#this is like a whole other level of safe hate

[softness-and-shattering]

To work out where you went wrong to help you and prevent other people going down the same path.

To whoever inspired this post: You say the thing you dearly want for yourself revolves around hating women, and your response, instead of literally anything else, is "this sucks, guess I hate women now"??

Or is it the other way around, you dont want to hate women and you think therefore you cant be masculine?

My guy!!! The joy of being trans is the ability to build yourself from the ground up! You dont have to have cis masculinity or woman-hating masculinity. Do you truly believe every single man youve ever met hates women? Do you think butch lesbians hate women??

Your masculinity is whatever you want it to be. You get to decide what to keep and what to leave. Like yeah it can come as a package deal you buy but forget that, come look at all the parts individually and see what works together, get customising get creative, add a spinny whatchamjigga just for fun!

You dont have to hate women to be masculine thats absurd. You need some better role models. Borrow for yourself what you admire in other people. Dont worship anyone or put em on a pedestal because we're all flawed humans; just imitate the bits you like and forget or avoid what you dont. Punt the woman hating into the deep ocean and look around and see whats left. Get funky with it. Have fun.

"I'm a trans man and I can't conceive of masculinity outside the context of misogyny. If you transition into manhood, as I have, you will inevitably absorb masculine socialization that leads you to abuse the women around you. Masculinity, the thing I dearly want for myself, revolves entirely around hating women. Trans men, like me, pattern their masculinity off of the toxic masculinity of cis men."

I want to study you.

[treebloods]

It doesn't feel like a safe space anymore so i will simply withdraw

[fawniette]

older!toji who works in security, usually found working as a bouncer for numerous clubs and bars. he’s definitely the type of bouncer that’s annoyingly strict, looking over at id’s for far too long or confiscating them when he believes they’re fake.

older!toji who you first met when you was on a night out with your girls, you can get pretty hectic, so conversations with him were inevitable. but he couldn’t help but think you were the prettiest girl he’s seen and gradually gets to know you on a more personal level when he sees you out most weekends.

older!toji who’s definitely a little thrown off by your age gap, which prevents him from making any bold moves, even if you’re reciprocating it and making moves of your own. he doesn’t wanna come off as some creepy older man.

older!toji who does eventually give in and asks you for your number despite his thoughts. he’s never dated a younger girl before but he had really grown to like you, he also couldn’t deny the attraction he had for you and the undeniable chemistry between you. and besides, you’re still an adult at the end of the day.

older!toji who is so naturally and casually dominant, always leading you with his hand on your lower back, or making simple decisions for you both in day to day life. he’s always the one to lead while you can just simply turn your brain off.

older!toji who is such a gentlemen, taking you out on dates to wherever your heart desired before showing up to your door with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, and buying you gifts whenever you mentioned something you liked.

older!toji who just loves to spoil you. he loves seeing the way your face lights up whenever he buys you something, thanking him with a pretty smile that has him handing you his card all over again.

older!toji who takes you out of town for a few days when he decides he wants to make you his girl. he’s making this trip as romantic as possible for you, finally popping the question where you happily and wholeheartedly agree.

older!toji who then fucked you later that night for the first time with so much adoration, worshipping your body with his gentle kisses and soft touches, just admiring how beautiful you looked under him, bare and vulnerable all while whispering how well worth the wait was.

older!toji whose thrusts were deep, bottoming out inside of you as your pussy swallow him whole, fluttering around his shaft that causes a deep hiss to escape his lips as he snaps his hips forward, which elicits a pretty, surprised gasp from you.

older!toji who makes you cum multiple times on his cock as the pads of his thumbs circle over your clit, your velvet walls clenching over and over as your back arches with the snap of his hips. he just can’t get enough of your sweet moans.

older!toji who couldn’t finish without eating you out like a starved man, having you sat directly on his face as you buck you hips with his tongue working pure magic on your sensitive clit and glossy folds. and you can feel that cocky smirk he has as your squirm from your umpteenth orgasm of the night.

older!toji who had everyone worried besides your friends who already knew him when you introduced him as your boyfriend. he definitely has a certain look to him with his dark hair and eyes with that unbelievably sexy scar on the side of his mouth. not to mention he was over a decade older that you. it definitely wasn’t doing him any favours when trying to win over your loved ones.

older!toji who is so fiercely protective over you now that you’re officially his, swearing to himself that he’d never let you get into harms way. he’s more than willing to put his life at risk if it means keeping you safe.

older!toji who spoils you even more than he did before, always getting you anything that you ask for when he sees those pleading eyes and a pretty smile on your glossed lips. he has a real hard time resisting you even though you drain his bank account, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

older!toji who hates the idea of you going out with your girls now that you’re his. he knows it’s a toxic trait of his, and he’s never gonna go and stop you or try and control you. but he’ll always have something to say about it, which is usually met with your eye rolls that have him sighing.

older!toji who has just honestly just turned into such a lover boy since being with you. he wants you all to himself, even if he knows you should be out there having fun. but he’s trying to somewhat control himself.

older!toji who just loves and adores you so much. you take up all of his mind, and while you might be his controversially young girlfriend, he couldn’t care less about what anyone has to say about it. and honestly, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love the fact he can teach you all he knows.

[nanamiskentos]

GOOD TO ME ☓ ── ( 両面宿儺 , ryomen sukuna ) mdni.

⌗ sukuna really hates boring council meetings, but when you're around? he hates them a little less.

ᯓ starring ─ ﹙ 両面宿儺 : ryomen sukuna ﹚ ─ the king of curses x reader

𝓳𝓳𝓴. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 x afab!reader )  ─── ❛ cw ⌓. mdni. true form!kuna. heian era. wife!reader. mutual másturbation, teásing, èdging. ríding. cèrvix kissing, brèèding kínk, sukuna ADORES you. wc ⌓. 3.3k. art, clloudgarden.

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 ( author says ) there's cousin greg everywhere for those who have the eyes to see

"and, if it is to be said, my lord, so it be, so it is –"

oh, for fuck's sake, sukuna should have known it would have been another useless, dull meeting. the absolute waste of time that left him nostalgic for sticking his head in a fiery kiln, if only to save him from the droning voice of some pathetic subordinate rambling about territorial disputes between lower-grade curses, as if he gave a damn.

these insects, squabbling over scraps, too weak to take what they wanted, too spineless to act without crawling to him for approval. the king of curses can only exhale through his nose, chin propped up on a curled first as he taps fingers against the fine table. patience thinning by the second, maybe he'd kill one of these lowlifes for sport, just to keep things interesting.

"...and so, my lord, we would ask your decision on the matter."

ah, right. this fuckass council couldn't do a damn thing for themselves, can they? two pairs of russet eyes level at the insignificant wretch standing before him, frail-lookin' and wringing his wiry hands like a meek rodent.

"what would you like me to say, hmm?"

the miscreant hesitates, "the...the western border dispute, my lord," he stammers, "do we intervene? or should we let the lesser curses resolve it among themselves? o-only as you see fit, of course."

there must be a thousand other things running through the king of curses's mind at the moment. he's feeling rather peckish, for starters, for it seems the whole, marinated boar that he ravaged through to break his fast was not quite enough to be satiating.

ah, sukuna wonders, there's also that harvest festival looming up, for the cowardly emperor's timid footman did indeed deliver an invitation — lined with gold leaf. and tch', he still needs to replace the bowstring in his yumi, perhaps he would be more inclined to use animal sinew for a more sturdy yield.

all these items of agenda faintly float around in the demon's mind, until he's blinking, remembering the pathetic rogue still shuffling in front of him. sukuna decides to play it safe, falling back to his default answer and favourite philosophy.

"kill them."

"ah, w-who, my lord?"

sukuna sighs, feeling a vague itch on the back of his neck, "all of them. the weaklings who came crying for help. the ones causing the problem. heh, just take out anyone standing within five feet of them while yer' at it," he's waving a large hand dismissively, "if they can't handle their own affairs, i don't wanna' hear about it."

"that doesn't sound very wise now, does it?"

sukuna feels his thick jaw tick, and he needs not even turn his head to see the source of dissent, for he knows your voice, your presence better than he knows himself. he can hear the quiet rhythm of your steps, carrying you behind him, and then towards his side, towards your rightful place.

"the hell are you doing here?" sukuna's tongue clicking behind his teeth, taking in that intoxicating scent of incense and clean silk, and the fresh peaches that you so loved to split open with bare hands when the fruit was in season.

"you said i could sit in your council today," you murmur, sidling closer to his large frame that looms against his grandiose seat of bone and wood.

huh, sukuna does remember making some vague promise like that, some invitation extended towards you, his (mostly) beloved wife — to allow you to sit in on these tedious council meetings. damn shame, how he can't help but make promises in the golden haze of post-coital glow, and how he's obligated to fulfil them later on. whatever, focus.

but it seems that you're already a step ahead of him, smiling at the skittish scoundrel who most certainly does not deserve the privilege of that beauty, "so, what was the matter at hand?"

the wretch seems almost relieved to be conversing with you, rather than the idle terror of the king of curses, and he's shifting on the polished, marble floor, "well, my lady, it was the w-western borders you see. crops had been razed to the ground and —"

now call him a weak-minded fool (or don't, if you sensibly value your life) but sukuna does not even hear nor register the rest of the louse's words.

clawed fingers twitching, shoulders rippling at the sudden sensation of you drawing faint circles over his broad thighs. granted, there is a layer of thick, woven silk between your grazing nails and his flesh, but the sensation of your touch — even through his ivory martial pants, makes sukuna's ears ring.

what sort of game do you think you're playing?

but you're not even looking at him, "now, that is most unfortunate. i assume imperial troops have not been able to intervene?" not even batting your lashes once towards sukuna's flushing face, when your hand is drifting to low centre of his chiselled abdomen, further down so your dizzying touch finds home on his clothed groin.

sukuna only watches with a honed, terrible interest as you shift slightly and the movement parts the fine-lined edges of your robe. the sight sending tendrils of searing flames down his spine, for fuck, if he didn't know any better, you're entirely bare underneath the thin silk of your summer yukata.

and sukuna wagers, he swears, that a single claw tugging at the flimsy fabric would unravel the robes so deliciously before him, delighting him with his favourite vision in the entire world. mouth watering, fangs slipping past the corners of his red lips at the thought of laving pleasurable bruises over your chest, and lower.

fuck all this, border disputes over crops, maggots with their problems, imperial soldiers.

"out." patience snapping like brittle bone, fingers flexed against the edges of his seat at the head of the council. a subtle motion, one that sends every pathetic soul in the room scrambling to their feet. no second chances, no hesitations at his orders for they knew better.

how satisfying then, when the massive chamber doors groan open. the rustle of fabric, the hurried shuffle of sandals, all of them scurrying out like rats. not daring to look back. all except you.

still seated beside him, still watching him. as though you knew exactly what sort of effect your little stunt would have on him. he needs not even look to sense that insufferable curve of your shapely lips, the faint glint of amusement in your eyes.

and sukuna heaves heady air through his lungs, forcing indifferent into every inch of his body — not quite willing to indulge you yet. pretending like the heat licking at his veins wasn't due to you, like his pulse did not thicken, darken and quicken the very moment you walked in. as though there's not hot blood rushing through his stiff cocks at this very moment.

"why the temper today?" you tease, tone as light as a blossom in the spring, "i thought y'were tired, all these dull meetings, my love, they must be getting to you."

"tsk', don't got any attitude, woman." but your hands are on him again, gripping thick, dual shafts that are still draped in silk. and sukuna does his best not to rumble, to purr when the delicious friction of your gliding hands sets him alight, "now, what is it that my queen wants?"

you're tilting your head, giving him those distracting hazy eyes that makes his groin tense, as though your stroking fingers aren't enough to make his wide hips buck, "what exactly do you think i want, 'kuna?"

not lord sukuna, not any other simpering title that the others threw his way. just his name falling from your sweet lips, and it's enough to allow a silent snarl curl at the edges of his lips, because right now? sukuna wasn't thinking about his estate, nor any other ambition save for you. and how easily he could wipe that smug look off your face. how easily he could pleasure you so that your cheeks would flush, and your jaw would drop slack in beautiful squeals of his name, pleas for more.

dark-stained nails shooting out, yanking at your waist. sukuna revels in the sharp gasp that leaves your lips as he yanks you forward, gripping at your flesh and pulling you onto his lap in one fluid motion. no hesitation, no warning and no mercy for sukuna either, it seems. for your robes part and sukuna has to bite back a low, rumbling groan at the feeling of your bare cunt against his thigh. minx.

he has no doubt that you can feel his pulse beat up against you, heavy and thrumming. like war drums beneath his skin but he cares not, for you have only ever been the sole being alive that could undo him like this. aw, cute, how your eyes widen at the sight of his second mouth curling into a sharp, lazy grin.

"well," sukuna presses his lips to the juncture of your neck, amusement laced with something more lustful, "you have my full attention now, don't you? heh, i mean this is what ya' wanted, wasn't it?"

and sukuna, for all his idle threats and vague promises of suffering, cannot help himself. already leaning in, with heat, pressure and teeth. crimson mouth slanted over yours, crushing and demanding, no patience nor hesitation. just hunger.

your soft moan is swallowed by him, for he's greedy, gluttonous for the sight, the sound and the feel of you, and he drinks it all in. devouring the way that you melt against the broad planes of his chest, rocking your hips gently against the stiff tips of his aching cocks that prick through the silk.

blush-pink lashes flickering against creamy, roughened skin, savouring the way you respond. the way your hands slide up, grasping at his shoulders, his jaw, anywhere on your husband that you can touch.

there's a sharp growl lingering in sukuna's bobbing throat, deep and pleased, because this what what he had been waiting for. for you to realise that there was only ever one way that teasing the king of curses could end. and it was right here, with you splayed out for him, in his grasp.

and of course, he knows exactly what you're trying to achieve like this — chasing a sweet and easy relief against his hips. the damp wetness between your thighs crying out for any friction that made your own hips stutter but sukuna's having none of that. gripping at your waist with enough force that leaves you frozen, unable to buck yourself up against him.

"ah, 'kuna," you're whining so beautifully, sukuna has to steel his resolve, "was s-so close." huffing, pouting at your lack of trembling release as sukuna presses a gentle kiss to your jaw.

"ya' really thought i was gonna' let you have it that easy?" sukuna laughs, a deep and wicked chuckle thick with satisfaction, "mmh, i have a better idea, hah."

a broad, wide hand splays itself against your lower abdomen. arching your spine just so, pushing you slightly back so sukuna can drag his hungry gaze to the shimmering, swollen folds that he aches for. already creating such a filthy mess over his lap as he ghosts the very tips of his nails around your mound, "did ya' come in here drippin' just for me, wife? wanted to interrupt all my kingly duties?"

feisty thing you are, for you don't dignify him with a verbal answer. already reaching past the woven band of his martial pants, dipping into his trousers to wrap your sweet hands around his hard cocks. sukuna hisses, doing his best to not just spill translucent seed right then and there. bucking his hips back, slapping your hands away, "you don't get to touch."

and oh, how he loves the frown marring at your kiss-stung pout, the adorable jut of your lower lip scowling at being deprived at the chance of feeling the king of curses unravel under your touch.

"c'mon, wife, how about somethin' better?" sukuna smiles, though it is not a smile that offers reprieve, as he gently presses a soft kiss to your wrist, guiding your hand to your own core, "show me jus' how badly you wanted me."

your whines are delicious, the music of creation to his ears, as you bristle and grumble. rolling your eyes skywards, but eager to chase your own pleasure nevertheless. sukuna watches with greedy eyes, taking in at how you dip two fingers right over your glistening cunt, gently brushing them against your clit so you shiver in his lap.

sukuna is watching you, concentric-ringed eyes fixed on you with the quiet intensity of a god surveying his offerings. but it's clear that you don't have it in you to become self-conscious, already mewling at your own touch. deliciously swabbing the pads of your fingers through your soaking heat, rocking sharper against the numbing pleasure of your own motions.

he's hissing, realising that he may need to take, heh, matters into his own hands as well. matters being the thick, dual shafts that stiffly spring into the air, demanding his attention. angry pink-bulbed tips that leak small spurts of pre already, and sukuna grips at the uppermost cock, fisting a thick hand over his length. keeping his eyes fixed on how your fingers draw gentle circles over your clit (well, of course, he already knew just how you liked it, you're his wife, after all).

"g-good?" there must be a faint cherry flush painting the back of sukuna's neck, doing his very best to pretend he's not stuttering and stammering over his words. but his breath hitches, low and guttural, more growl than a gasp. like a beast caught between restraint and desire.

he's not even sure where the filthy, glorious sounds are coming from. the sopping pap! pap! pap! of skin against skin, of sukuna's thick, muscled fist tugging at his cock, or the slick slide of your fingers in your cunt, teasing at your entrance and your inner walls.

"s-so good, 'kuna," you're sighing, and sukuna loves you all the more for how you blush, jaw falling in honeyed whispers of his name, eyes hazy with the pleasure that is so close to you now, panting over and over.

and because, naturally, sukuna is a greedy and lecherous individual for his wife only, he keeps his lower set of eyes trained on how you're dipping the very tips of your fingers into your cunt, stretching the pad of your thumb up to flick and tug at your clit. a mimicry of what he bestows upon you, and he can see that you're truly that close to a finishing release. eyes droopy and lovesick as you rut at a sharp, staccato pace against him.

close, closer and right on the very edge when sukuna realises that he is a starved man (no, a starved curse? uh, not quite. these are all just semantics) and he's about to —

you're sputtering, tears springing to the very corners of your angelic eyes. crystalline lashes pooling on the very edges of your angry, reddened gaze, "i was so close, what the fuck!"

sukuna nips at your lips, drinking in your huffs and sighs, pulling your hand away from your sodden cunt, "must i ask my wife's forgiveness?" low and husky, rock-salt rasp as he jostles your hips in his powerful hold.

"now, how 'bout i keep ya' hands busy with this?" and he gently guides your slick-stranded hand to his upper cock, shuddering at the pressure of your fingertips against his aching, painful shaft. laving at your collarbone as he pulls you right over the lower shaft, brushing your swollen pussy folds over the cock, soaking him in your sweet, sweet arousal.

"hah, s-stop teasing," you grouse, already beginning a steady and pumping pace with your hands once more that makes sukuna's iron-willed concentration waver. fuck, you're too good at that, despite being barely able to wrap your hand around the sheer girth of the demon's cock.

sukuna does decide to take some small pity on you (see! he's generous!) by pressing soothing circles to your clit, easing you up, "big stretch, hah. jus' take a deep breath for me, wife." slowly lowering you down on his cock, already swabbing turgid veins against your innermost walls, and truthfully? losing his fucking mind at how the feeling your pussy wrapped around him shatters whatever dignity he had left.

"f-fuck me," sukuna breathes, "ohh, 's the sweetest thing in the world." already determined to kiss his weeping tip against your sweet spot as soon as he finds it, already swivelling your hips against the faint curl of pink hairs on his groin. determined to hit that roughened patch of heightened sensitivity.

and because sukuna does have a reputation to keep up, he would not ever admit this to another living soul, lest he be left with little choice but to flay that poor soul alive. but it's barely been half a minute of sukuna's cock being sucked in by your cunt, and he feels as though he may already burst.

it certainly doesn't help that your mouth is pressing sharp kisses to his pectorals, right over the darkened tattoos that brand his chest and the way that your hand is pumping his upper cock, the tip weakly spurting and so close to release.

pleasurable slap! after slap! of his mushroom-tip against your cervix, pressing as deep as he can, as sukuna slowly lifts your hips up and down his shaft. he loves you, he really does adore you and he fears that he may genuinely have to verbalise this sentiment more often, because he feels as though his ragged, dark heart may burst at the sight of you so ethereal, glistening in his hold.

if he were a less jealous, selfish husband, he may have commissioned the court sculptor to get in here, to capture your writhing form and prop it up in the temple for all lesser beings to leave offerings and candles at your image.

but this sight? it's for sukuna to worship alone, to capture in his memory, the image of you gasping and panting for sweet, candied breath, with your cunt drooling in his lap and spitting down his shaft.

"m-more, more, 'kuna," you sweetly murmur, with the edges of your robes slipping off your shoulder so sukuna can nip his fangs into the sweet flesh.

but the king of curses can only smile, a genuine grin that never bodes well for your endurance, splaying five fingers against the thick, bulging tip that presses against your abdomen, "more? better h-hold on, wife, then. 'cause, this?" he prods at the thick tip that is just visible through your womb, "this is where 'm gonna be, maybe give this wretched place an heir? what'dya say?"

having his wife's slippery cunt tacking against his groin, slapping all so nasty and sticky — all while scheming for an heir to finally bring down that wretched emperor in heian-kyō? to see you glowing and round with his child? sukuna's a multitasker, what can he say?

[lady-pug]

Lipstick Stamps

Summary: Bob doesn’t seem to think himself deserving of good things, such as a relationship, and you make it your personal mission to prove him wrong, one kiss at a time

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: self-esteem issues and feelings of unworthiness (on Bob's part); spoilers about the ending of Thunderbolts*

Notes: Hey people! I’m back, and this time writing for a new fandom! I’ve been an avid Marvel fan since I was a kid actually I’ve just never gotten around to writing for it before. BUT I watched Thunderbolts* and I, while I thought it would feed into my crush on Bucky and Yelena, I actually ended up falling in love with Bob. I think he deserves all the love in the world and decided to take matters into my own hands. I intend to write more for Bob and also for Bucky (I have a few ideas already) and maybe Yelena.

Thanks @fruityvampslayer for the prompt (also, requests are open, you can send requests and prompts anytime, it is greatly appreciated)!

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

There are no physical descriptions of the reader other than wearing makeup, and it can be read as any gender. Also, when describing the formal attire I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum so you can imagine what the reader is wearing.

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Bob had no idea how he ended up in this situation. He didn’t know what he did to even deserve to be in this situation at all. 

No, actually, that was a lie. He knew exactly how he ended up in this situation.

The day at the Watchtower had started out like any other: breakfast early in the morning with you and Alexei, the older man having a hard time keeping his voice at an ‘indoors’ level, as usual. Then a run around the block with Bucky even though Bob hated running as the supersoldier insisted he needed to stay active and in shape. After training with Bucky and Ava, followed by lunch with the whole team prepared by you and Alexei, Bob took a couple of hours to himself, reading a book you had recommended in his room. 

During the first few months living in the tower he would often isolate himself in his new room, away from everyone. It was safe, it was known to him. But then, little by little, he started opening up, first to you and Yelena, then to the rest of the team. Now, where first he would lock himself up in his room, he would make an effort to spend more time with each of his teammates, his friends. He would still retire to his room throughout the day, he did enjoy his alone time after all, but instead of locking his door and half dreading, half hoping someone would come looking for him, he would now leave his door slightly ajar, inviting anyone in should they search for him. Most of the time he hoped it would be you.

But then, just as he was about to start preparing everything for his biweekly afternoon tea with you, Yelena and, surprisingly, John, Valentina had come in a rush, her heels clicking against the floor as she gave instructions to Mel about dresses and ties, and called for an emergency meeting.

“What is this all about?” Yelena asked, her arms crossed and annoyance written all over her face.

“Well, the New Avengers have a gala with the investors tonight.” Valentina shrugged, all while Mel still typed away on her phone. 

Everyone but Alexei groaned, while Bob fiddled his thumbs nervously. 

“Again?” Bucky asked, exasperated.

“What, do you have something better to do on a Tuesday night?” Valentina mocked.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” you answered curtly “It’s movie night.”

Movie night. It started out in the first weeks of everyone living in the Watchtower. You had asked Bob if he wanted to watch a movie with you. Your explanation had been that it was this new horror movie that had just been released, and that you were normally too much of a scaredy-cat to watch it on your own. You were so full of shit and Bob could see right through it, he knew it was just an excuse to get him to join you. And yet he did it anyway. He had been right, as you ended up watching ‘The Lion King 2’ instead of whatever horror flick you had been planning (that is if you hadn’t lied about that as well). The following week you had invited him again, and the next, and on the week after that Yelena asked if she could join. Then Alexei. After a while it became a tradition between the whole team to watch a movie while eating pizza on Tuesday nights. 

“Oh, how cute.” Valentina mocked before turning serious once more “It’s non negotiable.”

Everyone started grumbling once more before she cut it off.

“Who do you think pays for all of this?” she gestured around “The maintenance of this place? The equipment you use on your missions? It certainly doesn’t all come from government grants, right Congressmen Barnes?”

Bucky, although still annoyed, looked away sheepishly, as Alexei tried hyping everyone up.

“Come on, it will be fun night!” he practically shouted, much to Yelena’s dismay. 

At the end of the day they couldn’t argue with Valentina, especially not after Mel casually mentioned it was an open bar and had free food. 

Bob was a little bummed at the change of plans but resigned himself to watching ‘Revenge Of The Sith' alone. Just as he was about to leave the briefing room, his head hung, he felt something tugging on his sleeve.

“Where do you think you’re going?” you asked, the corner of your lips turning up in a small smirk.

“I-I mean, you guys have to go get ready and all.” he shrugged “I don’t want to get in the way.”

Your smile softened, your fingers trailing down his arm and wrapping around his own. 

“You never get in the way, Bob.” 

His own lips betrayed him, for he smiled bashfully at you, looking at the floor. 

“Why don’t you come with us tonight?” you asked, hopefully. At least Bob hoped you sounded hopeful. God, he was so pathetic. 

“I don’t-” he cleared his throat “I mean, I don’t know.”

He knew he wasn’t like the rest of you. He wasn’t a supersoldier, like Bucky, Alexei and John, or could phase through walls like you and Ava. Hells, he could barely throw a punch like Yelena, and he couldn’t even use his powers without risking wiping out half the city. Not until he could get him under control.

“Come on, you heard Alexei, it will be fun!” you playfully elbowed him on the ribs “Besides you’d be saving me from a huge headache. Do you think I want to spend yet another evening rubbing elbows with a bunch of rich old men? Let the Congressmen do the talking this time.”

He tried, he really tried. It wasn’t really his scene anway. But he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you batted your eyelashes at him like that, soft yet cheeky grin on your lips, one hip cocked to the side oh so prettily-

Okay, he quickly shut down that line of thought before he said anything stupid.

But the way your face lit up when he eventually agreed was worth the few hours of him being stuffed in the uncomfortable suit you had requested Mel find for him last minute. 

By the time he was ready to go he was feeling kind of anxious, waiting, hoping for you to show up, second guessing your invitation all together. But when you did show up…

You looked… breathtaking was the only word he could use to describe you. Your hair looked fancily put together, and your elegant outfit was so form fitting he had to stop himself from downright ogling at you. And the way that red lipstick suited you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your mouth. Not in a creepy way, of course. He hoped.

“Don’t you clean up nicely!” you mentioned as you stopped in front of him, fixing up his crooked tie.

He smiled. You always made him feel so safe, so normal. 

“You’re one to talk.” he tried joking back to you, but to his own ears he sounded so lame. But it worked, at least to some degree, for you averted your gaze, a small bashful smile spreading across your face.

“So, are you ready to go?” you asked after a moment.

“Yeah.” he nodded, but it was a lie. He was anything but ready. He was so nervous. 

And yet… he actually found himself having fun! You stuck by his side the whole night, even after he said you didn’t have to refrain from having a good time for his sake.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Bob, sweetheart,” you smiled, gently “that I actually like spending time with you?”

He couldn’t help the way his cheeks flushed at your words, his heart beating so fast in his chest. He didn’t dare question you again.

At one point in the night, though, some soft, slow music started playing on the speakers and it was like all attendees and their plus ones started flocking to the dancefloor. 

After a few beats of you both staring at the people dancing he glanced at you, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Don’t you wanna go dance with someone?” he asked, and for a moment he could swear your face lit up in a hopeful expression before you quickly schooled it back to your neutral look.

“Nah, I’m good. I have two left feet, if you know what I mean.” you chuckled, and he laughed along with you. 

He glanced longingly at the dancefloor, all of them couples having fun together. 

“What’s on your mind?” he startled, not expecting to find you staring at him still.

“How nice it must be.” he mumbled after a beat “To have someone.”

It was your turn to stare at all the people before turning back to him.

“Yeah, I guess so.” you smiled softly at him, but it felt… off. There was a downturn to your lip that almost resembled a frown “You’ll find someone one day, Bob, I’m sure you will.”

He shook his head, a sad smile growing on his face.

“I’m not sure that’s on the cards for me.”

Your face fell in confusion. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, almost as if you were personally insulted by this.

“I mean, I don’t think I deserve something like that, you know. Not after everything.” he sighed, shoulders dropping “And besides who could possibly want someone like-”

He could see the exact moment your face hardened as you took a step towards him, cutting him off mid sentence.

“Someone like what?” you asked, voice low and, dare he say, menacing.

Now he was afraid to say it. You looked mad, and the last thing he had wanted was to upset you. But in Bob’s eyes it was true. He was a loser, he couldn’t even help the team properly as of yet, and he had almost killed everyone including you. He couldn’t possibly fathom how anyone, much less someone as cool and kind and badass like you, could be into him.

“Someone like, you know, me.” he confessed.

And that’s how he ended up here.

Your back had straightened, face cold and unreadable as you reached for his hand and yanked him after you. He started mumbling apology after apology, stuttering profusely as he tried to make sense of where you were going.

As it turned out you pulled him away from the dancefloor and out of the building completely, ditching the rest of the team as you quickly hauled a cab.

“Get in.” you said, a sudden yet gentle tug for him to get in the backseat after you.

Your hand didn’t let go of his hand until you were both out of the car and inside the Watchtower. You dragged him all the way to the residential level, only letting go so you could make a quick stop in your room to grab something he couldn’t quite figure out before you were leading him to his own room. He had half a mind to push the door closed behind him once you both entered, still uneasy about having made you angry even though he didn’t quite know what he did wrong.

“I-I’m so sorry, I-”

You didn’t let him finish, swiftly heading to his bathroom with a short “make yourself comfortable” thrown over your shoulder.

His mind was reeling. What had just happened? He pondered over the events of the evening, trying to sort them out in his head as he toed off his loafers. One moment you two were fine, joking around with one another and then… 

He ruined everything, a nagging voice spoke from deep within his mind as he  removed his blazer and carefully folded it. He made you angry, forcing you to abandon the gala and bring him to the tower, now you were going to leave him here, and go back there and finally have the fun night you had been promised and…

Just as he was just loosening his tie and popping the collar button open you stormed back in, and before he could get even a word out you lightly shoved him backwards by the shoulders.

“Listen here, Bob.” your voice was low, raspy even. While your makeup was still untouched you had changed into an oversized, comfy looking band tee, and had he not been mortified over having put his foot in his mouth he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you now exposed thighs “I won’t stand by and listen to you talk like that about yourself. I won’t accept it, I won’t allow it.”

Your last words were punctuated by a firm shove, making the back of his knees hit the mattress. He tripped over his own feet, falling on his butt on the bed.

“B-But it’s true.” 

A sigh of disappointment left your lips and he wanted to look away, hide in his own shame, but before he could even react you were climbing onto his lap, both legs extended on each side of his torso and hands placed carefully on his shoulders.

“No it isn’t, Bob.” both your face and your tone softened, your hands travelling up to cup his cheeks gently yet firmly, forcing him to keep his eyes on you “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you, love.”

Somewhere along the way his heart had practically stopped beating altogether. He didn’t know if it was your words or the position you found yourselves in but something made his breath hitch in his chest. Had you not been looking at him so reverently, like he hung all the stars in the sky, he was positive you’d have laughed at him, both his hands up like he was being held at gunpoint, not knowing where to place them, and a deep blush dusting his cheeks.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” you smiled softly then, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

He smiled back at you, but it didn’t match your own. No, his smile was sad, almost like he was pitying you.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” he whispered, not only to you but to himself.

Your eyes shifted, determination shining in them, but it wasn’t hard like before, it was warm and resolute. Then, without looking away from him, you slowly touched your forehead against his. 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince you otherwise, if you let me.” you spoke softly, your breath fanning against his lips “Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk out that door and we can pretend this never happened.”

His entire body was trembling with restraint. 

“I don’t deserve it.” he rasped out, scared “I don’t deserve you.”

Once his words registered in your mind you couldn’t hold back any longer, pulling his face towards you. But where he thought your lips would settle over his own, he felt you place a delicate kiss on his right cheek. 

“That’s not true, love.” you whispered against his skin.

He wanted to. God, did he want to. But he shook his head, feeling a knot in his throat.

“I don’t know how.” he whimpered.

Ever so slowly you moved to his other cheek, placing yet another warm kiss on his skin.

“Neither do I, to be honest. We’ll learn together.”

His hands settled on your waist then, some of the resistance leaving him. You took this as a sign to keep going and, with a soft pull on his jaw, bowed his head so you could place a peck on his forehead, and another one on the tip of his nose.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me.” 

Something in him snapped. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he searched your own, for what he wasn’t sure. A sign that you were lying? You wouldn’t. Reassurance? Perhaps. But he just knew that whatever it is you were offering him, you meant it.

“Please.” he whispered in a broken whine.

All you needed was a single word to unleash all you had been holding back, tightening your hold on his face and moving his head to your liking. Your lips were everywhere, on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, his neck, his ears, his temple, his jaw, even his own lips. Anywhere you could reach, gone were the featherlight kisses from before, replaced with fierce yet gentle ones, with enough pressure to leave his skin tingling. It was like you were trying to kiss every bad thought and insecurity out of his system. He knew that you knew it didn’t work like that, but damn if you weren’t going to try.

He felt like he was melting, right then and there on his own bed, his head airy and light and, for once in his life, quiet. His limbs felt heavy, his grip tightening ever so slightly on your waist, hands slipping down to your hips.

Your words weren’t helping his case either. After every caress of your lips on his skin you’d say something that left his heart soaring. 

“You are so strong, love. So brave.” he didn’t believe that most days, but the way you said it made him just the tiniest bit inclined to agree.

“You’re such a handsome man. A pretty, pretty boy.” he knew he didn’t hold a candle to the likes of Bucky, but if you were saying it there must be some truth behind it, right?

“So warm. And solid and real. You’re real, Bob.” he didn’t quite know what to make of that but coming from you it must be a compliment.

He didn’t want it to end. Perhaps the world, his world, could be summed up to this moment, right here. He never wanted to leave his room if it meant having you, like this, being in your hold and under your spell forever. Now that he finally had this he didn’t want to let it go. But, he guessed, all good things must come to an end. 

“So this is where you kids ran off to!” Alexei’s booming voice sounded from the corridor, startling Bob and making you sigh in annoyance.  

The door. In his haste earlier Bob had completely forgotten to close his bedroom door. And now, all the other Thunderbolts were standing in the doorway looking several different degrees of smug.

“Come on guys, let’s leave the lovebirds alone.” Yelena ushered them, not before throwing a wink at Bob, much to his embarrassment. 

Just as the last of them disappeared down the hallway and Bob’s shoulders finally relaxed, Walker backtracked and poked his head back on the doorway.

“Oh, by the way, you have something on your face, Bob.” he said, making a circular motion all over his face “Right around here.”

“What?!” Bob squeaked, practically throwing you on the bed as he rushed to the bathroom. There, in the mirror, was his own reflection staring back at him, his entire face and neck covered in red lipstick marks, all in the exact shape of your lips. 

“Oh, come on!” he saw you in the mirror running to the door of his bedroom and peering out into the hallway before shouting “Yelena! You promised me this one was transfer proof!”

Bob should be mortified. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely was. But he was also… happy. Overjoyed, in fact. So much so he started giggling in front of the mirror, both from your antics and from his appearance. His giggles turned into hearty chuckles and then into full blown laughter, his whole body shaking from the force of it. You came to check up on him, a small embarrassed smile of your own stretching across your lips, which he noticed were still painted in a now smudged shade of red.

“What’s so funny, huh, mister?” you asked playfully, to which he couldn’t resist holding your chin in his fingers, his thumb rubbing a smear of lipstick from the corner of your mouth and placing a kiss of his own on your lips.

“Thank you.” he breathed it once he pulled away.

You shrugged, holding onto his wrist to keep him from pulling away entirely. 

“You deserve it, Bob.”

It was still hard to hear. It made something itch inside him, like it was bubbling to come out and deny it, destroying this little bit of happiness he had forged for himself. He knew it would take a while, a long while, until he actually believed it, and that there would be days when it would be harder to believe you than others, but maybe, just maybe, this could be a start.

“Yeah.” he grinned, feeling like he probably looked like a lovesick puppy “Maybe I do.”

[puckinghischier]

Hiiii happy new year! I absolutely adore your quinnxreader fics! I loved the one about his brothers asking her questions and calling her all the time because they love her so much! Would you consider writing more about that?

Maybe about their dynamic in person, meeting over Christmas or summer or something!??

Have a great day!

oh listen when the four of you are together for long periods of time? you’re convinced you and quinn will never have to have kids, because you’re gonna be parenting jack and luke for the rest of your lives.

like meeting at the lake house over the summer. even if ellen and jim are there with everyone, luke and jack still bug you with any and every question they have.

“y/n! what should i eat for lunch?”

“y/n! where’s the remote?”

“y/n! have you seen my swimming trunks?”

every time you take a breath, one of them is yelling for you for help, or advice, or nothing at all. jack is a regular at shouting your name from wherever he is in the house just to show you some video on his phone, or ask you how to spell a word for a text he’s sending.

quinn and ellen have both scolded them numerous times to leave you alone and quit treating you like a maid, but you don’t tell them you secretly love it. you hate that they’re acting like toddlers that can’t fend for themselves, but you love the comfort level they have with you to do it all.

and it’s not like they don’t return the favor.

you always manage to get a summer cold when you come to the lake house. you don’t know if it’s the water mixed with the chilly nights or the fact you’re always on the go and never resting, but you somehow always get a case of the sniffles for a few days each summer.

whenever it happens, jack and luke dote on you like you’re bedridden. constantly bringing you snacks and meds and juice. asking if you need anything, watching movies with you and quinn while all four of you cuddle on the couch.

ellen never fails to snap a picture of the occasion, all of her kids (you included) safe and sound under one roof, a rare occurrence in her world.

now, you have your own moments visiting the two youngest brothers, missing them just as badly as they miss you sometimes. when quinn is away on a particularly long road trip and jack and luke have a few home games, you’re booking a flight and off to see them.

you can always see how excited they are to have you at their games, making sure you have the best seats and even buying you a custom split hughes sweater, so you never have to choose one over the other.

they tell all of their teammates you’re coming and gesture to you throughout the whole game, making sure you saw that save, or watched them score a goal.

you go out with them after games and send quinn lots of pictures of his drunk, idiot brothers singing karaoke and displaying terrible dance moves.

quinn loves seeing you have the friendship with his brothers that you do, but he always reminds them to keep you safe, his protective side coming out, even though he knows they would never let anything happen.

still, it doesn’t keep them from finding sunglasses from god knows where, drunkenly waltzing you out of bar on either side of you, gesturing for people to move out of the way like they’re your bodyguards. every move you make, they’re sending (blurry) pictures of you safely outside the bar, getting into the uber, getting out of the uber, walking into their apartment building, in the elevator, unlocking their door, walking through their door, walking to the guest room, and one final shot of you in bed with the covers pulled up to your chin, to the groupchat you’re in with them and your boyfriend.

and once the apartment is quiet and their voices are reduced to light snores, you sneak into their rooms and take pictures of them, too, feeling just as much of a responsibility to keep them safe and cared for.

christmases? now those are an event, truly.

luke and jack are on you for months to help them pick out the perfect gift for quinn and ellen, claiming you know gifts way better than they do. you even fly out to jersey for a couple days in the middle of december, finding a stretch where they have a couple home games.

you take them out shopping, coaching and making sure they don’t pick out some random scarf for their mom or striped tie for quinn and jim. they take you to do all the touristy christmas things around the city (even if you’ve done it a million times before) and make fun of how you still can’t skate, even after all the years of being with quinn.

when you all finally make it back to michigan for the big family christmas, quinn steals you away for some one on one time, of course, but it’s never long lived. one of the two man-children, as quinn so affectionately calls them, comes barging in your room eventually, flopping down onto the bed right in-between you and quinn. and once one is in there, the other gets jealous and fights his way into the dog pile happening.

“can you two go annoy mom and dad or something? you just had her for four days, it’s my turn,” quinn huffs, your quiet bubble now burst.

“well, mom and dad told us to come annoy you guys, they have to wrap presents,” luke pouts to quinn, causing him to roll his eyes and accept his fate.

christmas morning with them is always your favorite, though.

jack and luke are always so high energy, wanting everyone to open their presents from them first so they can see the reactions.

they’re just like little kids, almost blurting out what it is as the person is opening it. they always tell ellen and quinn and jim you helped them, not wanting to take all the credit for themselves. but when it comes to their gifts to you? you start to think their claims that they’re terrible at gift giving is just a rouse to get you to visit them each year, because they never fail to give you the most heartfelt gifts.

like this christmas, they had gone in together on paying an artist to paint a collage of your favorite pictures of you and quinn together, the canvasses each in the shape of yours and quinn’s initials. you had noticed the canvas shaped like a plus sign in-between the two letters is blank, not knowing why they would leave such a large section bare.

when you look up to ask them, you notice they’re standing on either side of you, gesturing you to stand up. quinn is nowhere to be found, looking around for him as you stand and follow their lead to the back door of the large house.

when they open the door you’re met with the michigan snow, falling perfectly onto a beautifully decorated archway that you hadn’t noticed the night before. you noticed the poinsettias forming a walkway to the arch, finding quinn standing there under the perfectly hung mistletoe, waiting for you.

jack and luke walk push you on, staying behind in the warmth of the house.

you walk down the snow covered path, focusing on not falling the whole way.

once you reach the end of the path, quinn grabs your hand and plants you right in front of him.

he launches into a speech about how much he loves you, and how much he loves watching you with his family, how easily you’ve become a part of it, intertwined so deeply into his soul he couldn’t let you go, even if he wanted to, before dropping down on one knee, asking you to spend the rest of your life trusting him and loving him.

you immediately tell him yes, launching your body to his once he stands, tears streaming down your frozen face. right as you go to share a kiss to seal the intimate moment, you’re broken apart by the woops and hollers of none other than jack and luke, turning your head to see them barreling down the walkway towards you two.

“oh my god! we’re getting a sister! she’s actually gonna be ours now!” jack screams, crushing you two in a bear hug that would give quinn a run for his money.

“now quinn can’t use the excuse she’s his anymore, because now she’s ours. she’s gonna be a hughes! no more stingy quinn!” luke follows up, another weight added onto the already crushing hug.

“oh god, i didn’t think this through,” quinn groans, not enjoying his brothers’ newfound claim on you.

you giggle, encased in all the hughes love.

“also, we helped plan this, don’t let him hog all the credit, here. we planned our gift so it’d be the perfect segway into the proposal!” luke rushes out, too excited to keep it in any longer.

“the blank canvas is for engagement pictures!” jack confirms, beaming from ear to ear.

they finally release you and quinn from their clutches.

“okay, you guys have had your moment, now go back inside. she might getting ready to be your sister-in-law,” quinn emphasizes the last two words, “but she’s my fiancé, so we’ve earned some alone time.”

the two brothers huff and pout as they walk off, grumbling about how they can’t wait until you’re a hughes so he can’t claim you’re just his.

before you allow yourself the time with quinn, you run after your two best friends, tackling them in their own bear hug, despite how much larger they are than you.

“thank you guys. for this, for accepting me into your family, for sharing quinn with me,” you giggle at their scoff and luke’s mumble of ‘more like we share you with him’ before continuing. “i love you two. i’ll always be your big sister, yeah? as long as you’re always my two obnoxious little brothers.”

they squeeze you back so tightly you can’t breathe, telling you again how much they can’t wait for you to officially be part of their family.

quinn watches you with them, his own heart warmed despite the snow falling, wondering how in the world he got so lucky with such an amazing family, and now an even more amazing woman to bring into it.

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[obeymeluv]

In Your Defense [PT 3 - Ignihyde]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

**Need to go to bed for work tomorrow so Diasomnia will be on my next day off. Can't stay up long enough to squeeze it in**

If there was one thing Idia hated, it was going out in public. He hated how the sun burned his eyes, all the bugs flying around, the way people looked at his hair, and almost had a heart attack at the idea that he'd have to talk to people.

Major bummer. 0/10, don't recommend.

But he'd suck it up and soldier on because the call of sweets was too tempting to resist. The trek to Sam's isn't the longest from Ignihyde but it's enough to make him pace himself.

Yeah, he's not really an outside person. Or a physical activity person outside of dancing to Premo or working on his projects.

He briefly wonders if Ortho put Sam up to this as he finds his second wind and ascends the hill. Who has a bomb sweets sale and DOESN'T ALLOW ONLINE PURCHASES?! WHY WERE THE DISCOUNTS IN-PERSON ONLY?

Idia breaths a sigh of relief and fixes his hoodie before mustering up his courage and opening the door. He's throwing himself into the proverbial lion's den, into an introvert's worst nightmare!

The noise and people are almost too much but he distracts himself with all the pink and red. Mercifully, the candy is spread out around the store so he doesn't have to stay in the sea of people. Idia doesn't discriminate when it comes to sweets; he gets soft cake rolls, pixie sticks, little donuts, a few chocolate bars, and a couple of limited edition dessert drinks. He's secretly glad Sam's regular stock didn't take a hit because of the holiday; his snack stash needs replenishing. Packs of ramen and little things of convenience bury his sweets stash but he's careful not to crush anything.

He can almost hear Ortho nagging him to get something green or slightly healthy. If he doesn't, Ortho will be mad at him for a week. It becomes a battle of wits between the Shroud brothers and Ortho is the king of juvenile inconveniences. Idia has learned the hard way; Ortho resets his alarms, throttles his wi-fi, messes with his lights, takes apart his tablet or takes it off charge in the middle of the night, and just about anything else he can think of.

Idia begrudgingly puts some green smoothies in his basket. Along with some pudding cups.

Satisfied with his raid, he waits in line. He's chanting to himself the whole time: just walk, don't make eye contact! Just walk, don't make eye contact! The line stalls enough for someone to bump into him and he panics, stumbling forward into the person in front of him. His hair flickers and flares a little in his panic.

People give him space and he babbles a quick apology. He pulls his hoodie up over his hair but it doesn't hide everything. It makes him feel safe, though. He relaxes a little.

Then, he hears it.

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

Oof. MAXIMUM cringe. NO ONE on campus has a charisma stat high enough to make THAT work! Except Kingscholar and Schoenheit, maybe.

It gets worse when he realizes someone said that TO YOU.

OH NO! HE HAS COMPETITION!

The tactic looks like it failed, though, so he's comforted. You wouldn't go for something so cheap and cheesy! This guy looks like a D-level tank AT BEST. You're an SSR easy. D-levels and SSR's don't go together!

He's an SSR when it comes to stealth and technical skill so maybe one day you guys can link up or whatever. Your choice. The tips of his hair turn pink and he blows on the closest strand to mute the color.

The guy is doubling down. "You're rolling a one, pleb. A hard one." Idia whispers to himself.

"You say somethin', Shroud?" the guy turns to him.

FUCK, HE KNOWS HIS NAME?!

Idia's hair roars to life with surprise. He yanks the hoodie down before the fabric singes and crisps. His strands are wild, untamed, and yellow. His instinct is to stutter and deny it, to backtrack, but your eyes are just shy of pleading and it makes him swallow the word soup.

"I-I said you're rolling a hard one. Y-You're failing!" Idia doesn't know if he's going to faint first or if his legs will give out. His heart might go first.

The guy clearly doesn't get the reference. The brain is buffering and the lag is too great. He shakes his head with a sharp, toothy smile, unable to help himself. Dumb normie, Idia gives a breathy chuckle. Idia has that unfortunate condition where his face talks for him and it must've said some shit because the tank is now laser-focused on him.

You're over the counter before he can process anything, grabbing the guy by the back of his shirt and telling him to leave. The guy just jerks his shoulders and stays the course. Idia sees you get ripped over the counter and tumble to the floor. You recover decently and grab the closest thing to you but something about the sound of your body hitting the floor sends him into a rage he'd only felt in online arguments.

It feels like his veins are burning. He can tell by the size of his shadow and the light dancing across the floor that his hair is long and ferociously orange. Raging orange. Lethal orange.

"Caution," Idia manages somehow through his rage. "C-Contents are hot." he knows he has to stay put. If he approaches the guy he will LITERALLY catch on fire. It's not a bad idea, and he can see the gears spinning in the guy's head. He's wondering if Idia's going to do it or if he has enough time to hit the door.

The guy chooses the door.

It takes several minutes for Idia to calm down. His hair seems to shrink as he deflates into his usual quiet mannerisms. It's shorter than normal! "Used up all my fuel," Idia complains as he drags himself to the counter. "Need calories." he melts pitifully into the counter.

"You need to buy what you burned, too." Sam points to the singed chips and snacks. He already has a few packs that are beyond saving in his arms. Idia realizes the shop is basically empty now and finds the energy to blush. Pink cheeks look really cute against his blue hair!

"Does this mean I'm done for the day?"

"Yes." Sam looks at you. He's not mad or disappointed, but he means you're done. "I think you're a bit of a fire hazard." he teases.

You both blush.

None of this was in his decision tree! WHAT DOES HE DO?

"You, uh, you want to come by Ignihyde and, um, watch some stuff? You don't have to if you don't want to, of course. I just, you know, since it was my fault and all--"

"Is that a nat twenty in the wild? I think I have to now!" you joke.

"You get that?" Idia's mouth hangs open in surprise.

"It might have different names but I think it's the same thing in my world." you shrug. He's so down to discuss games from another dimension!

A nat twenty indeed!

----

Ortho was doing his best to fill the gaps with whatever Sam's shop had to offer. Idia's grocery order was a little delayed due to the Valentine's holiday so he needed something decent to tide him over. Determined to keep his brother from an early, sodium-induced death, Ortho took it upon himself to shop. He wasn't totally heartless, though, so he'd throw in a few bags of chips to make Idia feel better.

A lot of this chocolate was out of the question! The sugar was through the roof! Then again, Idia was hopelessly addicted to sweets. He's pretty sure his brother broke some kind of record for sugar tolerance.

Equipped with Vil's suggestions and the things he researched, Ortho started hunting for healthy foods. He filled the basket with smoothies, yogurts, dark chocolate, fruit, and protein bars. There should be enough texture and flavor variation there to make Idia happy. Well...relatively.

Ortho floated patiently in line, subtly recording the conversations around him for later playback. Organic human interaction was interesting and would help him improve his algorithms and processes.

It's not like it hurt anything! All of the conversations were innocent and--

WAS SOMEONE TRYING TO MAKE A MOVE ON HIS FRIEND? HIS BESTEST, MOST PRECIOUS FRIEND?! ONLY HIS BIG BROTHER CAN DO THAT!

You may not totally get that he's a techno-organic construct (and not a boy who just really loves pretending to be a robot) but HE GETS that YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE AND THAT'S NOT OKAY!

"Excuse me, pardon me," Ortho weaves carefully through the people, playing a little 'wee-woo' alarm through his speaker system.

He floats beside the guy, staring at him with those big gold eyes. Pinching his thumb and pointer finger together turns up the alarm.

The guy is ignoring the alarms! How ridiculous! Is this what Idia means by natural selection and survival of the fittest?

A red light pops out of his shoulder, spinning in place.

HE'S IGNORING THAT, TOO?!

"You're being interrupted!" Ortho glares at him now, tuft of blue hair dancing angrily. "This conversation is clearly inappropriate for the setting and is henceforth terminated!"

"Terminated? Big words for a little boy! Go away, big people are talking!" the guy tries to shoo him away.

"Don't be rude to him!" you snap, "And he's right! The conversation is terminated!"

"Terminated!" Ortho echoes, pumping his fist. "Terminated!" he repeats, laughing when some of the people in line begin to join in and chant 'terminated, terminated!'

The guy leaves without buying anything and Ortho is happy to take his place. He pays for the the snacks. "And here's a sticker for you for being so sweet!" you put a sticker on the back of his hand. It's a heart wearing sunglasses.

Ortho laughs despite himself. One day he'll get Idia to explain it to you in a way you understand. He's surprised nothing like him exists in your world but he's glad to be here with you in Twisted Wonderland.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC xDP Fanfi idea: The End and Beginning

It starts off simple. The Fentons move to a new universe once the AntiEcto-Acts are accepted worldwide. It was a problem when the USA enacted the laws, but convincing the rest of the world to follow suit left a bitter taste in their mouths.

It also made them feel highly useless.

Their youngest was a half-ghost, and after meeting the clone and alternative counterpart of said son, the Fentons family now were half of what the Acts claimed had no soul.

They could fight against the country and escape into the dead of night, but there was nowhere to hide when the whole planet hunted them. Unless you had a portal that could send you far away from the government dogs.

This was good because said dogs had managed to build their own portal. Nothing with Fenton Works tech, but it didn't seem to matter. They had a way into the Infinite Realms and planned on sending bombs through to vanquish the ghosts once and for all.

Clockwork had warned the planet's governing units, appearing in their skies and speaking every language.

"If you do this, then your world will end. Your world is a flip of ours. Without one or the other, everything will be destroyed."

His warning only further fueled their hate, and mods flooded the streets chanting for the bombs to be set off. It was like the whole world had lost their minds.

The Fentons cowered in their homes, trying desperately to get people to listen, but their words fell on deaf ears. Clockwork's reputation puts him in a challenging position. His natural dedication needed to remain neutral in any situation, but his soft spot for Danny made it hard to allow time to run its course.

In the end, he appeared before the Fentons with a message. "You must leave this world in one week. Everything will come to an end."

His warning had the group moving. They reached out to all their friends and extended family. Begging them to flee with them. Only Sam and Tucker arrived at their house on the last day, eyes puffy red, bags packed, and a daunting lack of their parents.

Clockwork sent them a ship. It looked like a glowing cruise ship, with wooden planks creaking and groaning as they climbed aboard. They were to pick a room and take shelter, understanding that once they sealed the door, they could not reopen it until they arrived.

The ship would travel at alarming speeds, protected from their timeline with Clockwork's power, but it would take everything the ghost had to keep them safe.

The final moment came, with the seven people pilling together in the largest room- The VIP balcony cabin. Sam, Tucker, and Danny held each other while sitting in front of the glass windows overlooking the fleeing ghosts- their world was also ending.

Maddie, Jack, Jazz, and Dani were in a pile on the bed, eyes shut tight and hugging each other with all their might. Tears rolled down their faces, but no one called it out. They were all mourning.

Dan stood to the side, arms crossed over his chest and leaning on the door. Despite not saying it out loud, they knew he wanted to guard it in case a ghost figured out the cruise was an escape pod. If a desperate enough ghost attempted to break through the door, their deal with Clockwork would be voided, and Dan would never allow it.

The moment came without warning. Multiple portals ripped open among the green skies. Through them, the Fentons could see cheering humans, treating the bombings like a giant festival. Fireworks, waving banners, music that thumped with glee- it made them all sick.

The first three bombs were set off. The Realms' reaction was just as instant, collapsing into itself as the humans' joys reached new levels of glee- until the holes warped into black holes, swallowing up the portal and the area around it.

One right after the other. Large glowing lights, then swirling darkness yanking everything into a quick, meaningless nothing. The humans were no longer cheering- now they were screaming. They were cowering.

But there was nowhere left to run.

Clockwork appeared in front of the trio, smiling sadly at them as multiple cracks appeared on his being. He mouths a sentence, placing one broken hand on the glass, and then pushes the ship away. At a speed that is more light than movement, the Fentons and their guests rush away, watching with horrified eyes as Clockwork breaks apart completely.

He vanishes into dust that gets absorbed into a black hole. Dan and Danny's noise is gutted, ripped from somewhere deep in their cores.

The cruise crumbles around the pressure of the push. Wooden pieces are shaken off the ship, shattering from the effort to keep itself together, and fall into the void as they watch, unsure of Clockwork's power, which would be enough to withstand the breaking of a timeline. Soon, only their room remains; even that, it starts to show glowing green cracks on the wall.

Dan glares at them, never hating something as much as the sight of them, while his family and kid brother's friends start to sob. Suddenly, everything comes to a stop.

Or rather, a large being made entirely of light, taking the shape of a human man, catches their cabin. They all stumble, thrown from their positions as the glowing white human shape brings them to its large face. It's like looking into a marble statute with no distinctive face, only the barest of outlines that could count as a face.

"You bear Clockwork's mark, but he is not with you," The being says, blinking its large eye into the window. The swirling red of its pupils baths the humans and ghosts as they stare back open jaws. "How curious"

"Who are you!?" Dan demands, stepping away from the door. "How did you survive the destruction of the timeline?!"

The being eye's dim. "Clockwork is dead then. I told him I would welcome him into my realms, but he chose to send his kin instead. What a sentimental fool."

Dan's human features melt away, and his ghost forms burst from an explosion of flames. "Who are you!?"

"Your kind calls me Speed Force." It replies after a movement, sounding slightly amused, "And I grant you sanctuary as a favor to an old lover. Live well."

With a snap of its fingers, the group vanishes into a bright light, appearing in the middle of a blue sky. Gentle clouds float around, spread out like a mist. It a daunting change from the darkness and the screams.

The group gawks at the sight before gravity reaches up to grasp the broken remains of the cruise ship within its claws. It rips from them the sky, sending them into a downward spiral.

Dan's flames are smothered out as he desperately reaches for it "I can't go, ghost!"

"Me either," Dani screams, clinging hard to Maddie.

"Speed Froce took our powers." Danny realizes, clutching Sam and Tucker closer. "Everyone brace for impact!"

They hit the ground hard and flung around like rag dolls as the last of Clockwork's powers desperately tried to shield them. The glowing green cracks quickly spread until they resemble spider webs.

They hit the ground with a loud bang, sliding through a few layers of dirt. The group is flung against the wall, Dan grunting in pain when Sam slams against him from the force.

Ultimately, the wood can't hold itself together, and it shatters just as it crumbles to a stop. They all land with pain and cries against the hard ground, in a pile of limbs and confusion.

"Oh my," A woman says, standing on her porch overlooking the Fentons. Beside her is a wide-eyed man, one steaming mug in his hold. "Pa, I think I need to put more coffee. We have guests."

Above the couple is a wooden sign with faded but beloved letters. It reads Kent Farm.

[seungfl0wer]

*Daddy Chan*

Daddy Series:

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut:

A/N: I could have kept going with this and yes it’s already long. But like- Chans the definition of this series ok? 😂

-💜

•He’s just in his element.

•If any of them have a daddy thing it’s 100% him.

•He treats you like a princess.

•Spoils the fuck out of you.

•Gets grumpy when you try and pay for anything because how dare you.

•He’s such a gentleman.

•You’ll never have to open your own doors.

•He enjoys taking long showers together and after

•He loves having you sit infront of him brushing your hair for you.

•Matching outfits, matching jewelry.

•He’s so easy to talk to too.

•If you’re having a bad day, you know you can just curl up with him and cry.

•He’s great at consoling you when anything happens.

•Holding you tightly to him as he reminds you about how amazing you are.

•He’s super clingy honestly.

•If you’re with him he’s always gotta be touching you in some way.

•Hand holding, Legs touching. Something.

•You keep him more grounded than you probably know.

•He finds almost anything you do super cute.

•Oh this man just gets all cheesy when you’re pouting. Finds it so fucking cute.

•Definitely doesn’t have a whole folder of songs for your birthday or anniversary.

•You’re literally like a fire to him and he’s the moth.

•It’s really hard to ever really really upset him.

•He’s pretty level headed.

•Most days if you’re being grumpy or cranky he’ll sit with you asking what’s the matter and how he can help.

•If you’re giving him attitude almost always he can make you stop with just that look.

•He has the habit of telling you way to sweetly “fix your attitude princess or I’ll have to fix it for you. Be good for daddy”

•He’s really to soft, but when he needs to be stern he does it in a way that still makes you feel so safe.

•He’s really just a safe space. You’ll never feel like your emotions are too much with him.

•He constantly will reassure you.

•He sends you such loving messages too, long paragraphs of why he loves you.

•Never not having a good morning or good night text. Even if you just got off the phone.

•It feels like taboo to him not too.

•He’s not a super jealous type, but he’s protective.

•He knows you love him so much, your eyes never leaving his.

•But how can he trust others when you’re just so cute.

•He’ll hover over you when you’re out sometimes. Like he’s waiting. Ready to attack anyone who dares upset him princess.

•Constantly hugs yous tightly burring himself into you saying “mine” cutely.

•He’s really just wrapped around your finger and he’s fine with that.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•He has almost 2 personality’s.

•The super sweet loving one where he wants to take it so slow.

•He’ll eat you out for hours making sure you cum before you even fuck.

•He talks so much. He talks you through it 100%.

•He makes just as much noises as you do tbh.

•He’s a missionary lover for sure.

•Always wanting to see your pretty face. Plus how else is he gonna kiss you?

•He’s just so sensual and passionate.

•Other times he- can just lose himself.

•Stressful day? He’s having you on your knees while he face fucks you.

•He’s definitely into free use with you especially waking you up with head or his dick just slowly pushing into you.

•All with complete consent. He’ll never do anything without asking you prier and establishing boundaries.

•Has a safe word and does the color system.

•He can get ahead of himself sometimes. Losing it with you.

•Pushing your face into the bed fucking you like he hates you.

•Those beautiful hands of his leaving bright red hand prints on your ass.

•Or wrapped around your neck like a choker. He also really enjoys having you suck his fingers.

•Breeding kink. Breeding kink. Breeding kink.

•He’s also somehow so good at degrading you while making it sound so- sweet?

•”My dirty little princess, you’re soaked just from kissing?”

•He has one of those machines that can fuck you while he’s not home. And of course a custom made dildo that is a mold of his cock.

•Loves FaceTiming you while on tour guiding you through your orgasm.

•Always teases you and doesn’t let you cum at first. Not until you’re begging well enough.

•This man is also team remote vibe.

•He just thinks it’s so damn adorable watching you squirm while you’re out.

•He’s not much better though. He can’t keep his hands to himself.

•Could be having dinner out and he’s gonna be knuckles deep into your sopping hole till he can’t handle it.

•100%. Fucks you infront of mirrors. Not only so you can watch how well he fucks you.

•But so he can tell you things like “look how beautiful you are when you’re cumming around my cock”

•Like I said he’s definitely a talker so something’s he says are:

•”Daddy’s gonna fill you so full princess. I’m gonna fuck you till I know you’re pregnant.”

•”Don’t you run from me, I’m not done with you yet”

•”God it’s like you were made to take my cock princess.”

•”Daddy loves you, love you so fucking much.”

•And one of his favorites “you say you can’t take it anymore but you’re pretty hole is telling me she wants more”

•King of aftercare.

•On days he goes a little harder he’s making sure you know he loves you.

•He has you wrapped in his arms while he talks to you.

•Likes to sing to you to calm you down from intense orgasms.

•Warm baths with candles, and snacks.

•Kinda like Minho he puts one of his hoodies in the dryer for you.

•Making sure it smells like him before he wraps you in the warmth.

•You’re basically trapped for a while because he just wants to hold you.

•He really loves you and he wants to make sure you always know that.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83 @delulkpopstan143 @hyunjins-orange-slice-too

[almostempty]

it’s not that deep but it is that serious!

(editing and reblogging to clarify a couple things at the end of the post - edited once more to combine the second reblog into one)

I just want to come to this app to talk about deep throating mean!Joel and to make friends with other hot freaks. But I need my fellow heathens to hear me out for a moment.

I’ve tried to keep this space a little escape from reality, but that’s not a realistic privilege because life and art are inherently political.

I've seen friends and mutuals receiving hateful, racist, and cruel anons recently. I know these issues aren’t new for our Black and brown peers.

I see a lot of folks jumping to offer support and to express their disgust at the racist remarks.

I also see a lot of shock and disbelief and I want to talk about that.

Racism, bigotry, and prejudice are not new issues for Black and brown folks. If you find yourself shocked, surprised, and outraged when folks share the hate they receive I ask that you reflect on this. It’s a privilege to be surprised, to not be used to navigating and experiencing that vitriol.

I know it’s well intended when folks say things like, ‘if you’re a racist piece of shit get off my blog’ or similar messages, and i understand the anger and frustration. (*i appreciate seeing solidarity and i also do not want to police (acab) how people respond to the hate they receive)

I also don’t think anyone who is aware and actively spreading hate will be deterred. I imagine there are 4chan incel type trolls that just thrive on the attention and reaction of using the most inflammatory language they can, and trolls will troll. They inevitably will pop up.

What I want to address is the levels below the overt and active hate. The accidental or inadvertent covert racism. The micro aggressions. The passive silence or enabling of rhetoric that lets folks perpetuate harm without even thinking.

Black and brown creators in our community have been disregarded or overshadowed when they speak up about diversity or inclusion in this fandom or feeling unwelcomed.

They wade through oceans of moodboards with faceless, thin, white women paired with our favorite characters. They power through reader inserts with freckles, red marks, and pink pussies that say and do things they might never feel safe saying or doing in those universes. They scroll through bad Spanish or fetishized latino caricatures and romanticized colonial values. And they still show love and support by commenting and reblogging and uplifting other writers.

Maybe there are footnotes about the moodboards only being for inspiration, but that doesn’t erase the constant messaging that it was easier to find those pictures and add a note than to search harder or leave the pictures out.

When I saw a fic with a detail about the pedro character having a confederate flag in his trailer I had to pause. This is a perfect example. I don’t read this as malicious or intentionally harmful. I understand the stereotype it’s rooted in and the general humor of the story as a whole. I get that it’s a small detail and that racism wasn’t a core part of the character or the story.

But if we sit with this longer.. what does this tell our Black and brown peers? When the reader notices it and it’s just as notable as a calendar on the wall? And she fucks him willingly anyway?

Hate symbols aren’t unserious. Background or not. Imagine writing a Joel fic and giving him a swastika tattoo just as a background detail. Sounds extreme right? Maybe you’re writing an AU felon Joel and just trying to show how hardened and dark he is. Maybe in your headcanon he only got it in prison to protect himself and he isn’t a racist.

But to nazis it says this is a safe place to be. To the general audience it says you don’t care if this makes them feel unsafe or invisible.

To folks reading that a confederate flag isn’t a big deal, it signals that it’s an acceptable symbol. It shows that people are reading and commenting and sharing this story and are unbothered. That maybe people don’t even notice.

I’m not asking anyone to send hate and I’m not writing this as an attack on the author or anyone who shared the fic. We don’t know what we don’t know, but we have the opportunity to learn!

I am asking my peers to step in and step up, because I think y’all are smart and capable of more.

I am not an expert on anything. But as someone who went to grad school for social work — a field that only exists to combat the societal harm of power, privilege, and oppression — I don’t take it lightly. I work in advocacy fighting discrimination and prejudice from institutions built on systemic racism daily. I’m aware that I have the privilege of training, language, and awareness around diversity and inclusion, and that not everyone has the same knowledge or experience.

I also know this fandom is full of incredibly smart and well spoken folks who craft moving stories and analyze characters with nuance and passion.

I’m not interested in censoring what anyone writes and I happily abide by don’t like; don’t read.

If I only wanted to read I would stick to ao3. But I’m here and I stay here because of the community. The friendships and the extra tag games and challenges and support and camaraderie.

I know I make mistakes myself. And I know it can be uncomfortable to be called out for something you never intended to hurt anyone with. I know it can feel like your voice won’t be heard or your experience won’t be validated in such a big space.

I shared a post a while ago by a creator that doesn’t write for this fandom. It was an ode to Black fanfic writers in general, and in the comments Black writers were tagging each other to show love. And I knew there was something wrong when I wanted to share it but felt deeply hesitant about tagging anyone because I didn’t want Black writers to receive hate.

One of my favorite things about this fandom is how global it is. Getting to make friends with folks around the world is such a treat. I also know racism and fascism are not unique to one region.

It’s Black history month in the states and in Canada. I know other countries observe Black history month in other months. It’s an intentional observation for a reason.

For us, this is a hobby. We’re here voluntarily, and mostly anonymously, but we’re all people. Community is so vital to thwarting the dangers of fascism and hateful rhetoric.

This IS a post about racism.

But racism is absolutely entangled with sexism, classism, ableism, ethnocentrism, capitalism, colonialism, imperialism, patriarchal hegemony, etc.

This isn’t just a rant. It’s an ask. I’m asking my peers—writers, readers, gif makers, lurkers, etc.— to help.

Reflect on what you share and post. Think about how others perceive you.

I’m asking my peers to be curious and open to discussions. To ask questions if you see covert racism. To be willing to accept feedback.

We can be gentle with one another.

Like, ‘hey, I saw this and am wondering if you’re aware of the origin or the impact it might have?’ or ‘can I share how this may be misinterpreted or harmful?’

Be kind sure, but be an advocate!

If you see someone posting about a character being their ‘spirit animal’ — send them a DM! If you read something that stereotypes a race, let the author know! There’s plenty of online resources for writing characters from other races without falling back on harmful tropes.

And even better… support your Black and brown peers. Share their work. Show them you value their presence in the fandom.

I encourage folks to read fics with original characters or reader characters with explicitly diverse ethnicities and tell the author you appreciate that character! Recommend the work to friends.

I never shut up about how much I love Heat and the story is incredibly compelling *because* the reader is a Latina written by a Latina.

Anyway, I come to this hellsite to laugh and be horny—but at my core I am an ethical hater and I only wrote all of this because I care and I want this space to be inclusive.

I’m not speaking on behalf of anyone else and I don’t want to speak over anyone. I’m open to feedback or ideas.

I’m tagging some mutuals I interact with and some that I don’t know very well, not to curse y’all with reading my long winded post but to ask: when you have the capacity will you help take action to make this community stronger? Will you commit to being open to feedback and growth?

Bottom line I just wanna read about getting railed by that fictional guy and I want my Black and brown peers to have the opportunity to enjoy the same escape from reality.

I feel like this is worth posting because I think y’all can make a difference. So many of y’all write and analyze stories and characters with such nuance and passion and detail—and that’s why i believe you can help spot subtle and insidious forms of racism and make real changes.

TL;DR: I’m asking everyone to be proactive when you see microaggressions or covert racism in the fandom, and to be willing to accept feedback and learn from each other. Being passive is a luxury and a privilege our marginalized peers do not have. Let’s be more than performative or not racist. Be active. Be anti-racist.

some tags for folks (no pressure to share, I don’t want attention I just want to encourage folks to take time to reflect or let me know what you think idk): *not calling anyone out as having committed any offenses just feeling compelled to share the message i guess

@auteurdelabre @joelmillerisapunk @lotusbxtch @probablyreadinsmut @ace-turned-confused @baronessvonglitter @yxtkiwiyxt @slimybeth69 @bitchesuntitled @thundermartini @sin-djarin @strang3lov3 @mermaidgirl30 @for-a-longlongtime @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @evolnoomym @wannab-urs @sanarsi @yopossum @almostfoxglove @itwasntimethatdidit40 @syd-djarin @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

to anyone: please start conversations or reach out to me or send me an anon ask if you want to discuss something or share, idc but i’m begging y’all to listen to each other and advocate for one another and be open to self-reflection 💗 editing to add: if i tagged you it was not a callout that i think you've done something specific to reflect on-- just a general invite to join me in being intentional and to invite feedback if you have any! if i made anyone anxious i apologize! - to clarify when i said 'it's not that deep' i mean that maybe fanfic is easily brushed off as not that deep, but every blog is a real person (minus the army of porn bots) and we form real connections in this community <3

edit:

one more thing, 

first and foremost! a reminder that i am speaking about the inclusivity in this fandom as a whole. i don't want to lose the plot over one specific example that blew up. my point is the bulk of the racism in this fandom is perpetrated through micro aggressions and covert racism EVERY DAY. we can make sweeping statements and tell racists to fuck off, but next week we will be back to the status quo (aka where many non-white folks feel unwelcomed, aren't represented, and are disregarded when they raise concerns, etc.) unless we commit to examining ourselves first and looking for the more subtle things that perpetuate the current culture (e.g. harmful stereotypes and racial tropes, fetishizing latinx characters, bad Spanish, writing reader insert fics with specifically white features and characteristics without tagging, using slurs or coded language, etc.)

(i am behind on everything today and haven’t gotten back to everyone who added insightful thoughts and considerations to my original post yet) 

i did see some folks share examples of positive experiences calling-in peers or learning something new themselves and wanted to say thanks and highlight those positives. 

maybe other folks have already brought up the rest of my points and if so i do not mean to speak over anyone, but i wanted to add on to my first post: 

i originally asked everyone to step up and commit to advocating for each other— but i’d like to explicitly ask white folks to step up and look out for our Black and brown friends (who are tired and don’t get to check out irl or online). i am asking white folks to be open to learning and growing with compassion. i am asking white folks to be persistent, proactive, and brave enough to be uncomfortable or wrong. 

when i say we can be gentle with each other i do not mean to minimize pain or anger. i gladly and willingly validate that everyone has a right to be upset and outraged by hatred and racism. i am not asking my Black and brown peers to soften their reactions or dismiss their experiences.

i am (again) asking my white peers to be mindful, to take a breath and listen to what BIPOC folks have to say. to sit with the discomfort and know that seeing hate or racism might be shocking but it is not surprising if you’ve been listening. 

i am asking my white peers to be kind and also strategic. if you have the patience and capacity then do what you can to increase the odds that your peers will be willing to listen and learn. it’s free to try at least. 

most of us that commit micro aggressions or covert racism don't consider ourselves to be racists. we see posts that say 'racists and bigots aren't welcome on this blog' and we agree! we reblog those posts! we pat ourselves on the back for being an ally and continue on without making any other changes-- not because we are bad people, but because we have the privilege of feeling welcomed, represented, and valued as a baseline.

this is also my call-in to myself because i’ve allowed myself to stay quiet. i’ve relied on the comfort that my close friends know who i am and what my values are, but i have been passive. i have seen comments or posts that i recognized were ignorant or offensive and continued scrolling. i felt like it wasn't worth the drama to speak up.

i’m fallible and open to feedback ! i am also comfortable being an example, being vulnerable and sharing my mistakes or opportunities for growth. i've gotten more comfortable because i have hours of training and practice but i don't expect others to feel good being called-in or to anticipate what might make them act defensively.

i know the core principle of cultural humility is that nobody is an expert on culture, that the best practice is to remain open and curious, to identify your own values and beliefs, and to confront stereotypes. it is an ongoing process of self-reflection and commitment to growth 

and so i volunteer to be here for any of my white friends that want to make this fandom a more inclusive space, but are feeling uncertain or uncomfortable. (i am not offering to defend racism or excuse hate)

there is extreme cognitive dissonance in believing you are a good person, a not-racist person, and a friend and ally— and being confronted with the idea you are perpetuating stereotypes, inadvertently causing harm, or alienating folks you care about. 

I know it seems like a safe option to stay quiet if you think you might say the wrong thing or make a situation worse. 

I know it’s hard enough to send someone a friendly message or to know what to comment on a fic you loved, let alone to feel empowered to point out something that might make someone else react defensively. I’m not volunteering to be the morality police (acab) but i’m here for all of my friends, mutuals, and peers in the fandom who want support with calling-in others or learning. i encourage and welcome discussion and curiosity. 

i ask white folks to make conscious changes so that when these conversations die down we don’t fall back into enabling white ignorance to infect the fandom and harm our friends.

bonus thoughts

i see and am grateful for the folks that called my first post eloquent and at the same time i am deeply aware of the ‘angry Black woman’ trope that undermines and minimizes Black women’s voices (especially when they are rightfully angry). i guess i’m just repeating that i don’t want to speak over anyone but i am committing to speaking up. 

i don’t want to harp on the confederate flag example anymore, but i would like to be clear that this isn’t about censorship. Consider the context and don’t turn this into a straw man argument or dilute the message with whataboutery. It speaks volumes if you’d rather argue semantics than listen to your peers about the reality of impact vs intent with that example or others. 

thank you for reading and being here <3

[doberbutts]

Genuinely, what do you think we should do in regards to breeds with an oppressive history? Until we have the genuine change in the global political landscape, they're just going to breed new dogs to hunt down BIPOC. Can a breed be repurposed, reshaped, given a new purpose despite its history and its lack of direct attribution to most actively living dogs and their upbringing and training, or is it better to modify the breed as a whole, or even let certain breeds go extinct entirely?

And more importantly, how do I, as a white person with a working line GSD, make BIPOC feel more safe around her? She's anxious and her leash manners leave a lot to be desired, but we've been working on that and otherwise she's a huge derpy goofball who seems to think she's a cat a good 60% of the time and is exceedingly affectionate and friendly to most strangers of all walks of life as long as they don't show actively malicious intentions (we lived in the projects for awhile and she stopped someone who tried to break into the apartment to rape either myself or my partner, considering the stalking behavior that had been going on for weeks at that point and the amount of catcalling we both got). Is there anything I can do to help people feel safer around her?

As in my discussion with @grison-in-space- I don't really know that there is a good answer to this question. I am a BIPOC who has a breed of dog that was objectively used to oppress people as a tool of fascism- not just in Nazi Germany, but also here within my own country while they were still used as police and military dogs, as well as in countries such as India and Peru where they are still used by military and private security. I engage in a practice that, at its very early roots, was at least in part about siccing a dog on someone for my own gain. I think there will always be a level of cognitive dissonance and managing that with today's expectations of what a protective dog even can look like in this era is going to be a delicate balance at best and an active minefield at worst.

This sort of discussion is where I tend to disagree with many leftists on an issue that continues to come up again and again. I am a pacifist and, in a perfect world, there would be no more war and no more killing and no more violence and thus no more need for weapons outside of what is required to hunt and gather food. But we don't live in a perfect world, and we live in a world where the honest answer is that some people will always be treated violently. If we remove the means to defend ourselves from everyone's hands except the morally corrupt- we have condemned entire peoples to die horrible deaths (such as being torn apart by dogs). On the other hand, the presence of a weapon automatically escalates a situation, even if said weapon is never removed from holster or deployed within the situation.

I have a doberman that is taught biting is acceptable because I have survived a home invasion while I was home in part because I had a dog that made every indication that she was ready to defend her home with everything she had. My parents are pacifists who refuse to own weapons. The dog was why the guy decided he no longer wanted to be present in our house. I have had attempted break-ins while I was home, following this event. I did not have a dog at the time, and was living alone as a college student, pre-T and only sort of socially transitioned. The statistics of black people- and especially black women- suffering violence at the hands of those who desire to hurt them are bleak. So I got a dog, and I stopped going anywhere unarmed, and both of those things have protected me in the exact situations I got them for.

It is simply not lost on me that the appeal of a doberman for me, is also the appeal of a doberman for your average cop or soldier or authoritarian. A big fuck-you dog that hates everyone but its master is the wet dream of baby fascists everywhere. My dog chasing a would-be car thief down my driveway certainly solved the problem of repeated car breakins and theft, as well as some creeper behavior after said car thief was also caught peering into windows of houses, and my equally poor, but white, neighbors thanked me for the service and in fact adore my dogs as a result. The qualities that make her good at this also make her really good at being used as a weapon by those who wish to turn her against marginalized people for entertainment or profit, rather than to keep someone from taking more of my possessions out of my car when I am not in a financial place to continuously replace them.

Getting rid of these breeds- either by mass culling, legislature, or simply allowing them to go extinct- does not solve the problem of fascism, because even if we do succeed in ridding ourselves of the legacy of the German Shepherd, there are other breeds who can and will do the same thing, or a new breed will be created to do so. After all, using dogs as weapons is something we've known about since before the birth of the Roman empire, and has continued long past that empire's demise. Roman war dogs are largely extinct and their remnants (neas, corsos, etc) exist as incredibly changed from what they once were- so we just hopped to herding breeds instead of molossoids to accomplish the same task. As the existence of the doberman proves- even without the herding breeds, we can just use terriers sized up to do the same thing.

And we don't even really need dogs to do so. In videos of amazing stupidity with animal handling, I have 100% seen people using hyenas, baboons, and even male lions as animals being trained to attack, complete with the same sleeves and suits you see with dogs. The glimpses I've seen have not appeared particularly successful, of course the lack of domestication and willingness to work for a human gets in the way when dealing with wild animals, but to me that says even if we got rid of every single dog and wolf tomorrow... people would find a way to utilize a predator as a weapon. The Romans also used to use lions and bears and even boar to kill political prisoners and people who were undesireable to the empire. Not only do I think fascists would hop breeds, I think they would quickly and easily hop species if they had to.

I've also touched on this in other posts- but the question of changing a breed's purpose also comes up often in a breed that I care a lot about due to its proximity to racial prejudice. When a breed has been developed for blood sport, and blood sport has rightly been criminalized, what do we do with the dogs that are left? Do we let them die out? Do we legislate them out of existence? Do we change them entirely? Do we give them a new purpose? The relationship of black people and pit bulls has been discussed again and again by people who frankly are way smarter and better informed than me- and the way that we police and discuss pit bulls and pit bull ownership is so contingent on antiblack racism, which fascinates me as many of the original hands within the old bull-and-terrier used for blood sport were not only white but actively racist against black people themselves.

Truthfully, I don't think we have a good answer, because the solution to the problem is not the dogs. I think because the problem is not, and has never been, the dogs. Dogs are merely the vehicle for the larger societal problems of racism, fascism, authoritarianism, dictatorship, colonialism, and xenophobia. It's not about the dogs. So changing the dogs does nothing to the system, which will simply replace the dogs with something else if that option is removed from the toolbox.

As for your specific situation- take your dog to training, and be respectful of people's space when you're out and about with her, and accept that some people simply will never like her.

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 2)

Summary: Danny arrives, sees something Concerning, meets Batman, tries not to fight Batman. Nope not going to rogue it up here, no thank you.

Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Danny Fenton, John Constantine & Danny Fenton

for context, phenes are letters in Ghostwriting, and you can do necromantic magic with them if you know how

As soon as he's within a five mile vicinity of Gotham, Danny has to stop and deeply consider his afterlife decisions.

PhantomMenace: what the FUCK is wrong with this place.

PhantomMenace: John.

PhantomMenace: I know you know how many generational curses are set in the very foundations. And not the abusive cycle kind.

PhantomMenace: who had the goddamn PATIENCE for this

PhantomMenace: who carves THIS MANY phenes into THAT MUCH wet concrete??

PhantomMenace: we'd have to blow up the whole city to unfuck this!!

PhantomMenace: when I find whoever did this I don't know if I'm going to kill them a second time, or make out with them immediately

PhantomMenace: they've clearly ascended to levels of spite I can only dream of, I've to at least respect that

God's Favorite Whore: For my sake I hope you kill them. Gross.

PhantomMenace: 💚

--------------

Night time in Gotham is beautiful, even without the view of the stars.

Danny finds himself exploring from the rooftops. Old Gothic architecture spins for miles; spidering out from the tallest buildings are gargoyles reminiscent of what he knows of cathedrals. Below him, the city comes alive in a flurry of motion.

The cars slow to a trickle, but foot traffic picks up. Well-dressed people in their 20s hit the bars, swaying and laughing with their friends. Danny takes note with a smile that they're all armed, and at least one person in each group seems to be as sober as a stone. Keeping safe and having fun.

The night workers hit the streets, and little skinny kids of all ages weave in between bodies like leaves in flowing water. Handing off things Danny can't see to the people on the street corners, laughing and joking and pushing each other, never straying too far to allies or the side of the road. Not ever being without at least one other. It's sad to see they have to protect each other like that, but that's life, and it seems they're living it.

Blob ghosts make unseen mischief. There's a second layer of traffic - blobs spinning a foot in the air above everyone else, catching stray emotions and fat and happy off the ambient ectoplasm. Danny's never seen any blob in a color other than radioactive green, but the ones in Gotham are all different shades of red. He wonders if the curses here might be a factor. And if his condenser will be stained red from now on.

Danny spots something strange the longer he looks. He slips off the edge of the building, walking down its side to the alley below. He slips into partial invisibility to not startle anyone not already looking for him, and peaks out the mouth of the alley.

Shades walk down the streets side by side with the human Gothamites. They give the human-looking ghosts a wide berth, but otherwise no one acknowledges them. He tracks the figures with his eyes, hating the blank look in each of them. He's sure that they're not even properly looking at anything. They go through anyone and everything in their paths intangibly. He sees several people shiver and look around confused, before walking off, visibly more tired looking than before.

Danny unclips his condenser from his belt to check if his dinner's ready. He startles a bit at the unfamiliar red, but shrugs. He's hungry. The blobs are having a blast despite how evil the air is. He should be fiiiine.

Taking a deep gulp, Danny returns his attention to the Shades, wary of what this new behavior means. He quickly does a rough count of humans, and then the strange Neverborns in the street. And oh boy. He does not like how the math is mathing.

In a normal, healthy population, there should only be one Shade per fifty humans. In Gotham? It's nearly one to one. He's never seen or heard of this. Danny wonders exactly how many people get mysteriously sick, or die of "natural causes" here.

Once he gets settled in, he'll have to go looking for the cause. Even in a crime ridden big city this isn't normal.

Danny takes another sip as he tears himself away from the mouth of the alley. He becomes fully visible as he steps into the shadows. He means to float up to the rooftops again, but a dull thump behind him has him zipping around on instinct.

Between him and the exit, a broad shouldered man rises from his feet. At first Danny thinks he's covered in shadows, but as his eyes quickly readjust to the level of light, he realizes that the man is just wearing a long dark cloak with a cowl. It covers his head and half his face, with two white beams of light staring impassively at him. It hurts to look at to be honest.

Danny tenses like a springtrap. John never gave him descriptions of any of the rogues, OR the bats. He doesn't know what he's dealing with right now, and he'd really rather not get into a brawl tonight. Humans don't do that to be friendly.

"Where did you get the blood?" The man demands. His voice is obviously modified to be deeper, but Danny thinks it might be naturally growly and inflectionless, as the man's body language or expression doesn't change.

He doesn't really think before he responds. The question throws him, okay? "Uh? Synthesizer?" Danny shakes his condenser some. It's only half full, so it only sloshes thickly against the sides instead of spilling. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about it, Danny caps it and reclips it to his belt.

He extends a hand to shake. "Name's Dante Nightingale. But people call me Danny."

The incredibly rude man doesn't shake his hand, OR introduce himself. All he gets in response is a minute head tilt that in other circumstances he would find adorable.

He rolls his eyes. "This is the part where you introduce yourself. Like a human."

The man grunts in acknowledgement. After an awkward moment, the man extends a (clawed!) hand from under his cape and grips Danny's own. "Batman."

Danny relaxes a smidge. "Nice. Cool. Heard about you and your Fraid. I'm told you're good people. thank you for not being a sentient shadow here to rob me." He lets go of the man's warm glove.

"Fraid?" Batman parrots, vaguely suspicious. Or curious. He's not sure.

"Um. It's like. Well, found family is the default in my culture, so we got a whole word for it. I didn't want to assume blood relations." Danny explains. "You've got a strong grip. Are the claws part of your suit or?" Danny flashes his own claws playfully.

"The suit." Batman says simply. "Why were you watching people from the alley?"

Danny leans back on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth. "Just flew in to town, I don't really know my way around yet. So I've been exploring on the rooftops so no one has the bright idea to mug the newbie." Danny stops swaying and folds his arms over his chest with a frown. "Then I noticed something wasn't right. Well. Other than how cursed you guys are. Actually? Might be related."

Batman's headlights narrow in a very convincing glare, so Danny tries to elaborate. "Shades really shouldn't be literally crawling through the streets. The non-physical, non-sentient psychic vampires? Yeah. I don't know if you can see this, but they're walking around in groups besides and through people. Which. They don't group up, and they don't typically go for crowded places. Shades thrive in privacy. They mimic whatever person accidentally made them, and lure loved ones alone. This whole thing is weird and probably not good."

Batman grunts again, head tilting slightly the opposite way. The little bit of silence lets Danny briefly contemplate if Batman is neurodivergent and not actually trying to be a brooding asshole. The older man's tone and facial expressions are flat, he doesn't seem to pick up on social cues, and he favors nonverbal communication. Danny makes a mental note to figure that out later if they ever meet again.

"What can we do?" Batman asks. Danny shrugs. Technically, it's not his problem unless they can't handle it themselves. "Justice League Dark this, I guess. Find me if they can't help. I'll give it the old college try if you ask."

Batman taps the side of his mask where the ear would be underneath. A quiet sound of static fills the alleyway. Batman full-body flinches at the sudden loud sound in his ear. The older man whirls to glare at Danny. The Halfa nearly chokes under the creepy, suddenly hostile gaze of the pinpricks of light.

"What did you do to my coms?" The man full on growls. The cloak is brushed aside as Batman takes out two throwing blades from his (bright yellow?) belt.

Danny's heartbeat races at the prospect of a brawl. Green light fills his vision and starts to cast a strange glow across the alley. His biology reacts, but his mind is screaming at him to put on the brakes. Do not fight the vigilantes! He's not being friendly! Do not the rogue!!

So he puts his hands up in surrender. "Woah woah woah! I can't control this, electronics just fritz around me! Hold on, just, I'll leave and they should be fine? I need to get back to my hotel anyways. Nice meeting you!"

Without waiting for a response Danny turns ghost tail. Which is to say, he turns invisible and flies through the building in the vague direction of said hotel. He flings himself into the soft, soft pillows, and tries to calm his ass down. No. No fighting. He does not need to be put in Arkham on his first day, or whatever.

Elsewhere, the coms crackle back to life.

"-atman?!"

"Oracle." He confirms.

"What happened? The boys are on their way, what's the sitch?"

"There's a vampire in Gotham."

[wannabeschyulersister]

sleepy berzatto

Part of you didn’t want to wake him up. He looked so peaceful as he slept. For once, the anxieties of the day couldn’t mess with him.

He was still in his work clothes. You could tell that he meant to just rest his eyes for a few minutes before he fell into a deeper sleep. He was supposed to pick you up from the airport when your flight got in.

You touched his head lightly brushing his hair away from his face. It stirred him awake.

“(Y/n)?” He mumbled. He felt like he was in a dream.

“Yeah, it’s me, Carmy.”

When the realization hit, Carmen quickly stood up from the couch stumbling a bit. He was clearly still half asleep, “Fuck! I fell asleep. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Baby. I didn’t mean to-“

You reached out to steady him, “Carmen, relax. Michelle sent a car for me. They didn’t want to wake you.”

He took a deep breath and pulled you closer to him, “I’m sorry.” It felt so nice to be in his arms after weeks of not seeing him.

“Don’t be. I made it safely. We’re together again. That’s all that matters.” You rubbed your hand soothingly on his back. You didn’t want him stressing at all during your visit.

“How was your flight?” He asked as you took your coat off.

“It was fine. I read for most of it. I had the whole row to myself.”

He grabbed your coat and went to set it on the hook near the door. When he joined you on the couch, he quickly captured your lips with his. Now that he was fully awake, he could show you how much he missed you.

“Three weeks is too long for us to be apart, Berzatto.” You said before he kissed you again.

“I’ve been goin’ crazy wishing you were here with me.” Carmen confessed.

“I have too. Sugar is probably tired of hearing how much I’ve missed you everyday.”

Carmen chuckled, “She told me that she’s always happy to have you around. You’re the sister that she’s always wanted.”

Your heart soared at his comment. It meant a lot that Sugar enjoyed your company.

“Mikey invited me to dinner at The Beef two days ago. I went and spent some time with him. Richie and Tina ate with us also.”

Carmen was a little quiet, “That’s-that’s nice”

“It was nice, Bear. I enjoy hearing his stories.”

He nodded, “I’m glad you had a good time.”

You touched his face gently, “When is the last time you spoke to him?”

He shrugged his shoulders a little, “I think three weeks or somethin’.”

“He told me that he’s really proud of you. I am too. I’ve always been proud but when I get photos of the stuff you’re creating, it’s a whole new level.”

Carmen smiled sheepishly. Before you, he wasn’t great at receiving compliments. He could hand them out easily but when it was reversed, he just didn’t know how to handle it. The longer the two of you were together, he was getting better at it.

“I couldn’t do any of this without you, (Y/n).” Carmen said softly.

“I’m so happy to be cheering you on. I wish I could come visit more but work has been insane and I barely got the time to come for a few days now.”

Carmen placed his hand on your thigh and rubbed his thumb against it soothingly, “I feel bad that you’ve been doin’ all of the traveling to make sure that we see each other.”

“There will be a time when you’re the one having to come to me. I don’t mind it right now.”

Carmen kissed your forehead, “I don’t deserve you.”

It tore your heart piece by piece every time he confessed that. You hated that it was a thought in his mind.

“Yes, you do, Bear. I wish you could see yourself the way that I see you. Until that day comes, I will continue to tell you until you finally believe me.”

You wrapped your arm around his midsection and rested your head on his chest. His hand automatically went to your hair. It was moments like this that he cherished the most. All of the stress and headaches were worth it for the moment to be sitting with the love of his life.

[memezs-corner-of-the-osc]

Memez theory analysis ramble #2:

SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRETY OF TPOT 17.

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I’m dedicating a entire post to just the scenes with One and Doughnut because it tells us so much about One as a person:

Her demeanour throughout the altercation is something I’d like to bring light to.

One as a character is a manipulator who weaponises gaslighting by learning the characters psychologies to put them under pressure using her facade to sign as we’re all…..very aware by now.

What we learned here is are her downfalls: Temper and ego.

This is the face of someone who’s overly confident in everything she does, here she was not anticipating any failure in her plans.

I mean how could she possibly fail right, after all she’s tricked so many contestants-

And then reality hits.

Her egos down, she didn’t rehearse for this.

Now: let’s observe who one actually is under her act.

She resorts to violence to start with, trying to get a fear response from Doughnut.

Success: Ego back up tenfold.

She feels safe, like she has the upper hand.

So she starts her downfall: She starts giving Doughnut more information than he should know.

After all he’s going to take the deal, they all take the deal.

He can’t possibly escape and tell everyone after he just signs that little contract.

And so like the hawk she is she swoops back in to claim her prize, here she thinks she’s won in crushing the tough nut.

……unfortunately for her Doughnut is smarter then that and questions her, she hates being questioned as it ruins her whole shtick.

“Ughhh don’t worry about that Doughnut, after all is it so crazy to believe I’m just trying to help you?”

Mocking, condescending, setting up her “finishing blow”.

“Those friends of yours all agreed to it and look at all the fun they’re having!”

She can’t help herself and besides he’ll never get the chance to tell anyone so why not take the chance to unconsciously gloat to someone about it?

But it doesn’t work, he keeps questioning, second guessing and not trusting her act.

So she snaps and goes nuclear and goes to what she thinks everyone is can’t resist, themselves:

She tries acting like his friend one final little time, going with her plan B she set up.

She lays it all out, everything she knows about him and all the things in his life she rigged to happen in one last desperate attempt to regain control.

“Everyone gets to be a little selfish, it’s only fair.”

This is the line I’m going to go on a tangent on, it shows why One can do this guilt free.

She’s self justifying it constantly in her mind with a positive feedback loop, through her own delusions she sees fact.

It makes you wonder why she’s doing this and supports what I said last time, I still theorise she’s not here for the power, she’s here to make sure Two is powerless for her own pettiness.

One is a heavily Toxic abuser type person, she has warped morals that she bends to justify their own behaviour to herself subconsciously to get her own goals satisfied.

She has a ego or (at least acts like she has one to further her agenda) and will stop at nothing to the point of almost ending the universe to satisfy her needs.

And if she was friends with Two it would make sense if she used these manipulative tendencies on them and the other algibralians.

The scene with Six I will now circle back to basically confirms what I’ve been theorising with one quote: “She was supposed to be gone.”.

We have half her motive, this seemingly confirms One was exiled from the playground.

For what is yet to be seen.

Now let’s talk about the ending of the scene: What happens when someone defies her.

Let’s watch shall we:

She’s failed to make this man stoop to her level proving her psychology is wrong so she snaps, she’s never encountered this before.

She wants to feel like she’s won so she turns to a power trip, in a moment of rage she rips Doughnuts legs off and kicks him off to affirm to herself that she got the last laugh here and that letting him go is no issue.

I mean what can one man do without limbs-

And this right here is where I theorise Ones downfall begins, she got greedy adding Doughnut: a person who she knew could be a problem into the plan.

And where did it leave her?

With a wild card with context clues about what she was planning and with information about what’s behind her act on the loose, in her own greed I theorise she set in motion her demise.

And the kicker is even at the end she’s still affirming to herself that she didn’t really fail here by flying head first into the sun and that Doughnut was “just for good luck.“.

So I end off this essay of a post with a question: If this is how she treats her victims how did she treat her “friends”?

Thank you viewer for reading, the follow up to this will contain an analysis on Pencil (probably my favourite contestant by now) along with a few other misc things I want to talk about as this is already pushing it for this ted talk of a post.

[bunnis-monsters]

Legend of the Drider(Pt2)

Male!Drider x Fem!Reader

Kofi Request

Pt 1

summary: the aftermath of mating with the drider of myth

wk: 800+ words

Life with your drider lover was surprisingly… fulfilling,

After successfully being able to carry his clutch of eggs, he was happier than ever with you. Since mating with you, he had been treating you like a princess.

No… a queen.

Although he had already mated with you, the creature was a traditional man, going about the courting process one normally would in his culture.

The first thing he did was find an abandoned cabin. You needed somewhere safe and comfortable to live, especially as the fall started to change into the unforgiving winter. Being high up in the mountains meant it was rough, and he wanted his mate to be warm and happy while carrying his clutch.

The cabin wasn’t anything special, and you’d have to do some renovations before it would be livable. Thankfully your mate had collected many trinkets, coins, and random wallets containing large sums of money. It was a courting present to you, and it all went to repairing the cabin.

Once it was livable, he was determined to keep you under him and warm at all times. He was almost like a cat, trying to lay in your lap and rub his scent on you.

“Heavy…” you whimpered, causing him to slowly skitter back a bit. He lowered himself, sitting on the ground so his torso was level with you on the couch.

“Better?”

You nodded, kissing his cheek.

Sex was a common occurrence, and he had the strange urge to tie you up and stuff you full of more eggs. He knew you were already carrying his clutch, but the scent of your pregnancy hormones made him go wild.

Feeling his fangs press against your neck, you let out a soft mewl. He loved giving you a low dose of his aphrodisiac venom to make you squirm while he pushed his cock into you.

His hands stayed on your belly, rubbing gently while he kissed the bite marks he had left on your neck, lapping up the little pinpricks of blood.

“Such a sweet thing… how I adore you.”

He was soft and sweet with you, always making sure your pregnancy cravings were taken care of and you felt loved. His heart swelled with pride to see you so content and well taken care of, proving that he was a good mate and providing you with everything you needed.

It was easy to take your college classes online, and even though your lover got a bit sulky when you said you eventually wanted to follow your dreams and become a photographer, he did everything in his power to make it happen.

While your babies grew in your belly, your lover began producing tons of spider silk. He confessed that he learned to knit from one of the females, and started making little sweaters for all of your babies.

Some baby driders came out fully independent, which made you sad to think about. You had severe pregnancy hormones and you wanted to mother some baby spiders damn it!

He reassured you that his species required motherly care, and that because he had mated a human, the babies would be more human-like.

The cabin became less like a place to live in and more of a home. Your lover hunted at night, and slept through most of the day. He was such a clingy thing, curling with you and whining if you got up to pee at night. He hated being away from you for even a second… especially as his paternal instincts started kicking in.

Recently he had been aggressive towards any other creature that dared to come near the cabin, and started building a nest out of his silk webs so you’d have somewhere comfortable to give birth.

As your due date drew nearer, he grew more possessive and territorial, making sure to scent and mark you. It wasn’t often that you had any time for yourself, he was inconsolable when you experienced even the slightest pain.

“I don’t want you to be in pain, love. I’m so sorry, I know it’ll hurt to give birth… I wish I could make it all go away.”

He was with you for the whole process, his hand in yours as you gave birth to 3 healthy drider babies. They were small, with the cutest little spider legs and chubby cheeks. Each fussed and cried as they entered the world, already seeking comfort from you, their mother.

From that moment on, everything seemed to click into place. Your little ones nursed as you teared up a bit. You had brought these little ones into the world, and your lover couldn’t be more happy with it.

“Do you think I’ll be a good mother?”

Your question was met with a chuckle. Your love leaned down to nuzzle against you, his eyes half lidded with contentment.

“I don’t think so, I know you will.”

——————

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