#I will never get better it’s genetic I will always feel like shit and want to die

[makkie-is-screaming]

the things I’ve inherited from my mom

[courtneedsmatcha]

Lovesick Puppy | FirstKiss!Satoru x Reader

Summary: Satoru never thought about kissing before, but now he can't stop thinking about how your lips would feel against his. Word count: ~2.1k

Art credit: @courtneedsleep [ me ;) ]

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” Suguru asks his best friend expectantly.

“Even if I haven’t yet, I’d still be the greatest—“

“So you haven’t,” Suguru cuts him off and waves his hand dismissively. “Well that’s good. Shoko said she hasn’t either. Yet. Aren't you curious about what it's like?"

Well, Satoru had assumed he could just "take" you whenever he wanted, for lack of better words or timing. Technically he could get away with kissing whoever he wanted (Geto included) with the privilege of those blessed genetics. Satoru had not conscientiously thought about kissing you, already acting like you were his and he was yours.

Until now.

Satoru's fingers presses against his lips wondering if yours were softer than his. What if when he kissed you, his lips were chapped which you thought were repulsive? Pshh, no, that's ridiculous- his perfect lips were never chapped? His leg bounces up and down nervously. For the first time, Satoru was floundering.

. . .

Suguru had ingrained the idea of kissing you into Satoru's brain. Something inside him was rewired, and he could not seem to control it. Perhaps he didn't want to control it. Satoru sure didn't mind the way you had permeated all of his senses when he was daydreaming about you.

The sunlight kissed his skin, but it wasn’t the type of kiss that Satoru was craving for. He blinks the drowsiness out of his eyes. In his peripheral field, he freezes at the sight of your resting form slumped over the school desk. He should check what time it is, not run his fingers through the mess of your hair spilled across the surface.

Wait. What was he doing? Why did his hands move automatically to brush irresistible, silky locks of yours?

After all, weren’t you just his classmate? His pretty and smart classmate. His classmate who’s the only one who plays along with his teasing and returns those big goofy smiles back.

Yeah, just a classmate that he wanted to kiss senseless.

Satoru couldn’t help himself. Not when you looked so ethereal, so perfect like this. Not when your oh-so-kissable lips were just slightly parted just for him. Not when he was leaning closer and closer, just for one sample of a taste, his lips hovering right over yours and-

T H W A C K

“Had a nice nap, huh? You fool, you think you’re allowed to sleep in my class?”

Fingers drumming the weapon of choice (a textbook), Yaga throws Satoru a sharp glare that breached past both of their shades. Next to him, Suguru has a coy, not-so-innocent smile on his face.

“What were you dreaming about that made you drop your infinity, Satoru?”

Even without being present, you somehow managed to break through his defenses. Satoru’s barrier was no longer effective when you unknowingly decided to invade his mind and soul. If you were going to be a problem, Satoru is going to have to fix it.

. . .

“You should’ve seen me! I hollow purpled the shit out of that curse! It kinda looked like Suguru but more hair and wrinkly, even though they’re not that much different.”

Satoru follows you around on your campus stroll like a golden retriever with a helicopter of a tail that just won’t calm down.

“Of course, you always win,” you reply with a sweet smile that he could just drink up for days.

“That’s it??” A big pout creases his mouth. “Nothing about how strong or cool I am? Or handsome?”

Your sweet smile is immediately wiped off and replaced with a deadpan expression. “You don’t need my approval, Satoru. You already know that you’re strong.”

“Yeah, but what about cool and handsome? I know it, you know it, why can’t you just say it out loud?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“My bestest friend?”

“That’s Geto.”

“Just once.”

“That’s enough.”

Satoru wanted to whine and pout, but that would be terribly uncool of him in front of you. At this point, he was almost ready to beg but he had an even better idea.

“That’s fine if you don’t want to show me your affection with words. There are other ways too, you know.” His hand grasps your wrist so you can finally turn around and look at him to give him the attention he deserves. Satoru raises your hand up and ducks his head just underneath. He hums and relishes the weight of your hand against his face. “You should be more nice. You’re the only who’s actually gentle and kind with me.”

Oh. Did he just…

…

“You’re… impossible… and cute, I guess,” you concede not as begrudgingly as you intended to be.

“Cool, not cute,” he corrects. Satoru takes initiative, moving your hand back and forth so he can feel the friction against his scalp until you finally get the hint and pat his head for him.

He’s. Too. Cute.

“This is so uncool, Satoru,” you chide.

“I told you to praise me instead.”

“No.”

“I wanted a reward.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Do you want edamame-flavored mochi?”

“No.”

“???”

“I want a kiss.”

Shit, he didn’t mean that- the words just flew out his mouth without much thought. Your hand stops moving against his fluffy hair. Satoru’s heart bashes against his rib cage. Shit, shit, shit-

You suck in a sharp breath. “Satoru, don’t be a greedy shit. Let’s go get mochi.”

. . .

Satoru is a greedy shit.

He sits on your kitchen barstool watching you microwave popcorn, elbows propped up on the counter. The pout on his face was a thousand times more pronounced with the way his cheeks were smushed together against each palm of his hands.

"Jesus, I didn't know you wanted popcorn that badly." You shake your head oblivious of Satoru's heart yearning for something more than just playful elbowing and banter. No, he didn't want popcorn; he wanted you. The only acceptable way he wants that buttery treat is if you were the one feeding it to him with your lips, mouth to mouth-

Salty and sweet explodes on his tongue as a handful of popcorn is shoved into his mouth.

"Happy now? That should get you all fixed up. You're so out of it lately."

Body moving without thinking, his mouth latches onto your fingers before you get the chance to pull them away. He laps at them like a starved dog. His mouth is so wet and warm… and wet… the hot slick coating his tongue is all you could think about. Goodness, how much was he salivating earlier, and was this all really just from popcorn?

He cleans the butter off your fingers watching the entire time the way your pupils dilated.

“Mm, tastes so good…” His tongue swirls around your index finger for one last good measure. Even after pulling back, a string of saliva connects your fingertip with his tongue. “Even better like this. Can I have another one?”

“I… need to wash my hands.”

You hurry off to the bathroom gripping the edge of the sink until your knuckles were turning white.

Breathe, you try talking yourself out of this haze of lust. But as soon as you close your eyes, Satoru’s lips puckering around your fingers immediately runs its course back into your mind. The temperatures, the textures, the need are vividly hardwired into your brain. Fuck, what if it was your own tongue instead of just your fingers? Your mouth waters at the thought.

Freezing cold snaps you out of your thoughts. The icy water runs for a while until you’re sure enough you can face Satoru again without crumbling in front of him.

Knock knock knock.

Or not.

“What are you doing? I know you’re not shitting.”

“How do you know that?”

“The faucet is running, and you said you’d be right back, not back in forever.”

You open the door and are met with an impatient Satoru. Not him having separation anxiety, whining and chasing his little tail around waiting for you. How the hell is this the same man who acts so independently and wildly and so sure of himself? He could do whatever he wanted, but everytime, he chooses to put himself in a frenzy all over you.

The two of you walk back to the couch for a movie night. But when you check the bowl of popcorn, it’s already empty? What the fuck?

“Satoru?” you ask already knowing what he’s gonna say.

“Yes, princess?”

“I want popcorn.”

“Mm, is that so?”

Someone wipe that smug-ass grin off his face. “There’s no more popcorn. I wanted popcorn.”

“You have popcorn right here, baby. Tastes exactly the same.” Satoru winks and taps his bottom lip. What a tease.

“I meant actual popcorn. Something I can actually chew on.” You walk up to Satoru, plopping the bowl of popcorn crumbs onto his lap. “Go refill it.”

“Who says you can’t chew on this? I don’t mind you being rough.”

Your nails dig into your palms, anything to distract the tumbleweeds in your stomach.

“Don’t go shy on me now, sweetheart. You haven’t kissed anyone before?” Oh, of course, he already knows the answer. He just can’t help but tease you even more.

“Yes, actually,” you retort snidely. Satoru’s jaw drops prepared to accuse you for being a bit fat liar.

“Li- mmph…” But before he gets the chance to reply, you shut him up for good.

‘Rough around the edges’ was an understatement. It wasn’t smooth at all, your lips smashing against his, the inner part of your upper lip folding upwards and the bottom gnashing against his teeth. But neither of you couldn’t care less, whether it was an attempt to get a taste of that popcorn, silence that spewing mouth of his, or perhaps a mix of both. No, you shouldn’t lie to yourself. You’ve been aching to feel those plush lips of his against yours from the start.

Satoru groans. Fuck, right now he didn’t want your teeth, he wanted your lips. He pulls back just a centimeter away before realigning the two of yous’ lips properly and diving in for a proper taste. One he could savor and relish. The way you mold perfectly against him so deliciously shoots Satoru straight to heaven and back.

Your hunched form hovering over his wavered. Hands flying up to stabilize yourself, you grip his shoulders so tightly that your nails were sure to leave red marks on them. Satoru knocks the bowl off his lap, and the crumbs spill everywhere onto the floor and in between the crevices of the couch. How annoying it would be to clean up later. But it was completely worth it to pull you down and have you tucked into his lap, your thighs clenching each side of his own. He’s completely and utterly enveloped by your presence, something which he could bask forever in.

Wooziness begins to cloud your mind. A reminder that you need oxygen because you’re human. But Satoru clearly isn’t. The moment you try to pull back for a breath of air, he’s immediately chasing after you for more, more, more. His hands fly up to the back of your head and neck, lips clinging onto yours in heated desperation.

You can’t help but give in to this lovesick puppy. He’s licking, sucking, and nipping feverishly like a dog scarfing down his dinner and licking the bowl clean.

“More,” he whines and tries to kiss you again when you detach your lips with a loud pop. You turn your head away and block his lips with your hands before he devours you again. When he pries your hand off his needy mouth, you stand up and scurry away from him because you know he’ll never stop.

Satoru pouts at the loss of contact. “You didn’t like it?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s not that.” An evil grin takes place of that bratty pout. “…I j-just need a break. Please.”

Satoru eyes you up and down carefully. The sight of your disheveled hair and the flush that spread from your cheeks down towards what’s visible of your chest did unspeakable things to him.

“Oh, that’s good to hear. Your break’s over, princess.”

“What? Wait, hold on, just a minute-“

You backpedal a few steps back thinking Satoru would follow after you. But he doesn’t, just sitting there with his legs all manspread out waiting for you to take your rightful place on his lap.

“Cursed technique lapse: Blue.”

And in a blink of an eye, you crash face-first onto his lips for round two.

[here-there-were-dragons]

i feel like the entire way we conceptualize “adult vs children’s” content is assbackwards, because in my experience the type of content people are drawn to and indeed even capable of processing or fully recalling at all seems to noticeably decrease in complexity, realism, originality, and “darkness” or “inappropriateness” or whatever you’d like to call it, ect, with age. and that’s not just me taking a single static look at people as they are in this moment right now either, i’ve noticed this happening in general over most of my life. children are much more prone to enjoying complex, gritty, violent, ect content, while adults increasingly become unable to enjoy or even process anything but safe fisher price kiddie cartoon level things. consistently i’ve seen a pattern where around 20-40 everyone either starts experiencing a marked decrease in the ability to process and enjoy anything else, or loses the ability to participate in “fun” things like that entirely. it’s not children that like children’s media, it’s adults. people seem to mentally peak in the “able to comprehend complexity of this type” department around age 14-17. even porn kids past a certain age are usually way more into than anyone wants to think!

at least that was until the zoomers came along and decided it would be great to become the next wave of boomers and now they’re all running around trying to burn eachother at the stake for watching anything for any reason other than to absorb the Proper Approved Morality Plays for their daily sermons, but only those deemed appropriate for your exact age (up to a certain point at which point you are expected to never again interact with fiction or recreation at all lest you become a secret predator).

[fleouriarts]

time for a jamie and co LORE POST!!!! here's them with their (immediate) families. all the actual lore and such below

JAMIE: only child with a single mom. since furries in this universe can only have kids within their taxonomic families, adoption is really common among smaller families like prionodontidae. however jamie's mom erica really wanted a bio kid, so she ended up marrying another linsang who she liked... well enough, but not that much. they get divorced when jamie's a little kid. she had jamie at an older age; by the time he's in college her markings have already started greying, which is why she looks a little dull next to him. nowadays she works as a teacher and she loves her son vewy much :3

SANTIAGO: santiago is the only one in the main cast with different species parents. cross-species kids are just the species of either parent with a 50/50 chance cus i don't feel like dealing with hybrids... HOWEVER sometimes genetic fuckshit happens. because of said genetic fuckshit, santiago grew to a cow size instead of a sheep size. i couldn't fit all the family relations shit on the actual image but emilio is santiago's OLDER brother (hes 25) but people always assume hes younger because santiago is a giant. magnolia and amapola are twins and both 8. mariana is either a teacher or a librarian (haven't figured it out yet) but she used to paint when she had more free time which is how santiago got interested in painting and eventually went into fine arts. jorge is a plumber and emilio is a graphic designer. santiago is the first in the family to leave their hometown (key west) for a degree (emilio went to a local college) and his mom + sisters were SOOOOOOOOOO SAD so he comes home to visit as often as he can. also since he is in family bovidae he has several cousins/aunts and uncles/etc that are different species. all i know for sure is that one of them lives near jamie and co's college and is some sort of antelope (leaning towards bongo bc i like them). also using this poast to announce that i changed santiagos outfit here is his new cute flowers and bees sweater look

JOHNNY: her family works on a chicken (and other assorted birds) farm, the chickens are for both eggs and meat while the other birds are just for eggs. this is actually a common set-up in the dorian furryverse, it's hard to farm livestock as a carnivore (because all the livestock are deathly afraid of you) so herbivores usually do the job even if they can't actually eat what they farm. johnny's parents are sorta "confused but got the spirit" about her being a butch lesbian. jimmy is an ass about it but he gets better. shoutout to this horse color calculator for helping me figure out which coat colors were plausible for them

NULL: null has an older brother and does not talk to their parents. sakichi is six years older than null and they were never very close; their parents treated sakichi as the "successful" child and null as the "problem" child. they're also quite conservative. null realized they were agender in high school but stayed closeted at home, they planned to come out to their parents immediately once they got to college and were able to support themselves. something happens that instead makes them come out a few days after their graduation and they get kicked out. null doesn't know where to go and ends up living at johnny's farm for the summer before college (sakichi lives far away doing some tech job and so can't take them in). the clantons are basically null's family at this point. once null legally changes their name they remove their last name entirely (it probably says X on their documents just cus there has to be SOMETHING there). sakichi and null see each other very occasionally, and sakichi still talks to their parents, but only when absolutely necessary. it's not malicious, he'd just feel too guilty cutting himself off from them completely

ARGYLE: argyle is an only child with well-off parents, his mom is a lawyer and his dad is a quirky ancient history professor. his parents are like EXTREMELY doting so they were secretly kinda glad that he came back home so they could see him more often. argyle was really scared that they would hate him for going into a less stable field, but his parents love him to death and are ready to support him in whatever. suzanne was probably a nightmare at pta meetings i'll be so real

[forwhump]

a/n; I have to say, I’ve been fleshing out this little universe of mine for years & years and I genuinely forget how much content I have or what half of it is LIKE THIS ONE !!!!!!!!! I FORGOT ALL ABOUT THIS ONE & this is such a good one they were just little babies :’) awww my little babies

more early stuff & @ chi finally some caretaking 👀 better late than never 😚

word count: 4k, it’s long as hell

tw/cw: mentions of vivisection, grievous bodily harm, accidental grievous self harm, canon typical gore

living weapon whumpee, caretaking, the sort of blood and guts that come w taking care of a living weapon

Something Wren is starting to find almost helplessly endearing about Silas is just how intimidated he seems to be by the rest of them.

He cuts the figure of an old Hollywood movie monster, something that brings the word fearsome to mind. He has to turn sideways to fit through doorways because of the bulk of him, and all of it is muscle, genetically engineered or otherwise. Hal insists he has to be ten feet tall; Wren thinks, practically, he’s probably somewhere between eight and nine. His hair is long, almost unnaturally inky in colour, and there’s something sort of feral about the way he always lets it hang in his face, limp. His voice is just unnatural in pitch, a rumble, bass, but he doesn’t speak all that much, instead angling his head, grunting on a good day. He isn’t very expressive, but he makes a lot of eye contact. An intimidating amount of eye contact.

Frightful. And not just in bulk, but in what he’s capable of; if Silas decided he wanted to use the unit as his personal slaughterhouse, there isn’t a thing any or all of them could do to stop him. He’s frightful. But some reason, frightful as he may be, it really seems like the rest of them make him nervous. After weeks of trying to coerce him, like trying to befriend a stray dog, he’d started joining them in the common room but he’d never get too close, only ever just watching them. Wren’s always found something really wary about the way he’ll watch them, something nervous. It makes it hard to be frightened by him.

Robin’s the exception. For whatever reason, Silas is properly shit scared of Robin, and Wren can’t even begin to guess why but it makes him laugh. He tries not to, he doesn’t want to embarrass Silas, not when he’s already so skittish, but watching him full body react to something as innocuous as Robin turning his head is amusing in an almost painfully endearing way, and he just can’t help it, try as he might. The first thing that’s made him laugh, actually, since he got here.

The second is that Robin is weirded out by it. It creeps him out that Silas is creeped out by him. Their relationship is built on a foundation of very tense symbiosis and Wren couldn’t say what it is about it that tugs so firmly at his chest, but it does. It makes him smile if he thinks about it too hard.

He would dare say he’s charmed by it, but he has a sneaking suspicion it’s why Silas isn’t more tempted to spend time in the common room, time around the rest of them. Usually, though, he lurks more than he doesn’t, and he’s becoming a somewhat comforting fixture, so Wren notices, pretty immediately, that Silas isn’t his usual shadow in the common room. Even if he always just sits outside, watching, he always sits outside. Wren notices pretty immediately that he isn’t there; Silas is kind of a hard guy to miss. And Wren would be lying again if he said that, selfishly, he didn’t prefer having Silas around. Wren feels better in his company, even if he’s just a shadow. The soldiers are all afraid of him, so afraid of him, and they have less attention to focus on Wren when they’re scared.

June and Robin are having some kind of heated competition — push ups — and Hal is lying on the floor beside them, arms folded behind his head, eyes closed. He looks like he’s napping.

Wren doesn’t even bother to ask them. He crosses through the common room, mostly unnoticed, and peeks first into Silas’ room, where he’s usually hiding, where Wren has to track him down before coercing him out. Except Silas isn’t there, and his bedroom is empty.

And Wren is pretty certain Silas doesn’t have any of his field tests or his treatments, because it was always pretty obvious when Silas was being taken away for a field test or treatment — Wren got left alone, because Silas needed an escort of just about every armed soldier in the place. But Wren had been with Point, and Point had been his usual, deranged self, not the tense, colder version that impending Silas exposure seems to bring out in him.

He checks the common room again, just in case, but he isn’t there. He isn’t in the kitchen, either. The door to the bathrooms is closed. It usually isn’t.

Wren cracks it open, and he doesn’t know what he was expecting.

The smell is so overwhelming that for a second, he goes blind. It’s bitter, a sharp pain in his sinuses he hadn’t anticipated, the tang of raw meat. It makes him dizzy.

He takes two steps into the bathroom and has to brace a hand on the wall to keep himself from slipping. Looking down, the red mist had cleared from his vision but he doesn’t realize it for a second, because everything is still red. Redness is pooling on the floor.

Blood.

There’s so much blood.

He thinks first, stricken, that Silas must have died in the bathroom because he’s smeared on every wall and pooling on the floor. It’s an impossible amount of blood, so much of it in some spots it doesn’t even look like blood, but black paint.

But Wren rounds the corner, and the bathroom has been flooded, blood soaking through the canvas of his shoes, but Silas, somehow, is still alive, and he’s still standing. He’s shirtless, standing over a drain, and he’s been vivisected. His chest and his stomach had both been opened, a Y of a wound that yawns open, pulled wider with each of Silas’ breaths. It looks like it had been stitched together at some point, staples that tear chunks out of the already frayed tissue as they’re pulled, threads that tear ribbons out of his flesh.

Wren can really see it in him then, the widowmaker, the juggernaut. He can see why the soldiers are all so scared, so edgy around him; why they talk about him the way they do; why Point, in particular, is so weird about him. The rest of the unit, until Silas, save for Wren, had all been super soldiers — Silas is their weapon. Wren can really see it in him for the very first time.

But there’s something in the way he looks up, caught, the closest he’s ever looked to embarrassed, and the absurdity of it makes Wren forget to be scared of him at all.

“What?” is what he says. He doesn’t mean to. He feels lightheaded, like he’s started losing blood, too. Like the blood loss is contagious. “Are you okay?”

It’s a stupid question, because of course he’s not. Silas lifts his chin, sort of a nod, anyway.

“Um,” Wren says, because he’s is lying. He’s very visibly not okay. “What. Um,” he says, and even he’s surprised by how normal his voice sounds. A side effect of blood loss by proxy. “What happened?”

Silas just barely angles his head at him, dismissive. Nothing.

Wren’s a little irritated by it. Deflecting, probably, but he’s irritated nonetheless. “What happened?” He repeats firmly.

Silas heaves a broad shoulder, and Wren doesn’t mean to, but he watches as it pulls at his skin and the staple of a stitch tears a chunk out of his sternum. “S’fine.”

“Fine?” Wren says, and it comes out a little weak. He looks up — up, up, up — into Silas’ face. “You’re bleeding to death.”

Silas finally lifts his head, looks at him properly, and he looks for a long time. When he speaks, his voice is its usual, flat bass, a rumble Wren would swear he can feel in his chest. “I won’t die.”

“What?” He repeats. It’s a little surreal, this whole thing. “Silas,” he tries. “What did you do?”

“Pulled my stitches,” Silas says.

“Yeah,” Wren agrees. He tries not to look at Silas’ chest, at the way flesh had been pulled back over meat and was starting to come apart again, like frayed ribbon. “Why?”

Silas rubs the back of his head and Wren doesn’t think he’s going to answer him. But he admits, after a beat of silence, “I didn’t mean to.” Another beat, and his voice is a little more tense when he says, “I was trying to change my bandages.”

Wren blinks, and then he’s overcome with a wave of sadness so heavy it almost knocks him on his ass. He was just trying to change his bandages. He was trying to change the bandages from his autopsy by himself, and he was going to bleed to death in the bathroom by himself.

Wren takes a step forward and Silas eyes him suspiciously. “Do you need a hand?” He offers softly. He shouldn’t have to bleed to death alone, not a few feet from a unit full of people that would help him.

Silas looks at him blankly. “My hands are fine.”

Wren cracks a smile, despite himself. Despite the blood loss. “Would you like some help?” He tries again.

Silas looks at him again, and he hesitates. He looks at him for another long time. Finally, he says, “no.”

Wren tilts his head. “I don’t mind.”

It’s impossible to tell what Silas is thinking. “Why?”

“Why don’t I mind?” Wren asks, angling his head again, curious. “Because you need help, Silas. You’re bleeding. A lot.”

Silas studies him intently. “You’d touch me?”

He says it with a skepticism that tugs at Wren’s heartstrings. “Of course.”

Silas looks at him with that same flat sort of skepticism, but he doesn’t say anything else.

Wren offers him a smile and holds a hand, expectant.

Silas angles his head, towards a bench mounted into the far wall. There are grey towels piled on top, knocked askew, blackened with blood splatter and a single handprint. Beside the towels, industrial rolls of gauze and strip bandages. On the cracked linoleum in front of the bench, an unwound pile of fraying, blood soaked bandages and gauze with chunks of meat woven through the mesh. Wren actually can’t look at them as he steps over them, and it has nothing to do with the gore — it makes him sad in a way he can’t articulate, in a way that makes him feel heavy.

He considers asking Silas to the bench but Silas is standing over the drain and that’s probably the best — the safest — place for him to be. The water in the district doesn’t run hot, but it runs lukewarm, so Wren wets a towel with lukewarm water and sidles into Silas’ personal space. He smells like a butcher shop, but Wren had expected that. The skin of his opened autopsy wound is threadbare, ruined, like whoever had cut him open had taken a cheese grater to the incision to keep him from ever being stitched back together again. It looks raw, and it looks so painful that it actually makes Wren’s skin hurt, which he hadn’t expected.

Exhaling softly, he twists his hair up tightly, out of the way, and tries his very best not to hurt Silas worse than he’s already been hurt. He can feel Silas’ eyes on him the whole time, watching him with a kind of intensity that Wren can handle from beneath his eyelashes all of one time, and then he can’t look at him again.

Soon enough, anyway, he forgets all about it, almost forgets that Silas is there with him at all. He’s meticulous, so careful that he keeps finding himself holding his breath, so focused he forgets about anything else. He picks all the most damaging staples and pulls all the most mutilating threads.

It isn’t easy work, by any means. It’s gory and it’s slippery and Wren’s always had a pretty strong stomach. He’d grown up in the south, and he’d done his time on a farm. His brother had been a cowboy once. There isn’t a lot Wren can’t handle, but there’s a lot of raw, bleeding meat before he covers it with bandages, and every so often his brain likes to remind him that it’s Silas, and it makes him sort of squeamish.

He cleans the wound as best, as gently as he can, and Silas is still bleeding when he finally starts to wrap his bandages. He isn’t quite sure how it was bandaged before, but he thinks mummifying most of his torso is probably the way to go, right?

Silas doesn’t complain or even twitch the whole time. Wren chances a look up at him as he winds a bandage around his waist; he’d forgotten how intently Silas was watching him, and it almost makes him jump. “I’m not hurting you?”

One of Silas’ eyebrows twitches. “You couldn’t hurt me.”

“Given my vantage point, I probably could,” Wren points out.

Silas doesn’t say anything, and it makes Wren just a tad uneasy. He knows his silence means it’s cute that you think so, and that’s a little unsettling. But when Wren says, “can you come down here?”, because Silas is pretty big and Wren can’t wrap all the way to his shoulders without contortion and strain, Silas kneels in front of him willingly, easy. He’s still taller than him.

It makes Wren smile. “Thank you.”

Silas bows his head, kind of a nod, and angles his head to watch him again as Wren more or less mummifies him in gauze and a wasteful number of bandages.

He swaddles him until blood stops seeping through the gauze and then he swaddles him still. He can’t look at him again, not as Silas watches him, not with so much less distance between them. Up close, he has really black eyes, the same unnatural inky colour as his hair, not dark, not really, but an absence of colour or light at all. Wren accidentally catches his eye and holds it for a beat too long, hands on Silas’ slick, bare skin.

When he looks away again, he can feel heat in his face and he isn’t quite sure what to do with that. Flustered, he flattens a bandage against Silas’ sternum and asks, softer than he means to, “what happened to you?”

Silas doesn’t answer him for such a long time that Wren has no choice but to look at him again, curious. Silas is still watching him, and when Wren looks up he raises his eyebrows, curious.

“What happened?” Wren repeats, trying to meet his eye. “What did they do to you?” He knows there are treatments and therapies and medications the super soldiers needed and need to make them and keep them super soldiers. It’s nothing like this. It’s never anything like this.

But Silas heaves his massive shoulders, a tense sort of shrug. “Surgery.”

He says it with a simplicity that makes Wren all too aware of the thickest, most raised scars — the inside of his arms, armpit to wrist; down his sides, from armpit to hip; the Y shaped scar of his torso, shoulders to groin. “Surgery,” he repeats softly. “Do you have a lot of surgeries?”

“Yes,” Silas says.

“Why?”

“Improvement,” he says flatly.

“Improvement,” Wren repeats.

“Mm,” he agrees.

Hidden behind the oil spill of his hair, there’s a ridged scar along the bit of Silas’ hairline that Wren can see and he can’t help but wonder how much of Silas’ hairline it spans. How much of himself he was allowed to keep and how much the district has taken away.

It kind of stuns him into silence, and he finds himself looking really hard at Silas’ bandages.

Silence stretches and Wren isn’t sure how to break it. He keeps busy; once his torso is mummified, Wren takes the lukewarm towel to the cover of gore on his skin. Tries to, anyway — Silas catches him quickly around the wrist. His hand spans most of Wren’s forearm.

He looks up at Silas, who looks back and doesn’t say anything, dark and intense. They look at each other so long Wren is kind of startled out of it. He says, “did I hurt you?”

His eyebrow twitches. Amusement, maybe? “No.”

“Then let me clean you up,” Wren chides gently.

Silas looks down at Wren’s hand, caught in his own. “You don’t have to do this,” he says.

He tilts his head. “Do what?”

“Touch me,” Silas says.

Wren frowns and gently pulls his hand from Silas’ grip. Silas doesn’t stop him, so Wren takes the towel to his skin again, carefully, carefully, carefully wiping away the carnage. He’s as gentle as he can with the burlap they get for towels, and he’s careful not to pull too hard at Silas’ skin. He cleans his shoulders, his arms, hands, under his nails. His throat and his collarbones. The line of his jaw before he finally asks, “why do you think I wouldn’t want to touch you?”

Silas answers him like it should be obvious. “I’m a freak.” I’m disgusting.

Wren stills. The flippancy of it actually upsets him, probably a bit more than it should. He looks up with a frown and says, “you’re not a freak.”

Silas angles his head down towards him slowly. It would probably be intimidating if Wren weren’t a little irritated with him, even if he doesn’t quite know why he’s irritated with him. Then Silas gives him this look, and he doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to — it’s the most expressive Wren’s ever seen him, and his expression says you’re an idiot.

He breathes out a laugh, despite himself. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not a freak, Silas.”

Silas raises his eyebrows and doesn’t say anything.

Wren raises his eyebrows right back. “You’re not a freak.”

Silas angles his head, relenting, but there’s something Wren finds kind of condescending about it. Washcloth to Silas’ cheek, he uses it to tilt Silas’ face so he’ll look at him. “Stop it. You’re not a freak.” His eyebrow twitches and Wren’s starting to think it’s definitely amusement. “You should be kinder to you,” he tells him.

Silas snorts and there’s nothing amused in it at all. “I don’t deserve kindness.”

Wren can’t keep himself from recoiling. “That’s a horrible thing to say,” he tells him, and he’s mad at Silas on Silas’ behalf. The guy could stand to be a lot kinder to somebody that was bleeding to death in a dirty bathroom by himself. “Why not?”

Silas looks at him critically. “What do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Wren says. “What are you?”

“I’m a weapon,” he tells him.

Wren already knew that. “And?”

Silas looks only just barely baffled, but it’s obvious on his otherwise marble face. “You’re a soldier. You don’t know what weapons do?”

There’s something incredibly condescending in his tone but that’s not why Wren prickles. “I’m not a soldier.”

Silas angles his head back to look down at him, and Wren can see it in his face, that he’s really looking at him for the very first time. How much smaller he is than Silas, how much smaller he is than all the rest of them. “What are you?” He asks.

Wren’s shoulders tense. “That’s none of your business.” Silas studies him closely, all dark and intense, but he doesn’t say anything else, he doesn’t push, he doesn’t pry. Wren tries to roll the tension out of his shoulders and huffs out a breath, wiping the last of the blood splatter from his face.

“Wren?” Silas says.

Wren almost wrings out the towel, then thinks better of it. He looks at Silas, very close to eye level. “Silas?”

“Thank you,” he says, and there’s something sort of awkward about how he says it, tense, out of practice.

Like a surprising number of other things about Silas, Wren finds himself kind of endeared by it. He takes a hand to his chin and tips his face down. It surprises him again, how willingly Silas moves, and Wren smiles against the ridged scar of his hairline as he presses a kiss there. “You’re welcome.”

Silas looks at him, and he’s as unexpressive as he usually is but he touches his hand to his forehead, to the spot Wren had kissed. “What was that?”

“What?” Wren says, because it’s not what he was expecting. He has to stop expecting things from Silas, he thinks. “A kiss?”

“A kiss?” Silas repeats, and Wren can’t tell if it’s another question or if he’s just mimicking his inflection. He says it with Wren’s accent.

It kind of feels like a lightbulb going off, like a bunch of odd puzzle pieces finally forming a bigger, odd picture. Maybe Silas isn’t what Wren thought he was at all.

“Silas,” he says slowly. “Where were you before this? Before you were here.”

“I wasn’t,” Silas says.

And that can’t possibly be true, but it opens this yawning chasm in Wren’s chest that sucks all the air from his lungs. He feels so guilty for ever likening Silas to a stray dog that it actually might make him flush. It isn’t that he’s intimidated by them, it’s that he doesn’t understand them. Silas is their only weapon — has he known anything before this but violence? Is that all he can remember?

“You weren’t,” Wren says softly.

The corner of Silas’ mouth lifts and it’s the very first time Wren has ever seen him smile. It makes him smile, despite himself. “Freak,” he explains, and there’s something almost challenging in the way he says it.

“Stop that,” Wren tells him, and it makes Silas smile properly.

Silas has a very handsome smile.

Silas has dimples.

It almost makes Wren recoil again, but that would be rude, so he doesn’t. It’s close, though. There’s a particular scar on Silas’ face, thin and shiny, angled across his jaw and the corner of his mouth so when he smiles, it’s lopsided. It’s uncomfortably charming, and the dimples that carve out of his cheeks make it almost overwhelming. He also has great teeth, which is jarring, a stark contrast to all the rest of him, raised scars and messy stitches. He thinks Silas might actually be really handsome, and that feels jarring, too.

He smiles anyway. He can’t help it and he doesn’t know why.

Silas looks away, but he still has a dimple carved out of his cheek on one side and Wren presses the washcloth to it, an impulse he can’t quite control. “There you go,” he tells him. “Good as new.”

“Thank you,” he says again, and it’s still awkward, and he still won’t still look at him.

Wren smiles a bit wider. “Anytime,” he says, and Silas grunts. “I’m serious. Anytime. You’re gonna start being kinder to yourself and you’re gonna start by asking for help.” Silas grunts again and he adds, “don’t be shy. I don’t bite.”

“I do,” Silas says, and he doesn’t say it like a joke but he says it like a warning and Wren doesn’t think he’s kidding.

He isn’t quite sure why it makes him smile again. “I don’t mind.”

Silas looks at him, angling his head. Wren can’t tell what he’s thinking and it should be intimidating, daunting, but Wren’s been having a really hard time being afraid of him. His full body fear of Robin had started it, but having him kneel patiently in front of him while Wren swaddled him in bandages may have been the thing to cement it. “Okay,” he says finally.

Wren surprises himself with how pleased he is. His smile is bright. “Okay,” he agrees. “Good.”

Silas dimples on one side, just barely, and angles his head down towards Wren.

For a second, Wren doesn’t get it. Then he breathes out a laugh and leans up to press another obedient kiss to Silas’ hairline.

When they get back to the common room, Silas sits beside him, and a mountain has been moved. Wren isn’t sure why it feels so much like a win, but he preens, anyway.

[cleostoohot]

OLD STORY & CIRCUMSTANCES

we treat old stories like albums, n****, all that shit get dropped… or whatever 21 savage said

nothing has more irrelevance than an old story in the law of assumption community, nothing. i know you’ve heard the phrase “circumstances don’t matter” many times and an old story is just circumstances. it doesn’t matter if you’re 4’11 and nobody in your blood line is above 5’2, you can manifest being 6’6 as fast as instantly. it doesn’t matter if your SP said “i’d eat bat shit before i’d deal with you again” you can have them crying for your attention and begging you to take them back. it doesn’t matter if you’ve never even had the funds to even take a trip out of your city, you can be in another country with nothing but luxury. if circumstances don’t matter THE OLD STORY DOESN’T MATTER. the moment you are able to drop the old story is the same moment you become 90% closer to you having your desire. the only thing left for you to do at that point is affirm and persist. when you want to change something about your life why would you even be focusing on the past anyway. even if the circumstances/old story is hard to ignore.. everything is possible to change. if you ever get triggers just tell yourself “i only exist in the reality where xyz”, repeat that until you feel better, then go on with your regular affirmations. the past is the past and is only kept alive by you. the moment you start telling yourself the story has changed, the more you see evidence of that. drop the old story NOW! even if you don’t want to start affirming for the new story today. whenever you get any sort of reminders about old story you tell yourself “that doesn’t exist in my reality” then keep it pushing!

proof of my own: my mom and my dad were both built undesirably (to me). long, wide back, no ass, no curves, weight goes to stomach before any other spot, slow metabolism. but i still manifested having flat ass stomach, tiny waist, portioned body, a big ass, and tiny shoulders. + being able to eat whatever i want without gaining/losing weight unless i want to. i was never even a person that cared about circumstances and old stories that much because when i was told that they didn’t matter i actually understood that. but if that’s not proof that they don’t matter then idk what is because even workout gurus would always claim “genetic this” “genetics that”.. oh please.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

can i request bucky taking care of you after a long day at work? he cooks or orders in, helps you take a bath/shower, gives you lots of cuddles, reminds you how wonderful and strong you are.

(if you want something less fluff and more hurt/comfort maybe it's bucky taking care of you after a mission gone wrong. you're injured and traumatized, he knows how that is--he's been there. it's hard for him to see you like this, and all he wants to do is make it better)

okay, hope this isn't too long or anything!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥. || 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

― pairing: bucky barnes x plus size professor!reader

― summary: no one ever said being a professor is easy, especially not when you're up to your neck in assignments you have to grade, but never fear, bucky will always be there to take care of his favorite teacher.

― warnings: literally none!

― wc: 865

⋆ a/n: thank you so much for your request! i'm so sorry this took literally forever and i'll admit that I've been slacking on answering requests, but i swear that i'm getting better! this'll actually be my second request i answer today i'm pretty sure!

masterlist | AO3

Sometimes you really regret your profession.

It wasn't like teaching the wise brains of tomorrow was all that bad, it was just exhausting, and being an advanced placement teacher, your students got more class work and tests than what you would have been comfortable with assigning. Of course, you let them know that, and they kind of expected it since they paid to take your course, but that just meant that you were up the spout with things that you needed to grade. You were kind of grateful for the spoiled rich students that took your class because they almost never turned anything in, so that just made your job easier.

Huffing as you walked in, Bucky could already sense what kind of mood you're in. He was surprised that you had managed to escape your classroom so early, you usually stayed in later. Kicking off your shoes, Bucky walked over to come and greet you, taking your coat off of you and hanging it up in the hall closet.

"How was work today?" He asked. You turned to look at him, tiredness written all over your face as you allowed yourself to collapse face first into his solid chest. "What if I just quit?" He heard you mumble into his shirt. He couldn't help but chuckle, his chest rumbling against your face as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Your master's degree would have gone to shit then." He said crudely. You laughed, resting your chin on his sternum so that you could look up at him. "I guess so." You let the silence of the house bring you peace after having a full day of teaching rowdy young adults.

"How about I order in and run you a bath? Let me take care of you, doll." Bucky suggested. You weren't even going to lie and say that you could take care of yourself like you usually would, getting pampered tonight was exactly what you needed. "Yes, Buck, please." He bent down, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs so that he could haul you into his embrace. On any other day, you would have chided him, saying something like he was going to hurt himself even though he was a genetically modified human being, if anything, you felt like a sheet of paper. Bucky would say that you're probably the lightest thing he's ever picked up.

You allowed him to carry you to your shared room where you nuzzled into him, even though your embrace was broken by him gently setting you down. He began to take off your cardigan, followed by your white tank top, leaving you in your bra as he bent down to feel your feet from your flats. You sat down on the side of your bed, Bucky massaging your feet as you let out a content sigh. "God Buck," You said with a delirious laugh, "If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a masseuse." He let out a laugh too, lifting up both if his hands and wiggling his fingers, "It's all in the hands, sweets." He then sent you a wink as he reached for the band of your jeans, tugging them down.

His touches were innocent, completely focused on your comfort.

"You can lay here while the tub fills up, I just hope the food will get here after you get out." He pressed against your forehead before heading for the bathroom. You followed his instructions, getting cozy in your bed as you watched him turn on the water, searching through the cabinets in your bathroom for a bath bomb and bath salts. You smiled fondly, Bucky picking out all of your favorite scents.

"Alright, dollface. The water is all warm 'n smelling good." You got up, walking to the bathroom while he left to the living to order the food. You stripped the rest of your clothing, sinking into the warm water. Your muscles easily relaxed as the water enveloped your large body, caressing the aching parts of you as you felt like falling asleep.

You stayed in the water until the water slowly began to turn cold, your fingertips shriveled up like raisins despite how good and soft your body felt and smelled due to the bath bomb. Wrapping yourself up in the robe that was left folded for you on the toilet seat, you walked out into the kitchen where the Chinese takeout sat on the counter.

"The food's here just in time." Bucky said with a soft smile. "Chinese?" He nodded, wrapping his arms around you and leading you to the table so that you could sit down. He pulled the chair out for you so that you could sit down. "Mhm, your favorite." He sat down in front of you, both of you silently eating. The silence was peaceful, something that you didn't know you needed after the long day you had.

Words couldn't express how grateful for Bucky you were. Sometimes you questioned what you did in your past life to be able to deserve him, and you knew that if you brought this up to your boyfriend, he'd ask himself the same thing.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback

[politemenacephd]

Question: So, if Miguel knows spider!reader in Arachnophilia, and spider!mig is mentioned in AFM, does reader know her own spider variant (personally or from Miguel/other spiders mentioning them) ??

I love both stories, and obvi the idea of Miguel & Reader being tied in several universes, but I was just curious on the idea of reader knowing.

oh im SO GLAD I get to talk about this THANK YOU SM cos its been on my mind for days!! I will use this chance to actually drop the dante fic cinematic universe timeline, which is: easing tensions - arachnophilia - a fortunate mistake - a fortunate mistake II There's certain things I gotta keep vague because I know how arachnophilia ends (and how it might tie into AFM II) and I don't want to spoil, but I'll talk about a bit because I'm rabid rn.

I wanna add for the sake of my lore on multiverse stuff, Miguel's who are turned into Spider-men are quite rare? I think this gets mentioned in AFM but Miguel's in general are rare, Spider Miguel's even more so. I took him saying Gabi's universe was the one where he was happy to heart, along with the fact we see zero variants of him in the society. That shit was always the most interesting thing to flesh out. I also don't know if I've ever talked about nena's multiverse story properly either, but its pretty tragic. She largely only exists in universes where Miguels' exist, and in all the ones where she comes into contact with him she dies. Our Miguel's universe is the only one where she doesn't, and Miguel blames this inititally on his canon but, as we know, canon isn't real, in reality it's because our Miguel was the only one with multi-verse experiences that humbled his apathy and violent tendencies. It's sort of like how meeting Miles put Peter B. on a better course, Peter's influence on Miguel is something no other Miguel had and it changed him in a way that made him capable of growing. Vig is the only other one we've met and it's obviously implied he was a poor partner who became a good dad after nena's death. Nena is like, universal collatoral damage, and it's only in the universe where she wasn't 'meant' to love him that she got to be loved. It's fucked up and she deserved better fr.

BUT I will say, to actually answer the question (sorry lol) the reader in arachnophilia is actually not a variant of the reader from AFM. I am sticking with the rule that AFM reader is never a spider, because its important later hehe.

BUT! But this makes Spider!Mig and readers relationship equally interesting to me anyway. I am a sucker for starcrossed lovers, excellent trope, and while it was meant to be a one-off I wanna use it to explore the idea of fully abandoning ones canon and exploring a relationship beyond the bounds of ones universe. I will be going more into Spider!Migs backstory for this, but I think the films never properly addressed the potential dangers/tragedy of love between people from different universes. I used it a bit with OG Miguel with my explanation for what happened with Gabi, E.g him trying to combine their universes, but this is especially spicy. So, again, actual question (I'm so sorry I swear this is all I think about, rip my PhD) as of AFM II reader also doesn't know about Miguel's variants beyond Vig, YET. Miguel is aware of Spider!Mig and reader as of AFM, and if you go back you can see a lot of his mindset in there, especially when he talks about not wanting kids because of his genetic mess and feeling like he's too dangerous.

Miguel as a character is great, I can't say that enough, he's harboring so much self loathing and unaddressed trauma that while he wants to do the right thing he imposes very strict rules that always end in hypocricy. In the same way I think he's awful to Miles because he see's Miles making the same mistake he did (e.g destroying the universe for a loved one) and a lot of his violence is like, imposed, he's awful to his variants because he knows he's fucked up his own moral compass and takes it out on them.

But yes Miguel knows where they are, he has not told reader though, but I do want to have them cross paths.

[evilminji]

Back at it again? With more BNHA? My goodness!

See, in one my WIP, which haunts me like a cursed Victorian doll in the night, chanting to me my sins from beneath the floorboards, I got a few OCs. As ya do. Gotta flesh out that world building. And I am ALWAYS a ho for some sweet, sweet SI-OC action!

Because the stranger in a strange land, can see what SHOULD be mundane and familiar anew! There are Moral Quandries! You get to put your sticky lil gremlin fingers ALL over the set dressing and look inside those boxes they put in the background of the scenes! What's IN there? Secrets? We bet it's SECRETS.

Tis the BEST, really. I enjoy it.

But of course! If it's BNHA then we must assign Randomly Gifted Genetic Fuckry(tm) : The Super Powers Edition. Where in? My love of "immediately obvious powers are for cowards. There are no such things as weak powers, only weak and uncreative minds" comes into plaaaay~

I! Want! WEIRD QUIRKS!

Supposedly "minor" ones! That everyone says "oh that's a minor power. Sucks for you" and expects you to just leave it at that! Give up. Like you're some sort of fuckin CASUAL.

HA!

Nah, we pushing this fucker until REALITY breaks. You are gonna be legitimately asking "how the FUCK did you do that!?" And the answer is Will Power, Spite, and "Cause Fuck You, I'm Awesome".

Which of course, is how we got Kimiko. The most high femme, kawaii, little pastel pink bundle of Rage and Bloodlust the Heroics world has ever seen. She is that stage of little girl where they like to wear tiaras, princess dresses, and want to MURDER EVERYTHING. But never grew out of it.

She grew IN to it.

Got a lot of rage, that one. Probably because everyone is all "ooooh, kimi! Your Quirk is so CUTE! You'll be such a good housewife! Such a good sweets maker! Aren't you so CUTE! Let's all infantalize Kimi!" *murder intensifies*

She can turn part of what she is touching into Marshmallow.

*slaps a hand on your shoulder* There are NO restrictions on that~☆! ANYTHING she touchs. Is she touch you? Air? The ground? This building we are standing in? Wanna keep talkin shit? How do you feel about Marshmallow lungs? Enough training and eventually she can take out a building!

Cause Marshmallow? Not a very strong support. Ground under your high rise better be sturdy if you want it to hold, you know? Things to think about. Other things, are the "part of" aspect. Which she is slowly getting better at. Wanna see a trick? *a Marshmallow plops down on the table on the far side of the room* Still air! Still touching~.

Hope your technology is AIR TIGHT and not IN the air. Or moving through it at any concerning speeds. Like, say, a car. Fun thought! Don't fuck with her again! Kimi out! *removes threatening hand of possible Marshmallow Murder*

She's besties with the SI. Himiko. They are the Koko's and WILL be going to UA specifficaly because Kimi was told she couldn't make it. Himi wants nothing to do with this bullshit but is being dragged along like a cat in a harness.

She has my favorite super power. Egg.

Just... Egg.

Egg? Yes. She can summon eggs. Into the spoon. Like those challenge races. Except there is no race, its just her in her pjs trying to eat her damn breakfast. But SUPRISE! Raw egg. Full on, chicken egg in a shell, in your spoon. Perfectly balanced.

And in this iteration, it does have to be in a "spoon" or spoon-like shape. Defined as a bowl with a handle. The egg will fit the spoon. And? Most importantly! Not restricted to chicken eggs!!!

Tiny spoon? Tiny egg. Large spoon? Large egg.

Theoretically? Stadium sized spoon? Stadium sized egg of unknown species never to be seen on planet earth. Because YES. Those thought popping into your head. "Ha ha, what about a dodo eg-" Yeah, see, not ass funny when you actually DO that as a sleep deprived toddler because you HAVE TO KNOW. And now conservationists are hunting you for sport.

Do you have? ANY idea the lengths certain folks would go too to save endangered bird or frog species? If it comes out of an egg. Yes. She CAN make it. No risk of inbreeding for the already critically small populations. Just viable, healthy eggs. Ready to be incubated.

Took her an afternoon.

Needless to say... things get Exciting(tm). People need to be threatened. Himi gets lifelong job security at age four. Neat.

But!!! Not why I started writing! I had a THIRD OC child! Who never made it to the limelight! Gasp! I know! The secret comes out! I scrapped him in favor of Kimi. But his power was one I enjoy Pondering about!

Unlock. You can unlock doors. All doors.

No, you can't "unlock" the bonds between atoms or something. It has to be a Door. But! Begs the question, don't it? Would you... would you have "door sensing"? If there was a perfectly blended in or painted over door? Would you be able to say "it's right there"?

What happens if you use your ability on a tree? Doors are often made of wood. Would there be any effect? Even if no "opening" happened? Could you open metaphorical doors? If someone PAINTED a door, could you open a wall? If so, how deep? If we painted a cliff face, could you open a door to the other side of the mountain?

How far does you door opening power stretch?!

I understand you Izuku! I too, want to study these cool Quirks! See how far they can develop! No more strength quirks! More minor quirks with unusual applications! Woooo!

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation @hypewinter

[autisticrosewilson]

thoughts on tanya and her relationship with deathstroke and the family? also any hc's ? 👁️

I think her relationship differs from the others by virtue of her being an adult when she meets him, she's a not a starry eyed/traumatized teenager looking for a family. She's still after a support system though, a team to be on after she leaves the Titans, an older mentor to help her better herself. So it's not quite a father daughter relationship, but she does probably admire Slades skill and she is willing to be vulnerable with him.

That doesn't mean she'll take his shit though, she questions his orders routinely, she refuses to be demoted to a sidekick. Just because she's a student doesn't mean she's subservient, it's something that definitely caused friction in the early days of defiance where she strained against his leadership in a way he wasn't used to. A grown woman forcing him to see her as an equal while he trains her is very different from impulsive teenagers disobeying orders and he's not entirely sure how to deal with it at first.

But if there's one thing about Slade it's that the more someone fights him, the more fond he is. Once they've worked together for a while things settle down, they learn to read each other better and trust gets built up. I think that Slade would consider her one of his kids, but Tanya sees him as like, the uncle she lived with in college y'know. He's not exactly happy about it but it's not like he's in any position to push. Compared to his actual children he has a pretty good relationship with Tanya which really solidifies his idea that it's some family curse or genetic disposition for sucking as a parent as opposed to like, generational trauma he should do something about.

I think she has a complicated relationship with the family. She doesn't really consider herself a part of it the way the rest are, but she does see some of the Wilson kids as siblings because it's hard to be on a team with people, fighting together, living together, seeing fucked up shit together without getting close.

I think she gets along best with Joey, he grew up in a lot of the same social circles and he also understands a lot of the belittlement she gets.

It's because of her camaraderie with Joey that she's not really fond of Adeline, being someone who also grew up mostly relying on her mom the radioactive relationship between the Kane-Wilson's is something she doesn't want anything to do with. Suffice to say that while she respects Adeline as a business woman she will not be accompanying Joey to any family parties or reunions.

Following that she's got the kind of "older sisters that always competed growing up but are also closer to each other than either of you are with your younger siblings by virtue of being closest in age" relationship with Sunny you either get or you don't. Very specific but I think they are fond of each other even though they fight constantly. Most of the time they're not even trying to fight, Slade will tell them to quit bickering and they'll look at each other in bewilderment because they were having a normal conversation.

I don't think her and Rose are close, I feel like Tanya just relates more to other people in Rose's life just because of the age difference. To Tanya, Rose will always be "Joey's little sister" or "Dick's teammate". That doesn't mean that Tanya doesn't care about her though, they still know how to work together and I think Rose has maybe asked her for advice more than once. Whether it be on stupid socialite etiquette, how to shut Slade up or even grieving with the loss of her mom. It's like having a younger sister you don't live with, and you two were never the closest but sometimes you come home to her in your new apartment because she needs to complain about your dad and a candle she saw at the check out reminded her of you, so she brought a house warming gift even though you moved in two months ago.

Now the relationship between her and Poppy is complicated because of their relationships to Tara. On one hand she doesn't want to step on Tara's toes by taking over too much with Poppy, but she also doesn't want to leave either of them hanging since neither of them really have anyone besides Slade. On the other hand Tanya sometimes worries that Poppy is after more of a mother figure than another sister, and she doesn't feel ready for that. So it's a balancing act between being supportive enough to bond with her without getting close enough to intrude on Tara's role or give Poppy the wrong impression.

Her relationship with Tara has the aforementioned issue and... Tanya is kind of freaked out by her. Like everything about Tara and her relationships to Slade, Rose and Poppy just really makes her sad but she also doesn't want to involve herself in all that crazy. Also Tara has A Thing for Beast Boy (It's not a crush in my rewrite, more of a hero worship thing for the person who broke up the Dark Side Club) who Tanya considers her best friend and it's really weird for her to hear and talk about.

I don't really see her liking Grant if he were alive, she would think him working specifically to piss off Slade is funny until it coincides with her own jobs. Mostly that's yet another complicated inner family dynamic she doesn't want to get close to. She's mildly fascinated by him the way a child's fascinated by a bug under a microscope, she's really curious to find out what being Slade and Adeline's least favorite kid does to a person. Their civilian personas have fake Twitter beef (she thinks it's a joke but he's very serious about it) though.

She sent Slade a card with a condom inside saying "put the dick down" when she found out about Respawn. (She doesn't know he's Grant's clone yet.)

[princess-of-the-corner]

Maybe he gets a better cooling system then? Like, if I recall correctly, part of the problem was Toya's ice resistance made it super hard for him to naturally cool himself down - it wasn’t that he was just susceptible to heat, he retained heat a bit too well. Like, Enji basically tried to solve a problem he himself had, but made it WORSE - I mean, fevers & shit are dangerous for a reason, at some point your brain is just cooking itself. So, something that helps with that?

okay so like!

Within Chaos Children I kind of reversed Enji's problem? Because the overheating thing was okay but I wanted to hammer in why going with Ice and why Enji couldn't fix the problem himself.

Like if Enji's problem was just overheating, then 1.) characters push their limits all the time to be able to handle more and more of their element. Enji should be able to get himself to high temperatures, but also never really need to /use/ the super high 'out of his range' temps because, ya know, everyone else isn't fireproof he just needs midrange flames unless he's fighting fire with fire or trying to melt something non-human and 2.) if it was about cooling himself down, he could work in more support gear to do so. Especially it should've been tried before going for 'let's make a child'.

So in CC, I reversed the problem! Enji doesn't have trouble with overheating, but he's weak against the cold. Even just the weather changing causes him to be tired and achy and it's harder for him to get his fire going. And it's not a problem he can fix! He can mitigate things, of course. But he's never been able to get over it because it's so opposite.

And it's the same in the reverse for Rei's Quirk. The heat makes her tired and her body feels like it's melting. And it's so easy to burn her.

They're a hell of a match, aren't they? They equal each other out. They're careful with each other because even their own body temperatures can have an effect even when not actively using their Quirks.

And this applies to the kids too, but because of the nonsense that are the Quirks, the elemental control and elemental resistance are essentially two different genetics that can combine in any combination.

Fuyumi got both Ice Control and Resistance.

Natsuo got Ice Control, and both Resistances.

Shoto is some chimera fuckery, but each half got both of the same element.

But Toya got Fire Control and Ice Resistance. His own Quirk is something that hurts him, something that's a danger to him. Even passively he's having trouble! And that gets worse when his flames get hotter, either through regular training or through the Awakening! Which is why Enji is so worried about Toya using his Quirk at all. And why he's especially worried about Toya being a Hero and putting himself in dangerous situations when he doesn't have some base protection he can fall back on when shit gets fucked.

And yeah yeah in theory Toya /might/ Awaken some resistance, but it's also more than likely that he doesn't have that ability. It's always going to be something he has to deal with and I don't fully want to erase that bit because it's so tied to him and his challenges and something I want him to work with and overcome on his own.

[gwagwagwagoogoo]

3 questions regarding your Beastars Witch from Mercury AU. Firstly, is there an underground meat industry that differs from vanilla Beastars in your AU? If so, to what extent? Secondly, does Miorine struggle with controlling the carnivore side of her animal instincts at any point in the AU, if so does that become a plot point in some way? Thirdly, where are Suletta's favorite places to get head scratches, if applicable.

EXCELLENT QUESTIONS TYSM!!!! lets break each one down!!

1. Is there an underground meat industry that differs from vanilla Beastars in your AU? If so, to what extent?

The black market still is alive and well, it's one of the things that animals are restless about. Not just exclusive to herbivores, but anything the Black Market considers valuable or 'exotic' is likely to get trafficked into it A few differences is that more insane shit happens in the Black Market, along the lines of trying to do genetic works. Like most of Peil's enchanted dog species were funded by Black Market hijinks, same with the Jeturks.

It's just an unethical hell hole, tbh, similar to the Beastars vanilla verse but with an addition of some Gwitch stuff. Ochs Earth Inc.'s very, very illegal items are still getting passed around in trade, though quietly. As well as getting modified and enchanced and just made even crazier than before. It's how Norea and Sophie eventually their mitts on some crazy shit that removes your instincits and makes them crazy strong and what not (my crude reflection of permet)

2. Does Miorine struggle with controlling the carnivore side of her animal instincts at any point in the AU, if so does that become a plot point in some way?

Oh yes. Oh yeyseysyesyese HEHE. She does! It is always in the back of her mind, or subtle. Usually, her carnivore instincits spawn from predator compeititon. Feeling threated by other carnivores and needing to reestablish her presence, but she's also gotten a bit out of control around herbivores or meat before. She's able to reel herself a bit easily from her instincits bc they're a confusing, clusterfuck of contradiction. But there are two points in the AU where she loses control with them.

Now, this is my own self-indulgent thing. I wanted Miorine to come protect Suletta from El5n and god so be it. 'oh but-' this is MY au and I say Miorine should MAUL someone!!

First point!:

The scenes are swapped around in order to make things a bit more cohesive. Guel approaches Suletta first, tells his feelings to her and his plans basically. Suletta rejects him, politely, as always. Miorine feels a hint of reflex, to burst forth and snarl at Guel. Get him away. Another part of her desperately wanted to cower. But she refrains.

Miorine's still listening, not wanting to interupt Guel and this talk. Letting herself rumunate in her feelings, even after Guel leaves. Though whilst she's stuck in her head, she realizes another animal is approaching. Elan Ceres. At first, Miorine listens but as the altercation continues. She loses control of herself.

Mio gets to be a little wild... as a treat.... She keeps to her word, protecting Suletta while also establishing herself as the better carnivore. Miorine is unsure if she reacted so strongly because Suletta was distressed, or if Suletta being there restrained her from mauling him with her teeth. El5n scampers off

Regardless, those conflicting feelings spiral in. Suletta is concerned for Miorine- of course apprecative! But she's worried, because she's never really seen Miorine act like that. She isn't scared, nor really mad- she's just worried how Miorine will feel about it. And given the circumstance, what Miorine is planning to do, she feels awful.

Still, the show must go on. Suletta realizes the burdens Miorine carries, and wants nothing more than for her to rely on her further, let them rely on eachother. Miorine only wants one thing for Suletta... for her to be happy. With, or without her. No matter what.

Second Point!:

So instead of being holder, what's happening is that it's a race to see who will be potenital 'Young Beastar' at the end of the day, and eventually transition into 'Sublime Beastar'. Miorine still makes GUND, to protect Suletta, but it's more than that. She also proposes herself as another potential Young Beastar, claiming that she is the bridge between Carnivore and Herbivores. That claiming her as a Beastars would show that she is able to unite those two fronts completely.

So Miorine becomes President of her mini company as well offically a potenital Young Beastar next to Suletta. And you know how that goes LOL. But I'll explain the Sulemio divorce into another ask!! This is about Miorine's instincits

Miorine tries to ease the unrest that is conjured just by the conditons of the world, using herself as a way to show that there can be peace and compromise. Show that the technology her company wishes to promote can and will aid every beast.

So the massacre on Earth is changed to be, well, Miorine framed for a mass predation incident. To defame her and try to kick her out of the Beastars race completely. THANKS PROSPERA <3 Yeah so Prospera basically tries to pin a whole massacre of herbivores and such onto Miorine, and Miorine got caught in the wrong time and wrong place after a conferedence with some big civil figures. And it made her carnivore instincits go into full over drive, trying to contain the urge to feast on the herbivores surronding her because there is so much herbivore blood- but also utterly terrified. She at one point, had crouched over a corpse, trying to fight back the urge to eat it- while the herbivore part of her was absolutely horrified by the whole situation and eventually got her to step away. Eventually she is found by her guards, and ushered from the scene. but the damage was already done.

Miorine feels at fault, for all of those deaths, and for her behavior especially. Utterly disgusted, horrified and terrified of what's to come.

3. Where are Suletta's favorite places to get head scratches, if applicable?

Here are all of Suletta's hot spots:

Forehead and snout, Behind her ear, Top of her head, Cheeks, Belly and underneath her chin

(For maximum effectiveness, please ask Miorine to distrubite the head scratches)

[ngray192]

Ok, so a little while ago I posted about me writing scenes from a documentary that the Jurassic World Camp Cretaceous kids would do after they got rescued. So, since people wanted to see it; here it is...

"State your name, please"

>

"Ben Pincus"

>

"Sammy Gutierrez"

>

"Yasmina Fadoula"

>

"Just uh call me Brooklyn"

>

"Kenji Kon"

>

"Darius Bowman"

///////

"What were your first feelings when you got to Camp Cretaceous?"

>

"I was terrified"

>

"I felt guilty because I was there to spy..."

>

"I just didn't want to be there. Camp was never really my thing."

"Can you elaborate, Yasmina?"

"I've never been too good at making friends. My life has always been about being the best as an individual, not as a team."

>

"I was ready to 'unbox Jurassic World'" She chucked a little when she said the line she had said so much during her time on the island

>

"I don't really know how I felt." He paused. "I guess I felt like I was lying to myself. I kept telling these kids how rich I was hoping it would make me feel better about how my dad just put me on this island to get rid of me for a few weeks."

>

"I was excited. My dad and I always wanted to go to Jurassic World and I actually did it, I got to see dinosaurs."

///////

"I didn't want to leave them," their camp counselor, Roxie, said "but I was forced to. We tried everything to get them back, but after three months we lost hope. We didn't expect them to survive on their own for more than a month, let alone seven."

>

Yasmina put her foot on her chair, motioning for the camera to zoom in. "I had to get surgery for my ankle. When I distracted the Mossosaurus I had to jump onto the stadium. I tore a ligament right here," she pointed to a small scar and then sat back down. "It hurt like hell, but I just kept running. There was... so much running. Every day, we ran, and ran, and ran."

>

"I... couldn't hold on," Darius didn't look at the camera. "I couldn't hold on and he fell."

"Darius," the interviewer said his name gently, "Ben is fine. Everyone is fine."

"No, none of us are fine. We're all scarred, we can't sleep, I know none of us eat enough. None of us are fine, and it's my fault because I couldn't hold on."

>

"We blew up an entire tunnel to get to that boat. We almost killed Toro, we used Ben's hand sanitizer to light a fuse. And we still didn't make it. We had to go on fighting to stay alive cause it wasn't enough." Kenji looked down at his lap.

>

"That's when we met Mitch and Tiff." Darius said to the interviewer. "They pretended to be there to rescue us, but they lied. They were there to hunt dinosaurs, and almost killed us."

>

"We– we thought he was dead." Brooklyn had tears in her eyes. "We watched him fall. Darius blamed himself, Kenji wore his fanny-pack, Sammy cried and cried. Then he was back, with Bumpy."

"Bumpy?"

Brooklyn smiled slightly, "She's Ben's best friend, an Ankylosaurus we met in the genetics lab. He called her Bumpy because she had asymmetrical head bumps."

>

"We watched people die. After a while, it just didn't phase us." Ben said, not looking at the camera. "That can change someone. We saw dinosaurs eat people, see what was left while we walked through the jungle, and we changed. Darius went into 'leader mode', Brooklyn went into 'Esther Stone mode', Kenji just shut down and acted like it wasn't happening, Sammy tried to stay positive, Yaz just kept pushing herself, and I-" he stopped talking. "I got dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

Ben looked up, his eyes were glossy. "My only thought was survival. I was ready to beat the shit out of that Hap guy even though he wanted to help us. I blew stuff up, I even tried to stay on the island."

"Why would you want to stay on the island?"

He shrugged, "People want to do crazy things when separated from civilization."

>

"I couldn't do anything. I wish I could, but I was useless. Yaz nearly killed herself for Sammy, Darius did everything to get us home, Brooklyn's YouTube videos helped us countless times, Ben had a fucking dinosaur, but me? I was absolutely useless." Kenji put his head in his hands.

"I'm sure you tried your best, Kenji" the interviewer was calm.

"How would you know?" He stood up off the chair, looking at the interviewer, "I showed Darius Toro. I wanted us to go in the tunnels. I didn't pack so we didn't set sail and the Scorpious came. I was gonna give Wu the computer and let the world be ravaged by dinos. I trusted my dad. I wasn't helpful at all when we were there!"

>

"Some good things happened when we were there," Sammy said, smiling a little. "I got to meet so many amazing people. I stopped a corrupt company. I met my amazing girlfriend. It was horrible, yes, but it wasn't all bad."

//////

"Did you have a favorite moment on Nublar?"

>

"When Bumpy and I ran over Dr. Wu's laptop."

>

"The night we saw Tiff and Mitch's campfire. Kenji brought out Dave's mixtape and I swear it was the funniest thing ever. We were all dancing and laughing, I wish Ben was there." Sammy chuckled softly.

>

"This one day Ben and I had to bring Pierce, Firecracker, Angel, and Rebel to the new watering hole. That's when I told him I had feelings for Sammy and he did this stupid voice when he was 'helping me' by pretending to be her."

>

"When Ben saved us. Kenji and I were about to be caught by Hap and all of a sudden he falls. Behind him Bumpy and Ben were just standing there and it was one of the most amazing and confusing moments of my life."

>

"Seeing my brother get off that boat. We got the proximity alert and I was so worried there was gonna be another problem, but there wasn't. He got my call and I got to see him again, I never thought I'd get to see him again."

[fellasleepinbaltimore]

it's just like I'm struggling bc in a sense it feels like a surrender like ghtjyju I would be fine with being a man if like it was a meaningless category like if it was actually okay to be something other than what is expected as the ideal if it was the actual like... "just be an effeminate man" like if it really meant nothing and if my body didn't automatically push me down someone's mental conveyorbelt of social interaction in a way that forced me to participate in this dance where I'm aspiring to do the best in part that is not suited to me and I never asked for if people could like see me as I am in my brain and not always looking at me and what I do or say through the lense of manhood like saying I don't id as man or woman would be enough, it would be enough to say I'm person before I'm any gender if it changed anything like I know it about myself but how I do convey that to everyone else? how would they know? how does one convey personhood in a non gendered way 😭😭 like

it feels like a surrender to a society what will only judge and ridicule nonconformity but also as making peace with the world as it is and maybe the most responsible choice to make for one's own sanity.

it eats me up inside bc I really like never asked for it. to be this way and I'm not trying to shit on it like there's something wrong with it it's just so much work. it's already so much work to figure everything else out I'm literally unemployed uneducated constantly living off of others I'm struggling to like build a basic life for me add on the fucking sisyphean task of jailbreaking your genetic code like I literally don't know how im going to do this. I don't want to keep living the life I lead before but I don't know that I'm brave enough to go forth with the path before and I'm so serious about it.

if I was rich and independent it'd be different but I'm not I'm poor and surrounded by people who simply don't get it and likely never will even if they love me.

having to be a man is not something I can swallow I need to be allowed to be soft but I don't know how to go from me here what my life with look like it's so much pressure and I don't know if I can do it it's so much fucking work constant shaving and voice training and clothes and money and laser removal and extensions and makeup and indignity and shame and fighting it's a constant fight and it sounds exhausting and I'm already fucking tired bro like this has already been so fucking much I'm so fucking tired already I already have shit I have to fucking carry it's not woe is me I know everyone does but I'm kind everyone else people have limits and I feel like I'm fucking at mine it's constantly grating at me but I can't fucking do shit about it!!!

so much fucking fighting for something I don't want!!!! I don't want to pass!! or be a woman!! but I'll have to be if not maybe I'll end up fucking dead!! bc regardless I have to conform! I have to be beautiful, I don't get to be, I'll have to be.... it's literally trading one thing for the other and it makes mad I can't stay where I am and maybe I'll like where I go better but it still will be insufferable!!

this is why I think regardless of how I was born id still feel nonbinary and like there's just something wrong with me and gender for some reason idk and tbh gender doesn't matter most of the time but when it does it hits and it feels sicklyyyy like free me fr!!!

I feel like I can't decide bc I genuinely don't want to I literally wish with all my heart to shapeshift at will like I wish I could walk the line between the two worlds and be perfectly acceptable as I am

[tobiasdrake]

Yuma's found his nerve.

Creed says you're supposed to be a lone wolf and rely on nobody. But hey, maybe the creed's full of shit. Maybe you should take it down and burn it as soon as you get back to the agen--

Oh, wait, Makoto already did that for us.

Thanks, brother-from-another-test-tube!

Just. Don't. Lose sight of the "to make everyone happy" clause of that. The truth doesn't necessarily make everyone happy in and of itself. Like all things, what matters most is what you do with it.

I think it's worth trying. Why don't you? Better to reach for the stars and fall short than to keep your feet on the ground and never strive for more.

The reveal that Mystery Phantom Yuma was Mystery Phantom Makoto all along is a clever twist. I like that.

It was a sitcom-esque Wacky Misunderstanding! I called that! I just thought he was going to be Real Yuma.

Also, fuck you and your adherence to the Great Man of History philosophy. I don't think either Yuma or Makoto can singlehandedly save Kanai Ward. But I have faith that Kanai Ward can save Kanai Ward.

Yuma: Yuma Kokohead quit to go make ramen! That means his name and identity can be mine now, for good! No backsies! Makoto: Wait, so you're forsaking the name and identity of Number One entirely? Yuma: You heard me. Makoto: Oh cool. That means we don't even need to fight anymore. I get to be Number One now, for good. Yuma: Wait, that's not what I-- Makoto: Ah ah ah, no backsies. Yuma: I'm not going to let you take over the WDO! Makoto: Be quiet, Yuma. I don't think a rookie detective should speak that way to his boss. Now go make me a pot of coffee!

Danganronpa's always struggled with making its climax feel intense. For a series that is essentially just people standing around talking at each other until they can figure out the solution, it's hard to give it that CLIMACTIC. ACTION. FEEL. How do you make a Final Boss Fight in a mystery-solver?

Ace Attorney runs into similar issues, having to strike a careful balance between dynamically fighting off an archvillain with words and oh my god when will it end why is he still going.

But here? Here, we get to punch the bad guy right in his fucking face.

It's a nice bit of escalation with some genuinely cool imagery.

That ultimately does little to disguise the fact that this fight is still just Yuma briefly summarizing the facts of the case, then smacking the facts with his sword to make them bean Makoto in the face.

Sounds fake but go on.

That sounds more believable. Makoto wanted to do all of this in the Mystery Labyrinth so that he could take another look at everything he's done and reassess himself and the decisions he's made. I can believe that. That sounds like a thing he'd do.

You took too much on yourself, man. That's the problem with the WDO's creed. It discourages cooperation.

As I've often said, there is no greater problem-solving resource than another human being. Kanai Ward doesn't need a Great Man of History to save it. It needs a chance to crowdsource a better solution.

I don't know what the answer is. I don't have a PHD in genetics or culinary arts. But someone might.

Hold up, are we talking about turning off the cloud generator right now? Because that's not the right answer. Definitely not.

Your options suck and I hate you. Let's do something else instead.

Oh shit, they really are going to make us choose. The metaphysics demand it.

I mean. Obviously we reap Makoto's soul. It's the only way to leave and it's not like it will matter anyway. It has been firmly established that homunculi can regenerate from soul-reaping. If the defective homunculi can do it then Makoto can too. This wouldn't kill him in any way that matters.

I don't want to kill Makoto. I think he has good intentions and just needs to learn to see past his own bullshit. Fortunately, this won't kill him so let's bounce!

I mean, it probably will actually perma-kill him despite violating the internal consistency of the game's metaphysics. Writers tend to forget what they've already established when they try to write these Cruel Choice conclusions. That same problem hit Life is Strange like a ton of brick with their poorly-conceived final choice.

But I choose to hold the game to what it's previously established. If soul-reaping could perma-kill homunculi then we wouldn't have seen Yakou and the other killers in the Restricted Area.

If your metaphysics will allow that, sure.

Yuma's coming around. Discarding emotion to reach a logical conclusion is a bad way of helping people.

My dude, idealism solves everything. No progress would ever been made if it weren't for idealistic fools believing it could be done. We wouldn't have planes today if some dipshit hadn't gone, "I'm gonna try to fly, and fuck you if you think I can't."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA YES

I did not think we'd actually get Yuma this far but he made it! Let's crowdsource this shit! In this complex moral debate between Yuma and Makoto, I fucking won!

This final chapter has been extremely validating for me. ^_^

[antiloreolympus]

9 Anti LO Asks

1. I know nothing about this, I just stumbled onto your blog and started reading, but I saw a post where (presumably) the author said that Aphrodite and Persephone... weren't skinny? They're tiny??? Wtf

2. I love long-haired men so much I never thought I would consider a long-haired man ugly. But goddamn, Hades still looks ugly even with long hair, even to me. That's impressive... are you, like, alive, btw?

3. You know, in the new currently fast pass chapter... Kronos takes over Hades and makes him say stuff to Thanatos? Right, but then he goes, "What's wrong, don't want Persephone to be your new mommy?" Which is terrible writing enough on it's own but then you HAVE to consider that PERSEPHONE HERSELF IS YOUNGER THAN THANATOS, SOMEONES WHOSE MEANT TO BE HADES' SURROGATE SON (who he treats like shit). Like, Hades is more than old enough to be a father but Persephone only JUST turned old enough to maybe be a mother! Which really makes you realize, Hades isn't old enough to be her dad, he's old enough to be her grandpa. Disgusting. Like, there can't be any defense for this 💀

4. tbh i think eris is a shit character and a hamfisted plot device. she could have been added so much better.

5. My personal criticism with LO has mostly to do with the art style. Like yes the writings kinda trashy but trashy can still be good if its coupled with great visuals and characters. The problem is that the arts just pathetically inconsistent. You can't even blame webtoon for it since she has a few assistants. I'm an artist myself and even tho I don't draw for a living, I know it's fairly easy to create simple character charts and reference sheets. Some people say it's not that bad but god the inconsistency in the characters appearances can ruin chapters for me.

For example, the fact that Persephone sometimes has siren eyes, doe eyes, full lips, no lips, extra body fat, less body fat, a button nose, or a longer nose is ridiculous. It drives me nuts when people call the art amazing, because it's just not. And it seems like all of her aesthetic details (IE wardrobe and colors) are all very surface level, aside from Minthe/Persephone and Hades contrasts.

Demeter being green and purple makes some sense, but then her daughter being neon pink ONLY is weird. Hades being blue and winter-esq makes some sense since there's no sun in the underworld, but the ENTIRE underworld being the same blue and black is just ugly. Zeus being a royal purple? Makes sense. Hera being gold? That too. They're the only color pallets that actually correspond with personality, yet they're wasted with basic wardrobes and character development.   Ares being gold makes sense GENETICALLY, but not in practicality. Same with Hermes being red. Plus, she seems to assign colors to characters at random without even seeing how they build off of each other, let alone their own personalities.

I don't think people really get how important color and wardrobe are in stories, especially visual ones. You should be able to look at a character and immediately understand what they're about, even if it's subconsciously. But Persephone is often in bright happy colors and tight clothing even in times of stress or depression. Artemis is always in workout gear or her uniform. Minthe is more in "sexy" clothing, which is fine, but her colors don't change with her mental state.

Another problem I have is again with Persephone. Her wardrobe isn't even picked out by her, it's always by others/magic. She never really gets to visually tell us how she feels other than her glaringly obvious vines and eyes. Like, I could deal with a visual crutch if the writing was good or vise versa, but when they're both lacking it just sucks.

I see a lot of people say the same things I wanted to, like how creepy Perse and Hades are, how Apollo wasn't handled well, yada yada yada. Anyway Hades is creepy and Hera, Minthe, and Demeter deserve the world ✌🏼

6. It's really funny bc I've been reading some of the scenes of Hades' problematic action (esp the latest fast pass) and he literally talks like my abusive dad and my ex groomer. Like hm maybe your male lead having the same verbal manipulation tactics as actual abusers isn't the best. But oh my bad Hades is still a perfect man /s

7. something that makes me angry about demeter is that we are supposed to see her as an abusive or controlling mother ( i know that controlling mothers is an obviously bad thing ) but all her reasons are a good part of the time valid?

Like:

She doesn't want her child dating a 40y + man who she knows for like 11 days +++ someone who was literally a horrible person with her until the point she cried .

And lets not forget about the slaver owner thing 🥺 demeter knows hades more time  than persephone, obviously. It's not something bad if you dont want your TEENAGER daughter next to a grown old man who the only thing he thinks about its her "small petite thicc pink body" 😁

8. i just wanted to say that i really love your blog, like whenever i look at it i feel better. idk if thats kinda weird since its an anti blog but it just kinda brings me euphoria. ty!

From OP: Thank you so much! I’m glad my blog can be beneficial for you. /pos

-----FP Spoiler-----

9. 220 spoiler: full fuckin disrespect, we all know Kronos wants Persephone rather than Hera as his “golden traitor”, because fuck every other god/goddess, the only ones that matter are Hades and Persephone!!