#love how weird the bottom one is without context

[unnounblr]

...Thinking about it, I feel like the only way Leed could know about Laios's obsession with monsters and monster anatomy (and how that could translate to him being gross about orcs, and "orc sweat") is if Zon told her.

Literally the only time she meets Laios herself, he's unconscious almost the whole time. When he wakes up, he and Chilchuck have an earnest conversation about returning to the surface. She's also present when Laios and company theorize about how to defeat the demon, but they don't interact, and Laios isn't being that weird.

Like. He shows up wearing a walking mushroom costume, but. So are Izutsumi, Chilchuck and Senshi, and it's presented as a strategy, to blend in with the monster hordes.

Laios mentions eating monsters, but she doesn't even judge the party for that earlier. When Chilchuck mentions eating the Red Dragon, she compliments them for it, says they deserved to for being stronger than it, for being victorious over it. It's a very "might makes right" sort of culture. And the orcs did threaten to eat the party earlier during the first meeting when they make bread.

Zon is kind of a shitty brother. Convincing her that she needs to marry a guy for the sake of their people, and also that the guy is a gross weirdo and a freak.

...Like, to a degree that isn't untrue. I could imagine Laios being weird to her the way he is about wanting to count Izutsumi's nipples.

But the key there is that there isn't much if any genuine sexual interest or desire. And I don't think he'd pressure her into sex, whether it's expected of them after marriage or not.

Honestly, it's hard to tell what Laios's actual sexual interests are. Like, his comment in the extra about orc breasts and bottoms. Could just be him talking about what's conventionally attractive, and not his own interests.

On the other hand, the succubus that looks like Marcille. Kisses him on the mouth. The succubi aren't just about sexual desire, Izutsumi is basically confirmed ace, and hers looks like her mom (or at least, the one for her human soul, it seems like the one for her animal soul is meant to appeal sexually, given her comment about the soul having good taste) but.

The succubus for Laios has multiple components, about turning into a monster, about his friends accepting him and his love for monsters and turning into monsters themselves, but. Even though the fake Marcille says she can turn anyone by biting them, anywhere. She still gets him with a kiss. So I can't quite tell what that's about.

Insofar as there's any shipping in the idea I have. I think, given the Orc propensity for polygamy, I think Leed could assume that Marcille is going to be Laios's other wife, or already is.

And I personally actually ship Falin and Marcille more, but also that they aren't in a relationship yet by the time of the series and have to figure things out afterwards, and. Like, Leed is very emotionally intelligent when dealing with Chilchuck, but. I think, insofar as she should be involved in any relationship drama, being as young as she is. I think it would be extremely funny for anyone to be dropped into that situation, without any context, and have to live in a building with those people while all that's going on.

She thinks she's going to be a child bride, and ends up becoming a relationship counselor slash military strategist. That's the funniest idea, to me.

Leed is a Minor!!

“I suppose she would be around her third year in middle school.”

This comment from Daydream Hour is the only info we have for her age/maturity, or orcs' age of maturity in general.

The whole "Bride of Laois" thing doesn't automatically mean that she is mature, it means that orc culture mirrors plenty of real-world cultures that also let women marry at 14/15.

She must be protected at all costs!

[imogren]

luv 2 sprain my ankles <3

[devilish-cherry]

ᨳ♡₊➳ teaching choso how to use a phone hcs

ᨳ♡₊➳ choso x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ pure crack with fluff

₊⊹. You finally convinced Choso to get a smartphone because, honestly, the idea of your 150-year-old, half-cursed spirit boyfriend wandering the city without a way to contact you was stressing you out. Unfortunately, the first time he activates Siri, he immediately becomes obsessed. He spends the next hour having a full conversation with her, convinced she’s some omniscient, all-knowing woman trapped inside the device.

“Who is this? How does she know the weather?” he asks, genuinely amazed.

You try to explain AI, but he just frowns. “So she’s… not real?”

You confirm, but he doesn’t believe you. He starts saying “please” and “thank you” to her, thinking it’s the polite thing to do, and when Siri responds with “I live to serve,” he turns to you with wide eyes. “She’s loyal. I respect her.”

Later, you catch him whispering to Siri at 2 AM. “Siri, what is rizz?” She gives him a Wikipedia definition, and he nods solemnly, as if she just revealed the meaning of life.

₊⊹. When Choso first opens the front camera it's purely by accident and he jumps because he thinks someone is staring at him.

It takes you ten minutes to explain that it’s his own face.

He looks at the screen, frowning. “Why do I look like that?”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought I looked…better.”

₊⊹. You teach Choso how to properly use the camera app, and he’s instantly hooked. The problem? He has zero concept of angles. Every selfie he sends you looks like it was taken by a dad who just discovered Facebook.

One is a close-up of his forehead. Another is 90% his nose. A few are taken at such an unflattering angle that you physically recoil. You try to guide him, but he insists that “this is my true form.”

The worst part? He never realizes he’s sending them. He just accidentally spams you with the most nightmarish, low-quality images imaginable. One time, he sends you a blurry picture of his eye, and when you ask what it means, he just responds, “I see you.”

You live in fear of opening your notifications.

₊⊹. At first, Choso types like an old man who just discovered the internet. Every message is unnecessarily formal and it takes him fifteen minutes to type a single one. “I hope this message finds you well. I am currently at the grocery store. Do you require anything?” You tell him he doesn’t have to type like he’s drafting a letter in the 1800s, but he doesn’t get it.

₊⊹. You made the grave mistake of teaching Choso how to use Google, and now he types full, grammatically correct sentences into the search bar like it’s a formal letter.

“Dear Google, can you die from drinking too much orange juice? Sincerely, Choso.”

At one point, he panics because he thinks he’s talking to a real person at Google.

“Dear Google, do you sleep? Do you need a break? I worry for you. Sincerely, Choso."

₊⊹. One day, you introduce Choso to the concept of voice messages because he struggles with typing. He loves it. But because his voice is naturally deep and monotone, everything he sends sounds like a mafia boss delivering an ultimatum.

You: “Hey, what do you want to eat?”

Choso: "Stay put. I will find you.”

You: “Do you need anything from the store?”

Choso: “It is already too late.”

He never means it that way. He’s just bad at tone. One time, he accidentally holds down the record button for three minutes, so all you get is the sound of him breathing heavily while a distant microwave beeps.

Another time, he sends you a 15-second voice memo that is just him sighing deeply followed by:

“…I saw a pigeon today.”

Then he sends another:

“…It was looking at me weird.”

Then another:

“…I don’t trust it.”

That’s it. No context. You’re in the middle of work and have to excuse yourself because you’re laughing too hard.

₊⊹. The first time Choso sends an email, he notices the little “Sent from my iPhone” signature at the bottom. You forget to explain that it’s automatic, so he thinks he has to manually type it out every single time, email or text.

It doesn’t matter what the message is.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well? Sent from my iPhone.”

“Do you want McDonald’s? Sent from my iPhone.”

You don’t have the heart to correct him.

₊⊹. He also discovers autocorrect. One time, he meant to text “Good night.” but autocorrect changed it to “God nut.” You have never known fear like receiving a 2 AM message from him that just says "God nut." with no context.

₊⊹. You introduce Choso to the concept of online shopping, thinking it’ll be harmless. It is not. He immediately becomes addicted to buying the weirdest things. He orders a 200-pack of rubber ducks. He doesn’t even like rubber ducks that much. He just thought it was fun.

₊⊹. Choso has zero understanding of what’s a scam. He clicks on everything. Every pop-up, every link, every “Congratulations! You’ve won a free iPad!” ad. He has installed seven viruses in one week. He sends you a link: “Look! This website is selling a brand-new TV for only $5!” You tell him it’s a scam. He doesn’t believe you. “No, see, it says ‘totally real, not a scam’ in the description.”

At one point, he proudly tells you he got a message saying he won $1,000,000, and all he has to do is send them his bank details.

“Choso, no.”

“But they said—”

“Choso, please block them.”

“But what if—”

“Block them.”

He sulks like a kicked puppy and mutters about how it seemed like a good opportunity.

₊⊹. Choso doesn’t trust “the ghost box” (your Bluetooth speaker). The first time you paired it to your own phone, the automated voice said, “Connected.” Choso froze. Looked you dead in the eye.

“Who was that. WHO WAS THAT."

₊⊹. The first time Choso accidentally took a screenshot, he thought he broke the phone.

He ran to you, panicked and waving his phone around.

“I don’t know what I did, but the screen—it remembers.”

You explain that it’s just a screenshot and show him how to do it on purpose. Now, he takes screenshots of everything like an old man who doesn’t trust the internet.

“What if they delete this? I need to keep evidence.” (It’s just a recipe for banana bread.)

₊⊹. One time, he accidentally took a picture of your face mid-sneeze and he decided to set it as his lock screen. Now, every time he unlocks his phone, he sees your cursed sneeze face.

He refuses to change it. He says it’s sentimental.

“It reminds me of your strength.”

₊⊹. Choso does not understand emojis. At all. You try to explain their meanings, but he insists on using them his own way.

Example: He once texted you, “Thinking about you. ❤️🛐🔥🔪🐍🚬”

You immediately call him, asking if this is a threat. He is confused. “What? No. The heart means I like you. The prayer hands mean I respect you. The fire means you’re attractive. The knife means I’d protect you. The snake means you’re clever. The cigarette means you’re cool.”

₊⊹. Despite all of this, Choso is genuinely trying. He wants to learn because he likes talking to you, his brother, and staying connected. He still struggles, but he remembers what you teach him. He still sends weird messages, but they’re sweet and he means well. And when he finally figures out FaceTime, he lights up.

“Now I can see you anytime,” he says softly. “That’s nice.”

That alone makes it all worth it.

[piningforstan]

I just recently found your page and love your work!!

can you write an angsty Stan fic where reader and Stan are still dancing around their feelings and reader finally gets the courage to confess to Stan but maybe overhears a conversation with him and Ford out of context saying he won’t date them and r is crushed? Then cue r trying to move on and jealous!Stan and then they get together somehow?

Thank you!!💕

I ended up placing this fic when Stan and Ford are still in high school before their falling out. I apologize if the timeline with Carla isn’t canon, I just wanted to include her. Also, reader is mentioned as a female a few times but this can easily be read as gender neutral.

I hope you like it!

You loved alcohol as much as you loved getting bamboo shoots shoved under your nail beds. But Carla “Hotpants” McCorkle had just broken up with Stan, and it was your duty as his best friend to support him. And if that meant drinking cheap beer on the beach with his brother, then so be it.

“I thought she was the one,” Stan grumbled. He crunched his empty beer can, belched, then reached for another.

You rolled your eyes. “You say that about every girl. Even that one you saw in a dream.”

You knew because you kept a detailed record of Stan’s revolving door of women, each declaration of love another stake in your heart. Secretly, you were pleased that Carla ended things with Stan. You could never date him in fear of ruining your friendship, but that didn’t mean you liked to see him with other girls. Especially not stuck-up bitches like Carla.

“I just dunno what she sees in this new guy.”

“He doesn’t litter?” Ford answered. He nudged the growing pile of discarded cans with his foot. Stan’s brother never drank, but he certainly lamented about how much the two of you did.

Stan continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “So what he can play guitar. Anyone can do that.”

“Can you?”

“No.” Stan angrily kicked up sand. “But I would learn if I thought I had a chance of winning her back.”

“You don’t need her,” you told him. The beer in you warmed you from the inside out, initiating the familiar tingling sensation in your legs that happened when you drank. “You’re Stan motherfucking Pines.”

Stan grinned at you. “You’re right. I don’t need her.” After slurping down the rest of his beer, Stan grabbed the bottom of your chair and pulled you closer. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple.

It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to — Stan happened to be very affectionate, even worse when he was drunk — but it still sent your pulse skyrocketing.

“I got the only girl I need right here,” Stan said, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

Your insides turned molten. Of course, you loved when Stan called you “his girl” but the sting of the words were especially painful in the wake of his breakup. You would never actually be his girl in the way that it mattered.

You could never jeopardize your friendship with Stan, or Ford. You had been inseparable since you were children, when Stan received a particularly nasty note about you in class and instead of passing it on promptly ate it. You took a likening to him immediately. And, since Stan was never without his brother for very long, Ford became the reasonable cornerstone of your friendship.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that you realized you saw Stan as much more of a friend. To be specific, when he successfully grew out his mullet and you fawned over it instead of throwing up in your mouth. On anyone else you might’ve. But it weirdly fit Stan, who you’d watched go from a weird, skinned-knee little boy to a weird, broad-shouldered man with dark curls that you desperately wanted to run your hands through.

Ford shattered the moment. “Why don’t you guys just date then?”

You’d both been asked the question before. It was expected, when a boy and girl were friends. Parents, nosy teachers, old ladies peering at you from wiry glasses. Usually the two of you fielded the question with various degrees of hilarity — “he gave me an STD” or “that’s my sister!” — but tonight it felt profoundly different.

Perhaps it was because you were so close, physically. Or perhaps because you had confided in Ford the secret crush you harbored on his brother. You trusted him not to tell but to hear it now, spelled out in the air, made you stiffen.

“She knows all my disgusting habits,” Stan finally said to break the silence, “I couldn’t trick her into it.”

He grinned at you in your peripheral, a certain softness in the corners of his mouth that weren’t usually there. You rallied your best grin back,

“Yeah, it would be weird. Right?” You chuckled nervously.

Stan, with unprecedented exuberance, nodded in agreement. “S’weird. I’ve seen you in your retainer. Could never fool around with you after that.”

Ouch. You pretended it didn’t feel like a blow to the stomach. “And you smoke too much. It would be like kissing an exhaust pipe.”

“See? It could never work.” Stan tore another beer off the plastic rings, drained it, then announced he was going on a walk. You watched his retreating form until you were sure that he could no longer hear you.

You whipped around. “Ford! What was that?”

“I’m sick of you two dancing around the subject. If you just dated I wouldn’t have to sit out here every few months when you inevitably get dumped because you’re with the wrong person.”

You groaned and slid down in the lawn chair, covering your face with your hands. You actually liked the smoke that clung to Stan’s clothes, the deft flick of his thumb striking up the lighter. Why did you tell him you didn’t?

You’re a coward, your inner voice accused. You panicked. It wasn’t like you could exactly agree with Ford, especially not after what Stan said about your retainer. Did he mean that?

If he did, that was worse than anything else. Not only did he not harbor a secret attraction, but he was repulsed at the idea of you together.

Stan stumbled back down the beach a few minutes later, to your chagrin. It was much easier not to think of him when he wasn’t in front of you; even like this, swaying on his feet and looking slightly green.

“Stan, are you —?”

He lurched and fell face forward into the sand.

Ford glared at you like it was your fault. “This is the last time.”

“Sure. Just get his other side.”

“Thank you again, hun.” Caryn Pines smiled sweetly at you. The small kitchen smelled profusely of her perfume and cigarette smoke, wrapping around you like an embrace.

“Yeah, of course. No big deal.”

Caryn looked at you strangely, in that way that adults did sometimes. “You’re always takin’ care of my Stanley. I know he ‘ppreciates it, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I couldn’t leave him on the beach.” You took a bite of the babka that Stan’s Ma put out, chewing thoughtfully. “Again.”

Caryn always tried to feed you when you came over, no matter how fleeting of a visit. You had seen her sneak the food out of packages and container and pass it off as her own, but you didn’t care. It encompassed her parenting abilities — well-meaning but slightly manufactured, a desire to be the mother that she wanted to be but not exactly the drive to put in the work.

Either way, you knew she loved you like her own.

“Ya know, I see the way he looks at you. And you look at him. It doesn’t take a psychic to figure it out,” Caryn said.

Your face warmed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s crazy ‘bout you. I know my Stanley.”

“But what if…what if we broke-up ? I can’t lose him in my life.” Tears strained your voice. Here you were, admitting your feelings to another Pines family member except for the one who actually needed to hear it.

Caryn clicked her tongue and edged around the island, pulling you into a hug. “But what if it’s great? What if it’s everything you imagined?”

“Maybe,” you said, muffled in her side.

Caryn gave you a final squeeze. “I could only pray for someone like you for my son. Say, you don’t happen to have a sibling for Ford, do ya?”

You shook your head. Caryn made a gesture like too bad then fiddled with the coffee machine.

“Here.” Caryn shoved a steaming mug in your direction, then wiped her hands on her dress. “Take this upstairs for me, will ya? I’ve gotta check on Shermie.”

You stood rooted in place for an embarrassing amount of time, mulling over what she had said. What if it was great? Your heart jumped. Maybe she was right. You would tell Stan.

Emboldened, you crept down the hall and past the living room. The TV flickered ghostly blue lights over the couch where Filbrick snored, and you were careful to avoid the creaky stairs. It wasn’t ever said aloud but everyone knew in the house not to disturb Pa after work. He wasn’t abusive, that you could tell, but somewhere on the verge of it.

Stan and Ford’s voice drifted from their shared bedroom — Stan’s gruff, drunken mumbles and Ford’s clever quips lined with affection.

You were going to tell him. You loved him.

A hitch of agitation in Stan’s voice made you pause at the first step, just out of earshot, a silver of light falling across you from the cracked door.

The delirious, bubbly feeling of excitement in your chest fluttered uncertainly.

“Oh, would give it a rest, Sixer?”

“Stan, I just think —”

“You know how I feel about her,” Stan interrupted. From your vantage point you could see him sprawled out on his bed, one hand over his face.

Her? Meaning you?

Your grip tightened on the mug. Here it was, the universe delivering you a sign that Caryn was right. That you were right.

The view didn’t offer any insight on Ford but you could hear his desk chair squeaking as he leaned backwards, contemplative. “And how do you feel about her?”

A beat of silence, the covers rustling as Stan lifted himself onto his elbows. “She’s my best friend.”

“Uh huh.”

“And-And of course I love her.”

“Uh huh.”

“But I could never date her.”

Your blood turned cold. What? Didn’t he just say that he loved you? Whatever brief, sweet bliss you had went plummeting into the ground. You turned away, coffee in hand, unable to listen to more.

Stan stared up at the ceiling, at the water stain that looked like an elephant. Sometimes when he tried to get his feelings out, the words would run circles around and around in his head until he chased them down. It didn’t help that he had drank so much.

Towards the end it wasn’t even really about Carla anymore, but you. You, with your dumb perfect face and laugh. The way that you stuck around despite knowing everything about him, about his family, leaving him feeling raw and infested like an overturned rock.

His stomach churned. Stan waited for the nausea to pass, pinning down his words before eking out, “I would fuck things up with her. It ain’t worth it. Losin’ her. Ya know?”

God he hoped he was making sense. The room was spinning and the elephant was now doing summersaults.

“I wouldn’t let you,” Ford quietly replied. “I know you love her. I’d stop you from fucking up.”

Stan laughed, dry and brittle. “No one can stop me. I’m a one man fuck-up.”

“You’ve never been one man.”

Stan curbed his nausea enough to look at his brother. Really look at him. Any other given day and he might’ve kicked him for saying something like that. His throat bobbed. “Yeah. Yer right.”

A moment passed between them, one of those brotherly, twin moments that he hadn’t felt since they were kids. Ford clapped his hands together.

“My first declaration of not letting you fuck up is to tell her tomorrow how you feel.”

“What? Tomorrow! No way.”

Ford narrowed his eyes. Stan waved a hand and flopped back down onto the bed, resigned. “Fine, fine. Hey, can you tell that elephant to stop moving? He’s bein’ a real dick.”

After that night, you avoided the Pines family like the plague, dodging after-class visits and letting calls go to the answering machine. Your parents asked where your “boyfriend” was, as they lovingly referred to him, but it only felt like salt in the wound. Stan would never be your boyfriend. He said it himself — he could never date you.

You hated the heavy grayness that clung to you, and most importantly, you hated that the one person you wanted to talk to about Stan was…Stan. And you couldn’t. How mortifying it would be to confess something so life altering for him to say that he only saw you as a friend.

Stan left message after message, wondering what he had done and if you could. But you couldn’t bear to see him. You ate lunch in the girl’s bathroom and nearly sprinted to your car after school, peeling out of the lot as soon as the final bell rang. He tried to come by your house, too. Your parents, loyal to you no matter how much they loved Stan, told him you weren’t there.

It was safe to say that, after a month of this, they were relieved when you stepped out of your room in actual clothes. Your mother actually clutched her pearls. “You look amazing. Where are you going? Did you make up with Stanley?”

You ignored that line of inquiry. “I have a date. Not with Stan,” you added, well aware that was the follow up question.

“Oh.” Your mother’s happiness faltered slightly. “Who with?”

“Just someone from school. I’ll make sure they drop me off before curfew.” You pretended to be oblivious to their probing stares, kissing them each on the cheek before striding out the front door to the idled car in the drive.

A dark shape shot out of the driver’s seat and scrambled to open up your door. Eugene glanced nervously at your house as you climbed in. “Are you sure you don’t want me to meet your folks?”

“I’m sure,” you said, monotone.

Eugene had been interested in you for a while now, but you always hedged your answers, not wanting to commit. Last week you finally said yes. You needed to get over Stan — even though the first thing you thought of was how he would laugh at Eugene for opening your door. You could just hear his rasping, seething laugh. Pussy, he would call Eugene, and you would punch him.

Throat thickening with tears, you forced yourself to admire Eugene in the glow of the streetlights that passed by. He was classically handsome. Smart, kind. A musician. Everything that, on paper, would make the perfect boyfriend. It was incredibly sweet that he wanted to meet your parents and open your car door.

Yet all you could think about was Stan: his untamed mullet and cauliflower ears from boxing, the nose slightly too large for his face that was crooked from all the fights he instigated. The braying sound of his laugh and how he thought it was funny to snap your bra strap. The fact that, beneath the jokes and the crude humor, he was soft and compassionate and an excellent artist. He always made you laugh. He was a million things that Eugene would never be.

But Eugene was one thing Stan wasn’t.

Interested in you.

You shoved all of that down by the time Eugene pulled up to your date, flashing him your most winning smile. A drive-in movie seemed innocent enough. You were confident that Eugene wouldn’t try to make any moves, but you still directed him to park near a minivan of children.

“Want to steal some candy from them?” You asked.

Eugene’s expression shifted as if you’d suggested something morally offensive. “What? From the kids?”

“I was just teasing,” you said. You hadn’t been.

Stan would’ve happily jumped at the offer, distracting the family with one of his wild stories while you snuck a pack of candy. The two of you would then share whatever snack and giggle the rest of the movie over your cleverness.

You felt like throwing up. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about Stan?

Abruptly you shoved open the door. “I’ll just go get snacks then.”

“Wait!” Eugene’s voice was muffled, you had already shot out of the car and nearly closed the door. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I’ll pay,” Eugene said.

“It’s fine.”

You needed to get out. Needed to get away. Without waiting for any further questions, you slammed the door shut and stalked off towards the concessions. The night air was uncharacteristically cool, brushing over your flushed skin.

“Okay, calm down, you’re okay. You’re on a date with a nice guy,” you coached yourself.

“You’re on a date?”

You wheeled on your heel. Stan stood a few feet away, brow furrowed. His fur-lined jacket bulged with hidden contraband. “Stan?”

“You’re on a date?” He repeated, the timbre of his voice sinking dangerously low.

“Yes.” You raised your chin.

His jaw feathered. “I haven’t spoken to you in, like, a month. You’ve been dodgin’ my calls and avoidin’ me. What’s goin’ on? Now you’re on a date?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you bit back.

“You don’t?” Stan barked out a scathing laugh. “You just stopped talkin’ to me without any s’planation. What am I supposed to think?”

You stepped into line at concessions. “I don’t know, Stan.”

“Talk to me.” Your name on his tongue was a prayer. “Please. I can’t take this.”

A knot formed in your stomach. You ordered for you and Eugene then brushed past Stan, ignoring his protests. He followed you to Eugene’s car. You wretched open the door, intending to fling yourself inside, but Stan stopped it. He leaned down to peer at your date.

“Eugene? Really? This guy?”

Eugene sputtered. You gritted out, “Stan. Go. Away.”

Stan’s dark gaze bounced from you to Eugene, then back to you. The look on his face was unreadable. “Fine.”

The door shut with a resounding thud. It took all of your strength not to watch him walk away. You tore off the top of a box of M&M’s and shoveled the candies into your mouth.

“Was that Stan Pines? I thought you guys were, like, friends,” Eugene finally said.

“Not anymore.” The candies slid down your throat, suddenly dry and pasty.

“Oh.” Eugene pretended to fiddle with the radio, switching through stations. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Mercifully, the movie screen flickered to life and saved you from more awkward conversation. You kept putting handfuls of candy in your mouth to keep from talking or interacting with Eugene at all. Frankly, you just wanted this date to end.

Eugene respected your space, too, which only worsened your conflicting emotions of shame and regret. You wished you could apologize to him but you couldn’t form the words.

You were jerked from your self-loathing when a huge shadow played across the screen, disrupting the movie. Yells of outrage sounded from across the grassy knoll, until the dark shape on the screen split apart. The candy in your stomach threatened to come up. The profile was unmistakably Stan’s, confirming your theory when you twisted around to spot him in front of the projector, entangled with Carla McCorkle.

He grabbed her hand, smirking at the enraged onlookers, and ran off.

Carla? Again?

Eugene examined you. “Do you…want to go somewhere else?”

“Yes. Please.”

He took you to get Dairy Queen, then dropped you back off at home. The passing shadows in the window told you that your parents had anxiously been awaiting your arrival. Eugene moved to get out, to open your door again, but you laid a hand on his arm.

“I’m really sorry. About tonight,” you choked out.

Eugene smiled sadly. “It’s okay.”

You kissed his cheek and climbed out of the car, up the stairs to your house. Eugene waited until you were safely inside before pulling away.

School sucked. You were forced to see Stan with any number of girls. In fact, it seemed as if he was going out of his way to flaunt them, the lingering touches and kisses. It burned you inside.

He preferred anyone but you.

Another month passed, each day growing more and more unbearable without your best friend, without Ford, the reliable foundation of your friendship. With the end of school approaching, so was college, the awaiting jaws of a monster threatening to swallow you whole. You couldn’t even tell them that you got accepted into your dream school.

When a hand grabbed your arm, the familiar face following, you were struck with a swell of emotions. But it wasn’t Stan. The body was all wrong, the measured expression never once belonging to him but his brother. Ford’s eyes were pleading. “We need to talk.”

“Stan can’t know about this,” you said after consideration. Ford nodded.

He brought you into a deserted classroom. You lingered near the door, not sure what to say after all of this time.

“Stan is falling apart,” Ford said without preamble. “I don’t know what happened, but neither of you can continue like this.” A flicker of vulnerability crossed his features. “I can’t.”

You inhaled. It wasn’t fair to drag Ford into this, but it was hard not to. You could never make him side against Stan. “I just…I can’t do it.”

“Do what?”

You turned your face from him, ashamed. “I heard him. That night after we brought Stan home from the beach. He said…he said he could never date me.”

Ford’s face shutters closed. “Is that all you heard?”

“I didn’t need to stick around to hear about how abhorrent the thought of dating me is,” you replied, tone bitter.

Ford flipped open his messenger bag and rifled through it, muttering something that sounded a lot like “two idiots” before finding what he needed. He handed you a folded flyer. “Stan is throwing a party here this weekend.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“You should go.”

You glanced at the paper. The address stated a beach not far from your usual haunt, promising alcohol and a good time. Leave it to Stan to make invitations to a party like this, complete with crude renditions of women in bikinis. You clutched the paper. “I’ll think about it.”

Ford was halfway out the door when he stopped. “He really misses you.”

The words resonated with you the rest of the day. Sometime between meeting with Ford and that weekend, you decided you would go. Eugene told you he couldn’t go, he had to study, so you informed your parents you were going out and that was that. They let you without complaint, probably because you had been moping around the house the last two months.

Tonight you donned your best dress, black and sparkling and totally inappropriate for a beach party but when you bought it, at the mall with the twins, Stan hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you. There had been no reason to wear it until now and you secretly hoped he had forgotten about it so you could shock him all over again.

By the time you arrived, sweat had gathered at the base of your neck and dampened your hair. You regretted wearing the dress upon seeing the other girls in their bikinis and hotpants, and made a beeline for the keg to soothe your nerves.

The beer was sticky and warm. You sipped it, wishing that instead of being here with people you didn’t know (or care about) you were with Stan and Ford on lawn chairs. The usual. Instead you gazed out upon the rest of the party and found Ford, trapping someone into listening to his theories most likely, and Stan presiding over a beer pong games.

Almost as if your gaze was a beacon, Stan looked up immediately as you spotted him. A cord of familiarity, of affection, tied you together and you could feel its tug behind your navel.

Stan stormed over to you, kicking up sand in his wake. “What are you doing here?”

“Ford invited me.”

“He did?” Stan searched for his brother, who had conveniently found somewhere else to be. “Why are you here?”

“I got invited, remember?”

“Where’s Eugene? Is he here, too?”

“No.” You didn’t feel like giving him an explanation, didn’t need to. You especially didn’t want to tell Stan that it was because you were still in love with him.

His dark eyes hardened. “Where is he?”

“What does it matter to you?”

Stan’s mouth moved as if he was biting back a retort, debating whether to say it. He raked a hand through his hair. He spit. “It doesn’t.”

You spent the rest of the party drifting from place to place, never lingering long. The bonfire funneled smoke into the air, as inconsistent and tangible as you, a ghost on the outskirts. You’re not sure why you came, why Ford invited, why you were still here. The beer had given you a nice buzz, a certain looseness in your limbs, and you decided that was enough. You started up the sandy dunes, shoes in hand, when you heard the sand behind you being displaced by footsteps.

Stan followed you, silhouetted by the fire in an orange haze. “What do you want?”

“I’m walking you home.”

“No. You’re not.” You marched off.

He trailed behind. You thought that he might get bored or fed up and leave you alone but he persisted. Only once you hit the sidewalk did you furiously spin around. “What do you want?”

“I ain’t lettin’ you walk home by yourself,” he replied.

“I walked here by myself. I’m fine.”

Stan took a few steps toward you. “Just let me do this, okay?”

“It’s your party, you shouldn’t leave,” you replied.

“Exactly. My party. I can do what I want.” Stan drew to his full height, shoulders back, reminding you that without his rounded posture he cut an intimidating figure. But it wasn’t intimidation he sought, but protection — protection of you.

Your back molars gritted together. “Fine.”

It actually felt nice, relieving, actually, to walk side by side with him. He maintained a step or two behind you, undoubtedly sensing your anger, but you didn’t correct him. You stayed like that, your strange, wordless dance all the way to your house. When Stan moved as if to follow you inside, what he would’ve done before, you barred him from the door.

“You shouldn’t,” you told him softly.

His brow furrowed and Stan shoved his hands in the pocket of his jacket. The porch awning cast him half in shadows. “What did I do? I know you’re punishin’ me but what I can’t figure out is why.”

“I’m not…I’m not punishing you.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Then what? Is it your new boyfriend?”

“Who, Eugene?” You shook your head. “No, this isn’t because of him. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s not?”

“No.”

“What ‘bout yer date?”

“It was just one time. And it was a mistake,” you admitted.

“Tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Stan’s infuriatingly handsome features were set in determination. You wanted to go to him, bury yourself in his chest and let him envelope you. But that same feeling twisted, grew sharp teeth that latched on and refused to let go.

“Why? What do you care?” You fired back. “You’ve been so busy with your tongue down every girl’s throat that I’m surprised you even noticed I wasn’t around.”

Something shifted in Stan, a spark igniting into an inferno. “You’ve been avoidin’ me and ignorin’ my calls, refusin’ to speak to me without telling me why. I don’t get it. If you’re so against me, then why do you care what I do?”

You hissed back, “I don’t. But it’s hard to miss when you’re dry humping your flavor of the week in front of the whole school.”

“How do you think I felt when I saw you with Eugene?”

You paused, his words soaking into your skin. The fist of anger in your stomach loosened at the pain in those words, if only slightly. “I didn’t know you were going to be there, Stan. And I didn’t think it would matter even if you were. You could never date me.”

“What?” Stan’s entire body stiffened.

“You said it yourself,” you said. You were loathed to say the words aloud, which made you cry, which only made you angry to be crying. “You could never date me.”

“When did I ever say that?”

“I heard you,” you said. You explained to him how you had overheard the conversation between him and Ford that night. He listened the entire time, quiet and unmoving.

Stan rubbed a hand over his face. “You didn’t stick around to find out why?”

“Sorry if I didn’t want to hear how repulsive and horrible I was,” you snapped.

“I told Ford that I couldn’t date you because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. The last few months have been hell, doll. Going without you every day has been…unbearable.” Stan brushed his knuckles over your cheek, tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Please don’t make me go through that again.”

You leaned into his touch, eyes swimming with tears. “I’m sorry, Stan. I only did it because I couldn’t stand to be around you if you didn’t feel the same way.”

“Same way?” Stan’s mouth morphed into a tired, wistful smile. “I’ve loved you since that first day in class. Since you saw them passin’ that note and instead of bein’ upset you raised your chin.”

You faltered. “You love me?”

“Of course I love you.” Such a simple, genuine statement.

“Stan, I love you too. I’m so sorry —”

“No, I’m sorry. I should’ve just told you how I feel. I’m an idiot.”

You touched his arm. “No, you’re not. Well, you are, but not because of that. I was scared too. And I hurt you.”

“I’m tough.” Stan lifted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. In his face you saw a whole lifetime of memories, of laughter. “But you gotta promise me not to ignore me again. Messed me up so bad that Ford said he saw me stare at a wall for two days straight without sayin’ a word.”

“You? Not talking?”

“I know.” Stan shuddered. His composure softened a bit, examining you as if seeing you for the first time. “When I told you that you were my girl, I meant it. You’re the only girl for me.”

In way of reply, you grabbed the front of his jacket and pressed your lips to his.

You had kissed before, in middle school, just to get the first one over with. It had been brief and awkward, his front tooth clashing off yours. This kiss maintained the same level of comfort, of familiarity and safety, but charged with a current of passion. He kissed you like he had been waiting his whole life to do it again, pulling you into him in a frenzied manner.

Stan’s tongue ran over the seam of your lips, parting them so that he could slip inside, invited by your breath of surprise. You melted into him. Everything about him, this moment, felt right. Perfect. His hands in your hair and roving over the form-fitting dress you had worn for him, sighing and muttering praises on your flushed skin.

You didn’t stop until the porchlight flickered on and the front door ensnared you in its beam. Stan still held you to him, lips bruised, frozen. Your mother took one look at you entangled together on the porch and then sighed in relief.

“Well, finally.”

[paintedplum7]

Chewed Gum Theory and how Deltarune Chapter 3 might be a Commentary on Media Censorship

So a while ago, I made a mess of a post on Reddit rambling about a certain line of text in one of the Spamton Sweepstakes descriptions: "THESE [chewed up bubblegum wrappers] THOUGHT THEY COULD MAKE [merchandise] WITHOUT ME!?" It was very, very aimless and focused more on shipping than anything else, but after I stewed on the information for awhile, and talked about it with a friend, I think my ideas do have some merit! So how about I take this mostly self-indulgent theory on a larger scale and talk about how this throwaway line in the Spamton Sweeptakes might encompass Chapter 3 as a whole?

Content warning for suggestive language!

In context, for us as the audience, this line is about Fangamer, but what does it mean in-universe? The link on "[scrap heap]” leading to a Chapter 3 teaser certainly suggests it's about Tenna, possibly even his Cathodes Crew as a whole because 'bubblegum wrappers' is plural!

Chewed gum is often used as an euphemism for someone who's had too much sex, and as consquence became 'flavorless'. According to what I've read, the euphemism is often used by Christians to scare younger people out of premarital sex. It actually lines up for Spamton to use that phrase as it matches with the rest of his religious undertones, neat! But what does this have to do with Chapter 3?

First of all, Deltarune was recently rated to have 'mild sexual references' and 'mild gambling themes', which wasn't there before! I don't think Chapter 4 was what caused these content warnings to be placed; why would a church be a place of sex, gambling, and violence? It's more reasonable to conclude that Chapter 3 is what caused these to be placed. Film is known for sensationalizing those kind of topics, after all.

As much as I would love to talk about Tenna in reference to this theory, he really takes a backseat in here because there's not much yet on him as character to infer about as a whole. He and Spamton are heavily coded to once be in a relationship outside of their possible business partnership (romantic, perhaps sexual?), and that's really about it. The Tenna Supertheory is the reason why the Chewed Gum Theory even exists right now, so I recommend you go read that. Here’s a link.

I do want to talk about the Shadow Guys though! From what we've seen from them, they are linked to Toriel's socks; there's annimations of them putting her socks on, and there's of course the clip of one Shadow Guy shouting and getting embarrassed once you pull out the curtain and reveal them, wearing Toriel's socks. Toriel and her sock drawer has been a joke in UTDR since Undertale. Scandalous is an interesting choice of wording, because it implies there's something shocking or morally reprehensible about her socks (she doesn't even wear them!), and it lines up with what we know of her so far with her having occasional shocking moments in between the front she puts on (her swearing and alcoholism are two things that come to mind). While the socks themselves might not be a euphemism for something sexual, it is weird that they are emphasized to be something shocking, and how it reflects on the Shadow Guys.

This one is more speculation, but that How to Draw Dragons book, huh? That's definitely going to be referenced in Chapter 3 either as a joke or a fully-fledged Darkner. It's easy to brush it off as a joke, but it's presented similarly to how Toriel's sock drawer is. It's viewed as something scandalous Asriel owns, hell, it's even secluded in the bottom of a drawer. That certainly seems to be a running theme in the Dreemurr household, huh?

This is really all I have regarding concrete evidence in things we know happens, and is likely to happen in Chapter 3, so I'll be using real world background information for the rest of this theory!

My friend pointed out to me that while the previous chapters so far are based around settings surrounding entertainment, there's also a lingering commentary on how these concepts have a darker side. There's a little in chapter 1, but especially in chapter 2. All the darkners in Chapter 1 were left abandoned because the lightners who came to the classroom and played with them grew up and moved on with their lives, and Chapter 2 reflects on how invasive the internet can be at times with nonstop ads, and algorithmic learning systems that base around your search history; it's interesting! I wonder if anyone made a theory about it.

I think Chapter 3 also will have an underlying message on the dark side of television, and what is television and film infamous for throughout it's entire history? Censorship, of course! The most infamous example is Hays code, a guideline of censorship rules that deemed what is unacceptable for media viewing that was placed in the mid-1900s. It restricted depictions of sex, violence, and other topics seen as obscene during that time period. If we take the Shadow Guys, and How to Draw Dragons as a representation of obscene ideas being hidden by the people who don't want them getting out (The Dreemurrs), then it is likely that Chapter 3's Dark World will reflect that! I almost imagine the Cathodes Crew wants to be scandalous and obscene, but they're restricted by their "guidelines", the Lightners, the Hays Code in this situation. Obviously, they get around it, but it wouldn't have the same bite. The sexual and gambling references are 'mild', after all.

So that's my theory! It's really long, and I wrote this at 2 AM so there's probably more I could say but can't, but I hope it's coherent as it is! Feel free to tell me about your thoughts on it and add onto it! Thank you!

[blue-jisungs]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ MASSAGE 🧸ྀི

summary your bf gives you a massage • wc 600

[ extras ] might be a lil suggestive, reader is said not to be wearing a bra (real); could be read as both (non)idol ji

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ! i actually forgot i wrote this one a while ago… man i love jiwoong sm<3 ALSO FIRST WORK OF 2025 WE CHEERED!

jiwoong entered your room, a small sigh leaving his lips upon noticing your slumped posture over a file of papers.

“how’s it going?” he asked, approaching you. the view of all the materials, books, and notes brought him pain – he couldn’t even imagine the effort you poured into studying.

“bad. good. i don’t know. like, on one hand i understand it and i get it… but once im doing exercises without context or notes… i don’t. a blank. and my head is spinning” you rambled, leaning on your chair once you felt his hands resting on your shoulders.

jiwoong hummed. he really wished he could help, maybe explaining or researching. but he couldn’t, sadly.

“my back hurts so much…” you groaned.

unless…

“maybe because you’ve been sitting like a shrimp for the past two hours?” he teased, his fingers gently caressing your skin.

“first of all, rude” you scoffed and raised your head to look at him – and his boyish smile “second of all, true”

“i think i can lend a helping hand for that” he hummed and turned your chair around, moving aside.

“okay. but don’t take too long, i need to finish those notes” you sighed, knowing deep down you need a break. you did feel guilty a bit, after all you got distracted a couple of times. and now another break? you felt like–

“turn off your brain for ten minutes. it shouldn’t be hard” jiwoong scoffed and helped you stand up, only to gently push you in the bed.

“okay… whatever…” you sighed, looking at him expectantly.

“lay on your stomach” he ordered and you did so, resting your head against pillows and plushies.

then, you felt his gentle touch raising your shirt up. he pulled it to the base of your neck, goosebumps already raising in your skin and heat hitting your face. you didn’t have a bra… it’s not like you were exposed but it still made you shy.

“is this okay? you’re all tense” he asked, shuffling closer.

“yeah, just… if i would’ve known, i’d wear something else…” you mumbled shyly.

“easier access” jiwoong shrugged nonchalantly and traced small shapes on your back “i’m gonna give you a massage, okay?”

“mhm” you hummed, not really expecting much. sure, it’ll help you relax and all-

once jiwoong’s calloused hands sturdily started caressing your back, you knew you were done for. he put pressure in all the right places, kneading your skin from top to bottom. stopping by your hips, his thumbs gently rubbed all the soreness away.

jiwoong’s touch was working miraculously, you could feel yourself relaxing. occasionally he stroked your sides tenderly, almost feather-lightly, causing you to let a small giggle from the ticklish feeling.

he didn’t forget about your neck too, massaging the muscles as if his life depended on it. meanwhile, your eyelids began to feel heavy.

the harshness of his palms’ texture brought a feeling of comfort on its own.

suddenly, he moved his hand to feel your vertebrae through your skin. when he started pressing on them, going down one by one, you groaned softly.

“this feels nice” you mumbled, not even sure if he heard you.

before you could realize, you were out like a baby.

jiwoong smiled proudly, his movements halting once he heard your soft snores. only then he leaned away and laid down next to you, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead. eventually he put your shirt down and pulled a comforter over your sleeping figure.

“rest well, my smart baby” jiwoong hummed and closed his eyes as well, falling asleep next to you.

masterlist !

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @haecien ,, @stryroses

[haikyu-mp4]

Two jobs, part 2

word count; 1107 – set a few years after part 1, reader and Osamu are married and the three of you live together. I gave your son a name, Kazuo, to make writing easier

You were away on a business trip and left your two favourite guys to take care of each other for a few days. Luckily, you didn’t have to do this often, but you were relieved they got along so well that you could. Even though Kazuo grew attached to Osamu in a way before you two even started dating, it had been an adjustment for all of you after you got married and moved in together, especially because your son was at his most difficult age.

Currently, Kazuo sat on a bar chair by the island counter while Osamu made dinner. The two would often hang out in the kitchen together, because Kazuo liked spending time with Osamu when he had an excuse for it. He also found it hilarious when he asked his stepdad for help with his homework and Samu got frustrated because he didn’t understand it either. It was a peaceful connection they had, and you usually did your best to let them have their time in the kitchen to themselves even when you were home.

“Hey, look at this.” Osamu said to catch his attention. When Kazuo looked up, he did some weird juggling trick with the pepper shaker before adding the necessary seasoning to the soup he was making. Then he did the same with the salt to show it wasn’t a fluke. “Am I cool, or what?” It was meant as a joke, but there was a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kazuo made a face. “Uhh… yeah.” he said, which was an obvious lie, making Osamu deflate. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt particularly sensitive about it all of a sudden. Perhaps it had something to do with the difference of how Kazuo looked when he got to play volleyball with his twin compared to how he politely declined lately when Osamu asked him if they should do some passes in the garden.

“Do you not think I’m cool?” he asked after a long silence, leaning one hand on his hip while the other stirred the soup to make sure it didn’t stick to the bottom.

“Not like Tsumu.” Kazuo answered honestly without thinking about it, eyes on his homework so he didn’t notice his stepdad’s face scrunching up. If he thought he felt sensitive before, that one hit the spot for sure. “But it’s okay, being a chef is good too.” The boy honestly didn’t think adults cared so much about being cool.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take pity on me now.” he said followed by a deep sigh. “Maybe I should cook you instead, you gremlin.” Kazuo just laughed, unknowing of Osamu’s bruised ego. When he turned back to his homework, Osamu pulled his phone out and opened messages, sending a simple ‘You’re ugly and stupid’ to Atsumu without context. That made him feel a little better, at least. You bet he’ll call you that night before bed for some reassurance. And to remind you that he loves you, of course.

Sometimes, Kazuo was allowed to go to parties in exchange for sharing his location at all times while he was away with whichever parental figure was home at the time. Usually, the parties were alright. Typical underage parties where someone had stolen a few beers from a parent and they all tasted it before looking disgusted and swearing to never drink it again. He would be picked up at the agreed time with a few complaints of how lame you were for setting those rules, and then he would tell you he loved you under his breath before going to bed.

However, they were growing older and that came with engaging in new topics of interest. That’s how Kazuo ended up in a game of seven minutes in heaven that he desperately wanted out of. It’s not like he could just tell them he might prefer guys over girls, he wasn’t even sure yet himself! It was all too much, so he snuck away and pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. You’re still on your business trip, and he was starting to miss you even though he would never tell you that. After all, you were the only one he relied on for the first 10 years of his life.

He pulled up his contacts on the old phone you had gifted him, scrolling past your contact until he got to a Miya. Even though he knew Atsumu liked spending time with him, he didn’t seem to have that much spare time anymore. Actually, he probably wouldn’t call Atsumu for an emergency anyways, he realised. Tsumu was more of a cool uncle, like he told Osamu in the kitchen the day before. Now that he was in trouble, he already knew who he had to call.

“Samu…” Kazuo said, voice cracking a little so he pretended to clear his throat.

“What’s up, buddy?” Osamu sounded tired, like he had taken a nap in that recliner he loved to occupy when you weren’t home. If you knew he snoozed off while your boy was at a party, you would not be happy, but at least he picked up the phone.

“Can you come pick me up?” he asked not too loudly, frowning at the floor. “I’m okay, I just want to go home.” He tried to sound tough and chill, but it didn’t fool Osamu.

“Sure, I’ll head out now. Go outside in about 15 minutes but not before. Actually, stay inside until I’m there.” Kazuo chuckled a bit at Osamu’s short ramble where he corrected himself, then he hummed in confirmation and hung up. So he told his friends he was feeling under the weather and went outside when Osamu came to pick him up.

Kazuo didn’t say much more than “Thanks for picking me up,” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” after getting in the car, and Osamu knew he would rather tell you about it than him, so he didn’t pry.

Instead, he clicked his tongue with a cheeky smile. “You know, the new Star Wars movie just came out for streaming. I won’t tell your mom we stayed up late if you don’t.”

And as he looked to the side where Kazuo fiddled with his hands in the passenger seat wearing a relieved smile, safe because he dared text him for help, Osamu decided that he didn’t need to be cool. He just had to be there.

Even so, his chest bloomed with pride when Kazuo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for the night and told him, “Thanks for the movie, Samu. You are pretty cool.”

masterlist

taglist: @miyamizuna, @makkir0ll, @shiratorizawa-can-step-on-me, @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots, @eeerreehhh, @f4iryk3i, @cosmiicdust, @malikazz243

[preseriesdean]

for @spnficrecfest day seven: tropes 🧡 also check my case fic list which has some more curse-y case fics!

Speechless by candle_beck 11.2k words, rated T, published 2008 Dean loses his voice and their rapport is only moderately impaired.

Crying Talking Sleeping Walking by FrancesHouseman 3.3k words, rated E, published 2016 The witch dies laughing at Dean. It's never a good sign.

Talk around it by @goshen-applecrumbledore 12.8k words, rated E, published 2021, underage “It’s just a truth spell,” Sam tried. “It could be worse.” Dean looked at him like he was stupid. “Yeah, thank God we don’t have a giant, life-ruining secret that we really, really don’t want our dad knowing. Good thing he’s not on his way here right this second.” He scoffed. “Could be worse. Jesus. Good to know you can still lie.”

Heart Shaped Balloon by winsive 18.6k words, rated E, published 2022, underage Sam and Dad are fighting. No surprise, but it's the weekend before Valentine's Day and Dean isn't missing out on the chance to bang a cheerleader just to console his bratty little brother. He does bring back a heart shaped balloon for him, though. It's not supposed to be cursed.

Flood of Water by sevenfists 9.9k words, rated E, published 2006 "Please tell me you know how this happened," Sam said. "Yeah," Dean said. He sat down on the closed lid of the toilet and let his arms fall away from his chest, his clasped hands settling in his lap. His t-shirt clung to him, worn thin from too many washings, and Sam could see the heavy weight of his breasts, his nipples hard in the cold air.

All That Sam by Catchclaw 10.4k words, rated M, published 2012 Dean thinks of himself as an innovator. A sex god. A professional problem solver. And then Sammy gets hit with some hoodoo and all of that shit gets shot straight to hell.

The Talking Cure by Mollyamory 2.4k words, rated T, published 2013 Dean tries to keep his mouth shut, but as much as he wants to keep quiet, he also wants to say--

Desiderata by @dyed-red 45.2k words, rated E, published 2023, incomplete Dean is hit with a curse. It shouldn’t take that much to resolve, could be a gift under other circumstances, but life’s not that simple for the Winchesters.

Out of Context by doctor_idiot 7.2k words, rated E, published 2017 When Sam and Dean keep waking up naked, all over each other, and without recollection of the previous night, the first thing Sam does is dig into the lore to find out what's going on. Dean is more concerned with the question why he always seems to be the one who bottoms.

And Baby You Can Sleep While I Drive by merle_p 8.6k words, rated T, published 2021 “So,” Dean says, hesitantly. “This is a dream then?” Sam blinks, confused. “Well, obviously.” “Huh,” Dream-Dean says and scratches his neck. He shifts awkwardly from his right to his left foot but otherwise stays where he is.

Cupid's Got A Gun by geckoholic 13.5k words, rated E, published 2012, non-con Fuck-or-die, set in early S4. But they've been fucking for years, so that shouldn't be a problem, right? Wrong. Ever since hell, Dean's in no hurry to get that show on the road again. They've tried, and it doesn't work, too many bad memories from what's been done to him downstairs. A case that involves a cursed cross and a vengeful witch takes that choice away from them, though…

(for you and me) i got no alibi by remy 23.4k words, rated E, published 2019 There are people hitting on Sam wherever he goes, and Dean is doing weird things like holding doors open for him and touching him way more than is necessary, and it's all driving Sam up the wall. It doesn't help that he's been in love with Dean for just about forever, and all of it feels like a mockery of something he'll never get to have. Meanwhile, Dean is at his wits' end trying to figure out how he can make Sam realize that he is, in fact, trying to get into his pants.

[conclaveconfessions]

As a general I like this fandom a lot. I have my dislikes. I do agree sometimes they make Vincent too holy or too quick to drop his vows, but I'm also deeply sympathetic because well... the person that writes, oh let's say, 2.5k puppy play is indeed not looking for a very deep exploration of these characters.... And That's ok!

What I did when I was puzzled by this (the desire to read erotic content but without the rush) was sort by word count, and it really helped! There are gorgeous agonizing pining long fics in this fandom. Not that many gosh I Need More but there are. Everyone give them a try. I also do see a lot of effort to make the stories grounded, even if they might get a bit ooc, which other fandoms tend to not do... Or do way less, I mean.

I can't cope with Lawrenitez mpreg though. Firstly I don't think Vincent is able to get pregnant and even if he could, like. My mind is only screaming: They're post menopausic queens!!! No one is getting pregnant!!! Stop!! (Do whatever you want haha it's ok) I do however cackle and enjoy when I see "Vincent getting knocked up by the holy spirit" now THAT'S literature (lol). I guess the difference is that if it's by God magic, it's a full on miracle, if it's by a "natural" way it's really weird (to me). Just on account of their ages. I think it's not THAT popular of a trope here, I think most people like the fact they're old men but still-

The reason I mention it it's because I know I'm really a hypocrite. I was complaining about omegaverse with a friend. I do think making Vincent an omega sort of goes again the " uncertainty" that gives him his condition in canon (maybe make him both Alpha and Omega? A complete unknown fourth sex? Uterus and knot? I'm just brainstorming), it flattens the canon stuff. To me, omegaverse is a setting that enhances fictional sex differences because it's hot, but in this context, where the point is that those sex difference irl are maybe not as important as we think, I find it against the characters, and as such, not as hot (I liked one where Lawrence was a beta tho haha)

The reason why I'm a hypocrite though, is that I do sort of love it with Bellesco haha. There, the idea of the sex difference being embarrassing for him is super hot (oh, I'm bottom!Tedesco, Omega!Tedesco one hundred percent). So in that context, I like it. WE know there's nothing shameful in being a bottom or being the "lesser" sex but he doesn't. And that's hot.

Another reason why I'm a hypocrite is that I do love these old queens suddenly feeling all horny. Like, the idea of Lawrence, post prostate cancer already in his autumn years suddenly being absolutely gob smacked horny for Vincent and soo guilty about it that it cures his impotence... I like it. Ditto with Tedesco finally crashing down and admitting he's queer, haha. I have no issues with old men holding erections all night, unrealistic as it could be. I do respect the erectile dysfunction soldiers 🫡

At the end of the day, your tastes are very personal. It's ok if you don't like something that's going on in the fandom. It's normal! And it should encourage you to write your own stuff, or to shower with praise the people that are doing what you like, so they do more :^) and you can also talk about your dislikes as long as you are respectful.

I think speaking about your dislikes is equally important though, since it might let you to people that also dislike the same things you do and you can share "correct takes" with each other. This is a bit arrogant, to say it that way, but let's face it, that's how it feels. And it's no crime either. Saying: ok whatever but THIS is better/hotter, I'll write it- it's like. Half of why fandom exists. Have fun :^)

I don't think I'll write anything myself anytime soon because I'm well fed by the current works, but who knows. My rudimentary English doesn't hold a candle to the poets of this fandom tho <\3

~

[ume17]

A day well spent-sugawara koushi x fem! reader

genre: pure fluff

warnings; none, again grammar mistakes because I wrote this in a hurry. I need to prepare for my exams but my procrastination game is strong

words; 0.7k

context; this was something that my friend did for me in one of our school fests. she has set my bar so high I'm afraid no man can reach there. though you're not seeing this, love you <3

You were expecting the festival to be a failure, but wait. Why is your name being called on the intercom?

You knew Sugawara was a reliable person. Always being responsible for managing school fests, class duties, mentoring the juniors, etc., which is why it was no surprise to you that he would also be in charge of the interschool fest in your last year. A part of you knew this would happen, but you hoped you’d get to spend this final fest with him.

Though your relationship with him was nothing more than close friends, you were content with what you had, lest losing this because of a growing crush on a certain silver head.

Which is why you didn’t expect your name to be called on the intercom by a voice you knew very well. With a weird feeling in your gut, you walk towards the stage where he stood. A flannel shirt over a crisp white T. Hair as soft and fluffy as ever. The golden light of the sun bathed him in an ethereal glow. Literally an angel. Trying to keep your heart beat normal you wave at him as you jog forward.

“You called me?”

“Yeah,” a smug smile spreads on his face, “I did.”

Seeing your perplexed face, he added “I wanted to spend the day with you”

Wait—why are your cheeks heating up? Could your heart afford to beat more without putting you into cardiac arrest?

“You did…?” Feeling lightheaded all of a sudden, a lemonade should definitely cure this case of lovesickness. “How about we head for a drink first? Lemonade?”

“Sure.”

And that’s how your day began.

Activity 1

Throwing darts at the cupid’s heart.

“This one is for you,” he said with a wink. 

The dart surely flew. Not towards the board but towards the boy who was in charge of the activity. 

Safe to say, both of you spent at least 15 minutes apologising for almost taking the poor first year’s eye.

Activity 5

Balls in the hoop.

Now this was a competition. Both of you are trying to win a prize. There was a cute panda bear staring at you, calling you to take him. So like every normal being in love, you wanted to give it to him. Wishing, praying, hoping you’d get the next one. And the next one. But alas, years of playing volleyball make one’s aim good. So it was no wonder he won with a whopping 70-point lead. Only to hand you the bear you were eyeing. For him.

“I think this bear really wants you to take him home,” a smirk plastered on his face.

“Umm… thank you,” an almost inaudible whisper entailed, “but I wanted to win it for you,” probably something he didn’t hear.

Little do you know, the reason he quickly looked forward was to hide his blushing face because he definitely heard you. Crisp and clear.

Activity—20? Or was it 22?

Build a souvenir.

Your final activity for the day. Clothes crumpled up, bellies half empty, feet aching, a smile plastered on your faces. You headed hand in hand. This was probably the most sane and peaceful activity you did today. Though, you wouldn’t complain. Especially when you had a world-class view of him with the setting sun. Purple blends with orange behind him as he looks so focused, a little pout on his face as he struggles with something you cannot see because you promised a surprise reveal at the end.

Finally done! A very blotchy-looking sunset with two flying crows stares at you. Your initials are at the bottom left. A decent job. You hope he would get the meaning of the two crows. The reaction of a mirthful chuckle and a warm smile seeing your creation proved you right.

All this couldn't have prepared you for the masterpiece you were to see. A more than decent portrait of you with this same sunset. You won’t say it was the best portrait you have seen, but he thought of painting you. Out of everything he could have? You can feel your heart melting, your insides becoming warm, as a smile spreads to your face.

All you can do is pull him in a forceful hug not caring about the paint he has on his hand or his apron. You can feel him still as he tries to say something but only fumbling with his words. Mr suave senpai can only get so far.

So as your body melts with his, hearts beating in unison you only hope this won't be the only day well spent.

[brattyfemmebaby]

Hey, I’ve been struggling with my recent stone femme identity. I’ve tried giving and it never feels good or feels like something I want to do. So I discovered what stone meant and it fit perfectly. It’s what I wanted. It made sense. But I feel so much guilt. I feel like I’ll never please my partner who is not stone and would like to receive. We’ve talked about it and discussed boundaries (so there’s nothing bad there just adding context). Idk how to overcome the guilt.

oh honey! i'm sorry you're struggling with this. i know from experience that the way the world treats us can make it hard to feel good in our identity. honestly, it takes time to unlearn the weird and harmful pressures placed on us to have sex in a "normative" way. additionally you will need to explore why you feel that bottoming isn't "giving" within a sexual encounter. stone femmes give their who selves to their partners! bottoming is a skill, making someone cum without touching their genitals is a skill. this is part of why i don't love the term pillow princess- it has so many connotations of "just laying there" or "not reciprocating" and that is absolutely not sex that stone femmes engage in. we are active, enthusiastic, and giving during sex. i, and every stone femme i've ever met, get soooo much pleasure from getting their partners off many times and in many ways.

unpacking and unlearning normative ideas of sex is step one but for me, three things helped me not just stop feeling guilty but start feeling proud to be a stone femme!

meeting stone femme elders (in person and online) who were willing to discuss their identities and experiences. hearing how they navigated dating, sex, and relationships helped me feel grounded in my stone femme identity and understand ofos courtship roles.

being a stone femme has historically been so desired that stone butches wrote erotica, books, poems, and articles just to praise our existence! reading stuff written by stone tops reminds me that i'm made to be someone's perfect match and that's so fucking affirming. stone people are well documented and long desired members of our community

having really affirming sex with stone butches! watching the pleasure so clearly displayed on their face, hearing their satisfied groans, feeling them shake as they got off, talking to them about how incredible it was for both of us, how they kept coming back for more. there's truly nothing that will make you feel more desirable than straddling a stone butch and witnessing them cum in their boxers just because their hands are on you. feeling and hearing them groan as they cum just from eating you out. how they pull you so close and hold you tight enough to leave their fingerprints bruised on your hips because they can't help wanting to be as deep inside you as humanly possible. umm wait what was i talking about?? but honestly there's nothing in the world that will show you how amazing it is to be a stone femme better than pleasing our counterparts.

i hope you know that i am proud to share this beautiful identity with you, proud to call you one of us, proud of you for finding yourself 💕

[coldgoldlazarus]

Okay, mostly done screeching in excitement, now it's analysis time.

First point: That purple blast of the turret getting taken out looks great.

Looks like we're opening hot, a lot like Corruption's beginning. Hopefully won't be quite as protracted as the Norion battle, though, lol.

Also, I've seen some jokes already about how this section will end with Samus getting depowered like the openings of Prime and Echoes, but given how barebones her arsenal seems to be here, (missiles and morph ball, which sometimes she just starts with and keeps, maybe bombs too) I don't expect that to happen.

The HUD and helmet edges are a lot more dialed back this time, pushed as far into the corners as they can go. Probably better for visibility this way, but I am gonna miss the more wraparound feel of the previous setup, with the missile count and hazard meter along the sides. But this isn't a bad look by any means, and we still have a fair few items here.

A & B: My bet is this is the replacement for the old hazard meter. In addition to keeping it out of the way, putting it right next to the motion tracker is a good move. I may actually remember to use that more this way.

C: Health bar is obvious, of course, but I really like the move of tucking it away into the notch on the top of the Echoes/Corruption/Beyond(!) helmet visor. The lines around it suggest an empty row above, undoubtedly for the energy tank pips once those are picked up.

D & E: Minimap is present as usual, not really much to say there, but I love the addition of a compass direction scroll beneath it, which should be helpful for putting places in context of the broader map. (Tallon IV's elevator label system, anyone?)

F: Missile count has been shunted down from the side to the bottom corner. I'm interested to see if it will grow upward, or just stay in its present spot and scale accordingly, as you collect more expansions.

G: This is the one everyone's already pointed out, but it seems that we won't have a visor OR beam swap readout.

Scan Visor is still an option as shown in the next bit, but based on the lack of an indicator in the hud, it's probably just going to be a toggle between that and combat, without anything else like X-Ray or Thermal or Echo or what have you. (Or it could be that that would only get added to the HUD after picking up a third visor, but I won't hold my breath for it.) Kinda disappointing to deemphasize one of the cool new mechanics the Prime subseries brought to the table, on one hand, but I'm still grateful to have the Scanner, and the extra ones always did struggle a bit to see much use.

Similarly, a bit disappointed this means we're probably looking at a stacking beam like in Corruption and the 2D games, (unless of course beam swapping is still there and just being left off the HUD until relevant for the sake of cleanliness #copium) but not entirely surprising; I'll live.

But what is interesting is what's there instead. The D-Pad seems to be tied to non-Beam weapons or tools instead, with the missile launcher as the only one available at present. I'm really curious to see what the other items will be; I imagine this is going to be Prime 4's unique spin on things. I saw someone suggest affinity weapons like in Hunters, but given those all function like Beams, it feels weird to me to set them against Missiles instead, ammunition requirements notwithstanding. I'm not going to rule those out, of course, but I could see this being something completely different entirely.

Again, I am very glad to see the Scan Visor is still here at least. Even better is that it uses the full-body highlighting of objects like Echoes and Corruption instead of Prime 1's icons. Pretty minimalistic layout, all told; I like that the scanning bar is a ring now. And it doesn't reflect Samus's face by default like in Corruption, which makes sense since we're not liable to have the same kind of mutation shenaniganry happening here.

I forgot to snag a screencap of this bit on my computer, so forgive the lower quality, but this scene is interesting for a few reasons.

The Pirates' breaching charges letting them into this room just as Samus passes through a gap in the wall overhead is a nice touch, and also remniscent of some sequences from early on in Corruption.

The Federation guys in here seem to be wheeling away someone or something on a stretcher in a hurry. That could be important.

Energy tank up in the rail section, but blocked by a box. Are we just going to bomb through to get it right away, or will we drop down into the room, and have to come back from the other direction to pick it up? (Please be the other direction)

Samus looking spiffy here, even at a distance. And as some have pointed out, looks like she's walking out of a portal instead of a door, pointing to either more dimension-hopping shenanigans like in Echoes, or possibly the time travel elements I recall hearing Tanabe wanted to play with at some point. (This plus the black hole look of the logo makes me think this could be more likely.)

Whatever the nature of the portal, though, the interesting thing to me is the sort of circular structure in the rock around it, suggesting a doorframe almost. A lot of the portals on Aether seemed to actively cut into the environment at random, the rock carved out in perfect spheres with fucked-up edges, and interrupting the pre-existing architecture or geology. In contrast, this looks like it was put here on purpose, implying a more controlled creation. Potentially really fascinating implications in that.

I also kinda wonder if these portals will be replacing elevators as a way to get between regions.

Ignoring the big numbers in the middle, (though they do kinda mess with my prediction that Prime 4 was going to be a 2024 holiday title to avoid getting eaten by Switch 2's inevitable 3D Mario launch title,) a couple things stand out to me here.

Giant tree in the background is giant, and I love it for that. Also looks like it's not the only giant tree here, even if still probably the biggest. I hope we get to go there later.

But in addition, we have a bridge in the middle distance, and a tunnel opening in the foreground. I will eat my hat if we don't get to cross that bridge, and my bet is that they're going to pull a similar trick here as with Skytown, letting low-poly versions of other "rooms" be visible from the current one, but dividing them with interior sections for optimization reasons, allowing for amazing landscapes of all traversible terrain. I loved that there, it looks great here, I can't wait to go explore all this myself next year.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

I don’t know how to start messages (except like this), but hope you get the writing juice back soon! At your own pace of course.

Hope this isn’t somehow annoying (I overthink a lot and over-explain/apologize as a result, sorry), and that you take care of yourself, stay hydrated, and all that jazz! Also that you have a happy new year when it passes by :)

Also, bit unrelated, but seriously, how the fuck do you write so well? It’s like magic/witchcraft, and I mean that in a very complimentary way (hope it’s not strange, but same anon who left the long compliment message. Just for context, hope that’s not annoying). Feel free to ignore this bottom part but do you have any tips/advice for writing? Always wanted to but never knew how to start.

Again, and I’m not saying this to somehow be guilt-trippy (I SWEAR I’m not, just want to make sure my writing tone is clarified, I’m not good at telling it) feel free to not answer, but your writing is genuinely some of the best I’ve ever read, top 10 for sure!

ANYWAYS, hope you have a great rest of your day/night (even though I just said that at the beginning lol) and that I didn’t somehow accidentally mess my writing up and come off as offensive or strange or weird somehow (my overthinking is strong, I apologize in advance.) :)

-idk

Hi!! Happy new year!

I apologize for not being very quick at answering, I'm very lazy and not always online. But I have seen and read all your asks from the first one and appreciate them so much. <3 If you want, you can give yourself an anon nickname - for example, someone sends me the occasional anonymous ask with a strawberry emoji at the end, so I know it's the same person!

And oh gosh...I'm so flattered that you like my writing?? I don't consider myself particularly good but I enjoy it a lot and am at least happy enough with things to share them. One cool thing about this community is how responsive people are to the work they enjoy, for any writer or artist or creator that is such a gift!

So, it's worth mentioning that I minored in writing in college. I mention that because it contributed to my personal experience with writing but in no way do I think someone needs to formally study to become a good writer, nor does formal study guarantee being one.

Also, I didn't go into any jobs that involve writing, it has remained just a hobby, and I'm fine with that. I strongly believe that creating and enjoying art is for everyone regardless of skill level and without being expected to monetize it or gain popularity. We are so lucky to be able to read, write, draw, paint, etc, when through much of human history, and still in parts of the world, those things were only available to a privileged few. Now I can write and doodle in a cheap shitty Dollar Tree notebook if I want to and no one can stop me.

I don't feel qualified to give too much advice, but I can at least share some things that have worked for me. And I encourage other writers who see this to do the same!

Read. The more you read, and the more variety especially, the more you will pick up. The idea of course isn't to copy other people's work but to get a feel for different styles, learn new words and phrases, be inspired. My love of writing started with reading.

Practice. This is the most boring answer but also unfortunately the most important. Sometimes you just gotta do the thing to get better at the thing.

Daydream. This isn't for everyone, but I have always had an active imagination. As long as I can remember I would imagine little scenarios in my head, sometimes over and over to try out different versions of them or add details. Writing can just be having little stories in your head that you feel compelled to put down, and doing so can be really rewarding whether you share them or not.

Outline. This is pretty basic, I just love to outline. It doesn't have to be a fancy formatted one, just jot down the key points of the thing you want to write, in order. Then fill it out with notes, phrases, any other ideas you have. None of this has to be fleshed out, it's just to organize your thoughts.

Drafts are good, actually. Have a first draft and a second and a third if you need to. Move things around, delete, rewrite, reword, whatever. Nothing has to be perfect the first time through, sometimes it's nice to just let the words flow and figure out the details later.

Learn the rules so you can break them. Even if you don't take writing in school, there are lots of ways to study basic grammar, punctuation, writing tools like metaphors and similes and all that. The point isn't to write like a robot, it is to have a solid foundation on which to build your creativity. Lots of pretty words are pointless if the reader can't understand what you're trying to communicate. And once you know the 'rules', you can intentionally bend and break them to create a desired effect and develop a personal style.

And finally,

WRITE WHAT YOU WANT.

It's a phrase that gets thrown around a lot, and I'm glad because it's true but saying it and getting it are two different things. If you're writing as a hobby, it's meant to be enjoyed. Write things you would want to read. Write the things that feel right to you. Write things that help you express something. Write things that challenge you in a positive way, or write things that are comforting and simple, as long as it's coming from within you.

And if you aren't feeling it, it's ok to just...stop. Or at least pause. I am still learning that I don't have to force myself to write just because I think someone is expecting it, I don't have to fill a prompt that doesn't interest me just because I feel bad if I don't. I have piles of unfinished word docs and google docs and tumblr drafts that will never get finished and that is OK. Give yourself permission for that to be OK. When you let go of the projects that feel like a slog you give more space for the projects that spark joy!

Anyway, I hope any of this is helpful. However you do it, I hope you will create something!

[georgeapolloorion]

hi hi hi!!!!

my name is george-apollo!!! (pronouns: he/they/she/anything you want tbh) welcome to my little side of the inter webs! i mostly use this account to repost things, but every so often i want to make my own posts like this one and just yap my little heart out to strangers on the internet (works better than therapy! /j)

for a little more context, i’m a chronically online chronically ill fella who was introduced to tumblr like 6 months ago (at the time of posting) and has become obsessed with using it lol so i thought a little introduction post would be a cutie way to start! lets start with some likes, dislikes, a little bit about some of my current hyperfixation(s), important links, and my DNI list! ���⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒ ﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧ likes: musical theater, harry potter / marauders, bracelet making, animals (specifically sharks), the color red (i've dyed my hair red 4 separate times now), hair dye, making pinterest boards, yapping, stephen king books, horror movies (my favorite is Hell House LLC!), and listening to music (some of my favorite artists are Hozier, Lemon Demon, TV Girl, Laufey, Glass Animals, and Noah Kahan)! dislikes: math, deadlines, neil patrick harris (that bitch), the fact that inside job never got another season, the cold, the heat, regulus/wolfstar haters, taking notes, the color neon yellow, orange gatorade, orange flavored anything actually, and people who judge others without a good reason to (i.e. those people who are like "ew look at their hair/outfit/etc!" like ... it is not affecting you, be quiet.) ˙ . ꒷ 🪼 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🪼 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🪼 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🪼 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🪼 . 𖦹˙—˙ . ꒷ 🪼 . current hyper fixations & special interests list (will be updated irregularly) 1. Falsettos! falsettos is a musical about the AIDs crisis and how it affects one specific family. my descriptions of it never do it justice, its a 2 hour complete sing through full of the most gorgeous vocals and gut wrenching songs, and you should definitely watch it if you can!!!! 2. Sharks! i've always loved sea life, but i specifically love researching sharks. wanna know something about a shark? i probably know it! 3. Musical & Technical Theatre! i LOVE researching the backstory of musicals, and figuring out how aspects of sets work and how to recreate them, even though i know i never could. 4. Writing! i'm currently writing a play (possibly a one act play, possibly longer), if you want to know more about that don't be afraid to ask! i love yapping about it, but i'm terrible at bringing it up first lol. end of list! ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ☆୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ DNI LIST DO NOT INTERACT WITH ME IF YOU ARE ANY OF THE FOLLOWING!!! ableist, transphobic/homophobic, racist/sk1nhead/etc, a generally mean person/a bully, make fun of peoples interests because you "think their weird" (i.e. bullying furries or theatre kids), and especially don't interact if you have nothing nice to say! ༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･

IMPORTANT LINKS !!!

﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧﹒⌗﹒🦇﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧

so thats it for now!!!

if you took the time to read all of this, thank you!

and, if you just skimmed to the bottom, still, thank you lol

feel free to ask me anything using my ask button, or shoot me a message!

until next time,

george-apollo ❤️

[stradakiev]

Anyone else watch the dw deleted scenes from 15s season (series one on Disney) for Doctor who day? I loved them but I’m so bummed all of those moments weren’t included in the episodes. They provided much needed character work and plot explanation.

If you haven’t watched it the link is at the bottom of the post.

Starting with scene 09-12A from the giggle that moment with Donna demanding unit to protect her who family explains how Rose gets connected with unit. And we just love any Donna moment like that honestly <3 you used my family so you can protect them yessssss 👏🏻

The giggle scene 27- literally just funny. It doesn’t need to be included but I CACKLED at them opening and closing those doors with no background music.

Space babies scene 16- I don’t know how much I would need this scene included. Space babies is the episode I’ve re-watched the least because it’s plot and character work we left wanting. (So it probably should’ve been left in) I like seeing Ruby tell the story (while later watching over done) to the babies because the exposition makes sense for the context and it’s a really sweet way to build her character. Then when the doctor starts heading off the way she questions him is really funny to me. It shows more of her character in the tone she talks to the doctor, and then chooses to follow him. It’s a very small moment that makes their friendship more believable because she’s telling the sweet story and he’s being wacky and it’s amazing.

Space babies scene 40-42- does this scene start with them being lost in the ship??? The left left again thing bc if so that’s hilarious and once again develops ruby and 15s friendship and respective characters more (I love hot dumbasses that are technically smart). It also builds more of the setting and the story. It’s their version of 12 and Clara climbing through the dalek as we learn so much from the story by their environment. Also I just love Ruby stepping in the boogies and being grossed out. “Why does it keep shedding its skin” plants an important question for the audience without feeling like we jumped to the answer. I also just love 15 smiling while saying “into the belly of the beast”

Space babies scene 63- we may have gotten another scene similar to this one but this face is figuring something out

And this one has realized it

The devils chord scene 9a- “SOMEONE HAS STOLEN MUSIC” I love how exasperated he is in this moment (it shows us what he cares about) then ruby trying to comfort him but being so awkward it’s too perfect and again shows their friendship in such a small moment

The devils chord scene 23- I think this scene connects how the maestro finds the doctor and Ruby and connect their stories early on from them playing the piano. I don’t think the whole scene would need to be included because it goes on for a while, but I do love jinx monsoon serving cunt. 

The devils chord scene 72- WHY WAS THIS CUT OUT!! This connects the musical scene so that it actually seems a part of the story and not just a random extra

The devils chord scene 74- this is usually RTDs bread and butter but I’ve missed it this season. He is usually so good at showing what is happening to the rest of the world in these moments and lending larger context to the story and this scene does that in such a silly way. It also make the musical scene less weird just like scene 72.

73 yards scene 3-4- it shows how long she waited but my favorite part is when she kicks the tardis because it shows he actually affected by her situation and frustrated. It also reminded me of Clara fighting with the tardis.

73 yards scene 53-54 THIS SCENEEEEEE AHHHH it would have given ruby so much more depthhhh. We would’ve seen here actually affected by her circumstances. She is HEARTBROKEN that the woman was still there she thought she had solved it but she hadn’t. This is crushing and instead in the episode it seems like she is not affected by her plan not working and still being stuck in this timeline. 

The legend of ruby Sunday scene 41-45- not necessary to include we get a very similar scene in the episode, but I loved watching it again in a different way. 

Empire of death scene 35- I loveeee the doctor kissing the tardis 🥰 the memory tardis disappear makes the situation more dire which would’ve added to the story. Also the part where he says “we will fight sutekh” and ruby responds “with my mothers name” it shows her having as much doubt about the plan as the audience has and shows ruby giving the doctor pushback. Also the doctor saying that sutekh has eyes everywhere hints to the fact that he knows about Melanie.

The empire of death scene 59-63- who in their right mind cut this???? Like you didn’t think it would be important to know how they got the whistle and how it worked? While it was still a cheap plot tool that “technically” goes against rules of the show it’s a plot tool that’s been used before (11 and Clara and their button in into the tardis) it still would’ve made it make sense. And they had a good cheap explanation for it that they’re fighting a god so the get to do one thing like that (i.e. when they fight gods the rules of reality are flexible some things like bigeneration or getting to hand yourself a whistle happen). It’s also a fun moment with the doctor winking at himself and saying they need to moisturize and playing music of the jukebox (connecting them back to the devils chord)

[spiderpussinc]

this is based on your most recent art on twitter im just asking here because im shy lol. do you hc that peter got more thoroughly introduced to kink when his and miguels situationship began or was he already pretty kinky beforehand?

I like when Peter embodies the everyman in terms of character archetype, all my favorite depictions of him are the ones who invest in that portrayal and make him a mix of bitter/awkward/hopeful down-to-earth guy without leaning too much into militarism or sillicon valley or CEO superstar or any of that other bullshit -- long way of saying i think he's a *commendable flirt* and has a Streak of flunked relationships but he's not all that savy with it. Like not at all lmfao. Hes the guy in ur neighborhood who pulls chicks by telling them jokes and kinda has game but seems content enough in his comfort zone.

Part of Miguel's character pitch is that he is "a reversal" of peter in fundamental ways, the original intent was to make a spider-man who was quiet in costume and snarky as his humansona, sort of dark and brooding, had an adversarial relationship with his city, had a troubled relationship w/ his family as opposed to Peter's loving supportive aunt, got weird fucked up powers in adulthood in contrast to how peter gets a bunch of helpful power-ups as a teenager that improve his self image, etc etc..

(Nsfw talk ahead)

Miguel is 1) a cutting edge scientist from decades in the future & 2) a transgender fag.

I think him introducing things to peter is unavoidable, but in a much broader sense his sex life was always far more complicated. Miguel is A Lot More Used to having toys or gadgets to get around simply bc of the genital conundrum; he cant just pull out his dick and go. Peter has heard and used kink related buzzwords in a jokey context but he is in every way a pretty normal guy LOL. Superman is canonically kinkier than peter parker by genuine mile (chains, whips, leather, etc) and that should tell you a lot.

I think its really fun to have a dynamic where miguel is this huge break from what peter has grown to expect, and he LIKES experimentation - he's still a scientist, even if he never did the postgrad - peter is willing to play into a lot of stuff he's not done before, and that classifies in many ways as non-traditional sex. (Or might not even be explicit sex at all, re: puppy play) I dont even think they have strict top/bottom roles its more of a convenience thing. Whatever happens.

Miguel likes doting on him, Peter enjoys being doted on; in that context you can even get peter being so swept away by this newfound free zone that he's the one going 'oh have we ever done X?' and it definitely helps that miguel is just as strong and flexible as he is, if not freakier. In sum i think miguel teaches him how to scissor even as a cis boy