#<doesn’t make Much anatomical sense but I don’t CARE

[thrushppelt]

Been rereading wings of fire and browsing tumb ppl are always “why do they act like they’re bipedal even tho they aren’t” “blah blah” and it’s like

This:

Obviously

[ledenews]

Dolph Santorine: Sensible Solutions Should Seem Simple

He’s a man who has realized the only way to know where you are is to struggle to the top and then cut a clear path back so you can be a good guide for others. That way, he’s been able to build a team of the hardworking and deserving, no matter what the business has been, is now, or will be in the future. It may sound simple, sure, but one of Dolph Santorine’s favorite words in this world is “up” because it only implies a single solution without rubbing in all the winning. Now, yes, his politics attracts attention, be he does not care. Not usually anyway. He’s conservative and doesn’t hide it, but his views have been demonized by others who refuse the American tradition of getting what you pay for. Santorine sometimes has been cast as unforgiving, unkind, and unrelenting when it comes to his ways of doing business, but that’s only because the critics refuse the details because they are fearful friends of the devil. The man knows, though, there’s balance and compromise and a place referred to as the “happy medium” where no one is supposed to get hurt. Except him. That seems ok to some. But it’s not. And damn him for protecting himself, his family, and their future. Right? No. Seriously. No, it’s not OK. Dolph and Lora Kay choose to reside in Ohio County because of its proximity to the East Coast. What makes you actually laugh out loud? Just about anything, and just about everything.  Often, I’m too loud (according to my wife, our children, and granddaughter), but I really believe that it’s all about fun. Seriously! Levity is truly the stuff of life. I never worked a single day in my life, but I spent far too many hours doing cool projects and chasing lofty goals. You had to build humor into all of it or you could easily lose your grip on reality. I’m not saying that I have a grip on reality now, but I build laughter into nearly everything I do. As a tweenager, I discovered “National Lampoon”, and took away a combination of “that’s not funny, that’s sick”, and short bursts of satire. It’s stuck with me since. I enjoy “Babylon Bee” and the “Onion”. Humor has rippled throughout every organization I’ve run, and I firmly believe that’s how it should be. “User Error. Strike User. Press any key” was an error message that few if any of our users caught, and our team had far too much fun with it. We worked hard, we played hard, broke bread often and laughed when we were not focused on at the task at hand. Some of the things I find funny are a little off-color, and on at least one occasion my sense of humor was used against me politically. Of course, I suggested the opponent do something anatomically impossible.  LOL. A sense of humor. Don’t go off without it! Is the customer still “always right”?  Was, is, and will always be “right”. This is a business absolute. Every time a service business decides they know better, it’s an impending doom. “THE CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT”. I can’t stress that enough. You need to know who your customer is, and listen carefully. The message can be subtle. Then you need to craft a solution and deliver 110% of what was promised. I suggest the following commandments: I.   Know thy customer as thyself. II.  Respect the customer as thyself. III. Thy customer is always right. (Well, correct. I know a lot of folks on the left whom never wish to be right. Generally, they aren’t right or correct, but I respect their wishes). IV. Sales is the cornerstone of everything you do. Learn to do it well and respect it as a required skill. One of my favorite cliches (I like cliches. A lot.), is “You’re in the people business” (it’s one of those other business absolutes), and while there are rarely customers who will never be satisfied, a truly great leader with make the customer “right”, and they will depart a satisfied convert.  We live in a time where one dissatisfied customer can affect numerous others on social media, so keeping your customer (who is, in effect, your boss) happy is hyper-critical. Yes, your customer is ALWAYS right. Dolph and his son, Trey, have joined Alex Coogan and his father for lunches on several occasions. What professions do you believe are safe from Artificial Intelligence? None of them. The old joke that “Artificial Intelligence is what you get when you can’t afford the real thing” is no longer true. In the past quarter century, there have been at least two studies where Electrocardiograms were read by top cardiologists and by machines. The machines markedly outperformed the cardiologists every time. No, I don’t want the machine providing a diagnosis, or doing surgery. I do want it to assist skilled, caring professionals. People will always be more adaptable and flexible than machines. What’s not safe is most middle management jobs. If you’re shuffling paper around, there will be fewer of you.  What’s safe? Fixing AI would be a great place to start. Trades, but at a high level. The service industry. Health care (lots of Boomers who are getting old and need help out there), but get a BSN. The tide is rising, and you need to stay above it. Get as far up the knowledge tree in your chosen field as possible. AI will impact everything. Go where it’s not yet. Why do you choose to live in the Wheeling area? Lots to do, a warm river to play on, located close to so much of the East Coast, and great educational opportunities at all levels. No traffic. We have so many cultural activities that other communities our size are lacking. We love it here. We have been here for 32 years and are staying for the foreseeable future. It appears that possibly two of our four children will be back to live here, as well. It’s home. Which cartoon character is your favorite and why? What’s up, Doc? Bugs Bunny. Resilient. Smart. Funny. Always gets the last laugh. My kind of rascal! Read the full article

[delimeful]

you can’t go back (4)

warnings: mentioned child neglect/bad parenting, mentioned awkward saucy teen flirting, arguing, emotional upset, the dubious ethics of over-excited teenagers

-

Roman had been acting strange, lately.

It was perhaps a harsh thing to think about his friend, especially considering he was bound to behave differently when the recent disappearance of his twin was taken into account, but it was also true.

Logan had known Roman for years, long enough that it was an effort to search back through his memories for a point that they hadn’t been together, if perhaps not always in the most amicable of circumstances. They’d gone through the entire gamut of enemies-frenemies-rivals-friends, and Logan liked to think that he had a fair grasp on Roman’s tells by this point.

All of Roman’s tells were currently telling him that the other student was trying to hide something, something big.

It wasn’t just the way that he had stopped sulking whenever something happened that reminded him of his missing brother, or that he was suddenly scrawling what almost seemed like notes in a glitter-covered notebook when he hadn’t had the inspiration to work on anything creative in weeks, or that he had all but given up on the pretense of paying attention in their shared classes.

No, the real sign that something was wrong was the way that Roman had begun to outright neglect his two closest friends.

Logan was hardly affected, of course. He was above the base emotions that so many of his peers were constantly fraught with, and less time with Roman gushing in his ear about whatever had caught his interest or complaining dramatically about those who had wronged him meant more time for Logan to focus on what was important, like his AP classes and many, many extracurriculars.

Of course, that didn’t explain why he was currently trailing after Roman on his walk home, when he really should be at violin practice. No matter how much of a soft spot the teacher had for him, he’d gained his skill through hard work, not skipping practice. Certainly not skipping practice to hound off after his erstwhile classmate.

However, he wasn’t the only one being abandoned in this scenario.

Logan Croft had been forced to sit at a lunch table with an increasingly secretive and distant Roman, and a mournful, kicked-puppy version of Patton Hertz, the most cheerful guy in their grade, if not the entire school.

Roman, stuck in his own thoughts as he clearly was, seemed to not notice the effect his lacking presence had had on Patton, and Logan was just about fed up of watching the slow decay of the half life of their little group.

The secrecy was ridiculous. They’d been there when Roman had been so worked up about the ‘police coverup’ that he’d actually considered trying to break into a government building, they could certainly be here for whatever it was that had him so bizarrely clammed up now!

Logan paused from a distance and watched as Roman hurried in through the front door of his house, counting backwards in his head. It would be a fair challenge to try and break into Roman’s room, particularly with Roman in the house, but if his deductions about the seeds constantly caught on his friend’s pant legs and the odd-colored mud left on the soles of his favorite tennis shoes were correct… There!

Sure enough, only a few moments later, Roman was pushing out through the back door, taking an unusually careful moment to close the screen door behind him before turning and walking determinedly down the path into the rural wilderness that made up half of the grounds his family’s farm sat on.

Logan waited until there was little chance that Roman would double back for something he’d forgotten, and then strode confidently up to the front door, rapping on it twice. Going by the fact that there was a car in the driveway and the door had been unlocked when Roman had gotten home from school, someone else was home to answer.

Mrs. Torres opened the door, looking surprised at the sight of him for a moment, before breaking out into a warm smile. “Logan! It’s so good to see you, are you here for Roman?”

“I’ve been meaning to meet up with him for a project, but he left school before me, so I came here,” Logan said, not above lying through omission to uncover the truth. “Is he home?”

“Oh, he just got back, but I don’t think he’s inside-- ROMAN!” she turned towards the stairs and called up them, frowning when there was no response. “He must be out in the yard again. Come in, come in!”

Logan stepped inside smugly, glancing around. The interior was much the same as the last time he’d been here. If it hadn’t been for the pile of faded missing posters under a mug on the counter and his own prior knowledge of the situation, Logan would have been hard-pressed to guess that this was the home of a recently-vanished child.

“Honestly, I’m just glad he’s not staying cooped up in his room anymore,” Mrs. Torres was saying. The woman speaking casually in front of him only added to the eerie composure of the home, and Logan made his way through the general pleasantries and politely refused any refreshments with an unpleasant feeling in his gut.

“They didn’t even bother printing out new missing posters this time,” he remembered Roman telling them with a quiet, bitter sort of anger. “He dyed his hair, and they won’t even pay to put a recent picture of him up when it could be the difference between someone recognizing him or not!”

On a logical level, Logan can understand something concerning happening over and over, repetition dulling it’s effects until it feels mundane or everyday. Roman has mentioned before how his parents believed that Remus was simply acting out for attention, mostly while thanking Roman for being above that, as though the metaphorical ‘good twin’ wasn’t currently building a career on literally acting for an audience's attention.

What Logan can’t understand is that Remus’s parents are apparently completely uninterested in finding out why Remus is so desperate for attention that he would resort to a maneuver he knows will only get him negative consequences.

Logan himself would certainly like to understand. All queries on the matter had garnered only uncomfortable evasion from Roman, as though his friend might have had an idea but wouldn’t say, likely due to irritating personal feelings that Logan couldn’t parse.

So, he’d reached out to Remus directly, on one of the few days that he’d actually attended classes.

The delinquent had been visibly confused by his approach-- the twins allegedly hadn’t had a mutual friend since the beginning of grade school-- and resistant to Logan’s questioning, which Patton had later informed him was likely far too blunt for the situation. They’d gone in circles for a bit, Remus making outlandish or confusing metaphors while Logan refused to rise to the bait, and then he’d made a simple observation about the hypocrisy of the twins’ parents, and Remus had stared at him with an odd tilt to his head for a moment.

Shortly after, he had made a very confusing comment about something that was anatomically impossible, and when Logan had enquired further, Remus had then hared off with pink cheeks and ditched school for a week. He’d asked Roman about the situation, but his friend had only covered his ears with an agonized look on his face, utterly refusing to explain.

Logan shook the errant thought away, and the odd pang of something like regret that Remus had vanished before he could follow up on the interesting interaction.

He turned his gaze away from the unharried setting. The odd dynamic between the Torres family was not what he was here to investigate, not even remotely.

There was only one Torres he was investigating right now, and he had a strong suspicion that his odd behavior had less to do with family than one might expect.

“Go on ahead, I’m sure he’ll hear you once you get out back,” Mrs. Torres encouraged, picking up a particularly irritated-looking calico cat. “Just have to make sure Lady Macbeth doesn’t escape and disturb your little session. Roman’s been worried about coyotes, so we’ve been keeping her inside.”

Logan nodded, though privately he was a little surprised. Coyotes? He hadn’t thought they would be so bold as to lurk at a farm this close to urban areas. Perhaps there had been sightings near here?

He pushed past the creaky screen door with a striking sense of familiarity, despite the fact that it had been quite a while since the three of them had gone wandering together in the foliage and dirt of the Torres farm. Patton’s allergies could be quite fierce, after all.

As expected, walking into the backyard revealed no signs of Roman, even when Logan cleared his throat and called out. He knew his friend well enough to know that he would have reacted audibly to his unexpected presence, so the only logical conclusion was that he wasn’t nearby.

Clearly, it was time to check the perimeter.

He walked in a careful, orderly line next to the old wooden fence, eyeing the peeling paint and refraining from setting his hand on it. He had more to worry about than potential splinters, such as keeping an eye out for any potential strangeness that could explain Roman’s behavior.

There was little to be found in the brush except a regrettable amount of sandburs catching along the hem of his pants, so when he spotted the barn, he felt a surge of excitement.

And if he indulged in a little bit of sneaking, hoping to catch his quarry unaware, that was his business. Roman was loud enough that he could hear him ranting a good few meters from the barn, anyhow.

He managed to make it all the way to the edge of the barn wall before the rant abruptly cut off, and he stalked forwards hurriedly, pushing the door open before Roman could hide anything incriminating.

He needn’t have worried: the evidence was standing there in the middle of the barn, strapped to a support rafter.

It also wasn’t human.

“What are you doing here?” Roman shrilled, taking a quick step to be in front of the creature. It was an ineffective method of hiding it, seeing as what appeared to be long, spider-like limbs were extending in the air a good few meters in either direction behind him.

Logan had known about Roman’s theory, the one that had been laughed right out of the police station. He’d walked with Roman and scoured the fields for any sign of what Remus had mentioned, though they hadn’t found anything. He knew his friend still believed that his twin’s disappearance had been unnatural, extraterrestrial.

Knowing was quite different from seeing an entire alien right in front of oneself.

Roman was still talking, in that nervous chattering tone that he always took on when he was working himself into a truly incomprehensible explanation, but Logan could hardly be asked to divide his attention at the moment.

Extra anterior eyes, odd shiny patches along the sides of the neck, exterior hinges along the jaw, organic plating that had visibly darkened since his first glance-- there was so much that he needed to understand the purpose of, so many questions he had about their origins. How close by was other life? Which star had they hailed from? How had they gotten here?

He was moving forwards without a second thought, enthralled by the way the legs rose up-- like a bird mantling their wings, and they appeared smooth, not hairy as an actual spider’s would be.

“Incredible,” he breathed, and then there was a hand fisted in the back of his polo and he was being yanked away. Where he’d just stood, all four of the strange limbs stabbed into the ground, their reach longer and their ends sharper than he’d anticipated.

There must have been an extra joint closer to their back, the flexible kind that would allow for such an extension. He itched to circle around and look for himself, to confirm his hypothesis before the limbs retracted, but Roman was still clinging to him like a shrieking barnacle.

“What did I just say?!” he demanded, gearing up for a scolding. “It’s not friendly! Do you want to get stabbed into next week?”

“How long have you been keeping an actual alien life form from the world at large? From scientists at large? From me?” Logan shot back, shaking Roman’s grip loose. “Have you had them strapped upright this entire time? Can they talk? How did this even happen?”

Even as he demanded an explanation, his gaze was drawn back over to the alien, taking in their every twitch with endless curiosity. He wanted to know how to read each motion, from the downturn of their chin to the scrunching of their smaller eyes to the way the flat plates where a mouth should be had seemed to twitch. He wanted to know everything.

“It’s been like a week, I didn’t strap them up they came like that, either they don’t speak English or they’re a really good actor, and they showed up in my barn after Remus was abducted, you do the math!” Roman rushed out, edging closer as though he thought Logan was about to try and get closer to the alien again. “And I didn’t tell you because I knew you would do this!”

“This is hardly the first time I’ve almost been stabbed in the pursuit of science,” Logan retorted, annoyed at the presumption that he wouldn’t risk his life for his goals.

“It’s only a little bit about the near-stabbing!” Roman’s voice cracked, and Logan finally pulled the other half of his attention away from the alien to stare. “This is my only lead on my brother, and you’re going to want to-- to-- to put it in a laboratory or National Geographic Magazine or something!”

“I’d be far more likely to write a thesis paper on the matter,” Logan corrected helpfully. Roman’s hands twitched, the body language possibly indicating that he was barely restraining himself from trying to throttle Logan.

“Whatever! The point is, this isn’t a science experiment to me!” His rival’s face was crumpling slightly at the edges. “You can’t just-- just use the alien I found as a ticket to get into some esteemed college while Remus is left to rot in the far reaches of outer space!”

To Logan’s horror, Roman’s eyes had become suspiciously shiny. He floundered for a moment, wishing Patton was there to smooth things over as he so often did, before firming his shoulders and lifting his chin. He could at least try to explain, and hope it didn’t turn out too badly.

“I’m not going to ‘leave Remus to rot,’” Logan started, remembering the recycled missing posters stacked up on the counter. “If you believe that this alien is key to finding out what happened to him, then that should be-- well, our first priority should always be furthering the advancement of human understanding, especially with a discovery as big as this, but I am an accomplished multitasker, so we can do that while we attempt to locate and recover Remus.”

Roman’s shoulders slowly loosened from their frustrated hunch. “You’re going to help me? Seriously?”

“Do you really think I’d joke?” Logan replied, gesturing to his tie. “The more information we compile on this specimen, the better we’ll understand them, and the closer we’ll be to understanding the motives behind Remus’s abduction.”

“And you aren’t going to tell anyone?” Roman asked, looking more hopeful by the moment.

“Why would I? I work more effectively on projects on my own,” Logan answered, the same sentence that had sparked a loud argument between him and Roman in the middle of Biology two years ago. This time, however, Roman looked excited rather than offended at the response. “We really should figure out something to tell Patton, though.”

“That’s… a good idea,” Roman admitted sheepishly. “There’s no way we can let him around an unknown alien fiend, especially not one so… spider-y. You almost got stabbed, imagine what it might do to poor Patton!”

“You handle our story,” Logan decided, turning to look back at the alien fully. “I’ll see what we can do about those extra limbs. We won’t be able to do any sort of up-close analysis with a constant threat hovering over us.”

He straightened his tie, studying the way the extra limbs in question were vibrating just slightly in the air, drawn in significantly closer to the alien's body than they had been before. Despite the movement of the legs, the alien themself was still as stone, all of their attention locked on Logan.

Through observation and experimentation, he was sure that each little motion of theirs would soon become as readable to him as everyday human body language, and from there, real communication would be in reach.

Communication with an extraterrestrial... This would truly be a project like no other.

Fueled by a thrill of excitement, Logan couldn't help but smile.

[wayfaringmd]

I need perspective: I'm 32 and just found out the other day I have urogenital sinus. My urethra is where my gspot should be. My new gf found it and I got to my gyno as fast as I could to figure out what was going on. I've had her for 16ish years. She said she knew about it but as I was healthy, everything was working, and it wasn't causing me issues, she didn't want to worry me over 'nothing'. I guess she's right but it doesn't feel like 'nothing'. I kind of feel like I was left in the dark about my own body. Do I have the right to be upset about this? Is what she did ethical? Did she have the right to regard a condition as 'nothing' and not tell the patient? Would you have done the same thing? Like what's a doctor's stance on this sort of situation?

P. S, I don't know how I lived this long without figuring it out myself. I guess things just lined up. Oh and my doctor who takes care of that area never said anything lol

So much of this question doesn’t make sense to me.

1. Just for future reference, the G-spot has only recently been identified as having a distinct anatomical location and structure. Its existence was debated for decades but a study in 2014 described its histological appearance. That being said, it may not be an identifiable location by the naked eye. (Ostrzenski A, Krajewski P, Ganjei-Azar P, Wasiutynski AJ, Scheinberg MN, Tarka S, Fudalej M. Verification of the anatomy and newly discovered histology of the G-spot complex. BJOG. 2014 Oct;121(11):1333-9. doi: 10.1111/1471-0528.12707. Epub 2014 Mar 19. PMID: 24641569.)

2. The urogenital sinus is an embryological structure. When a fetus is developing, it initially has a cloaca, which is one common opening leading to what will later develop into the rectum, urethra, and vagina/uterus (Image 1). It initially divides into a urogenital sinus (which later will divide again into the urethra and vagina/uterus) and an anorectal canal (later called the anus). 

In theory, if the urogenital sinus fails to divide, then the person would have one common opening for both the urethra and the vagina (Image 2). In actuality, the thing sometimes called a urogenital sinus is more often a product of abnormal hormonal influence on genital development and is associated with obviously ambiguous genitalia.

So the parts I’m confused about are 1) is it really a urogenital sinus or is it just a slightly displaced urethra? or a tiny dimple where the embryological structure once was (we see those frequently on the face as pre-auricular pits or branchial cleft sinuses)? 2) do you have a normal urethra and uterus and menstrual cycle? 3) Does urine leak from this hole? Is it perhaps actually a fistula of some sort? 

The answers to those questions determine my answer to the ethics question. If the structure in question is just a little pit, then the doctor not disclosing its presence would be, in my mind, equivalent to a doctor not pointing out a random benign mole. It’s no big deal at all. But if it leaks urine or you have ambiguous genitalia or abnormal uterus, then it would be a big deal to not bring it up. There’s no solid guideline on what to bring up with a patient or what not to. I know many docs who don’t mention to their patients when they find benign-sounding heart murmurs. I personally mention them to patients and explain that they’re benign so they know they’re present and don’t freak out about them down the line and think I missed something major on them. 

Image source: Thomas DFM. The embryology of persistent cloaca and urogenital sinus malformations. Asian J Androl. 2020 Mar-Apr;22(2):124-128. doi: 10.4103/aja.aja_72_19. PMID: 31322137; PMCID: PMC7155797.

[bangingoutthetunes]

here are some suggestions I feel I can give on how to become a better writer, people in the common genshin l post were suggesting this

This is the type of shit I notice most often which i find to be a huge turn off while reading smut.

Consider experimenting on yourself and your body prior to begin really writing smut! It makes a world of a difference to be able to describe what a feeling of approaching a climax is to you instead of using the same blanket adjectives. Idk about some of you guys, but for me and a lot of people I know, orgasms don't make you "see stars behind your eyelids", for example. There is so much more to an orgasm than just what can or can't be seen; what does your tummy feel like? Does your skin prickle? Do your toes curl? Try to figure out how, maybe, different things feel on you. If you write about penetrating and have something phallic and safe, use it in different positions to see how positions can change the feeling. Normal sex doesn't have to be aggressive even if both participants are horny beyond their minds; sex can be primal without having to fuck someone way out and have person a "slam their hips" into person b. especially at the first couple of thrusts, that shit HURTS real bad

Think of describing the scenes using metaphors that are appropriate to what is happening. Build up to using those metaphors, though; you want to make sure that your writing is cohesive and that when you look back at how sentences are placed that you, or a beta reader, doesn't widen their eyes and think "wtf is going on?". For example, if you're describing a blow job, right? If there is precedent for the person giving head to be used and submissive throughout the fic, up until that point, then it makes sense for the dick haver to bottom out v quickly. It also makes sense if the reader is being a brat/tease n the person with a dick wants to teach them a lesson. It doesn't make sense, to me, when it's just kissing and touching for the person giving head to just be used and throatfucked all at once with no prior warning or discussion of consent to the harsh action, especially if it just isn't implied/discussed.

A lot of writers also just don't touch on consent which I think is awful. Asking for consent can be sexy! Just imagine someone being cheesy or romantic, if that's your thing, and how you'd be excited to reply if you were being asked for consent. Otherwise just try and make sure consent is stated before shit is done within the fic.

With regards to adjective and common metaphor use, stay away from things that don't make sense anatomically. For example, if someone is getting fucked in doggy style how tf are balls gonna slap against the asscheek? They're gonna, if anything, hit the clit/top part of the genital area instead of the swell of the asscheek.

Lastly--- if you care about making your writing authentic pls for the love of God try and read things aside from the smut genre. Do some anatomical research and read more. In order to expand your vocabulary and be able to use adjectives correctly you have to see them used and understand the context it's ok to put them in. English isn't my first language. If I could learn how to do it then you can too.

Idk what else could come to mind and I might edit this post as time passes. Idk what to tag this as either

[jurassicsunsets]

sauropod emojis, as rated by a palaeontology student

apple:

not a bad start here overall! this is recognisably intended as a brachiosaurid, and the skull shape and overall profile are pretty good (though they look a bit juvenile-ish). points off, though, for the inaccurate hands - rather than elephantine columns, they were more shaped like lima beans in cross-section. yes, really. they also only had one claw per hand (it was on the thumb). also points off for having the external fleshy nostril located on the dome of the skull; while this is the position of the bony external nostril, there is evidence that the fleshy nostril was probably located at the tip of the snout. its dead eye haunts me

score: 7/10 solid attempt

google:

google clearly went for a cartoonier approach, and to my view it served them well. still recognisably a brachiosaur - the shape of the skull and overall proportions make it resemble Europasaurus, a type of dwarf sauropod that lived on an island in what is now eastern europe. which immediately ups its score in my book. however, it falls victim to the same issues with elephantine hands as did the apple one, and as such i can’t give it a perfect score.

score: 9/10 friendly!

microsoft:

this emoji cleverly avoids any scientific inaccuracies by being extremely cartoony. i like the use of single colours rather than gradients. a little too simple for my tastes though. i can’t tell what find of sauropod, if any, it was intended to be - a brachiosaur, because of the upright neck? a mamenchisaur, maybe? i have little to work with.

score: 6/10 just too vague

samsung:

i don’t like her at all. clearly a brachiosaur - sensing a common theme - but something about it is just unpleasant to me. the body seems too fat, the limbs too short, the tail too noodly, the head too pointy. also messes up the hands again.

score: 3/10. please leave.

whatsapp:

at last, an emoji that bucks the brachiosaur trend!! this is clearly not a brachiosaur. in fact, it looks like a possible Cetiosaurus-type deal. whatever it is, it’s charming. the nostrils are at the end of the snout as they should be and - is it? - can it be? - it is! the hands are anatomically correct! each clearly has one claw, located on the thumb, and though we can’t see well, they don’t appear to be elephantine. i love them a lot.

score: 10/10 only shooting stars break the mold - oh god im so sorry i shouldve phrased that differently--

twitter:

a classic. what it lacks in detail it makes up in simplicity. it has pleasant lines and an appealing silhouette. it’s extremely vague and not based off of any real genus, and the tail is far too short, but for some reason this doesn’t bother me too much. 

score: 8/10. exquisite

facebook:

hm. hmm. a lot of anatomical though was clearly put into this; overall the body form looks like a plausible sauropod. the proportions look a little weird, sure, but that seems to be perspective - after all, most sauropods were gigantic beings. beefy boys, if you will. its nostrils, upon close inspection, are correctly placed; however, its hands and feet are all messed up. i guess the real conundrum for me is that it seems to be a mish-mash of sauropods - remove the braciosaur-like domed skull, and it would be a great fit for an Apatosaurus. 

score: 8/10 i’m conflicted

joypixels

what in the hell is joypixels? and what in the hell is this? i just...the hands and feet are plantigrade, meaning that the ankles touch the ground, when actual sauropods were digitigrade - walking on their toes. the shoulder and hip muscles aren’t there, and instead the limbs are just awkwardly connected to the body. it reminds me of a turtle, and not in a good way.

score: 4/10. uninspired and dull

openmoji:

they didnt try. nor will i.

score: 0/10 make an effort

emojidex

every emojidex emoji i have ever seen has just been awful. this is no different. this looks like a stereotypical loser from a meme, but as a dinosaur. the contrast between the decently moderate level of artistic detail put in and the blatant disinterest towards making it look like an animal is staggering. just awful.

score: -3/10 i just cant care enough about it to rate it lower

emojipedia:

excuse me? what the fuck? what the fuck is this? this is the main character from the low-budget ripoff of the good dinosaur. the head looks like a Corythosaurus  and the body looks like barney in leapfrog stance. the gradients just make me feel a little sick. it’s awful. look at the hindlimbs and tell me that any love was put into drawing this. it’s like how a dinosaur would be drawn on tom and jerry but like, the bad charmless ones made in the 90s that were trying hard to emulate the originals. the hands look like green snowboots.

score: -500/10 i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate you 

[natewallace]

My symbrock fic is finally done!!!

Thank you so much to @pebbles-12345 for the lovely banner and for @supershanaynay1 for the beta help!!! This was such a fun project to work on and I loved every step of the process.

Title: Anatomical, Metaphysical

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Fandom: Venom (Marvel Movies)

Relationships: Eddie Brock/Venom Symbiote, Dan Lewis/Anne Weying

Characters: Eddie Brock, Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Anne Weying, Dan Lewis (Venom 2018), Carnage Symbiote (Marvel), Mrs. Chen (Venom 2018)

Additional Tags: Post-Venom 2: Let there be Carnage, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Eventual Smut, Tentacles, Tentacle Sex, Slow Burn, Venom Symbiote Loves Eddie Brock, Eddie Brock Loves Venom Symbiote, Human Disaster Eddie Brock, non marvel au, Angst with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Heavy Angst

Language: English

Word Count: 72,641

Chapters: 11/11

Excerpt:

On the first night of their getaway, Eddie Brock has confusing dreams.

There’s red; a lot of swirling, churning red. And it makes sense, really—they’d nearly been ripped apart by a red tentacle alien and his serial killer host before their desperate escape from the city. But the red seeps inside them both, dripping down the walls of Eddie and Venom’s shared subconscious. It churns and warps his insides, threatening to drown him into the tide of the vivid color. It’s not blood. But it’s something. It’s a trippy dream; one Eddie’s never had before, and though he can’t make heads or tails of it, he realizes that it was affecting Venom, too.

Eddie could feel Venom’s rumblings in the back of his head since they both woke up this morning; that had been the first sign that something was off about him, the first of a series of events that would prove Eddie’s quiet suspicions since they settled in Bora Bora. He doesn’t speak or even complain (which is a first, Eddie will admit); it’s only a sense of wrongness that he can’t identify, and he can only assume that the dream is to blame. Shoving the blankets off his legs, Eddie swings around to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his head as he squints at the far wall.

“You alright, buddy?” he asks out loud.

“I am fine.”

Venom’s remark comes back far too quick and far too scathing for Eddie to take that as it is.

“Yeah, I don’t believe you,” he sighs. On the opposite wall of their small bungalow, Eddie finds himself staring at the painting hanging just by the bathroom door; it’s one of those typical, doctor’s room art pieces, and if he squints, he can just make out the splash of pink highlighting a setting sun over a sandy beach much like the one just a short walk away from the porch. He rolls his shoulders as Venom lets out a dramatic yawn. The feeling of wrongness remains.

Eddie asks again: “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong!” Venom bites back. “I am fine, perfectly fine. We are on a honeymoon—”

“—vacation,” Eddie corrects him dryly. “The word is “vacation”. It’s not a honeymoon because we didn’t get married.”

“Vacation, then! We are on vacation and I am perfectly content, so Eddie will shut up and let me be and stop asking stupid questions!”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “We talked about this,” he sighs. He lays back on the bed, blinking up at the ceiling fan whirling steadily above their heads. “Venom, I can feel when something is wrong with you. You’re inside me, remember? You’re always...inside me.”

“Right where Venom belongs,” Venom says smugly.

“Yeah, exactly. You’re all...restless. I feel like you’re not even here, like you’re blinking in and out. You sick or something?”

“Venom does not get sick!”

Sure he doesn’t. “Just like the time you ‘didn’t get sick’ and ran us both a fever of over a hundred for a week?” Eddie reminds him dryly. “Or the time you—”

“Eddie will shut up now, or he will get a spanking.”

“Good thing I’m into that.”

“What?!”

“Nothing,” Eddie says quickly. “Nothing. Just…” He sighs again. “Fine, if you won’t talk to me, then don’t talk to me. I don’t care.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[xskyll]

The BNHA x Chobits AU that no one, not even Mineta, asked for.

The ramblings of my mind under the cut. Warning, it’s loooong.

Okay, so bear in mind that I only watched four episodes of Chobits and it was probably about 14 years ago, and also I didn’t really like it, lol

-Todoroki finds Midoriya laying on some bags of trash next to a dumpster.

-First he’s like “oh no, I need an adult,” because for all his “training,” dad never actually told him what to do when he found a dead body, (this is the summer before he starts U.A., so he’s still living at home). Endeavor is away for a week, and Fuyumi doesn’t count to him (sort of an Aristocats, “she’s not [an adult,] she’s just a sister!” thing). While he’s trying to remember that the police exist, he notices this dead body has very strange ear-like things. He comes closer to investigate. There are lots of weird body types in the world, because of quirks, but these things look metal, which isn’t unheard of, but something about these ears just strike him as unnatural.

- Good news, it seems like a robot, not a dead body. The ears open easily, and there are buttons inside. A power button (that’s right CHOBITS!! It’s in the ear! My love story isn’t going to start with molestation), some USB ports, an aux port, a slot for a microchip or SIM card or whatever, some sort of safety switch (he flips that on)…what really convinces him this is totally a robot are the blutooth and volume buttons (that’s right, Midoriya in this au can charge phones AND he’s a speaker, although the volume buttons’ primary function is to control the volume of his voice).

- He has no good reason for taking this thing home. It weights a ton, it’s awkwardly naked, except for some bandages wrapped around it, which do nothing to hide how anatomically correct this robot is, and he already has a phone charger, so he really has no use for it. 

- He feels weird about it though. While he was checking out the ears, he touched its face and the skin was soft and warm. He checked for a pulse, just out of curiosity, and found one. It looks like a person, aside from the ears, and it feels like a person. He feels bad leaving it in the trash. So he takes it home.

- Cue comedy routine where he gets this thing, not just in the house, but to his room without Fuyumi noticing.

- Once in his room, he hits the power switch. Nothing happens. He holds the power switch. Bingo. Robo-boy powers to life, bright, adorably large green eyes open. He’s holding it in his arms, and it’s still all tied up. It looks up at him and says hello.

- He drops it.

- He apologizes as he picks it back up, tugging at the wrappings to try to get its arms free. He realizes he needs to get pants, or at least boxers, for it, because it’s awake now and very much naked.

- For the very first time, he realizes that this adorable, thin-yet-lean-muscled, between 14-16 looking robo-boy might have been someone’s weird sex doll. They probably threw it away because they found a real person to date and they didn’t want them to know about their underage sex robot. This also sort of explains the pulse; the mystery pervert person probably programmed a fake pulse and did something to make his skin warm, to make him feel more real. Gross.

- He’s broken from these thoughts when the robot speaks. It says, “Please insert memory bank files or turn on base memory.” Todoroki is already freaking out, because this thing wants its memories, and he doesn’t have them. He opens the ear again and investigates. Next to the empty slot, there’s a small button labeled BM. Base memory? Sure, why not. He pushes it.

- The robot goes blank faced for a few seconds. When he comes to, he looks at Todoroki, then the room, then down at himself. He flexes his arms, trying to break the bands around him, but stops, saying, “Safety mode is on.”

- Todoroki finishes helping unwrap him, awkwardly doing so while pointedly looking away, once he gets to his lower half. Once he’s free, he goes and gets a pair of boxers and throws them in his direction. “Can you put them on?” He’s curious if the robot can do something like that unaided, and also he doesn’t want to cloth it himself, because even though this is a robot, it looks like a very cute boy his age. And it has a pulse. He can’t stop thinking about that.

- The robot puts on the boxers, after inspecting them for a second. He honestly does struggle to figure it out for a moment, cause he has zero common sense, but he does figure it out. It probably takes him about a minute. Once they’re on, he stands and starts inspecting the room.

- “Do you have a name?” seems like a dumb question, but he asks anyway and the robot answers, “I’m Project Midoriya.”

- Background info time. Midoriya is not fully a robot. He was kidnapped just seven months ago, coming home from school. It was the day of the sludge villain attack, but he got nabbed before they could cross paths. AFO wanted a quirkless person to experiment on. He did his research and found Midoriya Izuku, a quirkless boy with no friends and little family, who wouldn’t be missed very much. He’s confident enough that he won’t get caught that he titles his new project by its name: Midoriya. Midoriya’s memories are still in his mind, but they’re suppressed. AFO found it easier to backup his memories to a chip, so he could remove them as needed. When they were installed, Midoriya responded best to his own name anyway, so calling him that was also the easiest thing. Without his memories, AFO found him a bit annoying, because he had no social skills or common sense. He needed to be taught, which he didn’t have the patience for, so usually he just left the memories in. He was a timid boy anyway and easy to intimidate, especially if he threaten to hurt his mom.

- The cops figure his disappearance was maybe a runaway situation, but given his track record and the profile on him they’d compiled from listening to his mom, classmates, and teachers, they figure it’s more likely a kidnapping or murder. Fun fact though, he got kidnapped the day Bakugou told him to kill himself. Obviously no body is found, but he knows people go to forests to hang themselves, or put weights in their pockets and drown themselves. Those bodies can take years to find. So while all of this is happening, Bakugou is out there just every day, “what have I done, what have I done, what have I done?” When they finally see each other again, Bakugou freaks out and Midoriya’s suppressed memories are triggered. Bakugou demands answers, Todoroki is confused and defensive, and Midoriya is just, “System overload. Shutting down,” and then face plants to the floor.

- Anyway, back to Shouto. He asks Midoriya if he remembers anything. Midoriya has exactly one memory (or at least, one easily accessible memory), and it’s this: “A man. He looked like this.” He put his hand over his face. “He said, ‘Sensei put so much work into you. Why are you so useless (Deku)?’”

- More bg info, AFO gave Midoriya to Shigaraki, telling him to try to make him useful, and Shigaraki DID try for a couple of months, but he was over the whole situation after basically one day. With his memories, Midoriya was scared and traumatized, had morals, cried a bunch and sometimes tried to escape, and was just UGH. He could mute his voice, but even that didn’t help, cause this kid was just sooo annoying. Without his memories he was awkward and boring and still annoying. Eventually he just yeeted him into a trash heap, but took his memory chip, since it technically contains LoV information.

- Midoriya considers his only memory and thinks being called Deku feels sort of normal, so he says as much. “Deku might also be my name. You can call me that, if you want.” Todoroki says he’ll stick with Midoriya, because Deku isn’t a nice name for his new robot friend.

- So the first section of the story after this is fairly light-hearted. Todoroki has to keep Midoriya a secret from Endeavor and Fuyumi (I feel like she does find out eventually, but agrees to help hide him, as she sees it’s good for her little bro to finally have this (maybe?) living thing/person to talk to and take care of.) Speaking of care, Midoriya is very easy to care for. He can eat, drink, and sleep, but doesn’t need to. He has some sort of self-charging system. Most of his “care” involves teaching him social skills (which oof, blind leading the blind, but they say teaching is the best way to learn, so this is actually good for Shouto too). Embarrassing stuff happens. Fluffy stuff happens. It’s a good time.

- Shouto spends the summer with Midoriya this way. Most of their interactions are fluffy and light, but not all. The first time he comes back to his room after training with his dad, he learns two things: Midoriya has first aid knowledge programmed into him and he’s capable of crying. As the trainings continue, Midoriya eventually reveals that he has over a hundred fighting styles programmed into him and knows over 70 ways to kill a person, but he can’t access any of that information while his safety is on. Todoroki is just like, “Uuuuuh, that’s really good to know…but we’re gonna keep the safety on for now, okay? I hate my dad but also please don’t murder him. He’s famous so we wouldn’t get away with it. Also murder is bad, don’t kill people.”

- Midoriya wants to know if all heroes are like Endeavor and Shouto is like, noooo and shows him the debut video of his personal favorite hero: All Might. Watching this video is the first time Midoriya has a “System overloading. Shutting down” moment. Shouto has an absolute panic attack, because if Midoriya reboots and his memories are wiped, then he’ll have lost the best friend he ever had. But Midoriya restarts and he’s fine. He explains that sometimes he shuts down, to prevent a system failure, which would damage his…idk, hard drive or whatever. He quietly admits that the All Might video is very familiar, and he thinks maybe it used to be important to him. Shouto questions him about his memories and Midoriya theorizes that perhaps he has them backed up, but he isn’t sure how to access them. 

- This is exciting for Shouto, because he thinks maybe if Midoriya experiences more “triggers,” like the video, he might regain his memories and be able to shed some light on the general mystery of where he came from/who made him/what his purpose is. Whenever Endeavor is away, he tries to sneak Midoriya out, so he can see the real world. He isn’t too concerned about his ears, because in a world of quirks, there are plenty of odd looking people around. So far he’s been wearing Todoroki’s clothes, which a little too big on him, so they go shopping and get him clothes. None of their outings seem to trigger anything, except one time when they pass a park where Midoriya and Bakugou used to play as kids. Midoriya grows quiet and seems far away for a moment, but he doesn’t overload and shakes off the familiar feeling.

- Whenever they see All Might stuff he’s just !!!!!!! He can’t remember why he likes All Might, but he remembers how he feels about him. The more All Might stuff he sees, the more his old feelings return. One day they pass a large All Might poster and Midoriya says, “I think maybe I wanted to be like him, once.”

- Eventually Todoroki starts school. He feels bad about leaving him, but Midoriya is content to stay in his room and occupy himself until Todoroki comes home. He’s part computer, so he’s a total boss at helping with math homework. He likes doing homework with Todoroki in general, because he likes learning. This is great for Todoroki’s grades because again, the teaching thing helps everything stick better for him. 

- The attack on USJ happens and Todoroki sees Shigaraki, who has a hand on his face, and he’s like, “Shit, shit, shit, this is the guy who threw away Midoriya,” and he has NO idea what to do with that information. Midoriya belonging to the LoV does explain the “70+ ways to kill” programming though. He tells Midoriya what happened and Midoriya is kind of whatever about it. He says, “Maybe I belonged to villains, but I belong to you, now.” And Shouto is like, “No, no, no, no. You do not. You belong to yourself” and Midoriya is just ????

- I think for the Sports Festival, Midoriya convinces him to use his fire. It’s sort of like, “It’s your power, even though its origin is Endeavor. Just like how everything I can do is my power, even though I was programmed by villains. Being made by villains doesn’t make me a villain. Using the resources they gave me doesn’t make me a villain. Being Endeavor’s son doesn’t make you Endeavor, and using your fire doesn’t either.” Todoroki turns off Midoriya’s safety, confident he has nothing to fear.

- Midoriya watches the Sports Festival on tv (using his blutooth, he can actually just hear the volume in his head, so he can watch silently). He sees Bakugou. Seeing him on screen doesn’t have a huge impact on him, but he does feel something. Fear, unease, admiration, and affection. He’s confused and uncomfortable, and ends up looking away from the screen whenever he’s shown for too long.

- Shouto actually starts making friends at school. Being with Midoriya has taught him a lot about being kind and the joy having other people in your life can bring. Still, he doesn’t trust anyone enough to tell them about Midoriya. He’s terrified of losing him.

- For the Hosu incident, Midoriya is home alone, probably doing something on Shouto’s laptop. He sees the breaking news and is just, “Welp, that’s where Shouto, the official best person in the world, is, so guess I’m going to Hosu to make sure he’s safe.” He leaves the house alone, for the first time ever, and just runs to Hosu. Idk how far away Hosu is from the Todoroki residence, but Midoriya doesn’t fatigue and he’s also outrageously fast, so it’s fine. Also he can see in the dark, but only if he activates his night vision, which makes his eyes glow. Not good for sneaking, but very pretty and cool. I’m not sure how he finds Shouto, or how Shouto found Iida, but I imagine Stain is like, seconds from skewering him and then Midoriya comes out of nowhere and collides with Stain (which is a big deal, cause remember, Midoriya is filled with metal parts and is super heavy). They fight together and at some point Stain cuts Midoriya and he bleeds, which for Shouto is like !?!??! And then he licks his blood and the paralysis works and Shouto is just !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- Later, after the life threatening stuff is over, Todoroki has some seriously thoughts about this, because what if Midoriya is human? Or part human? That would be a huge development, and also kind of relief for him, because he sort of feels like he’s been falling in love, but he’s been desperately stomping down on those feelings, because he knows falling in love with a robot probably isn’t healthy. But falling in love with a half robot? I mean, Iida could be called part robot, with his legs, if you want to get technical about it. And Todoroki does want to get technical about it, thank you very much. If Iida is dateable, then so is Midoriya.

- Back to Hosu. They beat Stain and, after securing him, Todoroki tells Midoriya to go home, before his dad arrives. Once he leaves, he begs Iida not to tell anyone he saw him and promises to explain later. For ease of narrative, Native was unconscious the entire fight.

- Endeavor shows up, as does the Nomu. It takes Shouto but Stain rescues him. At the hospital, Todoroki explains the Midoriya situation to Iida, revealing that this incident was the first time he realized Midoriya had blood in him. Iida agrees to keep the secret, but urges Todoroki to tell someone. Maybe Aizawa. He agrees to consider, but he doesn’t want Midoriya to get taken away and like, locked up to be studied or something. He and Iida become better friends, bonding over almost dying together and sharing the secret of Midoriya. 

- Midterms! Shouto scores higher because he has an awesome robot tutor. He doesn’t actually care, but good for him regardless.

- Summer field trip time. Midoriya can’t come, obviously. I’m thinking during this time, he decides to sneak out of the house and explore on his own. He feels guilty, because Shouto would worry if he knew, but he just feels this draw. He feels like maybe his old memories were important, and he’s becoming curious. He keeps thinking about the boy from the Sports Festival and about All Might. He ends up in his old neighborhood. He sees his middle school and he doesn’t remember anything, but seeing the building makes him feel lonely and sort of bad about himself. It reminds him of Shigaraki calling him Deku, and the familiar feeling that gave him. He leaves and finds himself on his old street. He isn’t close at all to his old home - he can barely see the apartment building - but he can still see it. He almost shuts down, but turns away quickly and starts back the way he came. He doesn’t remember anything, but seeing that building fills him with overwhelming emotions. The strongest one reminds him of his feelings for Shouto, but it’s different. He can’t place it, but he knows he’d die to protect Shouto, and he feels like maybe he once knew someone in that building that he would also die to protect. Once he gets home, he realizes he’s crying. He decides to sleep and he dreams of green eyes and a smile that looks like home.

- Shouto is injured during the villain attack and goes to the hospital. Once he’s released, he agrees with Kirishima that they’ll go rescue Bakugou. That whole thing pretty much goes at it did in canon, except All Might never found a successor, so he’s more powerful. He defeats AFO and does not have to retire, though he’s feeling an overwhelming pressure to find a successor now, because he knows he’s hanging on by a thread.

- Dorms!! Shouto is bringing his boy with him. He figures he can hide him just as easily there as he can at home. Getting him in is a little tricky, but he manages. From there, it’s smooth sailing.

- Except not really, because living with 18-19 other people (19 if Hitoshi is in the class, which, maybe) is way different than living with 2. Midoriya is discovered in like, a week and everyone is freaking out, most of all Bakugou, who basically breaks down. He tries to hit Midoriya and screams at him, about thinking he was dead and going to his funeral and how it was his fault and having to face his mom and did Midoriya even think about his mom??? As previously mentioned, Midoriya just shuts down and face plants to the ground.

- Shouto finally learns Midoriya’s full name. Midoriya Izuku. A+ name. Very cute. He plans to use it immediately.

- Bakugou’s insight changes the situation completely. Now they know Izuku was once 100% human and something awful happened to him. They end up bringing him to Aizawa and explaining the situation and everything they know. Todoroki gets scolded, cause Izuku could have been dangerous and he should have known better, but he doesn’t even pretend to have regrets. Endeavor would have made him throw Izuku back into the trash where he found him. His best friend isn’t trash.

- Now the name of the game is helping Izuku restore his memories. Bakugou is a huge help, but patience is required, to keep Izuku from overloading. He remembers bits and pieces at a time, all centered around Bakugou. Aizawa agrees to let him attend classes, so they can keep an eye on him. He’s also hoping a school setting might trigger more memories. He meets All Might and he doesn’t even get to announce his system malfunction before he’s out. He sees him, starts smoking at the mouth and hits the floor. All Might is very alarmed.

- Tsukauchi is made aware of the situation. He wants to keep things under wraps though. If the LoV is aware Midoriya is out and about, they may target him. If they can restore his memories though, they may gain insight into the group’s plans. That being said, he thinks it’s only right that they tell Inko. They tell her they have information on her son and make her sign a contract, agreeing not to release any information. Once she agrees, they brief her on what they know and, at the end, bring in Izuku.

- Izuku has been talking with Bakugou about his mom, to prepare for this (he usually wants Shouto with him for these conversations, and Shouto and Bakugou sort on inadvertently become friends). He can’t remember her at all, but he remembers the face in his dream. He knows it’s her. While talking, he’s shut down a few times (which drives Bakugou up the wall, and also scares him a little, cause he kind of looks dead when it happens), but he thinks he might be ready to see her now. He’s brought in and he does not shut down, not fully, but he comes close. He definitely glitches a little, maybe doing a quick reboot, quick enough that he doesn’t even fall, and his voice comes out cracked and metallic when he speaks, and there are sparks in his mouth, but he manages, “Mom?” They both cry and she holds him while he tells her, voice wavering between sounding normal and sounding robotic, that he doesn’t remember her, but he loves her, he knows he loves her so so much and he knows he’s missed her, even though he didn’t know who she was. It’s very emotional, and extremely hard for both of them when they finally have to separate, because Izuku can’t go home with her. She’s allowed to visit though, and each visit helps him restore little pieces of his memory. Between her and Bakugou, he starts making enough progress that he stops shutting down when he gains a new memory, and he starts remembering his old hopes and dreams. He doesn’t remember what AFO did to him, but he remembers enough of his past to feel self-conscious now, about his body. He breaks down one day and Shouto holds him while he grapples with his identity, his humanity, and his future. 

- I’m picturing a scene where he’s crying and Shouto takes his face in his hands and explains all the beautiful things about him that make him human, and he finishes up with something corny like, “I know you, Izuku. You’re human. You have to be human, because I’m in love with you.” And then they KISS and it is ROMANTIC!

- He decides he still wants to be a hero and he becomes a real member of 1A, instead of just a visitor. The whole class helps him design a costume and come up with a name and in general are just like, “Cyborg Hero, yay!!”

- And that’s all I got. I think eventually he would fight the league, and probably retrieve his chip, giving him 100% of his memories. There’s a LOT of trauma to deal with there, because he was basically torn apart and put back together several times by AFO, but they do gain all the information they need to take down the LoV for good. And the Overhaul arc is in there. Izuku might still intern with Nighteye, because All Might is like, “Robot successor? Maybe???” and he wants Nighteye’s opinion. Nighteye can’t see his future, because he’s not fully human, but eventually he gives his stamp of approval. Eri is rescued and that’s a very personal fight for Izuku, because he identifies with what she’s gone through. And of course she loves him and thinks his ears are cute and his glowy eyes are pretty.

- Oh, and the School Festival. I honestly don’t even know what to do with him. He can learn any instrument just by like, downloading some YouTube tutorial videos. He can learn any dance by watching it once. He’s really strong, really fast, and can also operate as a speaker (though that can be awkward, cause it’s through his mouth, so he’d just be standing there with his mouth open). They might keep his role same as canon, idk. They’d probably all fight over him.

- I’m sure none of this was anything like Chobits. Sorry. I just think the ears are neat, really, and liked the idea of Izuku being a cyborg (Chobits isn’t even about cyborgs, lol).

Sorry this is outrageously long! If you want to write this into a full fic, feel free to use my ideas! Just give me a shoutout, maybe? And tell me about it, so I can read it!

[revoleotion]

“at least it wasn’t your hands”

content warnings and additional tags: autistic Licht, minor injury, hospital mention, (German) curses

.

“At least it wasn’t your hands,” Hyde says when they pick him up at the hospital. It’s a small, unsuspecting building on the side of the road, with only one long hallway that Licht grew very familiar with while waiting for someone to take a look at his injured knee. They forgot him in that hallway for a while, which was fine with him, he had a good book, but it might not be fine by other standards because Krantz seemed a little pissed about it. Licht could sense that he was prepared to start yelling at anyone who was nearby the second Licht made a complaint but since Licht didn’t do it, Krantz stayed silent. Instead, he listened to the explanation from the doctors, which is good because Licht cannot bring himself to pay attention to anything right now. The pain is still present but his body has already gotten used to it. It would hurt more if he weren’t an Eve but, then again, even before that he has never felt pain until it was too late. Growing up with headaches and cramps, he was told to “take medication before it is too late”. It’s something Licht still hasn’t quite understood yet. 

Hyde finds this whole thing hilarious. Of course he does. 

“While you were busy here, we bought you something,” he announces from the back. The direct sunlight hitting the car turned him into the hedgehog version of himself, which does not stop him from grinning at Licht. He was cuter before he started talking. 

“We also returned your ski because you won’t need them anymore. They didn’t even charge you for the day. Oh and, get well soon.”

“Fick dich,” Licht mumbles under his breath. 

“Wie war das?” Krantz asks. 

Licht shrugs. 

It’s hard to squeeze yourself into the passenger seat of the car, especially if your leg hurts and you can’t properly move. They wrapped his leg into an uncomfortable black bandage that is supposed to restrict his movements - and does it very, very well. He manages to bend his leg just enough to sit down and pull the door shut behind him. Gil greets him from the back but doesn’t seem to take offense that Licht doesn’t reply. The vampire is wrapped into full skiing gear, including ski mask and helmet, so he doesn’t get hit by sunlight. 

Krantz makes sure Licht has his seatbelt secured before backing out of the hospital parking lot. Licht is ready to glare out of the window and somehow not take in any of his surroundings but Hyde’s voice pulls him out of that. 

“Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“What.” He can’t be bothered to make it a question. It numbs his throat and no matter how hard he swallows, he doesn’t get the aftertaste out of his mouth. Right when he can emotionally remove himself from this reality, he gets hit with something. Licht can’t avoid it quick enough because he is trapped in the car and in a lot of pain but it turns out that the projectile wasn’t dangerous at all. 

It’s a small stuffed animal, about the size of his hand. A bunny, although it does not look anatomically correct, nor do the colors match any real bunny in existence. It’s obviously a toy for children, and what’s worse it seems to be the kind of thing you grab at the supermarket checkout, so your kids stop whining. In other words: It’s perfect. 

“Get well soon, Engelchen,” Hyde says but this time it seems like it’s genuine. “It was the only one they had, isn’t it hideous?”

“Sagt der Richtige,” Licht says quietly. He already loves the bunny. This is going to be a problem. 

“I have the feeling that you said something insulting.” 

“Good because I did.” He looks down on the bandage, back up to the stuffed animal. “Danke.” 

“For what?” 

“For giving me a stuffed animal to love instead of you.” 

Hyde sighs theatrically. “I named her Helena. You better take care of her.”

Helena, Licht repeats inside his head. He almost can’t feel the pain anymore. Hyde has that effect on him, he annoys him into forgetting everything else. Or maybe Licht just likes to have him around. 

This could’ve ended worse. Like Hyde said, they can be glad that he only injured his legs. (But, then again, Licht is not defined by his hands, thank you very much. He will not stop being a pianist, ever, no matter if he plays or not. Nobody can take this away from him.) 

This is a minor setback. Hyde didn’t think it was that bad when he quoted that Revenge Of The Sith dialogue at him. Licht also didn’t think it was that bad because he did him the favor of replying “I hate you!” in his best Anakin-voice. It was only later, when Licht couldn’t get up on his own, when they had to call someone to rescue him... 

It had taken a while to locate Gil and Krantz who were off who-knew-where. In the end, they made the decision to split up: Licht went with the ambulance, Hyde attempted to locate Licht’s manager and his own subclass. It must’ve worked, since the three of them came to pick Licht up. 

And honestly, that’s all Licht cares about. 

“Hey, Licht.” Hyde has managed to climb up his seat and now rolls down into his lap, careful not to land onto his bad leg. Licht can appreciate this. “This means we’re going to have a lot of free time up on the Alm while the others are skiing. Just the two of us.” 

“I learned a new word, Hyde,” Licht tells him and pretends not to notice how his Servamp squeaks at the mention of his name. “Simp.”

“What now?”

“Simp.”

Hyde looks up to him, wide-eyed, innocent hedgehog face. Licht fights the urge to smile and loses. It’s hard not to smile when a hedgehog looks at you like you’re the most important thing in the world. 

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” Hyde asks. 

“Yes.”

“In that case, I feel very insulted. Does it still hurt?”

“I am an angel, I don’t feel pain.”

“Right.”

Licht gives him a few seconds, then he reaches out with his hand and starts petting him. It doesn’t hurt. Hyde always makes sure it doesn’t hurt. 

.

… and then Licht and Hyde spend their day in cozy cottages ordering good food and hot chocolate while Krantz and Gil have the time of their life skiing, the end. 

[spookyceph]

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

-

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

[fanfic-scribbles]

Supernatural Fic Masterlist

I have sorted this masterlist by main character/reader pairings, with a small section at the very bottom for stories that do not involve a reader insert. Any series/one shot sections are further segmented, and stories under “Poly/Other” will have the pairings noted in with the rest of the story info. Everything is alphabetical (although series with more than one part are listed chronologically). A slash [/] means romance while an ampersand [&] means friendship.

I used a cut so as not to clog anyone’s page should it pop up in the tags. I write 99% reader inserts and primarily have a lot of Castiel and Gabriel, with the odd Sam, Dean, Chuck, and a handful of friendship fics. I hope you find something you enjoy <3

.

Castiel/Reader

Series

“Revelations and Resolutions (Masterlist)” (Formerly Titled “October Challenge 2017") – Romance – Castiel/Reader – Slight angst/mostly fluff

Summary: Thirty-one days is enough time to tell someone you’ve fallen in love with them, right?

Wherein you decide to use the month of October to try to tell Castiel you’re in love with him, Sam, Dean and Gabriel try to help (?) from the sidelines, and Castiel is mostly just confused.

A Reader/Cas focused project that started out as a series of semi-connected prompts and turned into a story driven by said prompts.

“Already Yours (Masterlist)” (aka October Challenge 2018) – Romance – established Castiel/Reader – Also slight angst/mostly fluff

Sequel to “Revelations and Resolutions” mentioned above.

Summary: You and Castiel don’t have a traditional relationship, but you’ve been happily together for a year now. Which begs the question– how do a human and an angel celebrate their one-year anniversary? You’re still not sure, but one thing is certain: it’s time to over-think things.

One-Shots

“Amends” – Romance – Words: 1186

Summary: Castiel made a mistake and you’re more than happy to give him the silent treatment. Until he comes up with a way to make it up to you.

“Awfully Fond of You” – Romance – Words: 2039

Summary: Oh rubber duckie, you’re the one…capable of confusing an angel to frustration. Castiel just wants to know what rubber ducks are for. Cue shenanigans until you can set the angel straight.

“Cas Café” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 2970 Follow-up to “Cat’s Cradle” below

Summary: Cas is good at running himself into the ground. Your solution to fix that is better than either of you know.

“Cat’s Cradle” – Romance (pre-relationship); Fluff – Words: 1252

Summary: A Cas fluff drabble about stopping to smell the roses. Or stopping to pet a cat. And no, that’s not a euphemism.

“Closer Still” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 606

Summary: A drabble about wanting more. And kissing.

“Conditioning” – Romance – Words: 768

Summary: It’s fairly easy to train an angel to accept a quick kiss. That he learns how to give them is an unexpected bonus.

“Enclosed” – Romance – Words: 810

Summary: Cas keeps you calm when you need it most.

“Gray” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 410

Summary: You’re bored in a graveyard on a very ‘meh’ day. Cas comes by and makes it a little better.

“Headache” – Romance – Words: 1097

Summary: You have a headache and Castiel learns to help you heal– the human way.

“How the Mighty Fall” – Romance – Words: 3139

Summary: Castiel doesn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s fallen in love and given himself to you. He finds that he does not mind this at all.

“Mistletoe” – Romance – Words: 2298

Summary: Castiel wants to get caught under the mistletoe with you. More than once. A lot more than once.

“No Longer Pining” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 802

Summary: A bad encounter with a Djinn leads some truths to light.

“Secret Admirer(s)” – Romance – Words: 1902

Summary: Castiel decides to try and use Valentine’s Day to help him express how he feels for you. Dean, Sam, and Jack help. It goes…well?

“Sharing is Caring” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1160

Summary: You and Castiel share a bed…and a little more.

“Substitution” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1005

Summary: You thought you could stop fantasizing if reality got in the way of what you wanted. Thankfully, Castiel is both patient and opportunistic.

“Through the Bramble” – Romance – Words: 2352

Summary: You’ll do what it takes to get your angel back. Even if it means living through a fairytale.

“Waking Up” – Romance; Hurt/Comfort; Fluff – Words: 798

Summary: You’re feeling upset. Cas doesn’t want you to be alone.

“Warning Signs” – Romance(-ish) – Words: 1500

Summary: Castiel doesn’t admit to fear and neither do you. Until you meet each other.

“Watch Your Back (And I Will Too)” – Romance – Words: 1469

Summary: You and Cas watch out for each other, on more than just the battlefield.

“Win-Win” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 2639

Summary: You and Cas need to learn how to be a couple, so you decide to turn it into a game.

“Wishlist” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 978

Summary: You are way in for the holiday season…maybe a bit too enthusiastically for the Winchesters’ liking. Cas comes to visit and ends up helping in more than one way.

.

Chuck/Reader

“Call Me By Name” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 894

Summary: You want attention but Chuck’s busy writing. He won’t respond to his new name, so you decide to pull out some classics.

“Dust” – Romance; Comfort – Words: 409

Summary: You’re having a rough time, and Chuck is comforting.

“Ladybug” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1050

Summary: You come home, weighed down by a long day. Chuck knows how to make you light again.

“O Christmas Tree” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 2432

Summary: Christmas can be an emotional season. In the case of you and Chuck, that ends up being a good thing.

“Sincerely Yours” – Romance – Words: 6265

Summary: The apocalypse is over and you try to go home to Chuck to heal, only to find that he’s gone too. You take comfort in writing letters to your dead lover, even though he’ll never read them. Or so you think.

.

Gabriel/Reader

“13 Kisses (And One To Grow On)” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 4242

Summary: While browsing mindlessly one day, you stumble across a list of the most underrated places to be kissed. Gabriel decides to test them out. For science.

“A Healing Touch” – Romance; Fluff – Female Reader – Words: 1349

Summary: Gabriel doesn’t need a nurse and, in fact, makes an excellent one. You’re just too stubborn to appreciate it.

“A Little Pickle” – Romance; Dialogue – Words: 386

Summary: Gabriel needs to look before he leaps. He’ll be hearing about this one for a while.  

“Acrophobia” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 563

Summary: You don’t like heights and Gabriel has wings. You make it work.

“And When You Sleep, Dream of Me” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1534

Summary: Sleeping isn’t new to Gabriel. However these nightmares are. He doesn’t like to make a habit of asking for help, though, so he decides to go on in the time-honored tradition of human coping mechanisms and just pretend it isn’t happening. However your solution may be better. For the both of you.

“Bright Side” – Friendship; Hurt/Comfort; Fluff – Words: 2423

Summary: Gabriel is feeling a bit down. You notice and try to help.

“Cursed Communication” – Romance; Humor; Fluff – Words:1622

Summary: You’re going to assassinate an archangel for his assertion over your anatomical authority.

“Decked” – Romance; Christmas Fic – Words: 842

Summary: The holidays hold complicated feelings, especially for an archangel. You soothe him however you can.

“(Don’t) Play It Again” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 2512

Summary: Everyone has that one song that they just can’t stand for whatever reason, regardless of how good, bad, or innocuous it actually is. For you, hearing that song is like getting a bucket of ice water dumped on your head.

Gabriel, of course, takes this as a challenge.

“Expressions of Affection” – Romance – Words: 1966

Summary: You have a resting bitch face and are used to it chasing people off. Gabriel deals with it in his own way.

“Home Away From Home” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1784

Summary: You’re not sure who is stealing your clothes but you would like it to stop. Please and thank you.

“Incommunicado” – Romance – Words: 2573

Summary:  Some of the best things in life are often left unsaid, and the others just need to find the right medium of communication. Gabriel can’t find his words, you can’t find the right ones, but, somehow, you both stumble towards understanding anyways.

“Lead Me to the River” – Romance – Words: 1159

Summary: Gabriel stops by during a hunt and a ghost forces your feelings to light.

“One Lump Or Two” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 1888

Summary: You find out Gabriel is your soulmate. You have…issues with this.

“Soft” – Friendship or Romance (ambiguous); Fluff – Words: 596

Summary: Gabriel takes care of you. Just don’t tell anyone.

“Starting Over” – Romance – Words: 2509

Summary: Gabriel’s plan for revenge develops a new sense of urgency when you get caught up in it.

“Tie a Yellow Ribbon For Me” – Romance – Words: 2459

Summary: Roses are red, Violets are blue, Even death can’t keep him From finding his way back to you.

“Waking Up In Vegas” – Romance – Words: 4174

Summary: You’re off with Gabriel on what’s supposed to be a little vacation, but it takes a turn for the worst when you’re forced to face your own desires and insecurities in order to make it back to him.

“Where You’ve Been” – Romance – Words: 2611

Summary: Lucifer killed Gabriel and you find yourself going through the motions. Until the motions become that much easier to ride. You never thought you’d want to strangle your guardian angel but Gabriel is talented like that.

.

Misc Poly Romances & Other Characters

Balthazar/Reader “Imprints” – Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 999

Summary: You and Balthazar make a pit stop on a long drive to have some fun in the snow. Well, you do. Balthazar needs some convincing. Luckily, he has you.

Dean & Reader

“In Our [Supernatural] Time” – Friendship; Humor – Words: 585

Summary: Dean is a great hunting partner to have but sometimes his timing leaves much to be desired. Luckily you’re full of great ideas on how to pass the time.

Dean/Reader

“Have Your Cake and Eat It Too” – Romance – Words: 1615

Summary: Dean and you visit a cake shop while on a hunt and pose as a couple, as usual. Only, at least one of you is tired of pretending.

“Hold Fast” – Romance – Words: 843

Summary: You thought you’d take your feelings for Dean Winchester to the grave. Well…‘almost’ counts; right?

“Something To Gain” – Romance; Christmas fic – Words: 1451

Summary: Dean and you share a drink on a cold December night and discover that playing it safe is not playing at all.

Dean/Castiel/Reader “Chill” – Romance; Fluff – Words: 975

Summary: Reader is starting to feel the burn of the hunting life. Luckily Dean and Cas are always on their side.

“Pick Me Up” – Romance(-ish) – Words: 1579

Summary: You set out to give Castiel an experience and he and Dean end up turning that back on you. Terrible, awful pick-up lines– who knew they worked so well?

(An excerpt/link to the PWP part 2 can be found here)

Dean/Gabriel/Reader “We All Fall Down” – Romance – Words: 3695

Summary: Once is an accident. Twice is a mistake. More than that is…worrisome. But you brush it off as harmless. Dean and Gabriel are excellent, occasional bed partners and nothing more. Nothing. More.

Or so you like to tell yourself.

Sam/Reader 

“Between the Lines” –  Romance; Hurt/Comfort – Words: 1254

Summary: Sam’s been down lately and you can guess why, so you try to cheer him up without directly pointing out a subject he seems loathe to talk about. Freaking Winchesters.

“Minted” –  Romance; Fluff; Christmas fic – Words: 688

Summary: Sam doesn’t get the appeal of candy canes until you explain it. ‘Explain’ being a fairly loose term, in this case. Luckily, kissing is a language of love, and you both have quite a bit to say.

Sam/Gabriel/Reader

“Whole” – Romance – Words: 1390

Summary: Gabriel’s trying to help Jack out with his powers. It doesn’t go as intended. Or so he says.

Team Free Will & Reader “Taking Care” – Friendship – Dean & Sam & Reader – Words: 2452

Summary: Dean and Sam think they know best, but so do you. No matter how dumb you all are about it, though, you’re lucky to have each other. 

“The World In Solemn Stillness Lay” – Friendship; Fluff; Christmas fic – Dean, Sam, Castiel, Jack, Gabriel, & Reader – Words: 975

Summary: You’re upset that you won’t make it to Christmas, but at least you saved your friends. Your friends, however, aren’t letting you go without a fight.

“To Want” – Friendship; Hurt/Comfort – Dean, Sam, Castiel, Gabriel, & Reader (& Chuck) – Words: 1573

Summary: The apocalypse has ended and you feel like a fifth wheel. You figure it’s time to move on.

.

Non-Reader-Inserts

“The Light. The Way.” – Romance – Gabriel/Sam Winchester – Words: 548

Summary: Sometimes, Gabriel forgets how to breathe. Sam helps, whether he knows it or not.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

I’ve been picking at this particular request since early December as the person who requested it had a lot of details they wanted put in making the writing process a bit more challenging. As a disclaimer, note that the chapter is split between present time and the past; with Logan recalling things in his past in an attempt to make the details requested for the story flow better. I received this request from AO3.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck

Experimental Socialization

Summary: Logan was raised by the government to be nothing more than an experiment and a weapon, utilizing his unique abilities as a mutant. When he finally escapes things are much different than he imagined they’d be but thankfully finds others like him willing to help guide him right where he needs to be.(Happy Ending)

Warnings: allusions to abuse, physical punishment and human experimentation, tw for weapons and fire, panic attack. If there are more please let me know

Prompt; Not Used To Freedom (requested by AngstyEmoGal on AO3)

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 3432

“You just gotta breathe, Logan. In four, hold seven, out eight remember? You’re doing great, just keep going.”

Logan felt himself slowly coming back to reality as his breathing evening out, the raw panic that had gripped his chest easing slightly as Virgili continued coaxing him through the exercise. He felt the other slowly rub up and down his arm in a slow, steady beat that helped ground him further in reality and he smiled up at his friend gratefully and nodded to let xem know he was okay. Gripping his knees as Virgil’s voice trailed off he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out one last calming breath.

“Thank you, Virgil. I-” He struggled to find words, gesturing flippantly in the air making Virgil grin.

“It’s okay. Take your time, L.”

Logan puffed his cheeks out in frustration, thoughts swirling too quickly for him to comprehend anything but the apprehensive fear he held for the plans Remus had made for them later that evening. “I am- not used to being outside. Given my history and the threat I pose as a potential compromise to our place of hiding I fail to understand Remus’ reasoning for going out when we could just as easily celebrate our relationship here.”

“Hm.” Virgil leaned back on xyr hands and looked up at the low ceiling of their underground paradise. “Can’t really see the stars from here, no matter how many stickers Princey finds and puts up it can't really be compared to the real thing.”

Logan had made the mistake of going on a tirade of space facts a few months into his stay in the hideout, Remus patiently listening to the extensive infodump of constellation facts and space physics and planetary rotation. Having a limited amount of books to entertain oneself with for extended periods of time meant memorizing entire books on one subject, which Logan had used all too happily as a figurative escape from his situation in the past until he had actually managed to escape when he was 16. Hearing Logan speak so passionately about the subject had apparently made his mind up that he was taking Logan outside for their first “official” date to view the stars, which had then landed Logan in his current state of panic as he realized that date was today and he was decidedly not ready for what might lay in store outside of safety of the hideout.

“I can stay close by if you want. I won’t spy or anything and Remus won’t have to know.” Logan looked over as his thoughts were interrupted by the offer, Virgil turning invisible and reappearing a couple seconds later to emphasize xyr point. Smiling Logan shook his head, knowing the other derived as much joy from going outside as Logan felt about going himself.

“Thank you for the offer though, you’re very kind.” Letting his thoughts drift again he idly wondered when Virgil had discovered xe could disappear and reappear at will and if xyr parents had tried to hide it before the government had found out. His own parents-

-----

“Logan?” A very small Logan turned at his mother’s voice, losing his concentration which made the hidden jar of Crofters fall from its suspended place in the air and smash to the floor. His parents hadn’t known he possessed any sort of powers, and even as small as he was he still understood the position he’d put them in if they ever found out. Fearfully his hands dropped to his sides as his mother covered her mouth in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks as she took a step back.

Men in suits and long coats were there just a few hours later, speaking in hushed voices while both of his parents cried and he was ushered out the door and into an unmarked car, quiet as he understood yelling and crying would do him no good now. What’s done was done, all he could do was be compliant and hope to be treated gently.

-----

The room suddenly brightening with a flickering light brought him back out of his thoughts, Roman entering with his signature bright flame held proudly in his hand. The image of him in his rather scrapped together Princely outfit posing subconsciously in the doorway was almost enough to make Logan roll his eyes but he didn’t want Virgil to think it was because of xem so he managed to restrain himself.

“My dearest brother has been pacing in the same spot for two hours now and I haven't been able to calm him down soooo I thought to check on our resident nerd.” Roman declared with his usual flare. Logan actually did roll his eyes this time but Virgil did as well so he figured it was fine.

“The ‘resident nerd’ is doing fine, Roman. Though it's concerning to hear Remus is nervous as well considering he’s the one who suggested the date.”

Roman waved his hand at Logan dismissively. “He’s just a sap- moreso than me surprisingly. He doesn’t want to do anything to put you in danger but he wants to do something nice, so he’s worried that’s all. Remus is an idiot but I trust him with my life; believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about except his terrible sense of humor.”

Logan merely hummed in response, staring at the way the flame moved around as Roman gestured with his words.

-----

He panted as he rolled out of the way of another flamethrower, singeing the tips of his hair in the process but he couldn’t afford to slow down enough to worry about that. Years of training with different fighting styles had earned him incredibly fast reflexes but a good portion of his accuracy in knowing where to step and when was owed to him working even harder to focus his powers. Thoughts from others constantly surrounded him on a regular basis, getting more and more prevalent the older he grew. Learning to block out the constant string of stimuli was a useful skill to keep him sane but learning to hone in on specific thoughts to predict actions was what had kept him alive.

He ducked below another bullet and brought up his leg in the same motion, kicking a throwing knife to the side and sending it to clatter harmlessly between one of his assailants feet. A twirl to the side and a tilt of the head let another bought of flame boil the air beside him while another knife just barely brushed his ear. The constant bang of bullets and roar of flames and whistling of knives was overwhelming and made the air so thick he could barely draw a breath and it was becoming a struggle to concentrate the way he needed to and-

A high pitched alarm sounded one, twice, three times- a blaring flash accompanying it that left him blinking painfully. His shoulders slumped as the barrage finally ended, another successful training day completed. He watched as everyone began putting their weapons away, laughing and congratulating each other, clapping themselves on the back and discussing whatever they had planned after this. No one even spared the thing they had been firing at seconds before a spare glance, save for the director of the branch, who took long steps forward to stand in front of him only to snap his fingers and motion forward no doubt to see him back to his room until dinner. Absorbing the sounds around him he drank in as much praise as he could that wasn’t his and would never be for him; people rarely congratulated weapons after all.

-----

“Is this where we all decided to hide today?” Logan looked up to see Patton sitting cross legged on one one of the beams in the ceiling, grinning happily down at them even as their fluffy ears twitched nervously and even fluffier tail whipped back and forth in agitation. They must have come back from trying to calm Remus as well, Logan mused; Patton had never done well being in the same room as Remus who tended to voice his thoughts abruptly and without much care to how they might sound to others which always managed to set Patton on edge no matter how hard they tried not to show it.

Patton was a rare mutant in that as opposed to being born with abnormal traits or abilities they had been a science experiment from the start- an effort to create super soldiers rather than stealing them away from families and training them. Even rarer was the fact that the DNA splicing had taken extraordinarily well by pure chance as Patton was born with a mutation that left their DNA incredibly malleable- a mutation that never would have been discovered had cellular manipulation not been the reason for them being in the experimental branch that they were. They had tried cloning Patton at first to see if their power could be duplicated but when that failed to work they began trying to combine them with different animals to see if desirable traits would come forward. By manipulating them on a physical and anatomical level they were able to change some parts of them to be more cat like, intending, Patton had guessed, to turn them into a kind of stealth soldier but they got away before they completed it, leaving them with heightened agility and surgically coaxed cat ears and a tail. They were only a child when the lab had done this but somehow they were never bitter, simply preferring to leave their past alone and embrace whatever future they could make- a trait Logan greatly admired them for even if their unending optimism could be somewhat grating at times.

“Did Janus brush your tail out Pat? It looks fluffier today.” Patton preened at Virgil's compliment, their tail beginning to wave in a more relaxed manner as their mind was distracted from whatever it was Remus had been ranting about.

“He did! He found a cat brush and got it for me so I could finally get the undercoat out!” Jumping down and landing lightly on their feet they posed a little and flashed another wide grin.

“Beautiful as always, Patton.” Roman said genuinely as he lowered his hand into a barrel to light up the paper scraps and wood in it for the night, the dim sunlight that had filtered through the grated having long since died. The home was a modified branch of a sewer system, thankfully the part most removed from the city where it flowed without the stench and was sealed off inconspicuously enough that in the ten years Janus and Remus had been using it no worker had ever found it.

-----

It had been Janus and Remus who had found him, beaten and bloody from an escape attempt he had made just days before his real one. He had made a weak attempt to coax the scientists into a false sense of security, holding back the full scoop of his powers during training for a year in anticipation for his final escape. He had punished severely but had simply thrown him in his regular cell, assuming he wasn’t strong enough to do any more damage than they had seen him do already and trusting that they had beaten him down enough that it would be a while before he tried again- if he ever did. Not six days later the mangled metal of the front of his cell was tossed into a group of guards, walls torn apart in a straight line to the exit and the huge buzzing gates leading to the outside world thrown open wide and stuck there with varying amounts of heavy debris.

The outside world, as it turns out, was a lot bigger and louder and downright terrifying when you weren’t being sent out as a personal assassin or field missions or training sessions- all controlled on some level to keep him from being killed and compromised. Without the begrudged protection from the labs and moreover having to hide from said lab was another story entirely. The times they searched for him and how closely they came to his spots were random and made it incredibly hard for him to pick out their thoughts from anyone else’s in the city and figure out how close they were. On more than one occasion they passed right by him crouched under piles of garbage or laying low under a hedge, his breath held as he tried desperately to keep himself as still and quiet as possible, thoughts of what they would to him once they found him pounding against his head and making him squeeze his eyes shut to keep his terrified tears from falling.

That was how Remus had found him. It had been dark and hours had passed since the searchers had left that park he had been hiding in. He had still been hiccuping down his sobs as he rolled out from under the hedge that he hadn’t bothered to scope the area for anyone’s close by thoughts, having shut out as much as he could after they had left to try and block out any other hate fueled thoughts that may send him spiraling again. His heart had leapt in his throat so high his breath caught painfully, immediately shifting to offense as he tensed, ready to fight as long and hard as he could. He couldn’t go back- he wouldn’t. No matter what they did or promised him or punished him with; he’d go down fighting or not at all.

But Remus had only raised his hands in the air in a motion of peace, eyes widening as he locked onto the government issued bracelet that marked him as an experimental mutant. He had grinned impossibly wide then Logan remembered, briefly disappearing from his sight and reappearing a moment later, setting him even more on edge but curious nonetheless.

“I’m like you.” Remus had said quietly. “Basically I run real fast and the government hasn’t figured out how to get me yet.”

Logan had watched as he jiggled his wrists a bit for emphasis, bare save for colored chords that he assumed didn’t associate him with any government branch since they didn’t look official.

“Are you okay?” Remus had asked next and mutely Logan nodded, unsure of how to react to this fellow mutant who had never been caught by any sort of lab, apparently living as free as one could when you were as different as they were. He stepped back as another man appeared behind him, Janus he later learned.

“Liar.” Janus had hissed, making Remus reach around and smack the back of his head.

“It was a polite thing to ask that he tried to dismiss Jan. Let the adults speak for a second.”

Logan had noted the faint pout on Janus’ face though he was still trying very hard to look intimidating. And then all at once his eyes had turned cold as his attention was once again focused on Logan, glaring menacingly from beneath a black bowler hat. “I’m younger than you and yet I’m the one that has to put my foot down. He’s being chased clearly; we are not bringing him back with us.”

Remus has turned, Logan seemingly forgotten for the moment. “That’s not how it works! He needs help and we’re not leaving him to starve or be found in the middle of a park! What would Patton say?”

“Patton is a soft fool who needs to figure out where their morals stand. I myself am choosing not to compromise our place of hiding and three other people that you know those power hungry idiots would love nothing more than to get their hands on!”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard his head had lolled with it, face going pale as he watched something in the sky. It was then that Logan heard the telling sound of a helicopter flying low and getting closer but he had barely tensed before he found himself gripped around the middle and held vertically with the ground flying underneath him. They stopped abruptly and he was set down, blinking in rapid confusion as Remus grinned sheepishly at him.

“Welcome to the hideout?”

Logan’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught yet again, chest tightening as he shook his head vehemently. “You can’t- I need to go back! They’ll do anything to get me back-!”

He was stopped from going forward with a finger to his chest, his blue eyes locking with beautiful brown as Remus held his gaze. “And we will do everything to keep you safe.”

Safe. With that one word Logan was his. He hadn’t known why and he still didn’t quite understand it but he had trusted Remus with everything he had- and he still did. Even as Janus had stalked off grumbling and Virgil and Roman had kept their distance at first Remus had kept him close and showed him how much better his life could be, even if they were living in a modified sewer system.

Back in the present he looked up as a hand was thrust under his chin, smiling softly as he took Remus’ hand and let himself be led away from the others’ idle chatter. He counted himself extremely lucky in the end that Janus had eventually come around to him, seeing how happy he made Remus and how Remus made Logan feel it had been him to finally talk to Logan about it and get the two to officially talk about how they felt, going on about the being “hopeless gay idiots” when they had finally started to date officially. Logan wasn’t sure what he’d do without Remus at this point, just a year later and he was so attached to their small group of hideaways he wouldn’t trade for the world.

They approached the exit to the sewers, Remus swinging their hands between them. Logan held his breath right before they crossed the threshold, closing his eyes and letting it out slowly as his feet met grass and he opened his eyes to the darkened field. There were a few tunnels that lead out to different places depending on where they needed to go and this, Remus had told him, was his favorite because of how empty it was. The city lay far in the distance so there was almost no light pollution to block out the sky. Soft grass and flowers brushed his ankles as he scanned the area carefully, seeing nothing but trees lining the far end of the field with a road so far away he could barely, make it out in the darkness. Remus tugged his hand softly to get his attention, searching his eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“Is this okay?’

Logan took another breath and let it out, the last of his nerves fading away as he took in the quiet. “It’s perfect Remus.”

The other grinned and tugged a little harder this time, walking fast to the middle of the field where he stopped suddenly and raised Logan’s arm up to lead him into an impromptu twirl. Logan laughed quietly and then louder as he was dipped, secure in Remus’ strong hold as he reached up to grip the back of his neck. He was safe. He was free and safe and happy finally with someone who truly loved and cared for him. His breath caught in his throat again but this time in awe, Remus chuckling as he was laid down carefully tucked into his side, till with his arms around his neck.

The stars shone bright and winked lazily while swirls of color dusted faintly behind them. The moon was waning, a barely there light that let the beauty behind it show fully as the wind whisked away any clouds that dared to try and cover it. It was everything Logan had ever hoped it would be and more, excitement thrumming through him as he squeezed Remus tightly in an attempt to convey it. He felt Remus grin against his scalp where his face was buried in his hair.

“It’s beautiful isn't it?”

Logan looked back at him, light from the stars reflected in his eyes and wild brown hair framing his face. He leaned up slightly and kissed him, a faint brush of their lips that left them both grinning like the idiots they were. Placing a hand on Remus’ cheek Logan smiled at him, thumb brushing over his cheek in adoration.

“Absolutely stunning.”

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[forevercloudnine]

batman forever riddlebat ship meme

(This one was inevitable. God, do I love this movie. @heroes-etc​ gave me questions from this ship meme.)

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

The obvious answer here is Edward because he is... clearly and pathologically insecure in his identity and requiring outside approval. You could argue he gets over this once he adopts his flamboyant supervillain identity, but as soon as he steps out of it to be Edward Nygma again he’s as self-conscious as ever. On some level his Bruce cosplay at the Nygmatech party is probably supposed to be a dig at his former idol, but it’s pretty transparent that he’s paranoid about not measuring up, especially once Bruce actually walks in.

As for what makes him feel better, two obvious high points of his self-esteem right off the bat (lol) are when Bruce is giving him positive attention in his intro scene, and directly afterwards when he’s murdering his boss for ragging on him.

Of course, neither external validation or murder is, like, a permanent solution to insecurity. Obviously. If they ever got together Bruce would probably make him go to therapy, which would be incredibly hypocritical because, as Dr. Meridian points out in this movie, that’s not exactly something Bruce is doing. Although in Bruce’s defense, if you count the novelizations as canon for this continuity, the psychiatrist Alfred hired for him as a child basically wrote him off as a lost cause that was going to inevitably self-destruct at some point in adulthood. So I can see why he’d think therapy isn’t for him. 

"Young Bruce may seem quite the stalwart, but there’s still a child beneath that veneer of calm acceptance [...] The day will come when that veneer crumbles, and the boy reacts to the memory of his ordeal. Such matters may be postponed, but not indefinitely. And the longer this one is delayed, the greater the damage will be to his psyche.”

“Still,” Alfred pressed. “How do you think this will all come out? Off the record, if you prefer.”

Another pause. “I am not terribly optimistic,” the stout man admitted. “But I assure you, I will do my best.”

Alternatively, Bruce just lets Edward borrow his clothes and calls it a day. It’s less time consuming than therapy and both the movie and novelization demonstrate how into that Edward is.

He was murmuring to himself, “We’ll probably be dining at Wayne Manor together.” He envisioned Bruce sitting across from him, and began to launch into a narrative [...] “Yes. Yes. A Party in my honor? I should have rented a tuxedo. What?” he couldn’t believe it, “One of yours, Bruce?” He gave it a moment’s thought and then shrugged. “Why not? We are the same size.”

3. Who is the most romantic?

 Uh, not Bruce! Batman Forever is the most thoughtfully romantic he gets in the entire series, and even here his only two dates ideas are “whatever Gotham social event my secretary tells me I need a date for” and “coming on to my date in my alternate identity to see if she loves me enough not to cheat on me with Batman.” Also, he vacillates between staunchly refusing to do any flirting at all and dishing out the least romantic pick-up lines possible.

You say “bad writing,” I say “totally in character for a hot rich guy who knows that this is as hard as he has to try to get into someone’s pants.” Bruce might love his partner with the intensity of a thousand dying suns, but he’s still sending Alfred to buy all their Valentine’s Day presents. His idea of a romantic evening for two is finally trusting someone enough to tell them his secret identity. If he’s done that already, or they already figured it out, then his playbook is over. That’s clearly the only romantic fantasy he’s ever allowed himself.  

(I was going to say he does this once every movie, but he actually never does this in Batman & Robin specifically because he doesn’t actually care about Julie Madison. She proposes to him and he gets her name wrong while shooting her down. Add that to the “Bruce Wayne isn’t romantic” box.)

The ridiculous amount of magazine cut-outs populating Edward’s apartment indicates that he probably has a very vibrant and extensive set of fantasies involving Bruce, which is hinted at a couple times in the novelization.

Edward would certainly know him when he saw him. He’d spent enough time anticipating the moment, after all [...] Finally he was going to be meeting Bruce Wayne face-to-face, and he had every moment of the encounter scripted [...] He’d rehearsed it to perfection in his mind for weeks upon months.

In the grand scheme of things... in the fabulous, sweeping, intertwining destinies of Bruce Wayne and Edward Nygma, such a slip would not even rate a footnote.

He becomes suddenly and painfully aware that if Bruce Wayne walked away without Edward Nygma by his side, then that would be it. It would be finished. All these weeks, months... indeed, a lifetime of planning... and it was crumbling under him just like that.

Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean his fantasies are all romantic in the traditional sense of the word. This is a man who was charmed by Harvey holding a charity circus hostage with some kind of graffitied missile warhead. Tonally, there’s not even that much of a difference between his crush collages and his riddle death threats.

What’s weirder, using a magazine cutout of someone you hate to make a pop-up card of their face, or using a magazine cutout of someone you love to replace the anatomically correct heart in the cardiovascular system diagram you keep in your apartment/arcade/makeshift laboratory? Probably the former, since it was made with the express purpose of Bruce actually seeing it. Although presumably Edward was planning on taking Bruce to his apartment at some point? And in the novelization, he actually drags Bruce into his cubicle to look at his Wayne Shrine.

He grabbed Bruce’s arms and shouted “No, don’t leave me! I need you!” [...] Bruce was thunderstruck as he was pulled partway into Edward’s office... and then he caught sight of the shrine. 

Edwards’s head bobbed eagerly. Now, finally, Bruce would understand the depth of Nygma’s devotion to his idol. He would see how important he was to Nygma.

Notably, the only thing that upsets Bruce about the fact that one of his employees has a serial killer wall dedicated to him at their work station (@heroes-etc: realistically.... IS this the first time this has happened? i doubt it.) is the fact that the shrine includes a picture of him taken directly after his parents’ death, which is obviously a huge trigger for Bruce’s PTSD.

Wayne’s gaze zeroed in on the picture of himself as a young man. 

The eyes of Wayne the elder locked with Wayne the younger, and when he slowly turned his scrutiny back to Edward Nygma, Edward could feel the temperature in the cubicle drop to subzero.

Later, once Bruce isn’t being actively reminded of the most traumatizing day of his life, he reflects that he could probably relate to Edward’s specific brand of crazy, and hopes that it’s not too late to try again (it is).

He paused momentarily at Edward Nygma’s cubicle, thinking about the intensity he’d seen in the man’s eyes the other day. Nygma’s ideas might have been a bit odd, but that sort of passion—if properly channeled—could accomplish miracles. That was something Bruce Wayne certainly knew better than anyone else. Perhaps after this fiasco was the time to take Nygma aside under less-pressured circumstances. Start again...

With any other character, I would call bull on their being this unphased by someone being obsessed enough with them to build a stalker shrine, but, like. It’s Batman. He probably has a stalker shrine to Michelle Pfeiffer Catwoman in his cave somewhere. When they start dating, Edward mails the weirdest magazine cutout valentines to his office on the regular, and every time Bruce has to assure his staff that it’s not a ransom letter and it’s just “his boyfriend being romantic.”

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

I mean, by most people’s standards, any one of the things that Edward does in front of Bruce could easily be the most embarrassing thing to happen to them in their lifetime. But for the most part, Edward seems blissfully free of that kind of self-consciousness. He accidentally introduces himself to Bruce as “[extended moaning sound] Bruce Wayne” and shakes it off without even registering his mistake. Even when he feels like Bruce has rejected him and his project, his emotional state is more shocked, saddened, and angry than it is ashamed. He does apologize to Bruce, during the scene where they first meet, for holding on to his hand too long during their handshake. And by “handshake” I mean that Bruce extends his hand to be shaken, and Edward just grabs on and holds it without any motion whatsoever for the entire first half of their conversation. Which might be the only time he ever apologizes in the entire movie. So I’ll say that was his moment of embarrassment.

Bruce only really embarrasses himself in front of Alfred, but Edward does manage to trick Bruce into getting scanned by his mind reading device at the Nygmatech party. Being tricked in general would be pretty awkward for Bruce, since this movie goes out of its way to show the audience how SMART and CLEVER and KNOWLEDGEABLE ABOUT BRAINWAVES Bruce is at every opportunity. But being tricked into getting your mind read is about a million times more embarrassing than just running into a wall like some kind of Looney Tune. Obviously having access to Bruce’s mind allows Edward to figure out that his former boss/current obsessee is Batman, but also it’s just got to be super weird in there. Bruce is a bizarre man.  

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

Whether he’s idolizing Bruce or plotting his destruction, Edward is still seeing the subject of his lifelong obsession as a larger than life exaggeration of the real man. Some of that pedestal would probably survive into the beginning of a romantic relationship, but by the time they got serious Edward would have had to recognize that Bruce has both positive and negative traits. He would also have had to grapple with the fact that the man he once assumed would make everything in his life better is a lot of work to be around, especially in this movie’s continuity where the trauma of his family’s death and his guilt over allowing enemies like Joker to die are genuinely affecting Bruce’s day-to-day functionality.

(A lot of things, Chase.)

Edward’s introduction scene demonstrates that he doesn’t see Bruce as having these kinds of problems. His Escapism Wish Fulfillment Device TM is clearly a very personal project for him, since he, you know. Is kind of already living in a Bruce-centric fantasy world.

When he’s pitching it to Bruce, however, he states that he doesn’t think someone like Bruce would ever need to escape reality (which could just be ingratiating flattery, but he barely seems aware of what he’s saying at the time because he’s too busy staring with his mouth open at Bruce putting on glasses).

(Side note: an interjection from @heroes-etc​

Anyway, moving on.)

Obviously we know he’s wrong, since Bruce escapes his reality every night by dressing up like a bat and scaring people. Normally that’s just subtext (or me being cynical and creating subtext), but Batman Forever introduced a hot psychiatrist who is constantly poking at Batman for being a power fantasy created by a traumatized mind to cope with intense feelings of helplessness in childhood. 

 The novelization makes it clear that it’s not the illusion of perfection that Edward is attracted to, however. The picture of Bruce in Crime Alley is what kickstarts Edward’s obsession, not because Bruce seemed flawless but because he seemed to be going through similar pain as Edward (whatever Edward’s pain even IS in this continuity). So I think recognizing Bruce’s issues would be less of a dealbreaker and more of a point of connection, were they to get serious.

He saw, there in Bruce Wayne’s face, an intensity that mirrored his own. An anger, a frustration at the hand that fate had dealt him. There were no tears on Bruce’s face. Instead there was a smoldering intelligence that Edward intuitively sensed was on par with his own. 

There was something in Bruce’s eyes, something in that gaze. There was Bruce, in a moment of raw emotion, his parents just having been cruelly taken from him. And there was no self-pity. Just cold, hard anger.

[...] Ed still had the newspaper with him when he was walking home from school. Not that he needed it to read; the contents were safely locked away in his skull, thanks to his photographic memory. But he wanted to clip out the articles and pictures about Bruce Wayne. He found the young man fascinating, as if he had discovered a soulmate of sorts.

For Bruce, on the other hand, getting serious presumably just means attempting to include Edward more and more in the found family he builds in the latter half of the 90’s Batman movies. Alfred approving a love interest is not quite as tantamount in this continuity as it is sometimes (Micheal Gough Alfred is pretty laid back), but Bruce is still spending all of his non-Batman, non-socialite time with his butler. So if Edward wants to hang out with Bruce, he has to either get on Alfred’s good side or prepare for a lot of “romantic quality time” where his boyfriend’s dad is glaring at him from the background.

Dick is less important to get on the good side of, since he and Bruce argue all the time in these movies (apparently one of the proposed scripts for Batman & Robin was Bruce kicking Dick out of the house and making him go to college, where Dick would cope with his dad-related anger by bullying his psychology professor Dr. Crane into becoming a supervillain. I personally feel like I deserved to see that Scarecrow origin). So if Dick doesn’t like Bruce’s new boyfriend, it’s just one more thing for them to be catty to each other about.  

Alfred’s niece Barbara Wilson on the other hand (who is adorable as a fusion of Barbara Gordon and Julia Pennyworth, do not @ me) would be absolutely vital for Edward to win over, because her opinion could easily either make or break his standing with her uncle. Also Bruce decided to adopt her within five minutes of meeting her, so he’s obviously fond.

19. Where do they go on their first date?

Edward’s fantasy sequence in the novelization makes it obvious enough that he would really, really like to have dinner at Wayne Manor. Hanging out at someone’s house isn’t really a traditional first date, especially if one of you is a billionaire who could have taken you literally anywhere, but clearly none of that matters to Bruce, because that’s exactly the first date he invites Vicki Vale on in Batman (1989).

It’s pretty painfully awkward (“You want to know the truth? I don’t think I’ve ever been in this room before”) until Bruce gives up on the formality and takes her down to eat the rest of their courses with Alfred in the kitchen.

I feel like his first date with Edward could probably go the same way, with a few major differences. One, Edward would have been super enthused about eating in the fancy dining hall, and Bruce would have only suggested finishing their meal in the kitchen because Edward clearly wanted to see As Much Of The Manor As Possible. Two, when Alfred offers to stop embarrassing Bruce and leave them alone for the end of their date, Edward would have insisted he stay and break out the baby albums. You cannot convince me that Alfred is not a scrapbooker. Actually, does what Edward’s doing count as scrapbooking? Maybe they could compare notes.

[lykegenia]

Nate Sewell x Leah Kingston, hurt/comfort

--

I manage to make it all the way to my apartment and into pyjamas before I wobble. It’s just as well – getting into a crash because I was too teary-eyed to see the road would have been an embarrassing way to go – and at least the hour is late enough that none of my neighbours are around to bear witness to my return. Now that there’s time and distance between me and the warehouse, the adrenalin has faded enough for my stomach to start growling again. Hunger is a practical problem, one that I know how to solve.

Nothing in the fridge will make a proper meal, but the jar of kimchi and the leftover sausages can be cobbled together with one of the packets of instant ramen Nate shoved to the back of my cupboards with a distasteful curl of his lip. It’s ready fast enough that there’s not much time to dwell, but not even the care I take to make it look fancy, garnished with chives from the new pot on the windowsill, can make it taste of more than cardboard. I force it down anyway. The blank wall opposite the sofa stares back at me as I sit, curled up, trying to figure out what to do with my evening now that my plans have gone sideways. The sting in my eyes is easily blamed on the spice in the noodles.

Reading is out of the question, I need something to do with my hands. After a long moment, I set the bowl aside and cross the room to get the workbasket sitting half-forgotten down the side of one of the bookcases. The rag rug unfolds in my hands, creased from long storage. I started it in the quiet nights after Murphy’s capture, intending it to cover the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, the repetitive action of tying knots in strips of fabric almost as good as sleep when sleep eluded me. The only choice to be made with it is what colour to choose next, a simple, easy decision without any consequences at all. And silent, so the neighbours aren’t bothered by the noise of power tools in the wee hours. I had intended to have it finished weeks ago.

I’m completing the fourth new row when someone knocks on the door. The time blinking on my phone screen brings a frown to my face, the deep silence tingling over my skin. As unlikely as a trapper would be to knock, I lay my work aside and reach for the Volt gun stashed in the drawer of the coffee table. My feet make no sound as I creep to the door. The shadow cast by the hall light moves at my approach nonetheless, as if coming to attention, and I risk a glance down to check the safety.

And then I look through the peephole.

It’s Nate. He glances up as if the door isn’t even there, his expression a tight knot of worry clear even through the distortion of the lens as a breath shudders between my teeth. The Volt seems ridiculous now. Flicking the safety catch back on, I shove it into the utility cupboard beside the door and take a swift inventory of myself, smoothing a hand through my hair and across my cheeks before I dare lay it on the door handle.

He answers my smile as I swing the door open, but it’s guarded. “Hi.”

“Hi.” I can’t hold his eyes. “I wasn’t expecting anyone so late.”

“If I woke you –”

“You didn’t.” A pause. “It’s good to see you.”

“You’ve no idea –” he starts, then interrupts himself. “You’ve been crying.”

“No.”

“Yes, you have.” Because of me, he doesn’t say, but it’s easy enough to read in the tightness around his eyes.

“Alright, yes, fine,” I grumble, as something harsh squeezes in my chest. “Human lie detector. You should come in.”

As I step aside there’s a heartbeat before he crosses the threshold, ducking his head to avoid a collision with the door lintel, and then he pauses just inside the living room, shifting the weight uneasily between his feet.

“But I’m not human,” he says, with no trace of his usual humour. A shiver runs across my shoulders as I lock the door behind him.

“You’re close enough.”

When I turn back to face him, his features are contorted into incredulity. “How can you say that after what almost happened?” he demands. “What I almost did?”

He reaches for me, but the hand curls back around the words that stick in his throat before he can touch me. The shake of his head informs the shape of them anyway, what I knew they would be.

“If you’ve come to break up with me because of one stupid accident you can come back and do it in the morning,” I snap. “I’m not dealing with it now.”

The shock that meets such a blunt statement might have been comical in other circumstances, but there’s also the flicker of other emotions beneath the surface that pass too quickly for me to recognise. For a long, speechless moment the space between us unfolds with all the paths the brewing argument might take. Finally, with a helpless shrug, he licks his lips and makes a choice.

“I’m dangerous, Leah.”

“I think you proved tonight that you’re not,” I retort. “Not to me. Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here.”

He flinches, hunching over as if winded. “You have no idea how much I wanted to – how tempting it was. It keeps playing through my mind.”

“Nate, I’m fine.” I dare a step towards him. “Everything’s fine. I’m not even bleeding anymore – you can stop worrying.”

When he doesn’t respond, the hopeful smile falls from my lips as I turn away. It’s a fight to keep my hands from wrapping around myself, from betraying exactly how lonely it feels with him so far away, but I won’t give in to the urge. They bunch into fists at my side instead; I’ll be able to wallow as much as I want after he leaves.

He notices. A gaze soft and full of regret falls on me as he crosses the floor, and my skin burns where his fingertips brush my arm. “I’ll always worry about you, and… I’ll always want to know that you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” I insist.

His touch falls to my injured hand, to the plaster on my finger. “I frightened you.”

“A little.” I swallow. “But it wasn’t just fear.”

He’s closer now than he was in the kitchen, brown eyes heavy on mine, shadowed by a frown as he tries to work out my meaning. Maybe in the end the flush in my cheeks give it away, because he blinks at last and his mouth falls open, held taut as if he can’t decide whether to advance or retreat, and the embarrassment of the whole thing forces me away with a huff of laughter and a ragged hand shoved through my hair. It doesn’t say much for my sense of self-preservation that I’m turned on by my boyfriend’s predatory instincts, especially when guilt twists so clearly at the corner of his mouth, but he deserves the honesty.

“No one’s ever looked at me with such… intensity before,” I mumble, staring past his left ear. “And I noticed you weren’t staring at my hand. It felt like you wanted… well.”

He hooks a finger under my chin. “I’ve never wanted to kiss you more.” With the confession spoken his gaze drops to my mouth, his fingers turning to trail along the curve of my jaw and down my neck, reverent over the sparking line of my pulse, and he leans closer. “But it might not have stopped there, not once I’d tasted you.”

“You really are like the hero in a vampire romance novel.”

A laugh breaks from his lips at the unexpected tease, my face cradled in his hands as he brings his forehead gently down to mine. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Can I kiss you now?” I ask, winding my arms around his neck. The moment hangs between us – there shouldn’t be any trace of blood left, but Nate is always cautious, always considerate.

“Nothing would make me happier,” he murmurs.

My smile bows against the pad of his thumb, and then the press of his mouth as he closes the last of the distance. After everything that’s happened, the relief of his touch is like a physical thing, setting a tremble in my knees that I’m glad no one else can see. Strong arms wrap more tightly around me to keep me standing, the scent of leather and rain that always follows him as soft as the kisses slanted across my lips.

The movement shifts our positions a little and I pull away at the unexpected sensation it brings, a sharp prod against my stomach.

“What is in your pocket?”

He laughs again. “Maybe I’m just happy to see you.”

“Then I have some serious anatomical concerns.”

Still chuckling, he lets his hands fall from my shoulders and after a moment of rummaging produces a small, square tin from one of the oversized pockets in his leather jacket. The series of Chinese-style paintings decorating the sides suggest that at one time or another it was used for tea, probably directly imported from some small, artisan family business, knowing Nate.

“They were meant to be dessert, but they won’t keep,” he says in explanation.

Curious, I take the offering and pry off the lid. Inside is a nest of soft, crisp tissue paper, and hidden beneath the topmost layer –

“Macarons?”

I hardly dare to breathe. The smooth, round shells are unmistakeable, their sugary almond scent immediately conjuring an image of the old tearoom where I first tried them, complete with pristine white tablecloths and fussy porcelain teacups.

They’re a pain to make, and I’ve never tried. Not only do all the measurements have to be precise, the process followed to the letter, but humidity or a wind from the north or the wrong moon phase can ruin them, and you’d better hope you don’t have plans for the rest of the day. They’re also far too expensive to buy regularly on a cop’s salary. With anyone else I’d wonder what occasion I’d forgotten, or the reason for trying to butter me up, but Nate is just… like this.

“You made me macarons.”

“They’re not perfect,” he cautions, reaching out.

I shake my head. “Yes they are.” They’ve even been dusted with glitter powder, which I suspect is a touch added by Felix – Nate’s romantic but he would never deign to be gaudy. “Thank you.”

“After ruining dinner I thought at least I could give you these.” He shrugs before I can contradict him. “Thank you, by the way, for clearing everything up.”

“Of course,” I answer, reaching for his hand. “Will you stay?”

“I would like that.”

Flashing a smile, I hand back the tin of macarons so I can clear away enough space on the sofa for us both to sit. The scattered rags are stuffed back into the workbasket with the scissors, and the tape measure fished from its attempted escape down the side of the cushions.

Nate helps fold the rug. “I haven’t seen this before,” he says. “It’s pretty.”

“It’s just something I do in spare moments.” I shrug. “Actual crochet is a bit beyond my skill level, but it’s nice to have something to do that doesn’t require thinking. What’s that smile for?”

“No reason in particular,” he murmurs, once more stepping close. “Every time I think I can’t be luckier to have you in my life, you prove me wrong.”

I have to drop my gaze, stammering against the urge to protest. “You’re the one making me fancy desserts.”

“I have to find something to do while you sit buried under all that paperwork,” he teases. “Shall we enjoy them?”

His hand stretches out in offering, and with it he draws me down to his side, patient while I get comfortable, tucked up under his arm safe and small and enveloped in warmth. A kiss brushes against my forehead. Even after months, I still marvel at how Nate can make my apartment feel so much more like a home just with his presence, and as he tilts the macaron tin towards me, knowing how easily I might have gone without it tonight – how I would have thought it normal, once – turns the gesture into something even sweeter.

[hermannsthumb]

From horny twitter: Hermann writes a very very detailed review of a vibrator online

not sfw below cut!!!!!!!!!!! 

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

Now, usually, Newt doesn’t mess around when he’s on the clock, because that’d be very unprofessional of him and that’s totally not who he is, but he’s in a little bit of a rut with his current project and could use the distraction. Online shopping is his favorite go-to distraction these days: he can lose himself in size charts and color options and hunts for coupon codes and forget, even for a few minutes, that the end of the world is accelerating towards them at an intimidating rate. Plus, he can write off half his shit as work-related expenses. Win-win. Though maybe not this particular search.

Newt has a pretty reliable arsenal of sex toys he’s used on rotation since he packed up and shipped across the world for the PPDC, but the ten-year warranty vibe he’s used since PhD #3 (and his favorite of the bunch) finally crapped out on him last week after a historically intense fight with Hermann got him historically wound up. Eleven years ain’t bad. After testing out a different charger, poking around in the wiring, and even going so far as to zap it a few times with some sorta-stolen drift tech to see if it stirred any life back into it, he finally decided it was time to just mourn, move on, and buy a new one. (Even if, unfortunately, his particular favorite model was discontinued when the company’s factory was destroyed in a kaiju attack and they never quite managed to recover. More casualties of the war.)

The sex toy market is truthfully booming during the apocalypse. It makes sense, Newt guesses—anything for a distraction. Personally, for Newt, orgasms tend to dampen his own existential dread, even if it’s just for a few minutes. He scrolls idly through a few Top Ten For 2023 listicles on various sex magazine websites to see if anything jumps out at him (some of the recommended toys are dildos he already has, and vibes that are a little beyond his k-sci paycheck), just hoping for something to jump out at him. Apparently he missed out on a limited-edition run of jaeger and kaiju-themed vibes and dildos that came out in early January, which he’s honestly a little pissed about—he’s the top expert on kaiju biology, god damn it! Didn’t anyone want to consult with him about their hypothetical junk? Accuracy matters.

“It’s all off,” Newt mutters grumpily as he examines a 360 view of one of the kaiju dildos. Trespasser. “It’s not even the right color. Fucking amateurs. Did they even try?”

“What are you doing?” Hermann says.

Newt slams his laptop shut. Hermann decided to cut his lunch break short today, apparently. “Shopping,” he says.

“You sounded awfully angry about something, is all,” Hermann says. He clacks over to his half of the lab and shrugs off his big parka, then pauses. “Do you need to...talk about it?”

“No,” Newt says.

Hermann breathes out in obvious relief. “Good,” he says.

He takes his usual spot at his chalkboard and resumes his calculating. Newt re-opens his laptop and scrolls away from Trespasser before he can make himself angry over anatomical inaccuracies again. The jaeger vibes from the collection are pretty cool, actually; the designs are a lot cleaner, and their artistic license is a lot more forgivable. The highest-rated of the set is one obviously (but not enough to invoke copyright infringement, if that can even exist for a jaeger) modeled off of Coyote Tango, with like, a million different settings, and an astronomical cost to match. Newt eyes it enviously. He could be shoving that up his ass right now if he’d just signed up for a stupid email list last year.

He follows the link to Amazon to read through some of the reviews enviously, too. Life-changing; best money ever spent; warranty lasts a lifetime. Ten stars across the board. Sold out, obviously. No idea when it’ll be back in stock. He could get the Striker Eureka model for twice the original cost as when it came out, if he wanted, but the idea of constantly having to associate the twenty-something punk Hansen kid with his intimate affairs makes him shudder.

A nine-star review for the Coyote Tango model from someone named MathLover69 is the only one to make Newt really pause, on account of how absolutely insane it is.

I saved quite a few paychecks to purchase this vibrator, and though the cost is steep, I must say it is absolutely worth it. As opposed to my normal vibrator (here another vibe is linked, and Newt’s eyebrows jump at that price, too), which has only five settings, an admittedly bulky body, and average battery life, the CT2023 has a generous ten, a sleeker design, and charges fully in a matter of minutes. The orgasms I have experienced while using it are higher in quality (and more numerous) than any resulting previously from masturbation, though I have not tried beyond setting six yet. It also works wonders for stress relief. (I have an incredibly irritating colleague, and nothing calms me down so much as a quick round with the CT2023 after a spat with him.)

The body is versatile enough to be either inserted into one’s—

Newt feels heat rise to his cheeks in spite of himself, and he skims the second paragraph of MathLover69’s review to get the gist of it—that there are, uh, plenty of ways to utilize the vibe, that it’s discreet and small enough to wear to work (if you were inclined to do so, as MathLover69 implies he might’ve been) and that when combined with the Yamarashi dildo, the pleasurable experience increased tenfold. Talk about oversharing. Jeez.

My only complaint would be that the design is a poor approximation of the real Coyote Tango, and for that I’ve docked a star. I would recommend this product.

“This guy is a total nut,” Newt says to himself.

“Hm?” Hermann says.

Newt considers the implications of showing Hermann the vibrator listing: Hermann will know he was shopping for sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys, Hermann will know he was shopping for kaiju and jaeger-themed sex toys during working hours a mere ten feet away from him. Embarrassing, but on the other hand, MathLover69’s review is too funny to not share with someone else. “Hey, Hermann,” Newt says, angling his laptop towards Hermann. “Look. Who comments shit like this?”

Hermann descends his ladder carefully and inches up behind Newt’s shoulder, squinting at his laptop screen. He immediately turns bright red. Newt must’ve offended his Victorian sensibilities with the mere suggestion of self-abuse. “Oh,” he says. “Er.”

“Way TMI,” Newt says. “Listen to this line. ‘With the Yamarashi toy inserted into one’s mouth, and the CT2023 inserted up one’s—'”

“Well, how else is one meant to review a masturbatory aid?” Hermann snaps, surprising Newt. He looks oddly flustered. “Details can be—er—helpful. Can’t they?”

“Sure, dude,” Newt snorts. “Except they’re obviously just screwing with people. They literally have a 69 in their username.” He taps at the MathLover69, and doesn’t mention—on behalf of Hermann’s delicate mathematician feelings—that the MathLover part is obviously meant as a joke too.

“Well,” Hermann says. “Perhaps it’s just his—er, their birthdate.”

Newt turns around to stare at Hermann, taking in his red cheeks, his red ears, and the gaze he’s fixed steadily on his shoes. It’s all Newt can do to not to gape at him. “Hermann, you’re kidding,” he says. “Right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Hermann says.

“You didn’t,” Newt says.

“I,” Hermann stammers. “Well—”

“I didn’t even know you—”

“That I what?” Hermann says.

Newt gives a half-shrug. Hermann doesn’t seem the type to engage in any sort of vice, let alone this kind. And especially not with the type of sex toys he apparently gravitates towards. (If Newt was a little bolder, and had a little less shame and care for hygiene, he might ask to check out the Yamarashi, because anatomical inaccuracies aside, wow that sounds awesome.) “I mean, you know,” Newt says. “You’re kinda you. No offense.”

Hermann takes offense. “I am human,” he says. “I am allowed to masturbate, Newton, and I was merely attempting to educate other customers about the—product—with my thoroughness.” He adds, awkwardly, “My review was voted very helpful, as you can see.”

“Okay,” Newt says with a grin. “I get it. Sorry.”

Hermann marches back over to his side of the lab with a scowl. Newt waits until he’s sure Hermann’s not watching him, and is too distracted by muttering angrily under his breath, to bookmark MathLover69’s page of reviews.

It turns out (as Newt revisits the page later that night, in the privacy of his bunk) Hermann buys and reviews a truly staggering amount of dildos and sex toys, and on top of that, has absolutely zero filter behind the wall of anonymity. It’s to the extent that some of his reviews read like goddamn sexts.

It took me three occasions to successfully work myself up to taking in the entire length…

My orgasm was so pleasurable I alarmed my colleague with the noise I made, who believed me to have injured myself…

The highest vibration setting is a bit of a disappointment…

These are excellent for double penetration…

It also turns out Hermann is a veritable sex fiend. Or at least a masturbation fiend. Judging by his reviews alone, Hermann’s purchased more than a dozen different toys in the past three years alone. That’s four a year. One every three months. That’s not even including buttplugs, which (according to other reviews) he sometimes just wears into the lab (“work”) for the hell of it, which Newt isn’t even going to think about right now. How the hell has Hermann kept this much of his life under wraps? When the hell does he have time to jerk off as much as he apparently does? No wonder they never seem to have any fucking funding; all of Hermann’s paychecks are funneled directly into his—well.

Newt recalls the faux-injury incident Hermann mentioned in a comment with mild embarrassment. No wonder Hermann had been so weird and flushed when he opened his door, and made excuses to say bye to him so quickly—Newt just caught him (oh, boy) immediately following the best orgasm of his life. Well, mild embarrassment, and a little more than mild arousal. What Newt would’ve given to have been there five minutes earlier, to watch Hermann in the act of the best orgasm of his life, to maybe even be the one to cause it…

What Newt would give to use Hermann’s fancy-shmancy vibrator on him, or literally anything from his giant masturbatory arsenal. Or even just watch him use it on himself. Hermann’s just so damned buttoned-up and uptight—it’s all about the contradictions. Juxtapositions. Newt unzips his jeans and sticks his hand down his boxers. “Stupid Hermann,” he moans, as he begins to bring himself off to the image of Hermann with that stupid kaiju dildo down his throat and that stupid jaeger vibe up his ass. Negotiator of peace between the two? Stupid joke, stupid Hermann. Or maybe he’s picturing Hermann showing up to the lab, all plugged up and loose from using a different vibe on himself that morning. Or maybe Hermann pushing two dildos into himself at once. How the hell can he even manage that? Ass his size— “Oh, goddamn it,” Newt moans again, and comes all over his hand.

Whatever. It’s not like Hermann’s ever going to find out about this.

[isis-astarte-diana]

Biological Imperative

Summary: “I need you, and that makes you need me. It’s a hormonal feedback loop.”  For a few days each month, life with Missy can get... intense.

Warnings: NSFW. A/B/O dynamics. Cheetah!Missy. Penetration with less conventional sex organs. Painful sex. Dub!con. Ovulation, breeding, ejaculate and other potentially icky or dysphoric things. Possibly not one for everybody. MIHOW.

Word Count: 2838

NB: Complete and total PWP for the humble 🍑 anon who has waited so long! It’s not explicitly A/B/O but it’s heavily inspired by it and the heat/rut/breeding dynamic is there! The ‘cheetah virus’ is an insanely stupid bit of Classic Who that happened to work very nicely to justify this unjustifiable porn. Some anatomical details are unspecified so it’s entirely up to you whether Missy has a weird alien penis or a weird alien strap-on, but either way, it’s big and it’s barbed and you know damn well where it’s going. You already know I have a size kink and painful penetration is my jam.

“God, don’t you knock?!”

Missy grins, a predatory flash of gleaming teeth, as you cross your arms over your naked body. “And give you the chance to cover up, dearest? I think not.” She closes the bedroom door behind her and sweeps closer, lifting your chin with her fingers. “Why so modest, hmm?”

“You surprised me!” Any venom in the rebuttal dies in your throat as she presses her lips to the underside of your jaw, warm and damp, grazing it with her teeth. With a soft sigh you drop your arms from where they meagrely cover your modesty and draw her to you, letting the fabric of her clothes press against your skin. “I thought you were supposed to be busy.”

“I am.” She snarls the words into your neck, nipping sharply so that you whine. Her hands stroke possessively across your back, your arse, your thighs. “But as it turns out, there are more pressing matters to attend to.” Gripping the back of one thigh she tugs you against her leg, rocking your hips into her until unyielding friction makes you cry out. “I could smell you from the console room.”

“I’m sorry?” It’s hard to focus on anything with her mouth and hands on you like this, the pressure of her thigh beneath the skirt dragging fabric against your slick folds and when did you get so wet? You were only getting changed into your pyjamas when she appeared.

“Lutropin,” she mutters, as if that’s the answer to something, working her tongue now into the hollow of your clavicle. You squirm in her grip, succeeding only in pushing yourself harder against her thigh, and she growls, actually growls in a way that shoots to the core of you and makes you fall still. “Stupid mammals.”

“Missy...” It comes out weak and breathless, her name a quiet plea, the unspoken what’s happening? as loud as your pounding heart.

“You’re ovulating.” Her fingers creep around your thigh, brushing your labia, testing the arousal there and finding it abundant. The touch makes you squeak. “Or you will be, in the next day or so. Your hormone levels are peaking.”

“I don’t-” your voice breaks into a wordless groan when two impatient fingers slide into your cunt, meeting no resistance and filling you swiftly. You clutch at her blouse, falling limp and pliant in her arms. You’re dripping for her. Thick trails of arousal mark the insides of your thighs.

“It means you’re fertile.” She crooks her fingers, scissors them, massaging your walls as if to gauge your readiness while you cling to her and pant for breath. “Which means that my residual feline DNA is loud, and single-minded.” She punctuates the words with harsh thrusts that make you yelp and jerk.

“But you can’t- we can’t actually-” you pull her closer as if she’s the only thing keeping your feet on the ground. “We’re not compatible like that.” She laughs, cruel and bitter.

“Funnily enough, it doesn’t seem to matter.” A third finger presses in, no trace of tenderness in the invasion, no thought given to comfort that you yourself have forgotten. All that remains is the need to make way, to be open for her. “You can feel it too. I need you, and that makes you need me. It’s a hormonal feedback loop.” The strain in her voice makes your abdomen clench. “A small mercy, I suppose. That’s why you’re so wet for me, that’s why you’re letting me do this.”

Missy bites down on your shoulder with punishing ferocity, as if to prove to you that you shouldn’t want this. As if the pain would even give you pause. Tears stinging at your eyes, you remind her in a desperate sob, “I’d let you do anything.”

“Let me take you.” She forces you back towards the bed even as her rocking fingers split you open, most of your weight hanging on her arms looped around your back. “Let me have you, let me fill you, my little human. My dearest girl. My mate.”

The words are your undoing.

“Please.” You scrabble at her shoulders with weak hands when the bed hits the backs of your legs. “Please, Missy, please, I need you.”

“I know,” she snarls, a cruel twist of her fingers inside you almost knocking you down to the mattress. “Just- need you ready. Don’t want to hurt you too much.”

Too much.

Ordinarily you might shrink at the implication but now it makes you whine, one hand threading in the dense curls of her hair. “I don’t care,” you beg, and it’s the truth. “I don’t care how much it hurts, just please-”

She needs no further invitation than that.

Her fingers withdraw, leaving you achingly empty, but your strangled noise of frustration is quashed when she licks at the deep groove her teeth have marked in your shoulder, soothing the pain there. A low rumble from her chest that sounds unmistakeably like purring renders your body slack and calm. Strong hands find your hips and guide you backwards, easing you comfortably onto the bed you share with her.

Reaching up, she looses your arms from around her neck and repositions you as effortlessly as if you weighed nothing at all. She rolls you onto your stomach, tugging down two pillows from the head of the bed, and you lift your hips to let her tuck them beneath you like muscle memory draws you to do it. The elevation is enough to push your knees up under you and you eagerly open your legs for her.

When the warm weight of her lifts from your back you whimper, reaching blindly behind you for her, feeling cold and small and lost without her to pin you down. She growls at the sound. 

“It’s alright,” she soothes, over the soft thud of her clothes dropping to the floor. “I’m here, I’m here.”

“Missy,” you croak, burying your face in the duvet. “I can’t- I need-”

Such need as this you’ve never known.

She takes your hand. “I've got you,” she reassures in a voice like warm earth. The mattress sinks behind you when she plants her knees between your legs, and she guides your hand back down to rest on the bed. “Just relax for me. My beautiful human.”

The words seem to sink into your bones and when she brushes up against you, a startling thickness at the lips of your weeping cunt, your hips jerk as if to take her in. She holds you still with an arm across your back as she lines herself up. Pressure, enough to tug and drag at your labia with pinching discomfort, makes you gasp. It's sobering in the haze of desire.

“Relax,” she says again, this time with a hint of warning, sensing the distress in your unsteady breaths. “Don’t fight it. Just let me in. Just let me take you.”

It’s all that you can do to keen in response. You twist your hands in the duvet cover in preparation for pain.

It doesn’t help.

Sharp, stinging, all-consuming, the invasion forces a wordless shriek up your throat. You muffle it in the bedsheets but that does little to conceal it. Your hands scrabble for purchase on the bed as she presses deeper. Finding another pillow, you drag it closer with a white-knuckled grip so that you have something to stuff in your mouth. 

Missy spots your intentions and intervenes. Quick hands wrap around your wrists, pinning them to the bed either side of you with enough force to make the mattress creak.

“Don’t hide,” she commands on a harsh breath, even as the steady force of her hips works the pain further in, opening you up with an aching stretch that brings tears to your eyes. “Let me hear you.”

You twist beneath her, teeth bared, shameless in your agony. “Can’t, I can’t, it’s too much-”

“You can.” Her weight presses down against your back, warm and soft, mouth at the nape of your neck. It’s a small comfort but a comfort nonetheless. “You will. You are.”

When her hips finally cradle yours she’s deep enough to make your abdomen clench with tight cramps. You gasp and sob for breath underneath her. The fullness is dizzying. Despite the way your cunt screams in protest, your thighs are soaked, sliding obscenely against hers.

“Good girl.” She purrs again, and the vibrations ease the strain in your muscles. Your walls throb around her length in time with your heartbeat. Slowly but surely you relax, each pulse less painful than the last until - beneath and behind the torment - an excruciating pleasure flickers to life once more. She works soothing kisses across your shoulder. “My little human. So good for me.”

“Missy,” a broken plea sobbed into the sheets. “Please-”

“I’ve got you.” Her tongue, slick and scalding on your shoulder blade. Your back is drenched with sweat, your head swimming like a fever has hold of you. “My girl, my precious girl. You take me so well.”

“I- I need-”

You need more.

It’s impossible. You couldn’t be more full than this, stretched to the limit around her, writhing and moaning and mercilessly impaled, but howling delirium consumes you and demands that she does not stop.

“I know.” She adjusts her grip on your wrists, tightening it, forcing them deeper into the bed like she expects you to fight her. “I know you do.”

When she starts to withdraw you understand why.

Incandescent pain like a hundred papercuts lights up the tender walls of your cunt. You clench down around her as if you could stop the steady drag of her length, but it does nothing. You tug at her restraining hands and claw at the sheets.

On the tail of a hopeless shriek you beg, “no no no no Missy it hurts-”

“It has to, dearest, it has to.” The hoarse desperation in her voice is unlike anything you’ve ever heard before. She presses her weight down harder, stopping your feeble and mindless attempts to crawl your way out from beneath her. Her teeth graze the back of your neck, a comfort, a warning. “It’s the barbs, they stimulate ovulation.”

“But-”

“Shh, shh, shh,” her palms slide down from your wrists and cover your own hands, fingers interlocking with yours. You hold onto them like a lifeline. “It’s alright, you’re alright. You can do it. I’ve got you.” She scatters gentle, sucking bites along the curve of your neck and shoulder, sweetening the agonising slide of her inside you. “Just squeeze my hands when it hurts.”

Obediently you crush her fingers with your own. Missy growls. You shrink at the sound, whining into the damp duvet beneath your tear-stained face, and she soothes you with a soft murmur. “Good girl, that’s it. You’re doing so well.”

She rocks her hips back to fill you again. The ache in the pit of your stomach is a welcome relief from the way the tiny barbs irritate your walls when she withdraws, and you feel that rippling pleasure once more that makes your clitoris throb and your thighs clench. When you gasp and squirm this time she purrs.

The rhythm she takes up is unforgiving. Pinned beneath her deceptively powerful frame, she strings you between the blazing pain of withdrawal and the crushing pleasure of being filled until you’re senseless to all else. The barbs that rake your tender flesh leave you stinging and sensitive around her. In an attempt to soothe the inflammation, each drag and slide of her length summons yet more thick arousal to flood your cunt.

Soon enough, you start to crave the pain.

It’s maddening, torturous, the way your body screams for more of this when every second of it is excruciating. The freedom to writhe, to beg, to sob through the overwhelming sensation without shame, knowing that each pleading cry only encourages her desire is incredible, and it is one of which you take full advantage. She comforts your cries and urges your pleasure with her mouth on your neck and shoulders, her purrs, her growls.

You feel like an animal; and it feels good.

Ever-observant, Missy notices the change. She nuzzles your shoulder with a purr of satisfaction.

“Feel better?” She teases, but the usual composure is gone from her voice. You breathe a shaky affirmative and twist awkwardly to press a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to her arm where she holds you down. “Such a good girl. My docile little mate, accepting her place.”

Her words make you groan weakly. “My- my place?” So needy for her to continue, you graze her forearm with your teeth and she rewards you with a sharp thrust that makes you jerk and yelp.

“Your place,” she hisses, “is under me. Just like this. Taking me in like breeding stock.”

You can barely hear her over your own shuddering moans. She snarls, bringing her mouth closer to your ear.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Teeth bared, you nod against the mattress. “You want to touch yourself.”

“Please,” you tug against her hands and they tighten. “Please, please, Missy-”

“Not until you’re full.” You cry out in frustration, bucking your hips uselessly, chasing stimulation for your aching clitoris. “Not until you’ve been bred, my girl.”

“So breed me!” The abject, feral ruin in your voice would alarm you if you weren’t so desperate for her. “I’m yours.”

Delighted, she half purrs, half chuckles, “oh, yes, you are.”

One hand releases yours but before you can even think to reach down and touch yourself she braces her palm against the back of your head, gripping your hair, forcing your face down as she fucks you into the bed with punishing force.

You mewl and writhe underneath her, fisting your free hand into the sheets, the knot behind your navel drawing tighter with every wave of agonising pleasure she forces into your cunt. It’s not enough to push you over the edge - there’s too much bitter with the sweet, too much frustrating pain that keeps you grounded - but it drives you into a frenzy.

Missy sinks her teeth into your shoulder when she comes inside you.

It’s a sharp bite, almost enough to draw blood, and you howl like a cat in heat. The evidence of her orgasm is copious, thicker and cooler than your own slickness when it floods your cunt. It soothes some of the sting but, in the same instance, inflames your need.

“That’s my good girl.” She lets go of your hair, her shuddering breaths heavy and scalding on your injured shoulder. “So well-behaved. My tamed little brood bitch.”

Whining, you squirm on her length. “Please, please, Missy-”

“Do you want to come for me now?” She purrs at your hoarse cry. “Alright, I suppose you deserve to. Besides,” she slides her free hand between your stomach and the pillow, wriggling her fingers until she finds your soaked vulva. You gasp at the first touch. “There are some benefits to it.”

“I- ah!” Your eyes clench shut when she presses her fingertips to your clitoris, making you jerk in place, your walls drawing tighter around the impossible thickness of her. “Benefits?”

“Helps you relax.” She starts up a swift rhythm of strokes with her hand, and you shriek. “Opens up your cervix for me. It’ll be easier next time.”

“N- next time?” You’re trembling violently beneath her, just barely able to process her words as she works a long-awaited orgasm out of you with newfound patience.

“Hmm.” A tender kiss to your neck. “This- ugh- reproductive frenzy will last until your hormone levels drop. Could be an hour.” A sharp graze of teeth. “Could be a day.”

“Fuck, Missy, I can’t-” but your protest is weakened by whimpers of pleasure, and she laughs.

“You can.” Your thighs twitch and clench as the pressure in your abdomen grows, close to breaking point, all the more intense for the aching size of her inside of you. “You will. Come for me, my sweet little bitch. Let me have you.”

You break beneath her with a snarling fury.

Your grip crushes her hand, your back arching and hips rolling against hers. Noises you didn’t know that you could make stream from your mouth and soak the duvet cover with tears and saliva as your teeth rip at it. You twist and writhe where she pins you down.

It’s futile, of course.

With a low growl of warning she rocks her hips, the new slickness of your orgasm easing the way but doing nothing to stop the burning discomfort as barbs once more rake at your walls. It fuels your climax and drags it out longer than you think you can bear it.

“My good girl,” she grins, a dangerous flash of teeth at your neck. “Do you need more?”

The pleasure has knocked some of the fight back into you. You lift your hips and twist to snap at her over your shoulder, “do your worst.”

Cackling ecstatically, she does.