#and how to react accordingly to everyone of them

[yikesy]

pre toa apollo is the type of person to arrive to a council meeting 20 mins late with starbucks and excuse himself with 'sorry i'm late i didn't want to come'

post toa apollo is the type of person to arrive to the council meeting exactly on point down to the second and spend the whole thing smiling vacantly and giving the most vague non answers that are still somehow perfectly diplomatic and then leave also the exact millisecond it ends

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader

You were not expecting anything from this new placement. You knew better now a days, have been on the system since day 1, and at this point? You know better than to hope.

Usually the houses you ended up in were all mediocre at best. Foster parents that already had their own children were the most neglectful homes, even to their own children. Which also resulted in bad blood between the foster kids and the biological kids.

And worst of all, you were human. Just a simple, small, defenseless human stuck in the foster system. Usually, they try to match human kids with human foster parents. But, humans were not a big part of the population, in fact, different kind of hybrids were the biggest part of the population.

And now, failed attempts after failed attempts, you got transfered to a neighbor city (not for the first time), and this time, to a hybrid pack househood. It wasn't your first time with hybrids, but it was always a little scary. They were strangers, and adult hybrids were SO much bigger than humans. Especially a human your age, with your small size thanks to lack of care throughout the years.

Hybrids were bigger, stronger, scarier... still, you knew it couldn't be worse than some houses you have been in before, or at least, that's what you're telling yourself. Not that your social worker was helping with your anxiety, as the old bear hybrid woman gave you some information about your new foster family.

They were a big pack, which was a concept you already had difficulty to grasp. Pack doesn't always mean the nuclear family, but could also mean family friends, or sometimes, just relatives. As a human, hearing the word "pack", or "hoard", or "coven", or whatever else they could use to name their little groups, always left you a little confused.

They were four hybrid parents, a Dragon, a Werewolf, a Harpy and a Wraith. They were all part of the military, special forces or something, and they had a lot of children already, children that were already adults and had moved out some time ago. They were taking fosters now, and accordingly to your social worker, they were delightful and very nurturing parents.

You don't know what to think of that.

So all you could do was hold tightly to your beated backpack straps as your social worker excitedly introduced you to four hybrid men in their big house, giant hybrid men with so many muscles, and why is everyone so big and buff?? You knew they were military before, but god dammit, they could crush you with one hand. Here to hoping you don't annoy them to that point.

You weren't really making eye contact, keeping your eyes to the ground as you heard your social worker talk to the new fosters, but still, you would peak at them every couple of seconds or so, just to assess how they were reacting to your presence.

The dragon, one of the biggest hybrids you have ever seen, had that kinda of... respectful and mature face, smart eyes that went between you and the social worker as he nodded along to what she was saying. He was standing still, arms crossed lightly, and just one big wing carefully drapped behind his back. He smiled lightly, trying to keep casual and confortable to the new people, avoiding staring at you too much, no matter how much he wanted to.

The harpy, that was standing by the dragon's side, had such a gentle smile on his face that you avoided looking at his face again after the first peak. Gentle eyes, gentle smile, gentle demeanour. His giant, featherly wings, were also carefully tucked behind his back, almost as if to make himself smaller. Tho, it didn't help your anxiety as you saw how his feet looked like... not feet, in fact, talons.

The werewolf, a weird guy with a mohawk for christ sake, didn't even try to hide it how much he was staring. Big eyes on top of you, tail wagging a bit too fast behind him as his wolf ears perked up and moved as the social worker talked. Still, his eyes were just on you, assessing your small and timid demeanour, how truly small a human could be, how defenseless you looked.

The wraith wasn't that different either. Staring at your face with a stoic and passive look, even tho a balaclava with some skull prints covered most of his face besides the eyes, that had some... shadowy thing around them. He looked bigger than the others, but you could still see he was sligthly shorter than the Dragon, he was just buffer, and was also staring directly at you. He almost forgot how pathetic humans could be.

All of them were caught a little of guard, actually.

You were small, already small for a human, but for hybrids? Almost like a little kid. Humans rarely build much muscle throughout their teens too, so you looked like a skinny little thing, differently from how other races' kids worked. You looked like a small, young child, but even their little kids had some kind of protection. Sharp teeths, or shap claws, or sharp talons, or any kind of ability that could defend themselves.

You had nothing of the sort. You didn't have any nails, basically, short as they were in a small and delicate little hand. Feet tucked safely inside your round little sneakers, feet that, of course, wouldn't have any talons, and were delicate enough to have to stay protected by shoes. Your teeth were round and flat, looked so small too, just like your short tongue. You were soft, all soft and small and delicate. Just like a human is compared to hybrids.

Johnny had to control himself not to coo at the sight as you gently licked your uper lip and quietly fidget in place, slightly behind the big bear hybrid that was your social worker. They had a lot of kids, and he was there since all of them were a baby, but since they were all hybrids, seeing a small little thing like you, unprotected and without any kind of abilities... it made something stirr inside of him.

All of the others were in the same boat, to be fair. Parental instincts going into high overdrive just by looking at you. John was just trying his best to pretend he wasn't that effected since he still needed to pay attention to the social worker, and Kyle was making a good job of discreetly nudging Johnny and Simon so they could stop staring so hard at you.

"So, if any trouble arises, you can always call me. Even if it's just questions, anything you might be worried about, i'll help you out. Is that okay?"

"Perfectly fine, ma'am." The dragon immediatly answers, smiling neutrally as he nods.

"Yeah, this isn't our first time doing this." The harpy jokes slightly, charming smile on his face as he makes your social worker laugh a little bit with him.

"I know it isn't, boys, but it is your first time taking care of a human." She points out, a small smile on her face despite the serious tone. "They are not the same as hybrids, you know that."

"Of course. We're going to be very careful with them, don't worry." The dragon immediatly goes to sooth her worries, nodding easily.

"As i hope. Please, call me if you need anything! And, good luck, boys!"

Now, it's just you and your four new foster parents.

Part 2

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * JASPER HALE HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

pre-relationship / discovery of the bond

jasper knew the second you walked into the room.

not just “noticed”—felt you. like gravity shifted, and suddenly his entire existence narrowed down to you.

the first time your scent hits him, it nearly knocks the breath from his lungs. not because it tempts him—no, it calms him.

at first, he was terrified of it. not because he didn’t want it, but because he didn’t think he deserved it.

“i’ve done things i don’t want her to even imagine,” he tells alice one night, eyes dark with guilt. “how can i be the one meant for her?”

he keeps his distance at first, almost painfully so. you’ll notice him staring but always retreating when you look his way.

he’s constantly using his empathy to gauge your feelings, fascinated by your emotional landscape. you feel bright to him. alive.

he accidentally mirrors your emotions often, because yours are stronger than anything he’s ever felt before. your joy makes him smile without realizing it.

alice helps him understand it—encourages him, gently. “you don’t get to keep punishing yourself forever, jazz. maybe this is the beginning of something better.”

he keeps finding excuses to be near you. quiet glances from across the room. walking slower so he ends up next to you. little things.

and the first time you touch him? just a casual brush of your hand when you pass him something? he feels peace. real, complete peace.

getting together

he’s old-fashioned, so expect subtle southern gentleman behavior—opening doors, standing when you walk into a room, offering his arm.

jasper is incredibly careful with you at first.

he doesn’t touch you unless you initiate it, terrified of overstepping or triggering a memory you haven’t shared.

every date is deliberate. thoughtful.

a hand-picked book he thinks you’ll like. a midnight walk under the stars. a letter slipped into your bag with a dried flower.

he’s a subtle romantic. not loud or flashy—but deeply poetic. he sees your soul, and treats it like something sacred.

he insists on asking for your permission every step of the way—even when he knows you’ll say yes. he likes hearing your consent. it grounds him.

he’s incredibly attentive. you won’t even need to say what you’re feeling—he just knows and acts accordingly.

overstimulated at a party? he’s already gently guiding you to a quieter spot. feeling insecure? he’s whispering how proud he is to be yours.

protective jasper

extremely protective. not overbearing, but there’s a very specific tone in his voice when someone upsets you—and everyone learns quickly not to test him.

if someone flirts with you in front of him? you don’t even have to react. jasper’s stare alone is enough to make them regret breathing.

he doesn’t lose control, but it’s chilling how calm he is when warning someone off. his southern charm vanishes, replaced by cold steel.

“you okay, sugar?” he’ll ask, even though he knows you’re angry or upset—he always gives you the space to name your emotions.

his body reacts before his brain when he senses you’re in danger. one second you’re just talking to someone; the next, jasper’s in front of you, eyes dark.

you’re the only one who can calm him down afterward. a touch. a word. one look from you and his shoulders drop.

he won’t fight unless he has to. but he will place himself between you and danger without hesitation.

and afterward, even if he didn’t get a scratch, he’ll come back to you and ask, “did i scare you? are you alright, sweetheart?”—his only concern is you.

even when there’s no physical danger, he’s protective of your emotions. if someone makes you feel small or disrespected, he’s the first to validate you.

he’s especially protective when you’re sick, injured, or emotionally overwhelmed.

when you’re sick, he’s gentle to the point of obsession. he reads every label, follows every instruction, makes sure you’re hydrated, warm, and resting.

“you just rest, honey. i’ve got everything else covered.”

carries you to bed. reads to you in that soft, slow drawl. kisses your forehead like it’s holy.

little moments

he hums old civil war-era lullabies under his breath without realizing it when he’s relaxed around you. it’s soft and hauntingly beautiful.

he calls you “darlin’,” “sweetheart,” and occasionally “sugar.” but when he’s really soft or overwhelmed? he just whispers your name like it’s a prayer.

he traces your face with his fingers when you’re asleep, memorizing it over and over like he still can’t believe you’re real.

whenever you laugh, his entire expression changes. the stoic, brooding mask slips and he looks young again. alive.

jasper thrives in stillness with you. he’s lived through chaos, through war, through fire and pain. quiet domestic life is heaven to him.

loves slow dancing in the living room with you, especially when it’s quiet. no music—just the sound of your heartbeat and the feel of you in his arms.

has an old journal where he writes about you. bits of poetry, little memories, sketches of your smile. you don’t know about it. yet.

he brings you trinkets from his travels—old coins, pressed flowers, strange books—like a crow in love.

loves the feeling of your heartbeat against his chest when you fall asleep on him. it’s the only sound that ever silences the ghosts in his head.

if you cry, he hurts. it’s not just emotional—it’s physical. he feels the ache in his chest and wants nothing more than to take it from you.

“let me carry it, sweetheart. please. you don’t have to do this alone.”

when he feeds, he always tries to finish quickly so he can return to you. being away from you too long makes him tense, restless. he needs you to stay grounded.

his love language

i. physical touch

touch is his primary love language—because after years of cold detachment, being able to feel love physically again is everything.

he always has a hand on you: resting on your lower back, fingers laced with yours, thumb brushing your knuckles.

in bed, even if you’re not cuddling, some part of him is always touching you—ankle to ankle, hand to your waist, his chest against your back.

ii. acts of service

jasper does little things to make your life easier—always quietly.

he’ll fix something without you asking, make your tea just right, or track down a book you mentioned once.

never asks for credit, either. he just wants to take care of you in the ways you won’t even notice until later.

the first time you thanked him for something small—like charging your dead phone—he gave you this soft smile and said, “you don’t have to thank me. loving you is the easy part.”

iii. words of affirmation

jasper’s not the most vocal at first, but when he does speak, it means everything.

he’ll tell you you’re brave, kind, strong, and the light of his eternity—but always in that quiet, emotionally-heavy drawl.

“you have no idea what you mean to me, darlin’. none.”

his kisses

jasper’s kisses are intentional. always. whether it’s soft and slow or heated and desperate, he never rushes—he savors.

he kisses you like he’s memorizing the shape of your soul, not just your lips.

his favorite spot to kiss you (besides your lips) is your forehead. it’s protective, tender, and makes you feel cherished.

when he’s overwhelmed by how much he loves you, he kisses your hands—your knuckles, your palms, your fingertips—like you’re something fragile and sacred.

he also kisses the inside of your wrist, where he can feel your pulse. it calms him.

after a nightmare or a bad day, he kisses your temple with a whispered, “i’ve got you now, darlin’. you’re safe.”

when he kisses you in private, it’s slow and deep—like he’s trying to convey everything he can’t say.

when he kisses you after being away? he cups your face in both hands like he needs to ground himself. his voice goes low and reverent:

“missed you like hell, sugar.”

the first “i love you”

jasper doesn’t say it quickly. not because he doesn’t feel it—he feels it constantly—but because he knows what those words mean, and he doesn’t take them lightly.

you feel it in everything he does long before he says it: the way he looks at you like you hung the stars, the way he memorizes your favorite songs, how he tracks your moods without a word.

the first time he almost says it, it slips out mid-sentence: “i just—god, i love—” and he cuts himself off, lips pressed together. you pretend not to notice to spare him.

the actual first time is quiet.

maybe you’re sitting on the porch, wrapped in a blanket, and you say something that makes him laugh—something small, but genuine.

he leans in, voice soft and raw:

“i love you. and i know what that means, sugar. i don’t say it ‘cause it’s easy—i say it ‘cause it’s true.”

he watches you like he’s bracing for impact. and when you say it back? his entire body relaxes, like he’s finally home.

angst potential

the idea of accidentally hurting you terrifies him.

he disappears sometimes—not to run from you, but to protect you from his darker moods. when he feels himself slipping into old war-born rage, he retreats.

some nights, he distances himself just to be sure you’re safe, and it hurts both of you.

“i love you more than you’ll ever know,” he’ll whisper against your hair when you sleep. “but i still don’t know if i deserve someone like you.”

there was a moment—early on—when he snapped during a hunt, overwhelmed by thirst, and afterward he wouldn’t let you near him for days.

“i saw myself in the mirror,” he whispered, hollow. “and i thought: ‘she can’t love a thing like that.’

you had to pull him back to you. remind him he’s more than a soldier. more than a scarred past. that you choose him, always.

you’re the one who helps him forgive himself.

and eventually, he lets you in fully. lets you see every scar. because loving you makes him want to be better. not just for you—with you.

his greatest fear is losing you—because he believes the universe gave him one final chance at peace. and if you’re gone…

“i won’t survive it, sugar. you leave, and that’s the end of me.”

[thebibliosphere]

Ma'am/Sir/Other

So much of your blog is "Yaya another thing in my body broke (kill me)"

I'm not judging at all, cause I'm also dealing with that somewhat but,

In the most polite manner possible;

How the fuck do you manage to function without killing everyone around you in a bodily pain induced rage.

Body hurts too much.

But in all seriousness, therapy and a whole lot of radical acceptance.

I don't approve or like what’s happening to me, but realistically, there is no way to avoid it, so I either have to accept it and make changes to my life or reject it and increase my suffering.

It might take me a while to process this change and there might be a few screaming breakdowns in the interim (”it's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!”) but after a long time of doing this type of therapy, I’ve gotten good at holding my own hand and holding myself through the despair.

It’s a bit like being my own gentle parent. Like “hey bud, I know this sucks and you’re feeling a lot of big emotions right now. And I’m not asking you to stop feeling them, but I do need you to eat and drink before you get sick, okay? Okay, you’ve had some water, do you want to try for a shower? No? Okay, let’s go back to bed for a bit. We’ll try later... Cry it out if you need to. I’ve got you.”

Probably sounds bonkers to some people but it's the only reason I’m still alive.

My support network is wonderful and they do so much to keep me going, but it wasn't until I allowed myself to feel my emotions and self soothe through them that things got better.

I can’t change what has been done to me. I can’t change the dynamic nature of my disabilities or the fact that parts of my body will continue to break down. But I can accept myself and say, this is the way things are: react accordingly for our continued survival.

Radical acceptance isn’t about approval or giving up. It's a stress tolerance skill that lets you look at some of the worst parts of your life and go “fuck this sucks. Okay, how do I make this suck less?” and then following through on it.

It's a skill that takes a long time to build. But it's well worth investing in.

[monstersflashlight]

Monster smash (part 3)

A/N: Hi lovelies! I finally decided how this one is going to play out and who is going to be the main romantic partner (or partners) in this story. So now you can see it’s minotaur x dragon x lizard-woman x human, I’m all for a good poly relationship and I want to explore this one with y’all, hope you are on board, too. You can read part 1 here and part 2 here. Enjoy!

Minotaur x dragon x lizard-woman x fem!reader || sfw

“You are all monsters…” You let out in a whisper, all of their faces impassive as they stare down at you. You blink slowly, still trying to process.

“Yes, we are, honey. I thought you knew, you were so excited to be here I just assumed…” The lady from the grocery store, the fucking scary demon in front of you, is being so careful and cute and it’s making your head hurt. She’s so nice, but looks so scary… Your brain can’t fully comprehend what is all that about.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” the big orc says, blinking slowly at her as she hits his arm.

He lets out a high yelp and that, of all things, breaks you. You let out a manic laughter, your whole body moving with the force of it, tears rolling down your eyes as you feel like you are descending into madness.

And then the tears turn into sobbing, and you are almost convinced you are insane. Totally insane, and everyone is looking at you like you are, indeed, insane. The grocery lady offers you some tissues, and you take them, your breathing labored between sobs. You feel a hand on your back, rubbing soft circles, and when you turn to the side and see your dragon neighbor, you can’t even react accordingly. You stare at them, their big body looming over you as they pass you another tissue.

“Are you okay?” Their voice is soft but with a hint of fire under it (get it? Fire because they’re a dragon). You shake your head, but your sobs stop, only lonely tears running down your cheeks at that point.

You are sitting on the floor, with a dragon consoling you and a bunch of monsters staring you like you are the weird one. Which… maybe you are. In that particular group, you are the weird one. That realization leaves you feeling a bit better, taking a deep breath and wiping away the few tears still clinging to your eyelashes.

“I think I’m going to go,” you whisper, shaking your head and avoiding your best friend’s eyes.

“Let me walk you home,” your minotaur landlord says, his voice soft as he helps you to your feet. You let him, your body and mind too tired to fight him or anyone else. You need to sleep, to process… You might be in shock.

You walk alongside him when the dragon yells: “Wait for me! I’m leaving, too!”

They rush behind you two, a big smile on their face. You have to bite your lip to avoid chuckling. They are fucking cute in their dragon form, even cutter than their human one, and you might have a bit of a crush on them. You had it before when you only knew about their human characteristics and now… Now you think they are even more special. And you lowkey dig that.

You are definitely in shock.

They stop at the door, and you watch in fascination as they turn to their human selves. You think your mouth is open, but you can’t get it to close as you watch them change completely in front of you.

The walk home is silent, their presence making your heart a bit faster, but not in fear exactly. You feel some kind of anticipation, as if the idea of them being monsters is not as weird as you thought. You think about all the weird quirks you’ve seen before. The dragon hoard, the weird way in which your landlord always played with his septum, now replicated with the big ring you knew his minotaur form had. It all makes sense in a weird way.

All but one thing… your best friend lying to you.

They stop in front of your door, both of them staring at you as if you are going to start crying again at any second, but you don’t. Your brain feels weirdly calm as you say your goodbyes and watch them walk down the hall. The dragon sends a wink your way, and you smile at them. Your landlord only grunts on his way down the stairs, and you can’t stop yourself from checking his ass.

You walk into your apartment with your head pounding and your body feeling weird. You have to sit down and process what’s going to happen next… But you have no idea.

“The best way to deal with shit is going to sleep,” you say out loud, laughing at yourself as you get out of your silly costume and fall face first onto your mattress.

Your dreams are plagued with monsters and heat, and you wake up with a jolt. You rush through your morning routine as if the world wasn’t upside down. As if you didn’t discover the existence of monsters less than 24h. The wonders of capitalism, your life might be in shambles, but you have to get dressed and go to work either way. And that’s exactly what you have to do.

You are almost out the door when you saw the tiny piece of paper slipped under your door that reads: Meet me for tea?

You know who wrote that, she wrote those exact words a thousand times before, and you always said yes. But now… Now you aren’t sure if you want to meet her. You aren’t sure if she deserves you to meet her. She lied to you, and you are still mad about it. You talked about everything and anything, you shared your deepest, darkest secrets with her, and you thought she did the same with you… But she didn’t. And it hurts. It hurts so bad you want to scream. But instead you take the piece of paper and break it into dozens of tiny pieces.

You exit your door at the same time her door opens. She stares at you, and you stare at her. It’s so weird to see her back in her human form. She sees the mess of tiny papers on the floor and she sighs, letting out a soft: “Darling, please…”

“Don’t call me darling,” you tell her, an accusatory finger pointed in her direction.

“I can explain everything, please. Just one cup of tea. And then I’ll leave you alone,” the plea in her tone makes your insides turn, your resolution melting as her eyes flash yellow in front of you.

Ugh, you the that she’s your weakness. You didn’t have enough crushing on your best friend, but on top of that she had to be a lizard-woman… How the fuck was your life like that?

“Ugh, fine.”

You hope you don’t regret it.

[tanadrin]

could you elaborate, why do you believe that people online continue to talk about the flint water crisis as if it were still active? Is it just ignorance of the solution or are there ongoing health issues?

i mean i think people do that bc "everything is fucked and nothing ever gets better" is a genre of post that tickles the limbic system, and in the attention economy of the internet, anything that tickles the limbic system tends to do well, bc it produces engagement. outrage, and outrage-adjacent things, and cliches like "why is no one talking about [major news article everyone is talking about]" and "don't get excited about apparently-good-thing X, here's why it's actually just as bad as [completely different thing it is in no way just as bad as]" and all that other stuff.

and because negativity and outrage--even negativity with no underlying substance--makes a bigger splash than positive stuff with real underlying substance, continuing to repeat "flint doesn't have clean water" (a crisis that did genuinely drag on for a very long time!) has more salience than the news that flint's water problem was fixed (something that took a long time when it finally was properly tackled and didn't generate a single large headline).

there's kind of a similar dynamic in climate news actually, where genuine improvements in areas like energy storage and clean energy rollout and new nuclear permitting don't make a dent in people's narrative that everything is fucked and we're making no progress because IPCC forecasts about what would happen if we hit 4 degrees of warming are genuinely very bad and scary (and, thankfully, no longer on the table!), whereas the boring policy details of stuff in the Inflation Reduction Act, or China's continuing expansion of EV manufacturing are, well... boring. although climate news is different in other ways--like, the planet will continue to warm until carbon emissions are net negative, so even as we make progress on that issue the crisis continues. it's not all good news. but there is good news there, which just gets much less traction online bc of the dynamics of how news works on the internet.

needless to say, though, i think if you want to have an accurate understanding of the world you need to internally mentally check your own tendency to succumb to engagement bait like this. worst case scenario you fall into a doom loop, which i think is pretty unhealthy just in general. but if you notice somebody post something compelling, and you click on their username, and it turns out that all they post is about how the world is fucked, and nothing good ever happens, and we're all gonna die, i think you should be suspicious of them and their motives. not because doomposting is inherently manipulative or deceptive--a lot of people genuinely are doomers! but that doesn't mean they're not responding to the limbic incentives of social media, either. after all, if you too express nothing but pessimism and outrage, then the people addicted to pessimism and outrage will applaud you for being Very Serious and give you lots of engagement and attention, and you will react accordingly.

and also, you know. some people do just lie on the internet for attention. that is absolutely a thing that happens. i am not inclined to bend over backwards to try to reconstruct a generous framing of those lies where maybe people somehow are under the mistaken impression that there is some ongoing sub-problem affecting flint that they have mistaken for being isomorphic to the original crisis. some of them are just liars!

[sayuri-of-the-valley]

On how Crowley and Aziraphale felt during the kiss (but mainly Crowley here):

Ok so first, the main idea for this huge meta is that a LOT of us noticed how the music from the kiss scene is similar to the nebula one, right?

Second, a lot of us also correctly noticed the parallels between the kiss and how it was to taste food for the first time for Aziraphale: bc of his reactions, the hand on lips, the similar way MS acted both scenes, the little inhale etc. So how was it for Crowley?

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss is practically a puzzle to solve on its own, so it's fun to analyse it, but basically, in a few words, Aziraphale kissed Crowley and he discovered he was physically starving for him, longing for him, yearning for him, for his kiss, and he had no idea. Just like with the ox. And now he needs to gorge himself in him but he can't. Great amazing heartbreaking chef's kiss someone give MS an Emmy.

But there's already so much amazing meta out there about Aziraphale x Ox ribs x The Kiss that I want to focus on Crowley here, and on the music.

So back to the music. The song in "Before the Beginning" and the song that plays during The Kiss (I Forgive You + Don't Bother) are so similar. They're not *exactly* the same, but they're totally reminiscent of each other. The viewer is immediately reminded of those chords that played in the opening scene. It's no coincidence that the fandom was talking about this fact only minutes after first watching those final fifteen minutes. This is an obvious intentional choice for storytelling reasons (David Arnold is a genius).

I have no expertise whatsoever when it comes to music, so I asked our friend @otsanda to see if that made sense and not only it does and she explained it, but she also uncovered so much more hidden meaning in all of it (musicians are amazing), so check out her meta about the music that not only serves as evidence to what I'm proposing here but it also has so much more juicy information in it 💖.

Back to the point: WHY thought? Why choose a similar song? Why intentionally COMPOSE a similar song for that moment?

Hear me out. WHAT IF, by reminding the audience of the creation of the nebula, they meant to convey to us that, for Crowley, kissing Aziraphale gave him the same feeling that creating his stars did?

THAT'S what the music is telling us. THAT'S why it makes us remember "Before the Beginning". It may sound cheesy, but Crowley may have literally seen stars when he kissed Aziraphale. He couldn't react accordingly (just like Aziraphale couldn't), bc it was an overwhelming and extremely sad moment (the music is also telling us that) for both of them. They knew it was ending . They were both having a moment of huge revelation that was fated to not come to completion. Crowley was right, it was too late.

It makes sense to show Crowley's feelings through the music, bc he was the one who started the kiss, and also he was wearing sunglasses in that scene, it's different from a character like Aziraphale that has all his million expressions for everyone to see at all times. And they've been doing this ever since s1 with the Queen songs that play in his car or in the background.

So my point is: the same song being used there makes me wonder if kissing Aziraphale finally gave him what he lost. His purpose. What Aziraphale was trying to give back to him by taking him back to heaven. There's no need for Heaven. Just kiss him, Aziraphale, and there he'll find the stars you want to give back to him. There you will one day see that smile on his face you saw Before The Beginning. Neil Gaiman and David Arnold I am in your walls 😭

This is what may lead us to see this happiness in Crowley again (not the action of kissing itself, of course, but what it represents to their relationship, them being together, them being an Us).

As @otsanda said: from the music we can interpret that that moment was a Revelation for them. Almost a religious experience. Crowley found his purpose again. What he'd been missing the whole season (or even his whole life since the Fall, but we've seen him especially depressed this season).

I'm not even getting into the poetry of how one can interpret the parallel to the angel's reaction to the kiss as carnal, and the demon's as religious; that would be another whole essay but let's just agree that it's incredibly beautiful. (Let me be clear that I mean here Aziraphale's reaction is carnal specifically for Crowley, and Crowley's is religious specifically for Aziraphale, not religious as in "worshipping god")

"Do you ever wonder what's the point?" Crowley asked in s2e1. The point, for him, is Aziraphale (if you've seen The Good Place you know what I mean). I hope he figured this out with that kiss, even as heartbreaking as it was. Even if it was a (temporary) separation kiss. (I hope Aziraphale figures this out with time too, that he's more than enough to make Crowley happy, that Crowley doesn't need Heaven, or stars, that Crowley needs him.)

Maybe that's why Crowley didn't leave and kept waiting outside until the very last moment.

Aziraphale and Crowley both bit the apple at the end of s2. There's no turning back from that Knowledge now.

Edit: I just have to add here this brilliant colour analysis of the nebula scene by @halemerry. And it's pointed out that during the nebula formation there's a moment when it looks like two people embracing. And the fact that a similar song is used in the actual Kiss scene I just... I have no words

[michanvalentine]

Unfortunately, I played Baldur's Gate late, so I often find myself reflecting on concepts that have probably already been discussed a million times. Bear with me — I need to vent these thoughts somehow.

So... Every now and then, while reading various posts around the web, I find myself wondering what those unfortunate 7,006 souls ever did to be so quickly dismissed and condemned. Seriously. I’m stunned by how easily people judge and by the lack of moral and objective analysis. In the game, of course, everything goes — I myself sent them all to hell without much hesitation in one of my runs. They're not real people and the point is to have fun.

But when you stop and analyze the situation from the outside — not as players inside a videogame, but as people with empathy, morals, and common sense who are engaging with a narrative — I genuinely struggle to understand how this act can be seen as justifiable. Among all those souls used in the ascension ritual, the only one that truly deserves to burn in hell is Cazador. The others? Unlucky, foolish, maybe in love. Astarion says it himself: they were people who let their guard down and fell for his sweet words.

"Every one who ever trusted me enough to let down their guard... innocents, idiots, and the unluky."

Among them, there’s surely some piece of shit who hurt Astarion, who abused him, and maybe does deserve to rot in hell alongside Cazador. But others were just drunks, not entirely in control of their decisions. Were some of them whoremongers? Sure — but that’s not a crime. They were seduced, lured in, encouraged — they didn’t drag Astarion into an alley to use him. It was Cazador who exploited and raped him, forcing him into that role.

Were some of them jerks, criminals? Sure. But Astarion himself isn’t a saint — that doesn’t mean he’s more worthy of mercy than they are. He’s not inherently more deserving of survival than his brothers and sisters, for instance. And I say this as someone who loves Astarion. On top of that, these poor bastards have been imprisoned for centuries, starving, neglected, stripped of the most basic decency. Astarion himself points it out.

If you believe Astarion has paid for his past sins by enduring Cazador’s abuse (and on this point I fully agree), then that same logic must apply to them. A little consistency, for God’s sake. Yes, they’re starved vampire spawn — but they’re also capable of self-control. And more importantly, they want to live, just like Astarion. In fact, I would go even further: they are Astarion. They represent the mirror in which he sees himself — and what he sees is so unbearable that he wants to erase them entirely. Just as he would erase that part of himself he considers pathetic and miserable. When in reality, it’s not pathetic at all — it’s the strong part, the part that survived the 200 years under Cazador.

"[...]I don't want to be like them... They are patethic, horrible... [...] That weakness in me is dead. It's dead! I have a higher purpose."

Moreover, it’s made very clear in the epilogue that they’re not mindless bloodthirsty monsters without reason or restraint. If they were, it’d be easy for everyone — for the player, for Astarion, and for the rest of the companions — to sacrifice them all. There wouldn’t be a moral dilemma. There wouldn’t be consequences. No tension in the plot, I might add. It would be completely flat.

But there are consequences. All the companions react accordingly. They condemn the act. They realize Astarion has become a monster. Because the ascension isn’t a walk in the woods with birds chirping — it’s a vile act, a deeply repugnant devil’s bargain, as Raphael himself says. It condemns a multitude of innocent souls to eternal suffering, after being deceived by Astarion (just like the player, who’s drawn in by his charm and simple plan), and after already enduring unspeakable pain under Cazador.

It’s monstrous.

"[...] It's a rather grim tale, even for my tastes. [...] The contract states that Cazador will be granted knowledge of an infernal ritual so vile it has never been performed. [...] Your soul will set off a very weave of death bringing Cazador his twisted life."

A diabolical act that will bring forth something twisted and corrupted, a sick imitation of life.

Somewhere I even read: “The companions suddenly treat AA like he’s evil incarnate when he hasn’t done anything wrong yet!” Seriously?! Honestly, it sounds less like we’re talking about victims and more like parasites. And besides, I don’t even see why these vampire spawn should be considered more dangerous or less deserving than the ones AA would go on to create. So no, you’re not doing the world a favor by eliminating them.

The morally right and more humane choice is to set them free.

Then, if someone in the game wants to kill them because they’re playing an evil character, prefer the ascended vampire, or whatever else — fine by me. Far be it from me to ruin anyone’s fun.

But to justify the act in general, outside the game? Mmmh…

The fact that people love Astarion and that he has suffered — and no one is denying that — at the hands of Cazador, doesn’t automatically give him the right to do whatever he wants or to be excused and treated like a righteous man because of it, especially when he acts like a monster beyond redemption (the damn ritual). Otherwise, why not grant the same satisfaction to Cazador himself? He also suffered at the hands of Vellioth, poor thing. And he suffers deeply because of his condition as an undead, even though he stands above his vampire spawn and possesses everything Astarion believes to be important—power, wealth, status.

"These deathless dreams hold memories of a mortal life once-forgotten. Of the boy I was, the man i became, the monster that will not end. I sleep, but cannot rest. I live, but cannot die. I'm eternal, and I grieve."

Astarion is just one of the many other spawn meant to be sacrificed, identical to the others in every way. The only difference is that we happen to get the chance to know him, that’s all. And most importantly, in what way, during the act itself (the performance of the ritual), is Astarion any different from Cazador? In none. He literally takes his place. So if Cazador is the evil one—the bastard, the monster who must die and be punished—then in that moment, Astarion becomes one too. And it’s precisely by refusing the ritual that Astarion sets himself apart and becomes morally deserving of something—respect and admiration, to begin with—better than the others, better than Cazador. Otherwise, he’s just a thief who brutally steals his tormentor’s life’s work.

It’s not like I’m trying to overanalyze the concepts and the characters — which, for the record, are crystal clear to me and thoroughly explained within the game itself — it’s just that I genuinely can’t understand how mass murder or condemning innocent souls to hell can be seen as just or acceptable outside the context of the game.

[thisismyhell]

Talking Back

Summary: you're the newest on the team, but instead of getting the newbie roasts, you join in on making Reid the constant punching bag. He's getting tired of the public humiliation, even though it turns him on a little bit.

Words: 1.8k

Warnings: humiliation, making out, heavy petting, hickeys, hand job

You were sitting in the briefing room reading your respective files. It was a slow day and you were brainstorming helpful pointers for a local precinct. Without having to get on the jet, the room had no urgency. Sitting relaxed in your chair you went over the facts in your file, thinking about your own profile before contributing. 

Spencer sat across from you and was trying to act casual. Everyone was focused on their tasks but he couldn’t get himself to concentrate for too long without looking back up at you. He had been looking at the same page for 3 minutes and he was worried someone else was going to notice and ask him what was wrong. He was prepared to lie but didn’t want to if he didn’t have to. 

He was fidgeting with his hair, moving it behind his ear too often and almost choking out of awkwardness. His brow was sweating but it was August so he had an excuse ready. He watched as you chewed on the end of your pencil. 

“Y/n you know it isn’t healthy to put pencils in your mouth, you could end up poisoning yourself over time.”

“I’m chewing the erasure Spence. Like an oral fixation or whatever.”

He almost starts crying from how fast he blinks repeatedly. He doesn’t know what to say to you. Over the months you have been on the team, you have rendered him speechless multiple times and he’s really starting to hate it. Out of everyone on the team it’s you who makes him flustered and embarrassed. He wishes he had the guts to get mad at you for it but something tells him you’d see right through it. 

Spencer remembers a time a few months ago when he had to discipline you over not following protocol in the field. It was just the two of you following someone and you went forward without his knowing. You were still new and you were mandated to follow him, not the other way around. Everything went accordingly, but he wasn’t in the room first. He pulled you aside saying, “y.n, you cannot do that again” with his hand gripping your forearm. 

“Reid relax, everything’s fine”

“No it’s not fine, you can’t just go on your own like that you’re new!”

You glanced down at his grip on you, raising your eyebrows. He noticed and let you go. He tried a different tactic and stood up straighter towards you. He was already taller than you but he was really trying to make a point out of it this time. 

“Listen just- just don’t make a habit out of it.”

You giggled and walked away. That in itself was also unprofessional, and both of you knew it, but you knew that he didn’t actually care about the rules right now. He felt weird that you dominated him in this social situation and didn’t know how to react to you like he did with Emily. 

Reid prides himself on being composed and intellectual. When you entered his life you spun him around and made him second guess many many things. Women weren’t a problem for him, this he knew. He is friends with Emily, JJ, Garcia, Elle, this part wasn’t the issue. The issue was that not only were you a woman, but you weren’t listening to him. You were the newest on the team and you seemed to respect everyone else equally. But with Spencer, it was anyone’s guess. 

You knew you were the fresh meat and you also knew that a man like Reid is always the punching bag. You wanted to play along and bypass your newbie roasting. Everyone was catching on to this except Reid. 

He was still looking at you when you finally put the pencil down and he exhaled. 

“You happy now, spence? I won’t poison myself.”

He gulps but doesn’t answer. He just looks back down at his file. Hotch comes back in the room with more papers and passes them to Emily to pass the rest down around the table. You take yours and lean over to pass the last one to Reid. He looks up and notices the top button on your top has become loose. He imagines what would happen if the other buttons simply fell apart revealing your chest.

He’s still in his fantasy when his fingertips touch your knuckles. He’s never touched your hands before and they’re softer than he thought. He can smell your deodorant and perfume too. He hopes some of it will linger on him so he can remember this moment again later. 

“Reid? The paper?”

He pulls it from your hand and busies himself with reading it. After a few moments he hears you whispering to Emily. He assumes it’s about his weird behaviour and doesn’t want to wait and find out. He gets up awkwardly from his chair and it swivels around him, almost tripping him. You giggle again and try to hide it but it’s too late. You watch as he nervously excuses himself to the bathroom. 

Entering the bathroom he thanks god it’s empty. He has to deal with the stretch in his pants and he’s running through the ways to get rid of it. Should he touch himself? Or should he run through unpleasant thoughts until it subsides?

He’s leaning over the sink and staring at himself in the mirror when he hears the door open. He moves to enter a stall for privacy but when he turns around he meets your eyes. You’re looking at him with a smirk and he hates you. Of course you’re here right now with him, of fucking course. You just love getting under his skin like this. 

“You wanna talk about that?”

“You shouldn’t be in here.”

“That’s not what I asked about. I said, do you want to talk about that?”

He shakes his head but you stalk closer to him anyway. He wants you to back out the door and forget this ever happened. He wants you to pounce on him and make it go away for him. He wants to make you feel humiliated like he does, and wonders if it would turn you on too. 

You’re in front of him now, pressing him against the counter without even touching him. If he had this kind of power over you, things would be different. He wouldn’t have to use his intellect or his body. You would just succumb to him without the fanfare. 

“Can I touch you?”

“I don’t think I have ever heard you ask permission to do something, y/n”

You look up at him with your big doe eyes, putting your hand on his tie, “I don’t like making a habit of it. Well?”

“Please…”

“Please…what?”

“God y/n..please…please just touch me.”

And you put your mouth on his. He’s finally tasting you and he starts to whimper. You eat it up as it eggs you on. You keep eating him up and he can barely stand it. If he was too tight in his pants before, now it’s almost painful. 

You put your hand over it and push, making a moan escape his mouth into yours. 

“Please…y/n…please..”

“What? What is it baby, what do you want?”

“Touch me. Please just- just touch me.”

You unzip his pants and put your hand inside. Spencer pulls his head away from you and you watch each other. His dick is in your hands and he’s whimpering as you put on the most innocent face you can manage. His jaw opens and you admire the sharpness. He’s so beautiful, how could you pass up this opportunity of obsession? 

Spencer barely has any energy left in him and he knows he’s going to finish any second. He leans his head into your neck and starts to suck, wanting to leave a mark. At least this way you won’t be able to ignore this afterwards. This can be a way for him to talk to you about this again, maybe make it happen again. 

“Y/vn, y/n I’m gonna….I’m gonna-”

He finished in your hand before he could say your name again. He coats your palm and you keep going until he tears up. He’s already getting hard again.

“I think you can do better than that, baby.”

He just wants to please you. He isn’t even touching you but he just wants to make you feel good this way if he can. He’ll touch you another time, when he brings up the hickey. He’ll tell you he likes the way his hickey looks on you and then he can be the one to touch you. 

He’s so hard he’s crying and can’t help it. Your hand just feels so good and you deserve to know just how good you are making him feel. This feeling is all your fault and you know that. You’re dragging it out of him whether he likes it or not. 

He finishes again and grabs the counter behind him to steady himself. You’re kissing his neck and calling him a good boy, saying he did so well. 

“Good boy Spencer. I knew you could do it for me, huh? Didn’t I say so?”

“Yes…yes you did y/n.”

Before you have the chance to walk away he grabs you and pulls you into his chest. He’s kissing you like he wishes he kissed you when he disciplined you. With his mouth on you and his hands gripping you, he turns you around so you’re pressed into the counter this time. You let him and he realizes this. You could easily push him away but you aren’t letting him. You’re right where you want to be. 

Spence kisses you hungrily while grabbing your ass, not wanting to miss the opportunity. He knows you can do so much better than him and he doesn’t want to take the chance. He sucks another hickey onto the other side of your neck and you let him. 

Of course you’ll want to do this again with him, but you enjoy messing with him more. You unbutton your shirt and he mouths down your chest, sucking and biting. It’s starting to hurt you but you like it. You like the passion he has and you don’t mind the marks he leaves. You’d let the boy cover you. 

Just as you start unclasping your bra, both your phones go off. You pull apart from each other and check the message. You have another case and have to get back to the meeting room ASAP. 

His hair is a mess and you’re both sweating. Reid buttons your shirt for you without being asked, and you move to fix his hair. He lets you. You’re both unsure of how to walk back into that room, but he knows he’ll end up letting you go first.

[ashtheketchum]

How would the Sawyer family react to their first kiss? (+ Thomas Hewitt)

A/N: I thought for a long time about whether I really wanted to start something with the horror fandom here and I've decided to do it! I'm a huge Texas Chainsaw Massacre fan and accordingly I'm going to write something about these characters. This is my first time writing for the Sawyers and Thomas, so please show mercy!

Warnings: GN.Reader, mention of s(c)ex, mention of cannibalism, I use they/them pronouns for Bubba

Characters: Bubba Sawyer, Drayton Sawyer, Chop Top Sawyer, Nubbins Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt

______________________________

Bubba Sawyer:

They would squeal loudly and mumble something that you can't understand

They never thought that someone as adorable as you would ever kiss them!

They would also be so happy that they would hug you and spin around on the spot

If your ribs aren't broken from the hug, they wouldn't let go until you couldn't breathe anymore

Then they would apologize with loud whimpers and squeaking noises

If the brothers found out, they would be a little shy before admitting it

They would make fun of it in their own way, but you didn't mind

But they themself would never kiss you on the mouth afterwards, but on the cheek or forehead

They just feel too insecure to kiss you on the mouth without really knowing that you want it too (But oh boy, you want it)

But you also respect that they doesn't want to step out of their comfort zone

Drayton Sawyer:

This poor old man would say insults under his breath

Don't expect too much of a reaction from him, he doesn't believe much in love and (as he would spell it) scex

But he's an old fashion man that means he would also give you a peck back (But only if his brothers aren´t around-)

But nothing more

"Why would you kiss an old man like me now?" would be a question he would ask you, but he still has a slight grin on his lips

Sometimes he also teases you that these lips recently ate a human

If his brothers found out about this, he would beat them with his broom

Bubba would just shyly turn away and cover their eyes, so Drayton only insults them

Don't you dare kiss him in front of his family! He doesn't like to do it, but if you provoke him, he'll use the broom on you too!

With him, there would only be small pecks, don't expect more from him

Chop Top Sawyer:

He would jump around happily and scream loudly

"I just got a kiss! I just got a kiss!"

Then he would ask you for a kiss again

And then again

And then again-

His brothers wouldn't even have to find out, he would tell his brothers himself

When Drayton acts disgusted or disappointed, Chop Top just teases him about being jealous

When you're alone, you always listen to music together and while listening to the music, you would kiss over and over again

Chop Top says that you should time your kisses to the beat

After your first kiss, there would be no more "normal" kisses, only passionate kisses

Nubbins Sawyer:

He would be similar to his twin brother

After your first kiss, which was just a small kiss, you wouldn't kiss normally anymore

Sometimes he would take pictures of him kissing your cheek or gently biting you (aka. His way of kissing you)

I can really imagine that sometimes he would just gently bite you instead of kissing you

"B-b-but this is m-my way t-t-o kiss you, y-y-y/n!"

You accept it as long as he doesn't bite you hard

The pictures he takes he would hang on your wall or try to sell to some victims

Just like his twin brother, Nubbins would just tell everyone (Even the victims-)

He would be like: "Y-y-y-you know…! I-i just ha-ad my first k-kiss!"

He might be a little too proud of it, but give him this moment

Thomas Hewitt:

At first he would be completely overwhelmed

For a whole minute he would just stare at you and not move at all before he would flinch and shake his head slightly

Although you could hardly see it through his mask, he would turn completely red

After that he would gently stroke your cheek and grunt quietly

Luda May would just smile lovingly at you two and murmur quietly how proud she was of her son

Hoyt would just gag quietly before sending Thomas back to the basement to continue working on the ,,dinner"

Thomas would only kiss you in the basement or when Hoyt wasn´t near you two

When you go to sleep, you sometimes kiss more passionately, but only when you go to sleep

You would play with his long hair while he would stroke your back

Before he goes out to hunt the victims, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips

[jedipoodoo]

Sniffles (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Notes: No warnings. This is My attempt to make Hunter as pathetic as possible. sick fic, Hunter gets the common cold and reacts accordingly as any man would.

"Help!" a rapid pounding at your door interrupted your peaceful morning.

You opened the door to find Omega standing there, fidgeting something fierce.

"Omega, what's wrong? Is everyone okay?"

"Somethings wrong with Hunter," Omega said nervously, "I woke up to a really loud noise, almost like an explosion, and I heard moaning from his room. He sounds hurt!"

You took a deep breath. Panicking wouldn't help Omega.

"Stay here I'll go check on him." You grabbed your medkit and started up the path towards the house Omega and Hunter shared.

You opened the door, painted red. It was one of the charming touches Hunter had made to the home that you absolutely adored.

"Hunter?"

A loud sneeze almost shook the house. That must have been what had woken Omega. You pressed further, searching for his bedroom. On his bed, you found a mountain of blankets, shuddering slightly under the light streaming in from the window.

"Oh Hunter," You sighed, but smiled, picking your way through the battlefield of used tissues that littered the floor.

"Day back," A shaky hand emerged from beneath the blankets, a warning, "I'm dying."

"Hunt-" You started to giggle, and then you couldn't stop.

"'S nod fuddy," Hunter insisted, but the way he sounded with a stuffed nose only made you laugh more.

"Who would have thought," You laughed, removing a couple of blankets from the top of the pile, "Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force Ninety-nine laid low by the common cold."

Hunter huffed, throwing off the last of the blankets, "Dere id nudding common aboud dis!"

His face was pale, his dark tattoo contrasting sharly against his sickly looking skin. He reached for another tissue and blew his nose loudly.

"Have you ever had a cold before?" you asked.

"No!" Hunter moaned and fell back against the pillows, "Clones are'd supposed do ged sick!" he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself, burying his face in his pillow.

"How long has it been since you've seen a doctor?" You asked. He muttered something unintelligible.

"Why is id so brighd?" He muttered.

You closed the curtains for him. "Migraines can be a side effect of colds."

"Gread." he sighed.

You held out the box of tissues. Hunter bravely stuck a hand out from the blanket, groping for one to blow his nose with.

"Take one of these," You took a bottle of pills out of your medkit and placed it in the table next to his bed, "I'll be right back."

In the kitchen, you filled Hunter's canteen with water and started warming some broth on the stove top.

The door slammed open, and Wrecker filled the room with his booming voice.

"Is Hunter okay?" He demanded. Crosshair and Omega filed in behind him.

"Woah Woah Woah," You held up your hands, blocking them from going down the hall, "He's fine, he's just got a cold."

"Are you certain?" Crosshair tried to push past you.

"I'm very certain," You rolled your eyes and gave him a shove. In spite of your assurances, Hunter moaned from down the hall once again, blowing his nose rather obnoxiously.

"He sounds like he's dying," Crosshair folded his arms.

"He's not, I promise. He just needs some rest and some decongestant. His sinuses are so clogged they're putting pressure on his head and making him sick. Hell be fine within two days."

"Hey Hunter!" Wrecker hollared down the hall, "Can I have your knife when you're dead?"

"No!" Hunter shouted, his voice gravely. He fell into a fit of coughing from talking so harshly.

"I dibs the bandanas," Cross hissed.

"Whad was dat?" Hunter stumbled into the doorway, the blanket around his shoulders resembling more of a cocoon than a heroic cape. The cold was taking its toll on his senses.

"That's it. Out, all of you!" You shoved Crosshair back towards the door.

"Can I help?" Omega pleaded.

"Sorry honey, we don't want you getting sick. Or you!" You tried in vain to drag Wrecker out the door with the others.

"But he's not dying?" Omega asked once more for reassurance.

"No he's not. Don't listen to your brothers. Go hang out with Lyanna for the day. I'll let you know when he's all better."

Wrecker finally moped out of the house, and you slammed the door shut behind them, locking it for good measure. By now, the broth you'd left on the stove top was starting to simmer, but Hunter was still standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

"Back to bed. Now." You pointed at him.

"How come you are'd worried aboud gedding sick?" He asked, swaying a bit.

You rolled your eyes and placed his arm over your shoulder, escorting him back to bed.

"I've gotten a cold plenty of times before. I know how to deal with it. But if you're gonna act like a baby about it, I can only imagine how Wrecker would get with it."

"I'd nod a baby." Hunter pouted as you all but dropped him on the bed. You pushed him back, spreading the blanket over his body.

"I'll grab the soup and some water. You take the medicine yet?"

Hunter nodded, eyes half-closed. "Tasted terrible."

You laughed softly, and pressed your lips to his forehead. His skin was clammy to the touch.

"Medicine usually does, Hunt."

You brought back the food, along with a damp cloth to wash his face. You fed him, spoonful by spoonful, until he'd fallen back to an uneasy sleep. You braided his hair to keep it off his face, and left the cloth on his forehead to let the humidity break up some of the blockage.

As Hunter slept, you busied yourself with making sure he had enough supplies to ride out the cold. You went and bought some more tissues and broth, and packed an overnight bag for Omega to have at Lyanna's place.

You stopped by your house to grab some of your own things, and noticed the book sitting on the shelf. Hunter had bought it for you as a birthday present, but you hadn't gotten the chance to read it yet. Maybe you could read it to him.

When you returned after your errands, Hunter was sitting up in the bed, taking sips from the canteen.

"Where'd you go?" He asked, looking something like a kicked puppy as you returned to his bedroom.

"Just grabbing a few things," You placed a fresh box of tissues on the table to replace the empty one. You made a mental note to grab the trash can and clean up the floor later.

Hunter nodded, sinking back into the pillows. "I missed you," He mumbled apologetically.

Your heart melted just a little bit.

"Missed you too," You smiled, and kissed his forehead again

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Rabbit

(Sam Winchester x female reader x Dean Winchester)

Summary There’s something dangerous in these woods. Sam and Dean think it’s them. They’re wrong. CWs Everyone's evil and acts accordingly. Violence, implied torture, violent sex. Predator/prey. Rated 18+. 1.4k words.

Sam x reader x Dean masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

You pump your legs, your naked feet hitting the forest floor, sticks and leaves and earth all around you. A twig catches you on the arm and you're sure it draws blood. You'll have cuts and bruises all over tomorrow, but you couldn't care less. It is all worth it for how hard your heart is beating in your chest.

The night air is cold but you don't feel it. Your body is burning with heat, so much so that you're surprised it's not coming off you like vapor. You come to a dead stop in the middle of a small clearing, look around. In the blacks and browns of the forest you must look like a beacon in your white nightgown, but then that's the point.

You want them to come to you.

You feel eyes on you, feel the hair at the back of your neck stand up. Your alerted senses tell you he's somewhere behind you, and just like the smart little rabbit you are, you do what’s least expected: you run towards him.

Even in your state and with all of your body's strength thrown against him, you can't tackle Sam. He grabs your arms, uses your momentum to throw you both to the ground. You roll a few feet, and then he lands on top of you, pins you with his hips. A few days ago, you would have gasped, cried, screamed, maybe begged. Now you don't.

Hissing, you bring your arm out to scratch at him. Words haven't found their way back to you yet, the trauma to your body too great. But you know what you feel.

You manage to get one hand on the back of Sam's neck, pull him close, but instead of kissing him, which is what it must look like to an outsider, you sink your teeth into the soft skin of his neck. He grunts in pain but pulls you close with one hand, while the other snakes between your bodies. He finds the fly of his pants, deft fingers opening it quickly and efficiently. Then he pushes up your nightgown. You're not wearing underwear. Too much of a hassle, he decided earlier.

He sinks into you without warning. Your teeth unclamp from his neck and you throw your head back as your treacherous body reacts to him immediately. Sam ruts into you, the taste of his blood and the way your bodies are irrevocably connected to each other taking you high quickly.

Sam grunts on every thrust and your hands are blindly lashing out, no concrete goal. One lands on his shoulder, gripping into the fabric of his shirt, the other his side, doing the same. You’re not sure if you’re pulling him closer or trying to get him off you, or both, or neither. The way he pumps into you shakes your entire body.

Your orgasm is a scream, in so far as an animal can scream. Sam is right behind you, a deep satisfied groan leaving him.

Your eyes are closed, head pressed back against the forest ground. You can hear things crawling around you. Can hear the low wind. God, you swear you can hear the moss grow. What you can also hear is footsteps. You open your eyes, the vision of Dean upside down making you laugh in a deranged, sick way. He smiles down at you, black eyes amused.

"Sammy get a little ahead of himself?" he asks, as his brother pulls himself out of you, then pulls you up by your hands. You stand, and Sam, strangely gentle, pulls a leaf from your hair. Dean studies you, watches you for a moment. Then he steps closer, runs the pad of his thumb over your cheek.

"Our little darkling," he says, something similar to adoration in his voice. It started with him, so sometimes it feels like he's the leader of your little trinity of horror.

Once Dean became a demon, it wasn't long before he found a way to make Sam follow him. Fitting, really, since Sam followed Dean all his life. It would make sense he would do the same now. The demon blood Dean forced into his brother was quick to do its work, and soon Sam's eyes turned black too.

The duo’s next stop? You. Their life-long friend and confidant.

What they did to you, you're not entirely sure, neither are you sure of what you are now. Demonic, yes, but something else, too. Something that consists of Sam and Dean's influence as much as it does of Hell. You were weak and terrified when they found you, but you are not anymore.

The corruption of you is complete, or nearly. Sam says the confusion will lessen, that things will seem clearer to you soon. But you don't think they could be clearer. They've brought you here to sharpen your senses, and also to have their fun. They think you're trapped here with them, at least somewhat unwillingly while your transformation settles. They're wrong.

You can feel Sam’s spendings run down the inside of your thigh, cooling quickly against the cold air. You put your hand on Dean's cheek, pull him in. Look deep into those onyx eyes and then kiss him, bite his lip, suck on his tongue. When you separate, you throw Sam a long look, then tighten the grip on Dean.

"Now you run," you say to both of them, voice raspy from lack of use, and their grins would be enough to send them to Hell, if their dirtied souls didn't already guarantee that.

They do run. The first few rounds it takes you a long time to find them. You get so frustrated, so needy, that you scream and beat the forest floor with your fists. But then you remember what they taught you. Close your eyes, use your senses. Use your knowledge of how they act, how they move.

You find them quicker and quicker, and every time you do you force one of them into you, on the ground, against a tree, holding you up, it doesn't matter. You don't know if you'll ever get enough of them, if there is a part of you that will someday be satiated.

Dean grabs your hair by the roots so hard that your vision blurs, that tears shoot into your eyes, and Sam opens you up over and over, fingers digging hard into your flesh. Sounds come from deep in your throat and one of them drinks them down while the other twists a nipple or bites it or bites you, somewhere, on your neck or thighs or ass. Your skin makes beautiful sounds when their palms connect with it.

At one point, you are straddling Dean, riding him roughly and quickly, and your hands find their way around his neck, squeeze. He only smiles at that, grabs you, flips you over. Pushes into your tightest hole as you whine and moan into the forest floor beneath you, come shaking and crying.

Dean climbs off you and just as you’re pressing yourself up, Sam takes his place, pushes you back into the damp earth. He runs his tongue along your neck and you push back against him try to urge him on. You succeed.

You scratch and kick and bite and pull and push. You give as good as you get, and all three of you are bleeding and bruised when morning light breaks through the thick crown of trees. You don't need to sleep anymore, but you have been resting, lying on the ground, the earth cooling your burning flesh.

Your eyes snap open, and even though you can't see it, you know they are black. Rolling over on your front, you get up on all fours. Sam and Dean are nowhere in sight, but you can smell them, sense them. You get up. There is a low mist around you as you start walking. You feel like a fever has broken.

"Oh, boys," you singsong, and a wicked grin breaks over your face as you set out to find them. They’ve taught you well. You know now that love always comes with pain attached, and you will make sure they get plenty of both.

Because the truth is, you aren't trapped here with them. They are trapped here with you. 

[sillygoofyqueer]

You know what I'm in your inbox for...

Can I get some JiuYuan route for LeviathYuan? Pretty please??? 🥺

It absolutely does not need to contain cucking I prommy. If everyone is happy I'm... also happy, as long as it also contains JiuYuan 🤭

For you, my first wife, of course I have a JiuYuan route for our freaky demon Leviathyuan <3<3<3 Before I start, I want to mention that this route of Liu Qingge finding Leviathyuan occurs before Luo Binghe comes to Cang Qiong Mountain, so do with that what you will (also, I can make another route as well if you want Shen Jiu being the one to find him :3) Okay, so I kind of set up a perfect JiuYuan route because I was expecting this ask to come eventually - sooner rather than later - and it starts with Leviathyuan and Shen Jiu being in close contact with each other because Shen Jiu is of course trying to teach the demon human language so it can properly communicate its feelings and needs. (He's not doing it for those reasons exactly, he is once again doing it because he was goaded into it.) Of course, Shen Jiu hates people being in his private space, so they start out their lessons in Qing Jing's library, because it makes perfect sense for such things to take place there. However, Shen Jiu notices that there is an influx of disciples from other peaks using the library around the same times he hosts these lessons (he can only assume that they know about the schedule through rude and invasive means (they asked the Qing Jing disciples)), so it's obvious that they're spying on the lessons between him and the demon for some fucking reason, and he gets increasingly pissy about this matter as this goes on. However, he's not going to back down and throw them out of the library, because that would imply that he was doing something wrong. Meanwhile, Leviathyuan doesn't have a clue what's going on with these strange humans, but he does notice that the scowly green robed human becomes more tense and agitated whenever there are tiny humans with robes that aren't green in the place where they store all the paper with symbols on them. We all know that aquatic animals, as well as communicating through sound and such, can actually communicate through body language as well, so Leviathyuan is honed in on such things almost naturally, and that's how he's been getting a read on the people around him. He views Shen Jiu as a possessive, territorial animal and adjusts his own body language accordingly so that he isn't viewed as a threat (becoming small and unassuming). Shen Jiu, who is a possessive and territorial person, feels rather at ease around Leviathyuan because he's rather pathetic out of water, all curled up and naturally smaller due to his strange posture (imagine the animalistic body language actually soothing you, L!!). While he views Yue Qingyuan's patheticness as being pity or guilt driven, Leviathyuan has no reason to react in such a way, and therefore can only be natural! (Note: he has not talked to Mu Qingfang about Leviathyuan's humane biology, his opinion would completely change about the demon being pathetic and weak if he knew). While it's obvious to Leviathyuan that the scowly human is uncomfortable with people encroaching on his space and knows how to adjust to that, nobody else seems to, and so he takes it upon himself to find a way to get the intruders out of Scowly Human's territory. How? He acts nervous and works worse around those wearing different coloured robes, therefore giving Scowly Human a reason to kick tiny humans off his peak because they're affecting Leviathyuan's learning, which is counter-productive!! Shen Jiu notices this - it's obvious in how Leviathyuan was absolutely fine with disciples from other peaks being around until Shen Jiu became visibly more frustrated (he knew from the start but he didn't realise why until later) - and is rather...flattered. Of course, he's offended that the demon thinks that he needs its help or anything to feel at comfortable on his own peak, but he's never had someone go out of their way to appear weak and vulnerable to others for nothing but his benefit. It's a strange feeling. It's irritatingly nice. (Let me know if you want me to keep yappering about this one, because I veered completely off my notes and am having fun with this one!)

[jelloapocalypse]

Hi! I guess it’s ask time? Just wanted to say I think you’re one of the funniest people on YouTube; I have a playlist called ‘Emergency Funny’ and like half of it is just your videos.

I’m wondering, when you’re cold-reading a line, like in those streams of voice acting a video game while playing it, what are the small details, if any, that you look to to figure out how to read the line? I’m continually amazed how you manage to have near perfect delivery while never having read the line before. Sorry if this is worded confusingly I legit don’t know how to phrase it

This was sent months ago, but it's actually a very good question and talking about this might help people who like to voice games on stream get better at doing that.

For context, this is about our "fully-voiced" game playthroughs where we cold read an entire video game out loud.

One small thing I try to do that helps is pressing the "advance dialogue button" when the person speaking is about 65-70% of the way through their line. That way, if the next line is from the same character the actor has a chance to read it smoothly as though the lines were not separated at all.

If it turns out to be a different actor's line, this gives the new actor more time to skim the words as well as extra time for them to realize they're about to be speaking so they don't get caught off guard.

Doing this is actually kind of hard because every actor we work with reads at a different pace and the person actually playing the game has to keep that in mind. Oz, Vixen, Arim, and I can sight read most lines almost instantly. I've seen Oz and Vixen in particular read entire text boxes that were only onscreen for a couple frames. But, obviously, not everyone is that fast, so everyone gets different "advance the dialogue" speeds.

Ideally, if a game is well-written and the characters you're playing have a strong voice, you'll slowly fade into the character as you read them. You begin to feel the things they're saying rather than just reading words on a page. Once you hit that flow state, it becomes easier to process what they might logically say next. If you notice one of us make 2-3 errors in the span of just a few lines, it means we're probably not in that flow state.

Some games are also much easier to scan than others, usually because of their character poses.

A game like In Stars and Time has such incredible character portraits that you can usually tell the tone of the accompanying line within a few frames of a portrait change.

Loop (above) is an extremely suspicious and weird character, but voicing them was so much fun because I could always rely on the portraits and the font changes in the text to give me direction on how to play them accurately, even though I didn't actually know what their deal was until about halfway through our playthrough.

Coffee Talk also has very strong portraits that react in real time to the lines of dialogue. The framing can push characters smaller or larger in focus depending on how upset or meek they are, so it's very easy to react on sight and adjust accordingly.

Every time a game developer takes the time to painstakingly add portraits that match every single line, every time they add SFX to accentuate certain words, every time a font wiggles to tell you someone is speaking in a sing-songy way, that's all direction that the game's creators are giving you.

Another thing that helps is just media literacy. I think everyone on the channel is pretty good at that because, speaking frankly, I don't like hanging out with people who have bad media literacy, lmao.

The more media you consume, the easier it becomes to know how a story is going to go. Even a really well-written mystery usually has only 3-5 real options for an ending, and while you're reading games aloud it's a good practice to consider all of them equally so your reads make sense no matter what. You'll notice it's pretty rare something takes us entirely by surprise in a read-through.

Also, of note, it's much easier to notice specific foreshadowing and word choice in dialogue when you're reading it aloud as opposed to silently skimming.

A solid example is our fully-voiced playthrough of Trails From Zero, which actually happened on SurpriseRoundRPG a few years back and not my own Twitch or YouTube.

Minor spoilers, but the character above, Ernest, has some antagonistic interactions with your main party over the course of this game. He wants Ellie, the white-haired party member, to quit the police force (that's your group) and go back to working with him in the Mayor's office.

When Arim played this game solo he didn't really think much of this guy. However, when he played the game for us and we read it out loud, having lines like the one pictured above spoken aloud makes it kind of impossible not to notice that this man is a freak. Mo, his VA, ended up playing him as a manosphere incel weirdo because that's the vibe he was putting out, and, lo and behold, that's pretty much exactly the character he turned out to be.

There's a running theme on our channel where commenters are often surprised to see the game "play into our bits" and how we "accidentally predict things".

What's really happening is the reverse.

It's very, very rare that we decide to make up a bit from absolutely nothing. It's not a hard and fast rule, but I find we only make jokes and play up aspects of characters based on things that are already there. Hence that one time in Miles is a Robot when I said something awful and sexual as Ray Shields, Oz groaned, and I said "Hey man, I'll give him a different joke when the game gives me somethin' else to work with!" I didn't choose to make Ray awful and sexual all the time. That's just how he is, so that's the well we pulled bits from.

Because we only extrapolate from existing content and our "silly" versions of the characters onscreen are just exaggerated versions of what's really there, whenever the game gives us more info about them, the new stuff tends to be very in-line with the bits we've already been doing. It's not us being psychic. It's us being consistent!

It also helps that almost all the regulars on my channel have done professional voice work and have been doing some version of this for literally 10+ years. Practice makes perfect!

[companionjones]

Not Your Fault

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Fandoms: Marvel, MCU

Summary: Bucky reacts accordingly.

Warnings: Cursing

*******

You always liked the quin-jet after missions. Successful missions, anyway. After successful missions the atmosphere on the quin-jet was so light and airy. You loved it.

"Honey, you're not making sense," Bucky, your boyfriend said suddenly, interrupting your thoughts.

Wait, had you said that out loud?

Everyone on the quin-jet was staring at you.

Had you said that out loud too?

Bucky slowly got up and approached you, "Y/n? Honey, are you okay?"

No, you weren't. Now that you thought about it. Your head hurt a little. You brought a hand up, hoping pressure to the painful area would help. It didn't. What also didn't help with your growing headache was seeing that your hand was then covered in blood. "Huh. That might explain why I'm narrating out loud."

The last thing you remembered before everything went to black was Bucky catching you before you hit the ground.

You woke up in the medbay back at the compound. You were surprised to see Bruce there. Usually, he was only involved in super-powered medical cases. As far as you could tell, your head injury resulted from hitting a wall that was not made of gamma rays.

"Hey, Banner," you smiled as you noticed your drug-induced haze.

The doctor reflected your grin. "Hey, look who's awake. And don't worry about me being here. Your head's all stitched up. It was nothing serious. Bucky just insisted I be involved to cover all our bases.

"Oh, Bucky." You face-palmed when you thought about your boyfriend. "Is he okay?"

Bruce was confused. "Yeah. He's fine, of course. Why wouldn't he--?"

"I know he's okay physically, Bruce. I mean--" You didn't need to refer to how Bucky usually got when you were in trouble.

"Oh," Bruce immediately got what you were saying. "Yeah, no. Buck is sorta..."

"Losing his shit out there?"

"Entirely," Bruce nodded.

You snorted, but the humor didn't stay. "Could you send him in here please?"

Again, he nodded. "Of course. Regarding the head injury, you'll be fine. Just stay on bed-rest for a couple weeks, okay?"

You mock-saluted, "You got it, doc. Thank you."

"Anytime." Bruce smiled just before he ducked out of the room.

Bucky entered less than thirty seconds later.

He looked like shit. You'd talked out loud on purpose that time. "How long was I out for? It couldn't've been that long, right?"

"Only a few hours, but it felt longer," Bucky explained.

He really did look horrible. "Oh, baby. Come here." You held out your arms to him.

Bucky approached you and sat down on your hospital bed. He took your face in his hands. "Banner said you're okay. Do you feel okay?"

"I do. Baby, baby." You took his hands in yours, partly to get them off your face. "I'm okay."

He was tearing up. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? I know you couldn't've stopped me from getting hurt, if that's what we're talking about...Bucky." You brought his gaze up to meet yours again when it fell. "Look at me and say that I'm okay."

"...You're okay," he mumbled.

"Now tell me that this isn't your fault."

"It's...it's not my fault."

"I'm sorry, what? I couldn't hear you."

"It's not my fault!" he laughed at how stubborn you were. "Happy now?"

"Almost...Come here," you smiled and pulled him to you for a kiss.

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlists. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[candyswirls]

How did the Emperor react when the primarchs were turned into children?

Great power had been used to be able to accomplish something of this magnitude. But why? What angle was being played here? What benefit was it to the ruinous powers?

He didn't dare find out. He stood on the deck of his ship, awaiting to meet up with the legions. He could not sit and await his young sons to arrive. It was too dangerous.

"Paaaaaaaaapaaaaaa!" Exclaimed a voice.

Sanguinius was the first to arrive. Downy wings flapped as he ran to his father.

He was planning on being stern. The parent he was going to be when he believed that they would be raised on Terra. He must have allowed some sort of weakness in because his resolve melted.

He dropped to one knee and held out his arms to catch the child. He pulled his son into a tight embrace.

He never got to experience this.

Next was Konrad, who shoved away his Night Lords and beelined to the emperor. Tears welled in his eyes. He caught him in the embrace as well.

Some of his sons never got to experience this.

"I am here!" Declared Horus as he ran in, giddy as ever to see him.

"Hi!" Greeted Magnus as he skipped in.

He had planned accordingly to have them all arrive at nearly the same time.

Each of them came straight towards him, joining in the hug. Excited to see him.

The last to arrive was Angron.

"Hi everyone!" Greeted a small boy with red curly hair, no nails in sight.

He happily ran to join in, rosy cheeks rounding with his smile.

The Emperor made himself larger as to easily hold them all.

"What are we going to do now?" Mortarion asked.

"We're headed home," answered their father.