#and I think this is a nice way to keep that alive

[anon-sect]

Picture source: anonymous

Harvey noticed his two friends hadn't responded to his texts or calls over the last four days. It was unusual for them not to respond at least by the next day. He asked around to see if anyone knew where they could be. After asking so many people, he finally was told that they had been in a wrestling tournament four days ago. They had lost to this one guy and had gone missing since then.

Harvey tracked down the guy who had bested his two friends. His name was Finn. He happened to be the champion in the wrestling tournament. He went to his house to ask where his friends were.

Finn heard a knock on his front door. He opened it to see a guy standing there. "Yes, can I help you?" He asked since he had never seen him before.

"Yes, my name is Harvey. And I was wondering if you could tell me where my two friends Jake and Tom went. I heard you beat them in a tournament four days ago. They have been missing since." Harvey explained, hoping this time he finally knows about the whereabouts of his two best friends.

"Oh, those two fags. They were easy to beat." Finn paused. "As to their location, let's just say they are in a safe location." He added.

"Where are they?" Harvey asked again. He didn't like his previous answer one bit.

"You see, I am a TF Pred and I like taking special trophies from competitions that I win." Finn paused. "You two friends are my trophies. Come in and I will show you." He invited him in.

Harvey followed the guy to his room. Finn placed a pair of blue wrestlting spandex and wrestling shoes on his bed. "I don't know which one is Tom and which is Jake, but here they are." Finn told him.

Harvey didn't know if all he was told was true. He examined both items. He then felt a small twitch coming from both the shoes and spandex, almost like they were alive. "Change them back now." He demanded.

"Sorry, I keep my trophies. I don't have a habit of changing them back." Finn smiled deviously.

"Please, change them back." Harvey pleaded. He hated seeing his friends like that.

Finn decided to show some sort of mercy. "Here's the deal. Wrestle me for their humanity. If you manage to make me tap or submit, I will change them back to normal. But if I make you submit, you join their fate. I turn you into a trophy as well." He gave the offer to Harvey. "Your choice." He added.

Harvey saw the risk if he lost, but he wanted to save his friends from a permanent fate as such. "Okay, I agree to it."

Finn gave Harvey a pair of red wrestling spandex and told him to follow him to his garage. There was a green mat laid out.

Harvey managed to get out of every single hold that Finn tried on him until he got him in the scissors headlock. He held him tightly between his legs and tilted upwards in a position that would not allow him to escape.

"That's right. Just give in and pass out or tap out. It doesn't matter either way. You are mine. I think a nice pair of socks will do nicely for me." Finn remarked as he continued to apply pressure on the hold.

Harvey wasn't going to tap. He tried to break free as oxygen was leaving his body. The hold on his neck was too tight to escape. He soon lost consciousness and passed out from the lack of oxygen.

Harvey woke up sometime later from his nap feeling strange. He couldn't speak. He could manage some form of movement, but it was more like twitching. He smelled a strong odor and tasted something foul. He felt like he was wrapped around what he was tasting. The wiggling motion instantly let him know what he was. He was a pair of socks. The feet must have been Finn's He twitched in protest to being a pair of socks.

Finn felt twitching coming from his pair of socks. "Oh, you are finally awake. Sorry to tell you, but you lost our little bet." He paused with a smile on his face. "Which means you are mine just like your two friends. But don't worry, I will take good care of you just like I have done them." He laughed as he continued to watch this tv show.

Harvey knew the risk he was taking when he agreed. Now he was stuck as Finn's property just like Tom and Jake.

[serenity-loves-red]

Part 2.

Cat distribution system featuring Phainon.

In which• The Deliverer of Amphoreus is suddenly transported to your home as a cat.

Living with your cat has never been this refreshing. Life college may be giving you lemons, at least you now have a cat with you.

Mr. Blue Balls- you named him. A bit(?) unhinge but meh. His eyes are blue and the cat has balls. The cat even looked traumatized, went limp on your arms as if his soul just left his body after you just suddenly flip him over to look at his rear.

He wasn’t even able to look at you for a while an hour, hiding at the corner or under your table when you look at him. It was as if you just stole him all of his dignity. You did, you just didn’t know.

You even have to bribe him with tuna so that he’ll get out of his hiding spot. He’s that embarrassed. And that what makes you want to tease him more.

So you better stock more tuna to bribe him after or else he may not let you cuddle him anymore.

Anyways, aside from teasing your cat, you talked with him. Like a full rambling talk. It’s way better than talking with yourself when you are alone. Now, you have a cat you can talk trauma dump.

Although it seems to be therapeutic for you. But for him? Not at all.

I mean it’s nice hearing you talk–about yourself, your life, problems, etc. Phainon doesn’t mind that at all. What he does mind is that when you talk about this game.

About them, his friends, his world.

Have you ever seen those cat videos where the cat doesn’t seem to know if it’s alive? Just looking at nothingness? Well that’s what happens.

At first you find it cute. It happened after you played with the game. He sat on your lap as you did the trailblaze mission with Mydei. You got busy so you really haven’t really done it yet. So as you played, you keep rambling to him about your pain and resentment about the quest.

*Anaxa died*

“Fuck you Hoyoverse! Why is it always the hot men??!!!”

*10 mins after the start of 3.3*

“OmfG can’t you give me a breakkkk?? Agleaaaaa noo! Fuck you Caenis! Fuck youjsjdhhdvdjsjsvshsk”

So yeah, a bit of mental break down here and there together with your cat that seems to be meowing at it in disbelief.

Cue: existential crisis

Phainon had it hard to accept that all he had experienced was just part of a program of code and game. So he can’t help but to get lost in his thoughts sometimes.

Either staring at nothing or at you. You swear his eyes either glows or flicker from blue to yellow.

It took him about a week to accept everything. He still think of finding a way home though. After all, he still has a world to save. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it here. He’ll miss you when he leaves.

You may be a bit hyperactive, unhinged roommate/owner?, but you cared for him. Which he is grateful for. And you may or may not have been growing on him.

So yeah, just keep talking and he’ll be listening to you. You are quite cute when you do it after all.

Oh? A livestream for the next patch? He doesn’t know what that is but you can watch it together.

Is-is that me? Holy Kephale he look so coo-

“HOT! That’s MY MANN!!! Plsplspls Phainon go home the kids misses you plsplspls!🙏”

But he’s already home though *meow purrs lick*

He’s still a cat so until then he doesn’t mind giving you cuddles and kisses. I mean how awkward would it be?

He did wonder though how will you react if he turns back to normal.

[stellargh0ul]

Can we have some Perpetua x reader fluff? Feeling very scared of the state of the world right now

sweetheart, the only thing I can say is that there are better times ahead. to quote our darling Perpetua- nothing is ever forever. it's tempting to give in to fear, but you must keep hope alive in your heart.

-

“you press this button if you want to go faster,” you tell him, leaning over to poke the corresponding button on the controller. he squints at you, as if you’re lying to him, and experimentally taps it.

the kart on screen shoots forward and Perpetua giggles, giving it another tap.

he doesn’t move any faster this time, given his lack of another mushroom to push him forward, and you shake your head.

“it only works once you have a power-up. you can use any of your items with that button, not just the mushroom.”

“alright…”

he seems focused on the screen, turning the controller this way and that despite the fact that only the control stick does anything to move his kart onscreen. it’s your turn to laugh and you do so, watching your Papa learn how to play Mario Kart like a child with their first video game.

it probably is his first- you assume that there weren’t many people donating full game systems and games to the orphanage, and you doubt that he’d picked them up once he was a member of the clergy.

your own kart is still at the starting line, since you’d put your controller down to help him figure out his own, and you just let the game run as he practices moving the kart in jerky motions. you figure it’ll take a race or two before he’s ready to have you join in, and even longer before you can try using your actual skills against him in a match.

but it’s all in good fun. it’s a rare afternoon where he’s not hunched over his desk, working on Ministry paperwork or writing new lyrics and songs for the band, and you’ll take all the alone time with him that you can get.

Perpetua is sprawled out on the couch, robes askew, mask half hanging off his face, and it’s nice, you think, to see him relaxed. you wish these moments weren’t so rare, but you know there’s important work that needs to be done and that everyone in the ministry demanded his attention all the time.

you’re just glad that he’s chosen to spend the free time he does have with you. you rest your head on his shoulder and he spares a moment to peck your temple before he goes back to driving the kart on the track.

“dear, I think i’m ready to race you,” he says, and you scoff as you look at the screen- he’s in last place against the CPUs. but at his insistence, you pick up your controller and navigate to start a new race, intending on going easy against him so that you didn’t beat him too badly.

you aren’t prepared for him to lap you. twice.

as you look over at him in disbelief, he gives you a shit-eating grin.

“did you really think we didn’t have video games? people donate old consoles all the time. and I just needed help learning the controls of the new one, lamb, but it’s not so different from any other Mario Kart game.”

“…oh, it’s on,” you say, going to start another race, and he gives a cackle that warms your heart.

[omniphilic]

hiya soileil!!!! i wanted to ask if you have personal hcs (headcanons) for mark and how you generally like to imagine him when you write him!

thanks for the ask! 🙏��� next time if you're not sure how to spell my name, copy and paste it from my intro post or let autocorrect do its thang (fun fact: my name is sun in french :3), but to answer your question because i think about this A LOT.

I like to combine Comic Mark and Show Mark personality wise. Not to say the show version of him is the greatest person alive, but I choose to keep of his poorer traits or qualities from the comics rendition of him to give him more dimension. Overall, I follow the order of events as they occur in the show.

In my opinion, Mark is extremely Golden Retriever. I think he’s very personable, gentle and affectionate with those he loves, but I also see him as someone who can be stubborn, reluctant to change, impulsive, and self-centered. He isn't met with a lot pushback ever. In the comics this is more prevalent, as the only characters to openly disagree with Mark are portrayed as villains or become evil (Cecil, Robot) over the course of the run.

In the show, Debbie has the balls or the sense to actually nip Mark's nonsense in the bud. When Mark tells her to "Make me" after she tells him to come inside and stop flying. When she says "Is this what you need?" she's forcing him to confront that sense of self-righteousness. Amber is another character that does this, when she gets mad at him for 'ditching them' and leaving them to fight the Re-Animen.

I think Amber was justified in her irritation because he is essentially playing in her face, choosing to maintain the lie of him just disappearing instead of coming clean then and there or at any other point before. He lies to her throughout the majority of the relationship when the rest of his close companions already (William and Eve), choosing to leave Amber in the dark. As she goes on to reveal she knew his secret, I can understand her frustration. How are they supposed to be going steady when he's withholding a quite vital part of himself for.... literally no reason. She would've been safer had she have known, she would have never been mad at him if she had known. There were more benefits to telling her than not telling her.

Eve pushes back the hardest before they get together, like right before Omni-man fucks Mark's shit up and she tells him to stop moping about quitting hero work. He's presumptuous about her life, assuming he knows why she quit as opposed to asking directly, looking to follow in her footsteps because he's overwhelmed by a situation he himself created.

Overall, I don't think Mark is a very nice person. Going back to his conversation with Debbie on the back porch, I find it utterly insane he doesn't apologize to Debbie for essentially threatening her, and there are other instances of him not having others best interests at heart so he can maintain a sense of security—a big one being when he ditches Earth to go coddle her over a broken leg while the whole Invincible War is going on the background.

I think his self-centeredness doesn't allow him to deeply engage with the feelings of others, but his persistent, almost pervasive sense of conscientiousness is what keeps him on the straight and narrow for a large part of his time as Invincible. I feel like his sense of obligation is derived from guilt as opposed to love for humanity.

When Mark is around people he loves, or connects with emotionally, he is more comfortable divulging his true feelings. I find him to be both self-deterministic and rejection sensitive, averse to truly absorbing the opinions of others unless he feels that way himself, as well as being afraid of being told he's doing something wrong.

All of that to say... I don't think he's consciously being a bad person, he's just limited by those he's surrounded by, they don't tell him about himself regularly enough to get him used to that kind of push back.

For the most part I think he's on the level, tries his best to be a good person where he can. He has some capacity for pettiness, but it isn't often his first resort. Some of his biggest moments of growth occur when he's learning of the realities of the world, like during the first Flaxan invasion, where he realizes how brutal the life of a superhero can be, but he rarely ever has moments of self-discovery, understanding and reconciliation. TLDR; this boy needs a therapist.

He has nobody to relate to because nobody is exactly on his level, and the people who should be concerned with his emotional wellbeing (Eve or Debbie) and they don't encourage him to open up.

Often what happens to him in sensitive moments, when he does genuinely try to open up (to Eve, when he is trying to communicate what happened with future Eve) he is very strongly shut down, which would further reinforce his insistence on not communicating his true feelings.

This happens a lot. I think the reason is because of bad writing, honestly— Some people (primarily female characters, like Eve and Amber) act as is needed to move along the plot, I believe, but despite this shortcoming in the narrative I chose to just... bake it into his character.

Mark's upbringing (as a white dude who is written by a white dude) means he not only navigates the world differently but is socialized differently than most likely me or you, so he has a different sense of entitlement, a different understanding of right and wrong, and a lack of curiosity.

i think he would be more knowledgeable in his like. mid-later twenties (wait until I make that Dilf! piece with @wingfleur) but he's bumbling for a fair bit of his late teens early twenties.

He's just a loser trying his best!!! anyway this turned into a ramble imma dip out—

[mini-ism]

#— SWALLOW MY PRIDE, SET MY HEART ON FIRE.

pairings: PHOTOGRAPHER!lighter x MODEL!afab!reader [MDNI]

words: 2,213

synopsis: lighter struggles to conceptualize that his muse is gaining popularity. as much joy as it brings him, it uncovers his deep jealousy brought on by his love. you’re the one bringing light to his dull grey world, after all, who else could possibly deserve you? they don’t see you the way he does. [photographer!lighter x model!reader]

warnings: AU, implied suicidal ideation, (brief) drinking, nude/lewd photography, light angst, hurt/comfort, jealousy, muse/artist dynamic, pining, nihilism and references to depression/misery, selfish lighter, implied sex. this fic is arguably tame even if tags seem crazy. lighter and you both just have big feelings.

notes: crossposted to AO3, this fic has like major early 2010s vibes, i wrote this to niagra falls (the weeknd) u will def know the vibe im talking abt if u listen to that or HOB mixtape looool gritty 2010s vibe save meeeee

there was this… almost intangible understanding between the both of you.

it was arbitrary, difficult to put into words, easier to act out. life was dull and grey. the mundane dregs and bone deep emotion was impossible not to frame when you were with him, impossible not to capture it ten, fifteen, fifty sum times.

lighter was exceptionally skilled, a raw and young talent waiting for recognition, the true getaway, for the monochromatic tint to bleed out. yearning for life to feel luxurious like champagne-gold, the comfortable glamour, to escape the wounds he’d rather not speak about, to be free of the life he’d rather not live.

he never said anything about death — or wanting to escape his life — explicitly. what he didn’t say could shine in his eyes, it could be said in one look. not everyone saw things the way he did. it was one of the reasons he held up that camera.

he held its weight in his hands, the instrument his anchor. it was kind of weird to say, to even think, but it might just be the only thing keeping him alive. sane, at its basest form.

you outstretched a leg, he watched through the small digital screen, your bare foot dangled off the bed. however provocative these photos may be, they were candid in a sense. the lights in his sad studio-apartment bedroom were off, the light of the sun filtering in through the busted blinds, the paint on the walls were sickly, a yellow stain. he didn’t even have a real bed frame, just a supporting mattress box, those hard ones made of wood and dressed up all nice in fabric-y cotton. the sheets fell onto the ground, and he had maybe two pillows. only one was on the bed itself, you could swear you’ve seen two, but where its twin went is beyond you.

lighter adjusted the zoom on the lens, taking another few pictures to flick through and edit. one could be too blurry, you could be blinking… you just look too perfect, even on camera. the in-person you was the best.

he probably liked you so much because you had that strange unspoken sadness about you that he did himself, you just… kinda knew. those fucking eyes, they said everything, they mirrored his. deep, provocative, almost edgy, a stare you could lose yourself in, a gaze that made you forget everything about yourself. the world needed to know you the way this camera did. he knew you’d get there one day, and hopefully soon.

he didn’t really question why exactly you wanted to model, it entirely made sense to him. those eyes, the curve of your jaw and cheek, your smile, the way you presented yourself. your vibe. it clicked, it didn’t need questioning, just gratitude.

lighter scrolled through the few photos he’d taken, his eyes drifting up, watching you take a drink from the nearly stale vodka on his ugly little nightstand. the way your throat moved, the already tousled look, it made the whole action that much more artistic, sensual. how could you move with that much unintentional grace? how weren’t you already famous? what did he do to deserve you?

his musings were intense, fervent, nearly frantic to capture your every move and every look. how did you manage to bring out life in stillness, in shallow dullness? how did you make silent misery look so good, so sexy? his brows were furrowed deeply, even as you continued posing. he’d let you borrow his only dress shirt, wrinkled with neglect and carelessness. you wore it unbuttoned, the shirt covering enough of your chest, plenty of inner sideboob for him to take pictures of.

it perfectly complemented the panties you wore and the way you kept your hair today.

does he even deserve to see you like this? artistically or not. he kind of has to ogle you, to get that angle and that shot that you plead with him to post on his shitty HTML-coded art blog.

he couldn’t shake that fucking trance, no matter how hard he tried. you were always majestic in his eyes, but how could he just ignore the real you for digital you? art could wait, let him wallow in his misery.

lighter set down his camera by the bottle on the nightstand, only now realizing how messy his sad little room was. the mirror was propped up against the wall, cramped next to a medium sized dresser that looked four times older than him. the walls were tight and almost greasy, clothes were scattered all over the floor, he hadn’t even bothered to take out the empty bottles and put them elsewhere.

he could feel your presence beside him, waiting patiently in his sheets, looking up at him, “so, are we done?”

lighter processed your words a little late, his response delayed, “do you want to be?”

you shook your head no, “not really, you’re my favorite to be around,” you trailed off, “i mean, would you believe more people wanna take pics ‘cause of your art blog thingy?”

he gave a soft hum, a gentle warmth brewing in his chest, a burgeoning sense of pride. his eyes wandered down to his unlaced boots, then back to you. it was wonderful that you were getting attention, recognition, budding fame, his pride twisting into a blossoming jealousy. they did realize that he was the first — the only — to show you off? that you were his muse first?

“that’s, um…, nice.” he responded quietly, letting the dilapidated mattress sink under his familiar weight. he let his elbows rest on his knees, his dark teal hair falling in his face, framing it handsomely.

it was quiet, stale, awkward, for some moments. he didn’t know how to voice his pride without letting the jealousy bitterly slip in. you didn’t know how to further the conversation.

he was happy, really, he wanted everything for you. the sensitive part of him hoped you’d let him be the one to give you everything, despite how unrealistic it was. it was like you knew everything, you knew what he was thinking, why did he assume you knew that, too? in reality, you couldn’t just read his mind, know his heart’s purest desires, even if it genuinely felt like you knew his soul inside and out. you were kindred to him, you somehow knew, even without words.

“but you know you’re…” you tried to say, even as your voice failed you.

“yeah,” he responded half-heartedly. his ego was barely being held together.

“…you’re still my favorite.” you murmured, attempting to make it a little better, a lot more digestible to him. is he getting jealous?

the silence stretched further, wearing you both so thin. you’d quietly hoped you didn’t just fuck everything up, he bit back his wounded ego and boiling jealousy. he wasn’t mad at you, not at all, but by god he never wanted anyone else to see you, to look at you, to worship you the way he did.

“i really hope i am,” his words were hushed, reverent and guilty in nature. he swallowed thickly, trying to quell the anxiety bubbling to the top of his conscious, “i-i don’t want anyone to like you… the way… i do.”

it slipped out before he could stop himself. he didn’t want you to understand anyone’s misery the way you did his, even if it was so painfully selfish, he didn’t want to share. it was the nature of a man to possess, to retain a lover’s loyalty even if proven a thousand times over.

“what do you mean?”

it was such a simple question, even if it innately frustrated him a little. you knew him, you certainly did, you knew him better than anyone else in his life ever did — and probably ever will. so, why didn’t you get it? you weren’t stupid, were you just choosing not to get it? how could he put it into words without sounding like the biggest douchebag ever? fuck, he loved you, he worshipped you, you were everything. you were the light of his life, you made dull grey cityscapes beautiful and his dingy ass apartment livable.

“you’re my muse, something like, um, that. i just… don’t wanna share t-that. it’s not that i’m unhappy for you, it’s…” lighter hesitated, dancing around the words the so desperately wanted to say, to call out your name and beg you to be his love until his bones turn to dust.

you looked at his with a placating look, that gentle encouragement kind of look. one that made him wanna scream and pull you in, one that made him want to tear his skin off and kiss you until his lips were raw and tasted like yours.

“fuck, i love you, okay?” lighter said sharply, his face frantic and red. you blinked, once, twice. somehow, this didn’t surprise you, you knew you loved him one way or another. there’s no way you can know someone like that and it’s not some form of genuine love. you just moved closer and put your head on his shoulder. you could feel the muscles underneath wound with tension.

“me too.” it’s all you could offer — the truth.

the tension in his body only grew with your closeness, he was jumpy and on-edge, despite the wash of happiness that flowed through him at your admission of mutual feelings. he subconsciously bounced his leg, letting you rest on his shoulder. you felt so snug, and would you be mad if he—

his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you in, letting you put your face in the crook of his neck. lighter shuddered, letting his fingers grip your side gently. lighter tilted his neck, eager for more sensation. your presence, however soothing, still drove him insane. his pulse quickened and his jaw clenched, attempting to console his eager body and anxious mind. he groaned when you leaned in so, so close and let your lips brush along the lateral part of his throat.

“baby, i don’t want you to go anywhere,” lighter pleaded, his hand slipping below the loose dress shirt draped over your body. his fingers dragged along the side of your body, desperately craving the soft skin underneath his fingertips all over him. he kept his touch soothing and devout, never too harsh or demanding. his soul screamed to devour you, keep you down until you were wholly him and he was wholly yours, to take and take until there was nothing left to give. a man’s instinct is never always pure, even if his hands are gentle.

lighter shivered with the anticipation of possibility, of maybe, finally, giving you what you deserved. finally, letting you take him entirely, letting you know how much he really loves you. the possibility of holding you, being more than just your admirer. you gave his life a meaning, you gave him beauty in the mundane, a honed passion and a gift to the world. he owes you everything.

his hand slid up to cup your breast. when you didn’t tell him to stop, when you nudged his neck, he squeezed it gently, feeling the weight and softness in his palm. they felt as perfect as they looked. you threaded your fingers in his hair, pulling him in for a soft kiss. lighter groaned into the kiss, his eyes fluttering closed and brows furrowing. his lips slid against yours, savoring the taste he’d dreamed of since the day he met you. he groped and kneaded your breast with each heated kiss, growing in passion and desire with each pass of lip and tongue.

he pulled you closer to his side with a quick motion of his arm, sweeping you with his well controlled strength. he rolled your nipple a few times between his index and thumb, the digits deft with pressure and precision. you whined, making him feel bigger than ever. you never made him feel so small in such a cruel world. you deserved to feel good.

he pulled back about an inch to speak, “do you wanna?”

his sentence was full of innuendo, you knew what he meant. you grabbed him by the shoulders, hands gripping the flesh of his traps, your expression playful and needy, “of course i want to.”

with that, you pulled him down on top of you. he positioned himself accordingly, almost excitedly with your enthusiasm. you look stunning even from this angle, those eyes staring back up at him with the same expression of awe and desire, deep and shiny with vulnerability. his shirt had left nothing to the imagination now, your chest on full display for him. no camera could capture your beauty appropriately.

an artist could only dream of a muse like this, pleading and smiling, eager to create the purest form of art for him. eager to bring color to the dull world, white-yellow light waning into yellow-orange. the sky burning made that disgusting yellow color on the walls tolerable, it created a bearable world where the only beautiful thing he needed was you, the muse.

the rest of it could go up in flames, so long as the walls of his selfishness can close in.

so long as it was you that stayed.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

hey continuing on with this thing from my rewatch:

eddie getting home from the academy one day and sitting down with a beer after getting chris to bed.

he clicks on his tv and it comes alive on the same station it always does when it's just been turned on, KDLA Channel 10.

And hey, that's a firehouse.. wait, this is about that guy who fell from the coaster isn't it?

Oh duh, this is why we'd done more hanging rescue training the last couple days. Eddie thinks to himself.

"---with fireman Evan "Buck" Buckley, who people are calling the County Fair Spider-Man for his daring rescue." the voiceover says, making Eddie cringe.

"Poor guy." he laments as the feed changes to show the secondary reporter and what must be the hero fireman and damn.

Eddie blinks.

Damn. This guy's hot as hell! What Eddie'd give to be at that guy's station after he's done with training.

Listen, it's been a good couple years now since he and Shannon split, her taking off suddenly and the divorce papers arriving in the mail two years later, just a couple days before he and Christopher had made the move to California.

And he's had enough time to somewhat come to terms about some things.

He's gay.

Or some variation of gay at least, so he knows hot guy when he sees hot guy.

And this hot guy's a huge hunk of man meat.

But then the guy (what'd the reporter call him? Bucky? Like the superhero guy?) starts talking and.. shit... even his voice is nice..

"I was just doing my job." Bucky the Babe says, "I'm happy we were able to help the people we helped and I'm-I'm really sorry about those we--we couldn't save."

Eddie's mulling over the fact that this beautiful beautiful man is also somehow humble too when someone in the background of the shot opens the engine door and there it is. There's the station number.

"One-eighteen, huh?" He takes a sip of his beer and files away that number for later.

"We're getting a lot of Twitter questions from our audience, most just want to know if you're single." The reporter turns the microphone back on Bucky and Eddie starts to lean forward for a second before catching himself.

Bucky smirks and looks down the camera and "Fuck."

He's hot, he's pretty, and damn those eyes. It's like he's looking right through the screen at Eddie whenever his eyes jump up.

"Oh, uh, that's very sweet of them," Bucky hedges, "I'm sure they're just turned on by the uniform."

"I know I am..." Eddie mutters, taking another pull from his drink.

"I don't know if they would feel that way if they saw me out of it."

Eddie spits his drink out over his coffee table as Bucky has the gall to smirk and laugh awkwardly and endearingly while Eddie tries to wipe up the beer with the arm of his sweatshirt.

"Oh, I-I don't mean it like that." Stupid hot Bucky continues, with his stupid hot face on Eddie's stupid beer-spattered TV screen.

"Well thanks, Buck, and thanks for all that you do day in and day out." the reporter says, a smile pulling at her lips.

"Uh, y-you're welcome." Bucky, Buck, smiles again and ducks his head, turning to walk back into the station.

Eddie keeps his eyes on the man as long as he can, watching as Buck stuffs one hand into his pocket and the other comes up to scratch absently at the back of his head.

Somehow, even blurry, Buck is hot; striding away from the camera with legs that seem to go on for miles.

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello, can I get part 4 jojo gang with a reader who's like Noelle from Genshin. Someone who is extremely strong, stubborn, reliable, and willing to endanger her life in order to help someone in need. With the reader's goal of becoming a Police officer

hi, sure! hope u enjoy and thank you for requesting :3

Josuke Higashikata

Totally in awe of you.

He first sees you one-arm lifting a scooter off a crushed puppy like “Oh thank goodness, it only got bruised!” while YOU’RE bleeding out and smiling like it’s no big deal.

“UHHH GIRL- ???”

He constantly has to heal you because you have zero self-preservation. “Y/N, you can’t protect the town if you’re dead!”

Thinks your goal to become a cop is noble but quietly worries about how reckless you are.

“You’d be the best officer ever… just please don’t run into burning buildings anymore.”

Lowkey gets flustered when you carry him bridal-style after a fight. 

Okuyasu

HE’S OBSESSED WITH YOU.

You’re strong, loyal, AND nice?? His dream girl?? His soulmate???

“You wanna be a cop?! That’s SICK!! I’d visit your station every day!!”

Tries to keep up with your workouts and fails miserably. You carried a vending machine once. He passed out after five pushups.

You once took a hit for him and he cried right there on the sidewalk.

Gets very emotional when you talk about wanting to protect Morioh. “Damn. You’re like a superhero. Like All Might, but, like… cuter.”

Koichi

Extremely impressed and extremely concerned.

The first time he sees you carry an injured jogger 3 miles back to town without breaking a sweat, he’s like 🧍‍♂️😳

“Y/N… you’re amazing. But maybe… slow down? Just a bit?”

Tries to talk you out of putting yourself in danger every time but you just smile and thank him for worrying.

“You’re way too good for this world,” he says, genuinely.

Thinks your dream is incredible and will support you 100%- makes you little flashcards for the written exam 

Rohan

Annoyed. Until he’s not.

“Ugh, you again. Charging into danger like some self-sacrificing anime cliché- ”

But the second you block a falling beam from crushing him and say “Are you alright, Mr. Kishibe?” he just stares at you.

He writes a character based on you. It becomes insanely popular.

Pretends he’s indifferent, but always keeps an eye on you during fights.

"If you die doing something stupid and noble, I will be very upset. That’s not permission. That’s a threat.”

Jotaro Kujo

Knows your type immediately.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” he mutters. “...She’s also going to save this whole town.”

Watches from the shadows like a worried dad. Pretends not to care.

You: getting thrown into a wall

Jotaro: “Yare yare daze- ORAORAORAORA- ”

He actually admires your dream to be a cop, even if he thinks you’re too soft-hearted.

Trains with you sometimes. Quietly impressed when you flip him over once.

“Good. Just don’t die. You’re more useful alive.”

Yukako

Girl you are her IDOL.

“...She’s like some sort of noble girl knight…”

After she’s sure you’re not into Koichi, she latches onto you like glue. Will support your dream.

“If anyone stands in your way, I’ll hold them hostage while you do your paperwork.”

She gets scary protective though. If you’re bleeding and still trying to run into battle, she hair-tackles you to the ground.

“You WILL rest. You are NOT disposable. Understand?!”

Reimi

She’s so moved by your kindness she tears up.

“You’re exactly the kind of person I wish had been there for me...”

You visit her at her alley often, sometimes cleaning up trash or watering the flowers nearby.

Reimi thinks you’re the kind of soul that changes fate.

She 100% believes you’ll become a police officer and help protect Morioh from things no one else sees.

You’re her favorite visitor. You always listen to her stories, and she tells you, “Don’t ever stop being you.”

Tonio

IMMEDIATELY TRIES TO FIX YOUR DIET.

“Signorina! You cannot survive on instant noodles and bruised knuckles alone!!”

Every time you come into his restaurant he’s like “You have dark circles. I am making you soup. SIT.”

He loves your kind spirit and even customizes your dishes to help you recover faster.

You once collapsed from dehydration after lifting a car off a kitten and he NEVER lets you forget it.

“You must treat yourself with the same love you give others!”

Shigechi

Thinks you’re SO cool.

“Whoa!! You’re like a muscley version of Koichi!!”

Tries to show off by helping you help people- like “I can use Harvest to get this lady’s purse back!!”

He’s your biggest fan tbh. Follows you around and asks questions constantly.

“Why do you wanna be a cop? Are the hats comfy?? Do you get snacks?”

You gently explain your sense of justice and he just goes 🥺

Starts calling you “Detective Y/N” and tries to draw you little fake badges.

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

Love love love imposing mc. Always my go to. Yess girl be scary as shit and don't let anyone stop you from striking fear into the hearts of everyone who dares go against you or your loved ones. Helps that they're 6'5 AND wear heels (probably around 2.5-3 inches?), naturally towering over literally everyone.

I also always call them Solstice (Sol for short). This bit of info has nothing to do with my ask honestly, I just love their name and want to share it because I think its pretty.

Besides the fact that being a threat to everyone makes it easier to scare away morons, I like to think they leaned more into the threatening and imposing nature in an irrationally strong fear of losing more people they love.

Like, if they are hated by everyone and don't let anyone close, they won't get attached. They'll just going to die on them anyway. They all always do. They'll leave them once again completely broken and a part of MC is going to die with them too. MC is just gonna make it easier for both of them and make sure you either hate their entire being or are too scared of what they can do, so they won't want to get close. Because gods know MC wants to, they crave to open up and to be understood and to be seen, and so they don't fully trust themself to always keep people away. MC has to make sure that even if their wall finally fully crumbles, no one will be brave and reckless enough to step over the ruins of it.

And then there's Aurynn and Samira who stuck with them for years, by choice or not. And that fact gets them to drop the act way more often, infact it is now rarely even up when they're alone with them, and it honestly kinda scares them. If they're still alive and around, can they finally stop?.. Or will it only make it easier for death to take these two away from them? Or have their actions and words done too much damage by now that even if it wont, they would not even want to know MC? But isn't it what they've wanted? Wouldn't that be for the best of everyone?

They also just kinda get scared and confused when people do something nice for them because of it. I imagine when Samira brought them their favorite food for the first time they've just kinda went "?????????? why would you do that for me".

I think meeting L will send them into absolute confusion honestly. Like, what the fuck do they do now if being absolutely unlikable didn't work? L just gotta push MC a little bit after the initial bite (metaphorical, unfortunately or not) and MC won't bite again. At least not immediately, MC probably kinda goes at it again later but more in a spicy feral kitten type of way.

Can't even image what meeting Nihm will do to them. MC will probably just explode on the spot. Poor thing.

Yay self sabotaging your own relationships to spare yourself the pain of losing someone 👍❤️💖💕💗👌👌 Also love it with a scary stoic closed off MC—all sharp angles on the outside to keep people away bc inside they are too soft and that scares them. Don’t want to get hurt again (even tho isolating themself and making people hate them hurts too) 😔

Cant wait for Sol to meet L and Nihm then and be absolutely baffled at why their very carefully crafted unlikeable personality ain’t doing shit to stop these two who are determined to be friends (?????????). Get loved, idiot ❤️💗💖💕✨🌈🥰

Thanks for sharing your MC! I love hearing about them! :D 👍❤️💕💗💖

[brynnmclean]

@honestlylegendarykitty said: It is WONDERFUL! In this dream sequence you have crafted such a subtle yet effective way for us to see how tricky Thórgestr's childhood must have been without his mother present to help him resist becoming his father's tool. I feel that there are heartbreaking similarities to the events of Senua's youth. But just as her mother remained alive in her subconscious and helped her see truths - both painful and wonderful ones - so too does Thórgestr's mother linger on after her death to aid her child - beautiful!

You'll have to forgive me for pulling this out of the notes! First off, I want to say thanks for the nice comment here about the chapter!!!! It's really good to hear that it read well for you, and it means so much to me that you liked this chapter in particular, as it is my favorite!

I'm SO glad that the parallels between Thórgestr and Senua work. I wanted things to feel similar to what Senua went through with Zynbel and Galena, but not identical... and also I personally don't think Thórgestr has achieved full clarity on how damaging his relationship with his father really was over the years. I think his feelings about his father are complex, mixed up between a lot of things-- anger, fear, love, grief. A lot of things are true at once. He's processing!!!!

Re: his mother, the fact that she is never spoken of in the game and that Thórgestr's father is such a towering (ha) figure in his life, I felt like she had to be completely absent from Thórgestr's life for a long time in some way... but it wouldn't have sat right with me to have her just be dead and never mentioned again. I love ghosts and spooky dreams. I love the idea of her as a fate-spirit watching over him-- and that he can only see her now that his father is gone.

Anyway, thank you so much, again, for such a nice comment. I really appreciate it! Eindrid is sticking around in the fic (and probably the second fic) in a couple different ways. :) I hope you keep enjoying the fic as we go!

fic: in the core of everything drums a beat

[Senua’s Saga: Hellblade II; Mature, WIP, a Thórgestr-centric Redemption Arc fic with slowburn Senua/Thórgestr - read the new chapter on AO3 here] [chapter one post | chapter two post | rough draft excerpts post]

Thórgestr! He hears not with his ears, not in his mind, but deep in the marrow of his bones. At first it is the enraged snarl of Áleifr, the promise of brutality if he does not come to heel. He freezes, prey in sight of danger. But then—Thórgestr—another voice joins his father’s and outlasts him. It draws Thórgestr away from fear, deeper into the dreaming but away from the dark. In the dreaming again, in the space between worlds, a spirit makes her presence known.

It's my birthday today, so it is a fic chapter posting day! This is one of my favorite chapters in the fic, so I hope you enjoy it. Thank you as always to everyone who has been reading along and commenting whether in Ellipsus, Google Docs, AO3, or here on tumblr. I appreciate it! I'm not done writing this draft, but I'm still working steadily!

[wildlocks]

velastra's ending... karlach died, lae'zel left, astarion ascended, gale died in act 1 after she cut his hand off, wyll broke his pact and fucked off, shadowheart killed her parents, raphael took over the hells, the emperor switched sides, and vel stabbed orpheus once they beat the netherbrain. but at least she overcame her dark urges!

[deus-ex-mona]

the way this was the last new image featuring daimeggle th o u g h

[cesium-sheep]

aaaaaaa okey I ordered the speaker and the star projector. (and a beauty blender and a neck support and the new volume of yona and the garbage disposal cleaner matt wanted.) it was still only $35 actually out of pocket and I get my allowance in the morning which will completely replace that amount. I will definitely like the speaker and if I don't like the star projector arin will.

[muzzlemouths]

Your sona looks like Michael the distortion (form the magnus archives)

i don't know the first thing about TMA but this guy's vibes are impeccable

[connormoving]

its so embarassing likee. going to talk abt a feeling you have but you already know ppl will be like Oh that sounds like depression lol and its like. well yes . i know . trust me i am so aware i am depressed . but its still like a thing ive been thinking abt and wanting to talk abt but ik itll just be like Ok hun 👍. idk idk what response i would want tho ig FNFNFNF

[neverendingford]

.

[snekdood]

i think i'd be a horrible vampire, like, in terms of my comic's version of them- i'd be too lazy to do all that shit zero does.