Hidgens? Maybe a mixture?

He's breathing SO HEAVILY after Hidgens lets go and walks away. He was NOT okay with that touch

His slack-jawed expression when Hidgens reveals the keyboard. He's so shocked he stops moving again beyond blinking lol

"Don't you fucking do it!" *scoot scoot* "DON'T YOU FUCKING DO IT!"

He looks almost jittery at the beginning of Show Stoppin' Number. He's full-on looking around for an exit

He also leans away when Hidgens walks toward them

HOLD ON, DOES HE LOOK HIDGENS UP AND DOWN WHEN HE TAKES OFF THE JACKET??? I THINK HE DOES A DOUBLE TAKE, BUT I'M PRETTY SURE HE ALSO QUICKLY DOES A FULL-BODY SCAN OF HIDGENS AND THAT'S SO FUNNY TO ME-

He's OFFICIALLY VIBING TO THE SONG!!! And all Hidgens had to do was take off his jacket lmao

*scoot scoot* "Fuckin' go for it!" *bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce*

He is FULLY invested

AND NOW HE'S COMFORTABLE WITH HIDGENS TOUCHING HIS SHOULDER!

He is SO EXCITED about Workin' Boys! The Ted vibes are unmatched in this scene

And his investment during the phone call??? Hello???

"...and Chad..."

And then he's RIGHT back to the vibes lmao

As soon as the Workin' Boys come in, the vibes cease IMMEDIATELY and he's back to being terrified for his life

His very fast head shake

The gag where he starts praying to be saved and then Paul shows up will never not be funny to me

"I'LL GET THE PIANO!"

And mark another one down for him touching Paul's shoulder

And now he's also grabbing Emma's shoulder. And Paul's again.

Both of them are SO uncomfortable with him holding their hands. Emma gets OUT of that SO FAST when he lets go and both her and Paul's body languages are so tense. He notably DOESN'T try to slip out of his grip like Emma does though. He's just so used to it at this point lol

Another Paul shoulder touch. I should have made a counter for this.

I NEVER NOTICED TED FLAT OUT SNATCHES THE GUN FROM PAUL WHEN JEFF'S WORKIN BOY APPEARS THAT IS SO FUNNY-

AND THEN HE JUST DIPS

I LOVE TED

And another nervous hand through the hair!

Teddy...no...those soldiers aren't gonna help you...

Ted please stop waving that firearm around so recklessly, you're gonna hurt someone

He's so excited to see the military that he literally jumps for joy

The way his motion stops so suddenly when he gets shot. And the confusion in his eyes

Orgh the way he tries to resist-

His little head shake no, the way he tries to hold MacNamara's hand back with his free hand, and then when that doesn't work, with the gun hand, the way his eyes are wide with fear...until they're not

The shift from regular Ted to infected Ted is so jarring, especially after hyper-analyzing his body language and all of his small little character motions for so long. He's so blank. His gaze is suddenly so serious and empty. He's dead. In a singular swift motion, they've taken this lively, constantly in motion, utter mess of a man and turned him into another mindless slave. You can pinpoint the exact moment Ted is gone and the Hive has replaced him. It's terrifying. It's heartbreaking. I love it.

And LUCKILY FOR ME THAT MEANS MY OBSERVATION LIST OF ALIVE TED IS OVER!!! FINALLY!!! I'M FREE!!! /silly

I hope you've all enjoyed my insane ramblings about one Theodore Spankoffski! If y'all would like me to turn this into an actually coherent rant (or perhaps would want me to do this with another character, although note that would likely take me a good while just like this one did lol), let me know! The time it took aside, this was actually SUPER fun to do, and it's given me a new perspective and appreciation for the character! Hope y'all have a wonderful day/night/year!!!

[oops-all-concrete]

BG3 fandom! I have more headcanons- but first!!

I must issue a very loud

⚠️SPOILER WARNING⚠️

For The Dark Urge playthrough of Baldurs Gate 3! There is no further warning below the cut, so if you care not to be spoiled, do not continue to read!

For those of you interested- ahead lies: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, blood, mentions of death, no MCD or any perma-death anyway, and lots of love. Greif and pain and emotional hurt are heavy themes as well!

Last warning! ⚠️Spoilers ahead⚠️

I've just gotten to this point in the Dark Urge run (where you reject Bhaal and fucking) DIE, and DUDE- I am stunned companions say NOTHING to your LITERAL DEATH after rejecting Bhaals gift or whatever. (Not in the scenes anyway) So, I'm writing how I think they'd respond cinematically, because your lively Durges deserve to be mourned and loved.

(Of course in-game this would be limited to the dialogue, but I've describes how they would be animated anyhow)

Lae'zel -

She's running to Durge the moment they start lifting from the ground, but pauses once their eyes start rolling back and blackening. There's something beyond her control happening, and she needs it to stop- and it does. With Tav hitting the floor eyes black, soul gone. She's immediately yelling at the others to do something, hand her a scroll, something- but nothing is working. Her shoulder slump after a good few minutes. And finally her voice breaks. She holds a hand to her chest as she wails in agony, holding her Tavs body like it's the last time- because to her- it is. "My angel, my moon. My great protector. I have failed you" She hisses, eyes scrunched shut.

Shadowheart -

She's been afraid her whole life. But even in the face of Bhaal, she will not be afraid if it means Tav will be safer. She immediately casts warding bond, if they're in danger, she'll halve it. If you're going to get hurt, so shall she- and she's okay with that. "Hang on-!" And then it all goes black, she falls without a word or scream, but she's content. If she dies protecting Durge, she cannot ask for better.

(After cutscene convo) Once Durge has been revived by Withers, it's up to them to get a scroll and revive her from the bloodied mess on the floor. She's stunned and confused, but the moment she sees Tav okay she couldn't care less. Why did you do that? "It might sound silly, but I was scared that you would be alone through whatever was about to happen. I don't regret it, if you're wondering"

Wyll -

"Gods- NO!" He shouts, a hand reaching out for them as they hit the ground. He's over them in a flash, holding their head in his arms, trying desperately to wake them, find a pulse, wake up himself and have this all be some sick nightmare. But of course, no such thing happens. The Tav he knows and loves just ceased living before his eyes. There's blood soaking into his every apparel and he's crying his eye out. It crosses his mind. Mizora is powerful- even if she can't fix this, she will know someone or something that can. He'd give anything- his whole life, he'd gladly be a lemure if it gave Tav back. He almost calls for her- until Withers starts his speech. (During the 'your rejection of Bhaal has earned you a place among heroes' section of his dialogue, he'll turn to Wyll and add: 'No devil's, demons or feinds required, I assure you')

Karlach -

If she wasn't raging before, she is now. A tomb-rocking scream echoes around the chamber, eyes wide with horror, body shaking and burning all over, engine out of control but she couldn't care less. One of the others will tell her to calm down. "FUCK THAT! FUCK EVERYTHING! FUCK THE GODS ABOVE AND THE HELLS BELOW." She roars. It goes on, swearing, screaming, swinging- and then, finally- collapse. She drops to her knees and punches the hard ground next to Tavs body, sobbing and exhausted. Withers walks in the the most gut-wrenching agonised scream of why

Gale -

He's frozen as it happens. His hands crackle with weave but he can't move. He needs to do something- anything, but time moves without him. All he knows is he can't breathe, all he can smell is blood and he thinks he's going to be sick. He can hear invisible bones cracking, distant blood dripping and their last choke. The wizard stumbles forward, barely making it to their body before collapsing beside them, on his knees and positively glowing from the mark on his chest. The orb can sense his distress and buzzes within him, as though it can smell the death. He pulls and hand to his mouth, kissing it gently- unable to comprehend a kiss goodbye. "Oh- Gods. Oh my love" he sobs, brows furrowed in what looks like physical pain. "I'm so sorry... I'm so, so sorry..." He wheezes out, scarcely finding breath.

Astarion -

He doesn't let their head hit the ground. He's swift as he catches them, but frantic as he sets their head on his thighs as a pillow. He pulls open their eyelids only to find a blackened core beneath, animalistic and distinctly unfamiliar. "Wake up, damn you...not after all this! You don't get to go!" He yells sounding genuinely furious- like he was going to get violent. If any of the others approach he doesn't notice. "We still have a cult to cull, we have a brain to control- I need you!" He yells, voice raw and eyes wet, the anger melting into greif. He makes a sheild of himself over Durge when Withers walks in, dagger/shortsword in hand, teeth bared, despite his damp face.

(Withers greets Astarion: 'Cry no more Spawn of sanguine- the universe is finally in your favour')

(Only Halsin is romanced for obvious reasons, but closeness is still implied for Minsc and Jaheira)

Halsin -

He catches Durge on the way down, their head on his chest as he lays them down over himself. "My heart? Can you hear me? Please say something" He begs hands glowing with healing magic, eyes aglow as well. He tries for a little, but then his breathing changes entirely, a small hushed gasp sounds from him, his he starts shaking his head, eyes wide. "Oh- oh Gods- Silvannus, please- I cannot bear to lose- oh Gods" He gasps, breath becoming harsher- finally letting tears fall. "Oak Father- please, wherever they go- keep them safe" he prays, teeth gritted in agony.

Jaheira -

She looks away as Tavs life is sapped away, unable to watch another Bhaalspawn friend suffer. When all falls still and silent, she looks among the other companions, shocked and frozen. "They're at peace now. Take comfort in knowing they chose to keep you all safe." She says with a proud nod- but her eyes are wet and her nose scrunched a little with a sniff.

Minsc -

There's small squeaking in the berserkers ear, before he sighs, almost a sob and speaks with a tired voice. "Wise words, Boo. I only wish our friend could hear you" Before he turns away, unable to look at them on the floor. "I am proud to have called them our friend. We should make them proud in return"

Hope you enjoyed! To the lovely people who have made requests, I will get to them as soon as I can!! Thank you for the requests, and please feel free to send me more!

[sonkitty]

Face

I don't know what I'm talking about.

But I'm writing and sharing below because sometimes it helps me find and figure out something.

I do think I found some ideas worth exploring.

Some of this has been discussed before, and I have linked it in my posts for reference, but it's not a discussion I see much acknowledged since.

A lot of fans refer to the swap in Good Omens season 1 as a "body swap."

I've noted before that I regard it as an "appearance swap."

We're going to talk about a puzzle where this widespread language choice significantly increases the difficulty because the story wants you to really consider this possible difference for the events in S2.

Demons are vulnerable to holy water.

Angels are implied to be vulnerable to hellfire, but S1 takes extra care in making sure to never confirm that's actually true.

We know holy water hurts Crowley in a church in 1941, killed Ligur in a doorway on Earth, and killed Usher in a bathtub of holy water in Hell. Its threat to demons was confirmed for us 3 times. The first such time alerts us that Crowley's time on Earth does not make him magically invulnerable to it.

Meanwhile, hellfire itself is not even named as hellfire in the dialogue until S2. In S1, we just see fire in Heaven to hurt a presumed angel figure and make the mental connection that's what the fire must be. When that fire is spouted out at 3 angels by the demon disguised as an angel, Crowley, those angels back away in fear. They are so scared, they touch each other, which is not something they often do by the way. Aside from their own fear, they remain unharmed and are not burned by it.

In 1967, Aziraphale says the following to Crowley, "Holy water won’t just kill your body. It will destroy you completely."

Aziraphale tells us outright, then and there, holy water kills a demon body. The "you" Aziraphale refers to is something like a spirit, essence, or soul. The supernatural beings are mindful to avoid these words to describe themselves or each other, but that is my best estimation of what they mean. Beelzebub does something similar with Gabriel, describing his memories in the fly as "all your...you". I'll be using "spirit" myself for this post. In Aziraphale's concern, if the demonic body and the demonic spirit die, that will kill the supernatural entity that is known as Crowley.

To them, a "body," at least a physical one that exists on Earth, is more like a fragile container for their spirit.

The text from Agnes' prophecy did not use the word "bodies." It used the word "faces."

God repeats it for us in Her narration with, "They needed to choose their faces wisely. And so they had."

No character in the entirety of S1 said the bodies were swapped.

Because they weren't.

In order for the being who looks like Crowley in the bathtub of holy water to not die, that had to be not Crowley's demonic body and not Crowley's demonic spirit.

There is more than just a "body" and a "spirit" to comprise a supernatural entity in the Good Omens universe. They also have a "face."

Another way to consider the "face" is like a "mask" or "costume."

It's the appearance they give to the world around them. This appearance is not necessarily limited to being visual. It could refer to how they sound and how they smell too.

When Ligur is killed by holy water, his body and his spirit are gone. He has been destroyed. Some of his "face" remains because you can see his clothing on the floor if you look. The story further draws attention to the clothing being related to the "face" by having Aziraphale use a tartan collar when disguised as Crowley.

When Aziraphale is discorporated through the teleportation circle, his "body" is damaged enough that his spirit and face cannot stay on Earth. His spirit ascends into Heaven. No clothes remain, but unlike Ligur, he will return in the story and even get himself back on Earth in a body.

When Aziraphale arrives in Heaven, he then has his "face" wearing different clothes and his "spirit."

The quartermaster looks at Aziraphale as he realizes that Aziraphale does not have a body.

We, the audience, see Aziraphale has a body in Heaven, but the story is telling us that the body we see there in Heaven is not a physical, corporal form that can be used on Earth.

Aziraphale touches the clothes passed to him in Heaven, and one of his hands is briefly translucent to again show us that this body we see is not the same physical body we've been seeing.

On Earth, when Aziraphale talks to Crowley without a body, he is shown as partly translucent and wavy so that we know he still does not have a body. He has a face. We see he is still wearing clothes.

We see him as a reflection in Crowley's sunglasses. We are given visual clues that something is there to give an appearance if anyone could see him in a body, but they can't, because he doesn't have one.

Crowley is hinted to briefly see this face in the sunglasses though the reflection does not remain. Even so, Crowley still looks at the space as if he is looking at Aziraphale.

The story takes this face clue further with when Aziraphale enters Madame Tracey's body. He shows up as a face in her mirror reflections twice. Both times, the body itself is not fully shown.

That meets a Rule of Three with him appearing in reflections 3 times while on Earth without a body of his own.

In S2, the "face" matter is brought up again with Beelzebub.

Crowley asks Beelzebub in S2E1, "Is that a new face?" He did not ask if Beelzebub got a new body.

The matter is repeated when Gabriel is recovering his memories. Beelzebub tells Gabriel they got a new face. They did not say they got a new body.

In the case of some supernatural entities, their own power or essence, their spirit, does affect their face. One such way is that they have special eyes. This factor is especially true of Crowley and Gabriel.

That makes a face swap much more tricky to perform.

I think Crowley's demonic spirit is why he has snake eyes, and aside from this face swap instance in S1, he prefers to wear sunglasses to usually hide his eyes instead of make any effort to not have snake eyes.

So, it's actually a really big deal that Aziraphale was able to take on Crowley's snake eyes and with Crowley being able to take on Aziraphale's eyes over his own snake eyes. The difficulty would also be part of why the other supernatural entities did not catch on. It never even occurred to them it's possible for the eyes to be swapped on the face because the spirit affects the eyes.

How did Crowley and Aziraphale manage that?

I think it has something to do with their shared memories.

When Gabriel is without most of his memories, his eyes are usually not purple. The purple still shows up in reaction to something Crowley says or does twice but is otherwise not on him.

So, memories can be manipulated to alter the eyes shown on the face to the supernatural entity in question.

S1E3 established for us that Crowley and Aziraphale have several shared memories.

I've been trying to work out how supernatural beings recognize and sense each other. I don't have it all figured out, but my current progress suggests that the memory does impact the recognition of the face, especially how S2 demonstrates the matter between Gabriel and Michael. She is closest to (overtly) recognizing Gabriel as Gabriel when the fly is closest to him in S2E2. I think Saraqael knew but is keeping quiet on purpose. After Gabriel regains his memories in S2E6, first we see Crowley and Aziraphale, who already knew he was Gabriel. Then Michael is the first supernatural entity shown to be hit with the recognition that Gabriel is himself again.

I don't know the full logistics of the face swap spell in S1, but I think the point is that they could do the swap the way they did because of the two having shared memories and then manipulating the memories of what the other supernatural entities expected of them. The demons were looking for a snake-eyed being with sunglasses who looked like Crowley, so they found one. He has mostly similar clothing after all. Similar logic applies to the angels finding a being who looked like Aziraphale.

What does it mean to take something at face value? You go by its appearance.

I like to imagine that Crowley himself is actually still impacting Aziraphale using his snake eyes because once Crowley is in hellfire is when the camera work helps us be more sure that those yellow snake eyes on Aziraphale are the type where the yellow spreads over more of the eyes for Crowley. His eyes get like that when he's feeling more demonic than human.

He and Aziraphale are linked by the spell currently cast on them both.

Why am I going on about faces and bodies?

Because of the Metatron.

You may have seen this recent chess theory going around that is based on thinking the Metatron is in the coffee shop in S2E5 during and after Nina's ball invitation.

I approached the puzzle, figured out the guy in post 1 isn't the Metatron, and relayed this information in a reblog. The puzzle itself is really, really hard if you don't let this idea stop you: Why show us the floating head in S2E6 if the Metatron had a body in S2E5 in Nina's coffee shop? That would rather defeat the point or value of such information.

In my eyes, that is not misdirection. That's cheating.

But I wanted to check the matter thoroughly to well, check myself. Am I being too presumptuous? Just because I think no one should have to check frame by frame through a window pane with obscuring reflections to solve that particular puzzle doesn't mean I'm right. How many amazing puzzles have I found and partially solved checking frame by frame myself? Plenty.

Granted, they are more like advanced puzzles confirming the easier ones, but...what if I were wrong? And even if I were right, I might learn a few things in the process of playing the puzzle, which I did.

One such thing is that the story went through a lot of effort to make it look like a potential Metatron, only for it to not be the case if you look very, very closely. That means there is indeed an intended value of the floating head shown in S2E6.

As an aside and not for the rest of this post, another idea given in the play is to make something look as if it switched, as if a trick were being performed, and then don't actually make the switch at all.

But let's get back to the face thing.

Consider this puzzle: That floating head of the Metatron that we see in S1 and again in S2, is that a face or is that a body?

Neither or both. It's a head.

Again, I don't know what I'm talking about. I am talking through and writing through this confusing matter because I want to know if a solution is findable as is.

When Aziraphale says, "Is anybody there?" in S1, the Metatron does not answer. Instead, he waits until Aziraphale says he (Aziraphale) is ready to take this all the way to the top. Then the Metatron head appears. And what's on top of a body? A head.

In S2, Aziraphale asks, "Is anybody there?" again, and this time, the circle lights up more quickly. So, for now, I think that means Saraqael is the one answering. Michael and Uriel will be shown as busy walking and not attending to the circle when they pass by Crowley and Muriel. Saraqael won't show up to Crowley and Muriel until after Gabriel, Nina, Maggie, and Aziraphale are upstairs in the bookshop. By then, the circle is active but not actually discorporating any more demons.

So, here's a question.

How did the Metatron get a body on Earth and why does it matter?

My current line of thinking raises even more questions. It goes...

The Metatron does not have a body at all, still. He has a face. He has a face that looks like a body thanks to the supernatural zone Crowley and Aziraphale activated for the ball. The part of that zone that phases out humans has stopped doing so. But Crowley's sideburns still haven't fully shortened, so some magic of the zone is still active, or at least active enough, that the Metatron can have this face. Maybe he is a human, or part-human entity, who could not get into this space, until now.

If he isn't plain human and is still a supernatural being, the reason this face can touch things as if the Metatron did have a body is because of that supernatural zone and/or that halo explosion. Whatever magic allowed Aziraphale to touch the clothing passed to him in Heaven when he was discorporated in S1, that same magic is what allows the Metatron to touch things now on Earth with this new face.

Now mind you, he still has to manage things. He wears baggy clothes to contain whatever his supernatural body is really like or maybe help anchor his special head onto something. He sometimes puts both hands fully in his pockets because he can't actually always show his hands as solid and physical. They have that same thing happen to them that Aziraphale showed us in S1. The Metatron has the hands out when he is ready and can do so.

But here's a really big question if that's even remotely true.

Why oh why would Crowley and Aziraphale let that happen? Now the obvious answer would be they didn't mean for it to happen. They had something else in mind for that zone, such as to help protect the street and the humans. They didn't know that once things changed, they changed to such a degree as to let this threatening Metatron character in.

And....for me...in my own imagination...for now...here's the real "something else" reason: It's what helped Gabriel and Beelzebub escape.

Gabriel and Beelzebub hold hands, sing, light up the standing chandeliers surrounding them, and they fade away, presumably running off to Alpha Centauri together.

How many times have we seen a supernatural character fade way into a whole other star system because they just will it to be so and want to leave?

Never.

They are effectively prisoners to their respective head offices.

When Crowley wanted to run away to Alpha Centauri, he was going to take his car. Instead of just fading away into the star system alone, he went to his flat to use the holy water and protect himself.

In S2, The Metatron just got here through all this other strange magic. The angels took the lift with Crowley. They did not just plain teleport down. Demons were shown rising from the Earth in S1 and discussing having to take the stairs up from Hell to Earth in S2.

When demons arrive in the bookshop in S2E6, they have basically been invited due to the halo explosion. They couldn't just show up otherwise. They wait until the doors are closed by Muriel before they arrive.

The angels who teleport back to Heaven when the Metatron instructs them to might be teleporting that way because they are on the teleportation circle. They are using it the way Aziraphale was supposed to use it in S1 if he had been properly prepared. Michael looks down to check her position before they leave. Angels teleported up before in S1, but they did so out in the street, not in a building.

Indoors and outdoors makes a difference to supernatural beings, I think. As stated, I've been trying to study how they sense each other, and it's a big, confusing, unsolved mess, which is part of how this whole post came about anyway.

The double-hand pocketing I said the Metatron does tends to happen when he is outdoors, but he also does it in the scene right after Crowley left when the Metatron informs Aziraphale he entrusted the bookshop to Muriel (so it should be in "good hands").

There is also the possibility that actually Crowley and Aziraphale wanted the Metatron to show up because they are playing a long game, and his being there is part of some bigger plan, but the plan needed some improvising as things happened in the story.

Then still another question is, "Is the Metatron a demon?"

After all, if he were just an angel, he wouldn't have to go through all this effort. Even if he were a special celestial being, why is the only time we see him in Heaven when he still had to be contacted and channeled into a screen? The floating head is not shown "in person" in Heaven, ever.

If he is a demon, why does a floating head demon pretending to be an authority get to do so much in Heaven already and what's the big difference to him that he wants to take his face and head up there now?

Is he indeed a murder hornet as other fans have speculated through other posts? If he is, does he plan on killing the bees who are angels?

The whole "first" and "last" thing with Crowley and Muriel might then make more sense. It's some kind of shield to protect the angels from whatever this murder hornet is planning?

I feel I'm losing some threads here, but sometimes it helps to make mistakes so that corrections can be found and made.

I see clues that the Metatron is either a demon or a unique being, possibly part human due to his age and facial hair.

I think I'm onto something with the Metatron face idea here at least.

Maggie is something like a tool to the Metatron as well, I believe. I've already said so as one of the factors I considered strong on the theory that the Metatron is editing the Book of Life. Maggie says "face" three times during the demon invasion with the last such instance being when they finally get their invitation from her and as the last word of that sentence.

I have no idea why "foam" matters, but she is the one who asks Aziraphale if he has any fire extinguishers that spray foam. After we see that yes, fire extinguishers with foam are being used, the next scene in Heaven finally shows the Metatron clearly on screen for the first time in the entire season.

And that's what I've got for now.

[lild00td00t]

Marine Admirals: Love Languages

Sadly Aramaki/Ryokugyu is not included because there isn’t enough info on him, but I will definitely make more on him when we get some info!!! Enjoy! ~

Akainu 🌋

ACTS OF SERVICE

• I imagine Akainu is not a big PDA guy. What goes on behind closed doors stays behind closed doors, and that’s that.

• I feel like with his man you’d have to seriously bargain to even get to link arms with him while on walks together.

• I also feel he’s a busy body, and constantly getting his work done before everyone else, so obviously he dedicates a lot of his time to his job, I mean he is an Admiral.

• However, he shows his love through acts of service. Thats how I see him displaying affection.

• He’ll make you a pot of coffee or tea if he’s the first to leave in the mornings, he’s considerate of you still sleeping in the morning so he’ll quietly move about the room, which is quite the feat for a man of his stature.

• I feel he would appreciate if you did things for him as well, like watering his plants for him or making the bed, to me Akainu seems like he would be a very clean and organized person so whenever you do more than your share of chores I feel he would be greatly appreciative.

• Maybe, just maybe, if his day wasn’t too hard and he’s not in a bad mood when he comes home, you’ll earn a small kiss on the cheek to go with his thanks!

Kizaru ✨

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

• This man is absolutely smitten when you compliment him!

• ‘Oh my Borsalino are you wearing the new tie I got you ? It makes you look so handsome!‘

• cue extremely happy, giddy giggles and noises, this man will absolutely return the favor and fawn over you.

• I imagine he’s always complimenting you in public as well, he’s not shy about it. He not only compliments on your appearance but your work as well, you two are ALWAYS praising one another

• He will always notice if you do something with your hair or outward appearance, whether it be a new skin care routine or shaping your eyebrows differently, prepared to be complimented!

Aokiji ❄️

QUALITY TIME

• Ah yes, Aokiji, mr falls asleep any and everywhere at every waking moment.

• He loves spending time with you. With no one else around, just you two sharing a peaceful nap or affectionate moments together.

• He loves the comfortable silence you share sometimes, where it could be you reading a book or some other hobby provided it isn’t too loud or impeding on his need for a quiet space. Just being near you is enough to make him feel comfortable and loved.

• Loves laying his head in your lap while you’re occupied in something, whether it be talking on the Den Den Mushi with someone else, reading, doing paper work, whatever it is, if he’s not sitting with his head in your lap, he’s nearby, enjoying your presence.

• He would absolutely adore having you in his office while he’s at work as well, maybe it would actually motivate him to get some work done. The thought of getting to go home with you and relax there while ALSO getting Akainu off his back sounds heavenly to him.

Fujitora ☄️

PHSYICAL TOUCH

• Ever since I was introduced to his character I thought “ whoa, what a cuddly looking admiral- “

• Hand holding, hugs, footsie under the table, just so long as he’s touching you he’s relaxed and happy.

• I feel like he would cup your face a lot, and trace your features, would describe them to you if you asked, they would definitely be cheesy descriptions that make you feel so loved, he will definitely strive to make you appreciate how you look.

• Loves when you lean on him or guide him while walking, will gladly follow along, no objections whatsoever, he has you near and that’s enough to keep him satisfied.

• He is a HUGE hugger, and gives the BEST hugs, you cannot convince he otherwise!! He loves kissing the top of your head when you hug.

[pictureinme]

hii i loved your kitten fanfic 🤍 i was wondering if you would be open to write some fluff for her ? maybe comforting her after everything she’s been through and giving her the love she deserves bcs she’s so underrated tbh 😫

of course! thank you for your patience, this definitely sparked a lot more ideas 4 me, so here's a short but sweet thang :-) don't worry, this isn't the last fluff you're gonna get of us taking care of kitten <3

plea for tenderness

patricia 'kitten' braden x f!reader word count: ~600 tags: pure domestic fluff, established relationship

ao3

The candles lit all around your shared living room bring an almost stifling atmosphere of comfort and romance, but it was truly just the way Kitten liked to light your home. The scent of roses and vanilla permeated the air, and the cool breeze from the window made you sigh happily.

She stretches as the two of you lay on a chaise lounge, tucked away in the corner. Her pink slip rides up on her legs, and you can’t help but think how lucky you are to be with her. Besides her obviously beautiful looks, her passion inspires you. The strength this woman had to have and continues to hold is divine at best.

Kitten catches you staring at her perfect form, and cocks her head, “See something you like, pretty?”

“Always, my love,” you smile widely and kiss her hand, “I’m just thinking, that’s all.”

“Hmm, about what we should make for dinner? I was thinkin’ chips, but that’s as far as I got.”

You laugh softly, “Your idea is as golden as ever, but I’m thinking about you, Kitten.”

She smiles and leans down to be next to you proper, “You flatter me, love. What’s on your mind exactly?”

Kitten begins to trace shapes on your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in her wake. You breathe in her signature Chanel scent, feeling it wash over your senses. You admire her like no other.

“Your beauty, your passion… your strength. You absolutely astound me, darling.”

Her head falls back in a loud laugh, reverberating throughout her body, “You’re such a sap! All I’ve done is sit here, and you say such sweet things.”

Eyes crinkling as you smile, you whisper to her, “I mean it, truly, Kitten. All these stories you’ve told me, I know you embellish every now and then, but you…”

You brush a blonde curl away from her face, “You’ve been through hell and back, and I just can’t believe you’re still so you.”

She begins to wrap her arms around you in a loose embrace and sighs softly, “I do tend to embellish, don’t I?”

“And I love it, you’re the best storyteller in this country,” she kisses your forehead as you speak, “You’ve been through it all, but you remain so optimistic. I wish I could have that superpower.”

As you whisper that last part, Kitten looks at you sadly, “Lover, it isn’t a superpower. Life is just too short to waste on silly little things like the past.”

You sit up, looking into her blue eyes, “I know that, but you make it seem so easy! I know that behind the scenes, it isn’t… but I cannot say enough just how proud I am of you, Kitten.”

She smiles, looking anywhere but your eyes, “You’re too good to me, (Y/N).”

“God, you really are a saint, aren’t you?” Shaking your head, you cup her cheek in your hand, “I’m not too good to you, darling. This is what love is supposed to be.”

She meets your gaze, eyes glistening in the dim light, “You’re an angel, aren’t you?”

Before you can even think of responding, she closes the gap and kisses you with the most gentle kiss imaginable. You smile into the kiss, still holding her face in your hand. The two of you become an entanglement of limbs, never once separating your respective lips. The idea of leaving to catch a breath seemed terrible, preposterous at best.

Despite that, Kitten inhales deeply as you two find yourself lacking oxygen.

“I love you, my (Y/N).”

You both share a look that can only be described as pure dedication, “I love you, my Kitten.”

[athenaswrath]

Until I Found You - Chapter 3

Quinn Hughes x Reader

Word count: 1,163

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 >Chapter 3< Chapter 4

Quinn's POV

When Jack and Luke started talking about how amazing the new girl on their crew was, I thought she was just another girl looking for fun, but time passed and they kept bringing her into every single conversation. Then mom and dad met her, and the same thing happened. "She cannot be that good, she's probably faking it" I told them from time to time. While Jack was harder to get close to, Luke was so caring, and that worried me. He is already so attached to her, "you don't know her, Quinn" is what he always answers.

Now that I met her and saw the panic on her face, I couldn't help but think about everything she's done for my brothers, like that time she helped Luke with a panic attack or how she cooks for them from time to time, taking the time to look at their diet. So after I left her outside the room, I started beating myself up. I'm not the best around people, which should be a valid excuse in any other situation, but I also know that she suffers from anxiety and that she helped Luke that time from mere experience.

So when I went downstairs and Jack formally introduced me to her, I took advantage of Trevor's nonexistent silence to distract my attention from her and think about how I was going to make her feel welcomed, but time passed and eventually she came to me again. "Hey" she said in a soft voice, "you should go upstairs and sleep there, I mean, this is your room after all. Holtzy is there but I'm sure Jack or Lu wouldn't mind switching" and there it was, she thought I was uncomfortable with her. I took the time to truly look at her, and I could see it. Behind that cute face and soft body, I could see that kind-hearted girl my brothers described all this time.

After God knows how long, I finally said "Thank you, but it's okay if you sleep there. And... I'm sorry, I... What happened earlier was my fault, so you don't have to blame yourself for it, it is nice to finally meet the girl that my brothers feel so close to" I took another glance at her, trying to keep a soft expression, and then I headed upstairs, where Luke was yelling for me.

"What?" "Whoah man relax, just wanted to give you some blankets" I didn't say anything after that, but I could feel his gaze on me "why are we giving bad looks at Q this time Lukey?" said Jack when he entered the room. "I don't know yet, but there's something off about him today"

"It better not be related to Belle" he said in a serious tone, which was a weird thing. Luke immediately stopped moving and looked at me and I could feel my god-damned face heating up. "No, absolutely not. You won't get too close to her, but you'll make her feel safe. You hear me? I told you this whole time she was one of the kindest, hardest working, selfless people I know and I don't want you to take advantage of that"

"what do you think I'm gonna do to her? you know damn well I don't like to fool around and I will never try to hurt her, I know she means a lot to you, we're just... in an awkward situation, I think she's unconfortable?"

Luke threw the blankets at me and said "well you better fix it Quintin" and then he's slamming the door, leaving me stading in the corridor.

The next morning I wake up to my growling stomach, and I immediately know why. I'm pretty sure the entire house smells like waffles and bacon, so I make my way to the kitchen to find y/n slicing apples, and I can spot enough food for 30 people (or the equivalent, which is all 7 of us)

"How'd you do this?" I said before thinking, which caused her to jump in surprise and make a cut on her own hand "oh shit, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" I grab her hand, putting it under the water. When she didn't answer, I turned to look at her, only to find a very pale-faced girl trying to catch her breath "yeah I just hate blood" she looked at me and gave me a small smile, which was immediately replaced by a frown "did I wake you? I'm sorry, I tried to be as quiet as possible..." Way to fix this, I thought to myself "I just made you cut your hand, and you're worrying about me waking up early? Jesus, you're... not what I expected" 

I couldn't help but laugh. All this time I was worried about her taking advantage of my brothers in some way, and here she is, making me feel like an asshole. I grabbed a band-aid and secured it on her cut, barely hearing a small "thank you" coming off her lips, and before she can turn around, I say "I'm sorry, for everything. I shouldn't have left you in the hallway when we met and I should have introduced myself, I shouldn't have scared you just... I'm glad you're here, you have no idea how much you mean to my brothers, and I hope you forgive me and you can enjoy being here too" 

She was looking at me with big doe eyes and a big, bright smile, and I felt my heart soften. "Thank you Quinn" she said and I swear I've never been more thankful to see Zegras' face than this moment "ugh it smells so good!" He said while shoving bacon in his mouth, followed by Drysdale who was shaking his head at his friend "morning, what are you two talking about?" he asked, and y/n answered "oh you know, I was thanking him because I finally got my honorary invite to the Hughes lake house this summer," she chirps, wrapping an arm around Jamie's shoulders and leaning into his side

"Morning beauties!" Jack yelled the minute he opened the kitchen door and behind him was a grumpy Luke "do you need to be that loud all the time?" I saw y/n laughing softly, accepting Luke's hug, he stayed there for two minutes and I thought he had fallen asleep again but y/n brushed his curls off his face and Luke grabbed her wrist "what happened to your hand?" He touched her gently "I was preparing everything, and I dissociated, you know how I am" she smiled sheepishly at him "oh my clumsy sis, it smells delicious tho thank you" and he started arguing with the rest of the guys, complaining about not being enough food for him. "You should grab some, they'll have zero mercy if you get none" Her eyes snapped to mine while heat rushed to her cheeks, and I couldn’t control the smile that broke across my face.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Author's Note: couldn't post this last week but this week I'll post a Sebastian Aho request and the 4th chapter

Tag list: @coldheartedmar @adore-u-ls

[slowandsteddie]

Lazy Petals

AO3

Okay. This work is NOT completed. I cannot guarantee an update schedule because only the first chapter is completed. However, I DO have everything plotted out (assuming it doesn’t get a mind of its own) and the goal is to be 50k+ words.

This story is very personal to me. I’ve taken my grandparents love/live story and made it Steddie. The characters are going to be OOC. Just letting you know right off the bat in case that is something you aren’t interested in. Also, this is a No Upsidedown AU.

My grandparents were immediately obsessed with each other, but didn’t date until after they had graduated high school. Which means that while this isn’t a slow burn, it is going to be slower than the stuff I usually write.

I don’t want to give too, too much stuff away. There there is a post where I described the main highlights and asked your opinion on reading it. There is also a poll where I asked if I should start posting before it was finished, and I got a pretty definite yes.

I saved the divider that I plan on using for this series back when I first started talking about it. I have since lost my note that told me whom to give credit to. If you know who made it (or know how to find that information on mobile!!) please let me know.

I think that’s enough of a preamble. Without further ado, here be the CW’s and the first 3,489 words.

Content Warnings: Steve was hit by a car and in a full body cast for over a year - he makes a bowling joke about it, his parents are very distant, his grandparents got very distant after his injury and he doesn’t understand why, Wayne is very careful while babysitting to make sure that no one can accuse him of being inappropriate, mentions of his mom overmedicating him so he’s easier to deal with, mentions of how weak he got from being in the cast. And as always, let me know if I missed anything.

Steve didn’t remember much about that night.

His mother said that it was a blessing and refused to fill in any blanks for him under any circumstances.

His father, however, if he had drunk enough whiskey, would look at the six year old Steve as though he were a much older man and sigh before telling him anything he wanted to know.

Which meant that Steve knew that the car that hit him swerved in order to do so. (He didn’t know if the lady in the little blue car did it on purpose, or if she was a distracted driver. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know that.) He knew that she had to have been going over forty miles per hour because the impact sent him flying at least a dozen feet before he slammed into that bus stop. He knew that the driver kept going and that at least half a dozen people ran to his aid and that one of the women had screamed because he was unconscious and she was so certain that he was dead. His little body was so broken and bloody and they couldn’t see him breathe.

He also knew that his father got to his hospital room before his mother, sweat pouring down the older male’s body as though he had showered in his clothes because he had run there from work. His mother showed up over twenty minutes later, all put together like she had taken the time to clean herself up before appearing. Something his father wasn’t sure if he could forgive her for. (This was one of the few times that his father would express just how much that he loved Steve, and he would carry that warmth with him forever.)

He knew that they had to revive him four times, that they had done twelve surgeries, that they had put him in a full body cast because nearly every bone in his body had been broken, including parts of his spine. He knew that his parents had been told that he would likely never walk again. He knew that a specialist had pulled his father aside to inform him that his brain wouldn’t develop normally after all of the trauma that it had been through after being smacked around in his skull. They’d have to be careful, and that they’d have to understand if he never progressed much past the age that he was now. That he could be in his fifties and still acting five and that there was nothing that could be done beyond what they had already done – remove a small part of bone behind his ear to help relieve the pressure and pray for the best while preparing for the worst.

And, while he couldn’t remember the absolute agony that he must have been in. He did have the descriptions that he used to tell his father. That there was lava in his veins and his bones were shards of ice cold glass threatening to tear him apart completely. His father had only told him that part once, with tears in his eyes. “There wasn’t anything I could do to help you, boy. I couldn’t take the pain away. I would have died to save you even a fraction of that.”

That was one of the few times that he could remember his dad hugging him. He had been so careful and gentle while pressing his face into his hair. He inhaled deeply and he cried. And Steve had done his best to hug him back despite the plaster that made it near-impossible to move his arms at all.

At first, Steve had thought that it was really cool to be stuck in bed all the time. He didn’t have to do anything. That got boring within a week and he still had at least a year ahead of him where he was meant to stay in bed unless he was in the bathroom or at a doctor’s appointment.

Even eating in bed, something that had once been unacceptable and even punishable before, lost its novelty pretty quickly.

He liked having his mom read him notes from the teacher and his classmates. He liked her reading him his homework assignments and writing down his answers for him so that he would still be on track. It made him feel like an important man, like his dad was going to be, with a secretary.

The thing is, though, that he really missed going outside. He missed playing in the woods outside of the trailer park where he lived. He missed going to his grandparents house with the pool and the stairs that he’d probably never be able to walk again. He could climb them, though, after the cast was removed. He was pretty sure. He might not have a lot of muscle left at that point, but that would just mean that he was lighter and had less to have to move anyway.

When Steve brought that up to his mother, her lips would turn into a very tight, thin line and something he couldn’t name would flash in her eyes. “You are not going to go to that house any time soon, young man. It’s best to let those ideas go.”

“But I miss Grandma Marty and Grandpa Pete, and they won’t come here,” he whined.

“The Harrington’s won’t come to the trailer park and you know that.”

“We’re Harrington’s too,” he’d say defiantly.

She’d leave the room at that. Effectively ending an argument that they had had multiple times before. But what else did Steve have to talk about? He didn’t really have anyone else to talk to either, other than their neighbor that he had taken to calling Mister Wayne.

Wayne was probably a few years older than his dad and lived alone in a trailer that had always seemed so lively despite the quiet man who lived in it. He always had the tv or the radio on when he was home and Steve lived for that. Because his window was always cracked open for the breeze, which meant the sound could drift to him as well.

It was better than the quiet of his house that only seemed to get broken up with arguments and slamming doors. He was so used to it, but he still flinched every time and did his best to pull the blanket over his head as though that would muffle the sounds.

Sometimes, Wayne would come to his window and read him a book that his own nephew liked. The Hobbit. Steve fell in love with the adventure of it, and Wayne never seemed to mind reading him the same book over and over, a few pages at a time while he smoked.

More often than not, Wayne was the one who came over to babysit once he noticed that Steve had been left alone. He never once complained about it, never once gave someone else the chance despite all the ladies who would come over with food. And wine for his mom, when they could spare it.

Sometimes, Wayne would talk about his nephew. He was a scrawny kid, a few years older than Steve, named Eddie. Had a dark mop of long curly hair, and eyes that always seemed to have mischief in them. They’d like each other, Wayne was pretty sure, and he’d introduce them the next time that Eddie came to visit.

Steve would want to ask when that would be, but he never did. He had Mister Wayne and that was more than enough for him. His dad was staying later at the office, trying to prove that he deserved that promotion that would get them the hell out of the trailer park, without his parents' money. His mother was getting into yoga and book clubs, and Steve was being left alone a lot. Because, what kind of trouble could he get into when he was stuck in bed? Besides, the neighbors could hear if he shouted for anything and Wayne seemed very invested in making sure that he was okay.

Steve never knew why the older man made sure that his curtains were always wide open and that his light was on so that others could see that he was reading to him, or talking with him, from a chair that was always at least three feet away. Maybe it was so they would know he wasn’t alone? He wasn’t going to ask about it, not wanting to chance scaring away the one adult who never raised his voice at him, who never abandoned him when things got hard like his grandparents seemed to.

Months went by like this. His parents not being home, his grandparents not even calling about him, and Wayne doing his best to fill in the difference despite his own job. The other neighbors would come on occasion, but Steve was very sullen with them where he would laugh with Wayne. That didn’t deter them from coming over as he would have liked, and begrudgingly he found himself becoming friendly with a few of them.

It was the beginning of summer when Steve was finally able to get the casts removed. His father took him to the appointment, and he tried to not be disappointed that his mother wasn’t there at first. By the time he was wheeled out to the front of the office, though, his mother was sitting where his father had been.

He did his best to not look at himself. He was pale and scrawny and kind of stinky from not being able to wash himself properly because of all the plaster that had basically covered him for over a year. Most of his bones had healed great, according to the doctor. He wouldn’t know because he still hadn’t looked.

His father came back from wherever he had been, paid the bill with tight lips, and then took Steve out to the car. His mother helped him into the seat before covering him with a blanket that he was grateful for. It wasn’t that he was cold, he just didn’t want the chance to look at himself yet. He wanted to do that when he was home, where if he broke down and cried, no one else would know. Or, he wouldn’t have to see them knowing in any case. And that was enough for him.

They stopped for ice cream on the way and Steve asked for a small strawberry cone. Strawberry wasn’t his favorite, but it was what Grandma Marty had all the time, and he missed her even though she didn’t acknowledge him anymore. Wouldn’t answer his calls, wouldn’t call him back. He didn’t even know if she got the letters that Wayne had helped him write.

When they got home, Wayne wasn’t home. Not for the first time, Steve found himself deeply upset by that. He’d never voice it. Adults had responsibilities outside of him. And he knew that he only got about an hour with Wayne a day, maybe two if he was incredibly lucky.

His father came to help him out of the car, because he had more muscle if Steve should happen to fall. He clung to his father’s arm with all the strength that could muster as he walked like a baby giraffe toward their trailer. Well, he called it walking. It was more like wiggling his lower spine and hips while throwing his legs forward. After maybe five steps like that, he found himself being lifted into his father’s impatient arms as he was carried the rest of the way in and sat on the couch.

“Thank you,” Steve said instead of complaining about not being able to use his legs. He had wanted to walk, to prove that he could.

His father simply grunted in response before going to the kitchen to grab a drink. The same way he always did when he was home for the night.

His mother was inside a few minutes behind them, having stopped to talk to a neighbor briefly. She looked at Steve on the couch and tilted her head at him with a calculating look in her eyes.

“Would you like a bath?”

“Yes, please.”

This time, Steve did get to walk on his own two feet to the destination. He was leaning heavily on the wall, almost gripping on to it with one hand as he practically threw himself forward. He was breathless by the time that he got to the bathroom and pain seemed to radiate out through his entire body, starting at his tail bone.

“You can have some meds after your bath,” his mother said gently. “And I’ll get you your refill before dinner, okay? So you don’t have to worry about running out.”

Steve didn’t think it was time to refill his medicine yet, but he didn’t question it. His mom was on top of it. He was a kid who lost track of time a lot.

He sat on the toilet and he watched his mom prepare the bath for him, knowing that she would only let him have the water a little above room temperature. His skin was sensitive and the steam wouldn’t be good for him with the medicine that he was taking. He couldn’t even have hot food without the steam making him nauseous.

Carefully, he was pulled back to his feet and stripped of his clothes before he was helped into the tub that seemed to be more bubble than water. He sat down carefully, wincing a bit as he did so, before letting himself lean back in the water that felt warmer than it probably was because of his weakened, cool skin.

He sighed in contentment as his mother washed his body for the first time in what seemed like years. He was nearing seven years old and thinking about years in the past, it would make his dad laugh if he shared that thought with him, an idea that made him smile.

His mom washed his hair, tilting his head back and using a hand to make sure that no soap got in his eyes that he had squeezed tight. He got to play in the bubbles for a few minutes, his dad standing at the door as his mom got him some comfy clothes and a towel.

It was his dad who dried him off and helped him get into his clothes.

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said softly. He knew he was expected to thank his dad for everything he did that was above and beyond, which meant he ended up thanking him for everything.

Steve was carried back to his bed, something that he would have whined about if he wasn’t so tired and in so much pain. He was tucked in and his mom came to give him some toast and juice to take his pills with. He knew he was only meant to have one, but he took both that his mother gave him anyway. He washed it away with grape juice and half of the slice of toast she had brought him.

“Thank you, Mommy,” he murmured.

“Get some rest, love,” she replied while kissing his forehead. “You had a big day today.”

Steve nodded in agreement, wishing that it could be that easy to just let the sleep overtake him. He closed his eyes as his mom left the room.

His father checked on him once a day, his mother gave him two pills instead of one, and made sure he at least had breakfast and dinner. One of the neighbors made sure he had lunch and new puzzles to work on, new toys to play with. Steve would wander around the trailer as best as he was able, and Wayne would read to him before he went to bed.

Days turned to weeks like that.

One day, Wayne wasn’t at work and both of Steve’s parents were gone. He wandered over to his bedroom window and opened it wide.

“Mister Wayne, if I can get to the front door, can you help me out?”

His walking was still unsteady and stairs were very difficult for him.

“Are your parents okay with you being outside?” Wayne asked sympathetically.

“Uh. Dad said I could as long as I either finished my puzzle or put it up first.”

Wayne gave him a knowing look. “Okay, you little hellion. But only because I know you’d hurt yourself trying to do it anyway.”

Steve beamed and closed his window most of the way before making his way to the front door. It was a struggle to unlock the door because of the latch chain, but he managed. Wayne was waiting there for him with an unlit cigarette hanging between his lips.

“Getting outside used to be easier,” he sighed before reaching out.

“Maybe it’s the weight of knowing that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be,” Wayne teased as he picked Steve up and set him back down on the ground.

“No idea what that means, but thank you for helping me pass the stairs.” Steve grinned widely, the dirt and grass squishing slightly beneath his toes. It felt so good.

“You’re welcome, brat.”

Steve giggled before doing his version of walking. He took maybe ten steps, very much aware of how closely he was being watched. His breath came a little harder from the effort, the times between walking so close together. Shakily, he sat down as carefully as he was able. Movement caught his attention and made his head snap up to look toward Wayne’s trailer.

“You gotta ghost!” He exclaimed.

Wayne laughed at that, shaking his head. “That’s the nephew I’ve been telling you about. He’s staying with me for awhile. Treat him like a skittish cat until he’s used to ya, and I’m sure y’all would be good friends.”

“Eddie,” Steve said happily. “Can he come out so I can meet him?”

“I’ll send him out after I smoke my cigarette,” he said as he put more distance between them before lighting up.

“Thank you!”

Steve laid down flat on the grass, spreading his arms and legs out as much as he could without the pain becoming unbearable. It wasn’t very far, but he didn’t care. He got to grip the green strands in his fingers. He got to feel the light and heat of the sun soaking into his skin and settling into his bones. He was beyond convinced that the bright yellow thing in the sky was much more healing than the meds that made him feel tingly from his head to his toes.

He must have fallen asleep like that, because next thing he knew he was being awoken by a toe nudging his shoulder. His eyes flashed open and he was met by the most dark, beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen.

“Uncle Wayne said you just got released from the mummy’s curse.”

“He said that?”

“Well. He said your name was Steve and you just got a full body cast removed a few weeks ago.”

“That sounds more like him.”

“So…What happened?”

“A lady tried to go bowling with me and her car. The only pin she knocked down was me.”

Eddie snorted. “Shoulda planted your feet more firmly, she woulda gotten a strike.”

Steve’s lips tugged into the widest smile that he had ever had on his face. “My parents don’t like it when I joke about it.”

“Parents are stupid.”

“Yeah. How long are you stayin’?”

“As long as I can.”

Steve hummed in thought. “You any good at reading out loud?”

“Depends. What book?”

“The Hobbit.”

Eddie’s entire face lit up, his huge smile showing off the chipped front tooth. “My favorite book in the entire world? Yeah, I’m pretty good at reading it out loud.”

“We should read to each other. I have troubles with some words, but I am trying.”

“I’d like having someone to read and play with.”

“Oh, uh. Playing is hard for me right now. I’m still trying to get my strength back.”

“It’s okay. We read The Hobbit, we gotta have a pretty good imagination. We can pretend to play.”

Steve blushed and looked away. He never had someone his own age willing to work around his limitations before.

“I heard about a game with dice where we can talk out stuff and the dice decide how well it goes,” Steve said suddenly.

“Dungeons and Dragons!” Eddie apparently decided that he was tired of standing because he flopped down next to him at that. He rolled around in the grass before eventually settling on his side, propping his head up on his hand. “I can find a way to make that work with just two people.”

“Oh.”

“Turn that frown upside down, friend. I like a challenge. We’ll make this work because it sounds like fun.”

Steve beamed.

Taglist (let me know if you want added or removed! I was just trying to get who I remembered to seem interested!):

@estrellami-1 @eriquin @epiclazershark @morganski-19 @ellaelsinore @y4r3luv @valinwonderland @thespaceantwhowrites @jackiemonroe5512 @spectrum-spectre @princessstevemunson @ghost--enthusiast @gothwifehotchner @kas-eddie-munson @auroraplume @salisbury-at-the-stake @currently-steddiebrainrot @finntheehumaneater @marshmellowpaint @littlewildflowerkitten @perseus-notjackson @sapphirecobalt-1 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @gloomysoup @anne-bennett-cosplayer

[kindheart525]

Now for the long-awaited Glep x Marge horde! Ever since I first started working on this next gen as a serious project, I knew these two would have a whole horde of kids because of how madly in love I think they are. Glep has that raw bad boy edge and Marge is smoking hot so of course they have a big family to prove how much time they’ve spent loving each other if you catch my drift. They may have seven whole kids, but they’re just as youthful and energized as ever, which is far more than what can be said about Pim and his four kids. To outsiders, Glep looks like he’s fooling around on an iPad all day, but he’s somehow managing to give each of his kids proper attention AND keep Marge relaxed and satisfied. He’s got to be warping time itself to do all of that because I don’t know how you can have time for a full-time job AND seven kids AND a stable marriage without it wearing on you. Who knows how Glep does it.

As for the kids themselves, from right to left we have:

Blep inherited her mom’s supermodel looks but has an aesthetic all her own, going for a goth look that makes her look almost otherworldly combined with her unnaturally green skin. This combined with her speaking exclusively in her dad’s Wingon tongue leads people to make a lot of assumptions about her, that she’s weird or even scary, but the truth is that she’s very nice and sociable. She sometimes joins Kip and Dottie as a third to their trio, as aside from their common interests, both girls can relate to having assumptions made about them based on their looks.

Suzy, to many, looks like a hairball sliding around on the ground, but she would feel utterly insulted if you described her that way. She has her dad’s body and her mom’s luscious locks, though most don’t know where the hair ends and body begins. Despite her face being completely concealed, she’s so eloquent in her speech and mannerisms that you could completely forget that she’s basically a pile of hair as you become entranced in a conversation with her. She’s a classy lady and every unusual part of her only adds to her allure.

Gola is a model at some high-end agency, with an unbreakable confidence and an insatiable need to make sure the whole world knows how sharp her style is. She is quite sassy but can also be kind of dumb, arguing until she’s blue in the face to defend a claim that is flat out wrong just so she can have the satisfaction of being right. She’s also picked up a lot of her speech patterns from her dad’s friend Allan, so catch her comically mispronouncing a lot of words as well.

Chad is a pretty normal guy. As engaged in meme culture as any of his generation and especially as a child of the tech savvy Glep, so sometimes the family will be hit with a “skill issue” or “had to do it to em.” He likes to act like he doesn’t care what people think of him and will often lounge around in socks and sandals when not cosplaying as a meme. Sarcasm and jokes get a good laugh out of him but not when they’re at his expense, like when his siblings compare him to Stuart Little because of his abnormally short, less-than-two-foot stature. 

Giorno is a total gym rat, who cannot get through a single day without going through his elaborate full-body routine. He lives off of whey smoothies and many speculate lots of steroids, but he won’t confirm or deny that. School and work hardly matter to him as long as there’s gym. Workout stuff aside he has a sharp sense of humor and can engage in some good witty banter, especially with his best friend, favorite workout buddy, and love interest, Ell Pimling.

Eep, in contrast to her more eloquent and self-assured twin Suzy, is a shy little thing whose personality is as small as her stature. She is super sweet and loving with the people and critters she trusts most, and almost everyone she meets finds her very likable. This agreeability is something she finds joy in, but she has a hard time speaking up for herself when she wants something or disagrees. Her “speaking” sounds more like a squeaky dog toy than actual speech, but just like everyone can understand Glep’s Wingon tongue, she is perfectly clear to everyone when she does express herself.

Glorp is the least imposing critter you will ever meet. He is practically a background character. Every time he opens his mouth one of his siblings, parents, or peers starts speaking, so nobody knows what his voice sounds like or what his personality is. He doesn’t put up any fuss as he walks or slithers around with his noodly body, so everyone assumes he is perfectly content with the way things are. Nobody has asked him but he would probably agree based on his facial expression. 

[punsmaster69]

30/DEC/20XX

[It's not Sans' handwriting. It appears to be Toriel's.]

Heya.

I've tasked Tori with transcribing for me right now as actually 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 is a bit of a task in of itself at the moment.

Oh. Not to mention the shaking. That's also not helping in the slightest.

If you wanna say hello here you can, T-

Er. I was not supposed to write that part, was I?

~-

Hello. I am Toriel. Currently helping Papyrus keep a level head while assuring Sans' recovery.

The following and previous will be narrated exactly as Sans says, not as I.

~-

I think my eye's fine, but the pain is where the main issue arises.

Something about head pain always messes up my vision.

"Dunno" why.

(I do not know if he writes it as such, but he really does say it that way.)

Pretty irritating that I can barely walk myself to the next room without feeling like I'll collapse into a pile of bones within seconds.

Considering I'd usually be more than happy to let others do everything for me...

It's weird, isn't it?

.....

"No. I feel that this is quite different, is it not?"

"The difference between choosing to be lazy and being forced to do nothing may not seem obvious, but it is most likely about the amount of control. You cannot control what is happening to you here, even despite your best efforts."

"Of course that is irritating."

"......."

~-

He returned but a shrug.

~-

Not sure how much of this Paps covered, but I think the last thing I wrote on my own was about 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲, right?

Well.

Tried them.

Didn't go well.

Eye... might not work the same as it used to. Or maybe it'll work itself out. Who knows.

Gotta say.

For a body that needs me to use more magic so badly, it really hates when I use magic.

That might be my fault too, though. Probably way more out of practice than I thought (or hoped) I was.

The next step would be to try blue magic for real this time, I guess.

But not today.

Maybe not tomorrow.

"....."

"paps."

~-

Papyrus' pacing continues.

~-

"paps."

~-

Still, pacing.

~-

"Papyrus."

~-

Startling a bit, he's turned on his heel to face us.

~-

"YES?"

"can you do me a favor?"

~-

Papyrus got closer. Sans pushed himself to the upright position, rising his skull from my lap. He's pointing to the open seat beside us.

~-

"test that seat for me?"

"TEST? I- I GUESS? BUT WHY..?"

~-

It was a trap that Papyrus would have surely recognized, were he less mentally frazzled at the moment.

Using his weight, Sans has his brother trapped to the couch seat now.

~-

"your anxiousness is rubbing off on me."

"relax, bro."

"I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE RIGHT NOW, DO I?"

"you could choose to throw me off of you."

"...."

"NOT A CHOICE."

"Is that all for the entry?"

"yeah, unless you wanna give some closing thoughts of your own."

~-

....

There is not much I can say that will not come across as solely pity towards him. It is quite the worrying situation.

I am glad to be of assistance today. A time too many has he pushed himself while down.

Ah.

You will likely reread this at some point, Sans, will you not?

Truly, pity is not the only feeling I hold towards you, my dear.

I care so, so much about you.

More than I think you accept, at times. There are so many words I could use to describe those feelings I hold.

At least a little bit...

I'd like to believe you know how truthful I really am being.

P.S.

Please be nicer to yourself.

Even if it is difficult.

[datamodel-of-disaster]

Childhood as Serfdom

An analysis

(Or: I'm on my soapbox, enjoy/suffer the consequences)

I was gonna write a funny post about how being a child is kinda like being a medieval serf, but then I thought about it longer and actually it's not funny. So, be prepared.

People have a lot of resistance to the idea that children, legally and societally, are serfs. There is a visceral unwillingness to put together and see what the whole of laws and customs concerning minor persons actually amounts to, and I actually think that unwillingness is at the root of what makes so much "think of the children/protect the children" right wing rhetoric so effective.

In English, the word "serf" mostly brings to mind medieval peasants, but in Dutch it touches a little more on what it actually is. Lijfeigene, literally translated, "body-owned-one". A serf is not the same as a slave -he is not considered a tradeable good or personal possession, and cannot be murdered or raped with impunity. He can have property and this property is protected by the same laws that protect the possessions of free people. But similarly to a slave, a serf does not have self-determination over his own body, freedom of movement, or ownership of the fruits of his own labour. He is not legally considered an individual person so much as a part of an estate, a condition we'd still commonly describe as "unfree". In the medieval system of serfdom (at least in England) a serf had to pay for a "license" from his Lord to do just about anything, from marrying to repairing a fence. So we can say that medieval serfdom was a system where fundamental freedoms were paywalled rather than fundamentally denied, as in the case of slavery. There were ways to receive permission to do things, but the necessity of receiving (and, in the medieval use case, paying for) this permission was a fundamental aspect of the system.

Now.

Let's entertain this thought. Does childhood meet the criteria of serfdom?

Well.

Children have no freedom of movement.

You perhaps wouldn't look at the permission slip to go on a school trip as something in the same vein as a medieval serf's license to visit a cousin on a neighbouring estate, yet that is exactly what it is. "Where are your parents?", local police in suburbia giving a child a ride home if they get spotted walking alone, "No unaccompanied minors", parents being sued for leaving their kids home alone, the entire concept of "familial kidnapping" and the fact that custody is a matter of legal regulation when a couple divorces. Children's lack of freedom of movement is everywhere if you care to look.

When people get annoyed at "loitering" teenagers, they are contesting children's right to be in public spaces, unaccompanied and without specific purpose or permission.

When people judge parents for their children being a nuisance, they are explicitly acknowledging that the child's movements could be curtailed and controlled by the parents -indeed, they are stating such control to be the correct course of action.

Explicitly and implicitly, our society accepts and supports children not having natural freedom of movement, and places -for better or worse- the responsibility for their movement on the parents. In this, the parents are the Lord of the estate, and the child is a serf attached to this estate. Additionally, as the entire concept of custody shows, we have in fact codified the rights of parents to continued access to any children that were part of an estate that was legally split between them in a divorce.

Children do not have right of self-determination.

Children have precious little protection to their bodily integrity. From birth, they can be circumcised, have their genitals surgically "corrected" if they look too ambiguous to the eye of parents and doctors, have their ears pierced, be baptised or initiated in a religion, have cosmetic surgery performed on them, etcetera.

I am specifically not listing life-saving medical measures here, because yes -children are different from mature adults, and especially babies have no capacity to self-determine in matters of their own survival. We will address this matter of capacity later on. For the purpose of this exercise however, it is worth pointing out all the non-life-saving, non-essential actions that would be considered highly invasive if performed on an adult, yet can be freely performed on the body of a child with zero input or consent from the child itself.

Compared to that, all the less invasive ways in which children are typically allowed little to no self-determination, from choosing their own clothes to eating when and what they want to, seem less impactful. But they add up, and you should keep them in mind.

(And even in the context of life-saving measures; there are some hotly contested legal cases of parents wanting to deny life-saving or life-improving medical intervention to their children for religious reasons, that illustrate just how important our society considers the rights of the parent over a child's body. If these rights weren't considered almost inviolable, there would be no contest between them and a person's survival.)

When we look at what things children can and cannot do legally, the underlying assumption is always that children are in a form of diminished capacity with regards to self-determination, and must therefore be protected from decisions made in this diminished capacity. Hence we have concepts like statutory rape, child labour prohibitions, and laws that protect children from, for example, signing contracts. Most people will agree that children are not adults and do not have the same capacity to make fully informed decisions for themselves. So, it makes sense that there are laws that protect them from being taken advantage of.

In the context of childhood as serfdom it is more interesting to consider the conditions under which these protections can be circumvented.

Let me elaborate:

In the US, parents can take out loans and credit cards in the name of their child -while a child cannot legally sign a contract, a parent can essentially sign for them and saddle a child with debt long before they can even comprehend what that is. In some circles it even gets recommended to take out a credit card in a child’s name and diligently keep a good credit score with it so they can have a better financial start when turning 18.

In 37 states of the US, child marriage is legal if a parental waiver is provided, and in 20 of them there is no minimum age for marriage at all under these conditions. (Look, there it is again, the serf's license!) So while legally a child cannot consent to be married or sign a valid marriage license, a parent can consent for them. For additional context here; the "statutory rape exception" that allowed underage sexual activity if the participants were married was only amended in federal law in 2022, and similar exceptions are to this day still encoded in US military law.

But…Child labour is still actually prohibited, right? Right?

Well… no. Not really.

Children in the US can be employed in non-agricultural jobs from the age of 14 with parental permission, whereas for agricultural jobs the allowed age of employment varies between states and isn't federally determined, but can be as young as 10. Additionally, minors of any age may be employed by their parents at any time in any occupation on a farm owned or operated by his or her parent(s).

There are technically laws about how many hours and in what type of labour children can be employed, yet in practice there are a lot of potential exceptions, and these laws are (unfortunately) continually under attack. Which leads to my next point…

Children do not own the fruits of their own labour

Children can own property, in the legal sense. They can "hold title", as one says, of most items (except motor vehicles in some states in the US -remember this in connection to freedom of movement!), be the beneficiary of an inheritance, and receive gifts.

However.

Holding title does not mean they have the usufruct of the property, nor that they cannot be denied access or usage of it by their parent. More importantly…

In the US, a child does not have an automatic right to their own wages. Let me share you a couple excerpts of law:

Banks v. Conant, 14 Allen 497:

Whatever therefore an infant acquires which does not come to him as a compensation for services rendered, belongs absolutely to him, and his father cannot interpose any claim to it, either as against the child, or as against third persons who claim title or possession from or under the infant.

Cyclopedia of Law and Procedure:

As a general rule any property acquired by the child in any way except by its own labor or services belongs to the child, and not to the parent

Wheeler v. R. Co., 31 Kan. 640, 3 P. 297, 300:

As a matter of law a minor may own property the same as any other person. He may obtain it by inheritance, by gift, or by purchase; and there is nothing in the law that would prevent even a father from giving property to his minor child. A father may also so emancipate his minor child as to entitle him to receive his own wages.

So…

A child can be employed, with an employment contract signed by their parents, and any wages they earn automatically belong to their parents.

That is literally what it means to be a serf.

I am not saying that all children are exploited in the manners I described above. But it is an illustration of the culture we live in, that all these types of exploitation are in fact legal.

Almost any attempt to legally protect children in their developmental condition of diminished capacity leaves loopholes for parental exemptions. The right of a parent to make decisions about a child's life, body and movement is entrenched in our society and legal system.

Which leads to… "protect the children".

What we talk about when we talk about protecting the children

Endeavours to "protect children" come in multiple shapes.

There are the initiatives to improve the legal framework that protects the rights of children - such as the Californian law that forces parents of child actors to keep the child's wages in trust rather than automatically own them, or the amendments that removed the marital exception from the statutory rape law. They can be characterized as movements to chip away at the serfdom status of children, while still respecting the fact that children are in fact a vulnerable class of people who require protection.

Then, there are initiatives that aim to protect the rights of parents over children. Lately, many of those are essentially extensions of children's current serfdom status into the plane of the immaterial. Think, laws that aim to limit children's freedom of movement in cyberspace as well as public space. Laws that dictate what information children are allowed free access to. Laws that limit children's privacy from their parents, under the guise of protecting their privacy from strangers.

This latter category will often wrap itself in a layer of fearmongery anecdotes and moral panic language in order to gain support and justify exerting additional power over children. The reason this works is that to have a meaningful defence against it, someone has to consciously acknowledge the serfdom status of children, and consider it harmful.

Now, most parents aren't actively exploiting their child's labour, racking up debt in their name, or arranging their underage marriage. But almost all parents have exerted power over their child's freedom of movement, denied them privacy, taken their possessions as punishment or simply out of convenience, and forced their will on them in a million unimportant ways where letting the child self-determine would not have had any real impact on their wellbeing or safety. Acknowledging the serfdom status of children means acknowledging all of that as a kind of authoritarian lordship rather than benevolent custody.

Clearly, people have resistance to seeing themselves as -even mildly- villainous in any story, and the urge to defend one's parenting decisions is a strong one. As such, it's easy for someone to defensively think, "This power I have over my children is good, actually. I should have more of it, for their own good." And that is, at its heart, a fascist idea.

We will never dismantle fascist rhetoric as long as we remain comfortable with categories of people who are unfree for our convenience. And that doesn't just include children -I'd posit that it actually starts with children.

(Have mercy on me, I wrote this at work. Will add sources/bibliography later.)