#and i just have to wonder how much time i could have saved if i was told that me having dissociative episodes wasn't normal

[signanothername]

Why do you like Killer?

*Cracks knuckles* get ready

I don’t like Killer, I fucking LOVE HIM

He’s my number 1 fave au sans and has been for a very long time

Now to be clear, I’m talking about canon Killer here, i have mixed feelings about some fanon interpretations, some are good and i genuinely love them, others not so much

That being said, let’s actually talk about why i love my beautiful amazing wonderful son <3333

(All art used in this post is by Killer’s creator: Rahafwabas)

The very first hook for me is his very concept, the mere idea of a sans basically agreeing to go on a killing spree after so many genocide runs is just *chef’s kiss*

Killer knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t, yet he did

Killer doomed himself by his choice, he could’ve stayed as “sans” but he chose to accept Chara’s offer, yet his choice came to be after he saw no point in refusing anymore (important addition and a correction here)

The canon comics had Killer saying that he’s the way he is cause he gave up, he said “you won, you’re the reason I’m like this”, he’s been on so many genocide runs that he felt a little part of him die each run, only to give up and go on said killing spree

It’s interesting how the player is a big part of Killer’s story, cause whether Chara was involved or not, the player is the root cause of his suffering

But what i love the most is that regardless of his backstory or reasons, Killer’s actions led to their inevitable consequences, and it forever changed him

The biggest change? His very soul, it went from a normal monster soul to his signature target soul, infused with Determination, something that supposedly hurts monsters, it’s almost like his soul was infected with it, and you can see how it physically affects him with the black liquid that constantly comes out his eyes, nose and mouth, and even at times, that sludge is too much that he chokes on it

And the amusing yet tragic parallel? Killer aimed to “feel something new” by his genocide runs, only to end up not feeling anything at all, at least at his default stage 2

Which brings me to the concept of his soul’s stages

I love Killer’s stages so so much, it’s such a beautiful unique and wonderful concept

Killer’s individual stages are sooooo intriguing to me, it shows Killer in a different light each time depending on which stage he’s in, stage 1 is the closest he is to being “sans”, the closest to he used to be, he can feel emotions and is generally back to his more lazy bones attitude, as well as his ability to actually show sympathy, and feel the pain he’s always in, but what’s interesting is that regardless of the fact he’s the closest to his old self in this stage, it’s still so clear that Killer isn’t really “sans” anymore, that no matter what, he truly had changed in a way that can never be reversed, a point of no return, even when Color saves him, cause his new habits? His fears? His pain? His trauma? They can never be taken away, Killer has to live with the scars of what he experienced

Stage 2 is who he’d become, he can’t feel anything at this stage, emotions nonexistent, and his nonchalant behavior towards himself and others is most apparent here, a parallel I like to think of is that Killer’s inability to feel anything at all is almost like prolonged sensory deprivation, when you’re deprived of sensory input/ simulation for long periods, your brain needs compensate, and so it does its job, Killer’s soul prevents him from feeling so he resorts to other methods (usually very self destructive) to compensate for his lack of emotional capacity

I also really really love how that especially during stage 2, Killer isn’t trustworthy, cause in stage 1 you can actually trust him to an extent, in stage 2 Killer’s actions, behaviors and mindset are completely unpredictable, but not because he’s random, cause he’s actually extremely calculated, yet regardless, his carelessness when it comes to his own life and other people’s lives is dialed to an 11 here, so he could either choose to kill/attack or simply stay and listen

we even get an actual in depth look at how Killer’s mind works in one of the canon comics, in which Killer contemplates whether to attack Dream or not as he listens to his own stages in his head, one of which tells him to Kill Dream, while the other tells Killer to talk to Dream first

How Killer comes to a final decision on whether he attacks or not is something I believe his calculated mind makes depending on the situation and the pros/cons of what act he chooses, Killer is pretty smart, he knows when to let his trigger happy self out and when to settle down

Stage 3 or the “crazy stage” is the stage in which he’d attack anyone in his way whether friend or foe, we unfortunately don’t have much canon info regarding this stage, but that ain’t gonna stop me from analyzing the shit outta it (and talk about how i perceive it)

I like to think of this stage as the combination between stage 1 and 2, yet it’s almost like his soul can’t truly decide on which stage to settle on and by extension founding stage 3 as a separate stage by itself, Killer becomes extremely unstable at this stage, his soul moves rapidly and it’s obvious he’s in pain cause of it, whether that pain is just emotional or both physical and emotional isn’t really clear, yet i’d like to believe it’s both, and i feel like Killer’s capacity to attack anyone at this stage is related to that pain, and something I really love to believe is that Killer can’t calm down enough to settle back to stage 1 or 2 unless he either wears himself out by fighting someone, or he’s left alone to his own demons long enough to pull himself together, if he were to be forcefully restrained during this stage, it would only serve to make it worse and prolong the time he stays that way (cough something i may or may not have made a quick comic about but never shared as always vjvjvjj)

Not to mention, one of the canonical responses Killer gives when asked if he’s ok at stage 3 seems to make Killer alternate between answers he wants to give between saying he’s “fine” and “i don’t know” which makes sense, Killer isn’t stable at all, it’s almost like his stage 1 self and stage 2 self are fighting over who gets to talk (stage 2 seems more dominant)

Yet the fact Killer is able to answer and comprehend his surroundings enough at this stage is very intriguing to me, cause it shows how much Killer is able to handle/endure (which is A LOT cause damn) and not only that, but it also gives us a very clear difference between this stage and stage 4

As for stage 4?? Woooh boi, it’s the stage I like to call “plunging into darkness”

We also don’t have much canon info about this stage, but one of the things i find interesting is the fact Killer deliberately keeps it a secret from everyone, when he tells Color about his stages, he only tells him up to stage 3, never bringing up stage 4, only for Chara to sneer at Killer that he shouldn’t keep it from his new BFF

It’s obvious Killer himself is very uncomfortable with the subject of stage 4, it’s apparent that it’s a stage that he rarely gets to, but it still bothers him enough to not want to even mention it, which makes sense, cause the comic we had of stage 4 shows that Killer gets to that stage when he’s reminded of all the murders he committed, and unsurprisingly, when he’s reminded of his brother, as what triggered this stage is actually a memory of Papyrus telling Sans to “see a puzzle”, only to be followed by memories of screams of anger, fear, and hatred of those he killed immediately afterwards, stage 4 is heavily related to his trauma

Not to mention it’s clear that when Killer gets to stage 4 he blacks out, he’s completely unaware of anything he does during this stage, and is only left to deal with the aftermath when he gets back to his senses, the fact it’s also a stage that seems to be “getting worse” is something that Killer definitely seems to hate

It sometimes makes me think whether Killer had gotten into trouble cause he killed someone Nightmare wanted alive while at this stage, cause with how he keeps it a secret, I’d assume Nightmare would be unaware of it for a while (comic idea perhaps >:) )

But y’know what’s better than talking about the stages?? Talking about Killer’s personality, behaviors and trauma

Killer can’t distinguish between what’s real or not, and it’s obvious he sometimes sees the world in the third person, as in he’s not completely there at times, not to mention the amount of voices he hears in his head, from his stages talking to him to hallucinations of Chara, Frisk and Papyrus, and oooh boi does he hate these hallucinations, the past obviously haunts Killer and it’s something he tries running away from constantly, yet he can never truly run from it when it follows him everywhere

Killer has a smile on his face most the time, but his attitude changes especially when Chara is mentioned, or when he’s reminded of his past in any way, he literally avoids food that reminds of his past life as “sans”, he freezes up at certain phrases such as “best friend” (something i also made a comic about that i never shared chchhchc)

He just absolutely hates to be reminded of the person he used to be, of all the things he used to have, cause in truth? They were all taken away from him by his own hands, only to be then forced to work under Nightmare, who only ensures that he never finds peace of mind

And the sad part? Killer let’s all those things hurt him, he lets Nightmare have his way with him, he lets Chara torment him, cause he thinks he deserves it, and most importantly, he deluded himself into believing that this is what he wants because it’s what everyone else wants, because it’s what the player wants

Killer even sometimes tries to force himself not to feel anything, cause come on, since when does he feel anything at all?

Killer, to put it bluntly, hates himself, and he thinks that his suffering is the Karma of what he’s done, and even at one point, he was going to erase himself out of existence cause he believed that’s what he deserved, as in Killer thought of himself as unworthy when it comes to Papyrus, that his brother doesn’t need him, that his brother is better off without him, hell he even tells Color that he needs to kill him if he ever reaches stage 3, it’s an obvious “ i want someone to put me outta my misery” attitude

Killer feels hopeless, and so he lets himself suffer thinking he can’t ever find peace or hope again

Yet the interesting part? You’d never know that Killer hates himself unless you’re a being of emotions (Nightmare and Dream) or someone who’s perceptive enough to notice Killer’s self-loathing like Color, that’s how good of an actor Killer can be, you’d think he’s a cold emotionaless killer but the truth only shines to those who actually can see through his act

Killer just has that amazing character depth and his story is genuinely so unique and beautiful, cause you in his story you can find details of other details within the details vhvhvjvj

All that? Mixed with really adorable little things like his love for cats, his silly attitude, his nonchalance with Nightmare, his capacity to be social with whoever, and his friendship with color? That is why I love Killer Anon <33333

[artyandink]

that’s my man (and my woman)

Summary: Your kids are curious little buggers. Asking questions about everything and anything under the sun. So there comes the complications of when your kids ask you if you’ve fallen in love before. How will you explain everything? Time to put your imagination to use.

A/N - I’ve been putting out a lot of sexy fics recently. Why not some fluff?

Song Inspo: Style - Taylor Swift and Perfect - Ed Sheeran

It took so long just to get two human beings to eat breakfast.

“Charlie, Sam, breakfast!” You called up the stairs, sighing after you did. Your hands were on your hips in true mom fashion, and disbelief and faux-regret was your adrenaline high this time as you wondered why exactly you had kids. That you loved to death despite their poor eating schedule. “Come on, I made pancakes.”

The thundering of little feet on the stairs told you that you had two incoming hurricanes.

Your seven year old boy, Sam, and your five year old girl, Charlie, appeared at the bottom of the stairs with broad smiles, crashing into you for a bear hug that knocked the wind out of your sails. You laughed as you hugged them back, giving a few pats of their head each. “Hey, there. Ready for breakfast?”

“Is there syrup?” Charlie asked eagerly, running and hopping into a high chair, grabbing her plate of pancakes and bringing it to her with a familiar lick of her lips and happy, twitchy grin. Sam had gotten his father’s hair, while Charlie had gotten yours. But the eyes were swapped around, and it was always a point of laughing. Not one child could be more like one or the other.

Arguably, both kids had their father’s dimples and smile. So yes, he could stake his claim.

“And whipped cream?” Sam added with a toothy grin.

“Raspberries?”

“Blueberries?”

You shook your head with a chuckle; such chatterboxes. You opened the fridge and a cabinet, getting out the maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries. “Not too much, ok?” You passed the toppings to them, and with a chorused ‘yes, mom’, they proceeded to completely disregard your orders. It made you shake your head again, huffing out a breath when all sense of scolding them disappeared once you saw the golden morning light hitting their little heads as they squealed and laughed.

Kids. You loved them to bits.

“Mom,” Charlie asked through a bite of pancake and whipped cream that smeared over her mouth, “have you ever loved someone before?”

The question startled you slightly, but you grabbed a kitchen towel, cleaning her lips with a soft smile as she shied away with a shriek of delight, little bunches waving about wildly. “Course I have, sweetie. But only once.”

“Ooh, tell me, tell me!” She giggled, while Sam cringed a little, muttering a small ‘gross’ that got a sharp glare and pout from Charlie. Out of care for his little sister, he shut himself up.

You took a slow breath in to give yourself time to think, leaning on the counter and putting down the paper towel. “Well, it started a long time ago. When I was twenty six, all young.”

“That’s old.” Sam wrinkled his nose in confusion. You scoffed lightly, because it damn wasn’t, but he was just a kid.

“Behave, Samuel.” You ruffled his hair with a laugh. “We met at my old job. 4th October, 2006. He had his brother with him. Now, I thought he was trouble. He had a leather jacket and one of those really fancy, loud cars and he was very popular with girls.” You reached out to tickle Charlie’s side, which had her squeaking. “But he was likeable, and charming, so I wanted to bump into him more often.”

“Was he cool?” Sam perked up, suddenly very interested. “He sounds cool.”

You pinched his chin affectionately. “The coolest. But our job was very tiring. We went through a lot of big stuff, like I told you in your bedtime stories. There would be vampires and werewolves and fairies of all kinds, but he and I would always save the day. And if we didn’t, we’d save the next day.”

“You saved the world!” Charlie exclaimed, making an aeroplane with a pancake bite on her fork. The action sent a flutter of warmth and love through your chest. For your family. Something you thought you’d never have.

You nodded, guiding the bite to her mouth gently before your hyperactive child sent the fork flying. “That’s right, gumdrop. We saved the world.” It was like telling a story, of you and your prince. “I couldn’t help but love him. He’d call me sweetheart and hold me tight. He’d look at me with a wide smile on his face, just for me. And he told me I was the one he was looking for.”

“That’s corny.” Sam piped up, but he also had a wide, goofy, dimpled grin on his face. He leaned forward. “So, where is he now? Did you two leave each other?”

“Well, he-” The sound of the door opening and closing echoed through the house, followed by soft padding steps and heavier ones not so far behind.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” A familiar voice called, the deep one which always had your stomach doing flips. That you heard murmuring sweet nothings in your ear every damn day. “C’mon Miracle, stay still- attaboy. Such a good boy.”

“That would be your father.” You sighed, not in a disappointed way, but a lovesick teenager way because hearing the word ‘sweetheart’ from your husband’s mouth never got old.

Your husband. Damn, you didn’t think you’d make it to that point. Not when Chuck was still a threat. Or even that rebar that Jack saved him from.

Your kids shrieked happily and practically flew off their high chairs, sprinting towards their dad, who was busy taking off his jacket in the hallway.

Dean Winchester. All 6’ 1” of flannel and denim, but this time with burden-free smiles and lit up looks.

When he saw his two munchkins, the jacket was off in a flash and he’d bent to one knee in order to absorb the impact of two koala hugs. “Aw, hey, squirt number one and two. Hope you didn’t give your mom much trouble.”

It felt so much better than the impact of a punch. Indescribably better.

“Dad!” The two giggled at the same time, accepting two kisses on the forehead each while being smothered by their dad’s strong arms. Warm and comforting and no longer instruments of destruction.

They’d always be somewhat like that, Dean thought in the back of his mind. The seed of doubt sowing in again.

Then Dean saw you in the hallway, and his brain forgot to work, doubts forgot to sow and crept into the dark corner it came from. You, his wife (he never got tired of the way that word rolled off his tongue), Mrs Winchester, standing there all pretty looking at him with those eyes of yours that always saw through his crap and often jackassery.

Dressed up in his undershirt, your sweats with the last few winks of sleep yet to go from your eyes, but still working yourself to the bone to make sure your kids had a good meal. A far cry of the days where he’d look up, see you covered in blood that wasn’t yours, adrenaline-pumped with that sexy fire in your eyes, machete in hand instead of that ring he bought around your finger.

He preferred this look on you. It meant you were safe.

Dean watched as you gave Miracle an idle scratch before ushering the kids into the kitchen, then walking up to him and wrapping those gorgeous arms around his neck, gorgeous eyes twinkling and your gorgeous lips stretched into a smile.

The whole nine yards, apple pie and picket fence of gorgeous and it was all his. All his personal heaven.

“Mrs Winchester.” He murmured, nudging your nose with his as his arms circled your waist, drawing you in and gripping your hips with both underlying possessiveness and a tender glow in those emerald eyes. Your soul soaring and low, warm vibrations in your body increasing until it was at the frequency of his. Syncing you both.

“Mr Winchester.” You giggled softly as you let your lips meet his once, pulling back. Then you couldn’t help yourself, letting them meet in holy matrimony again. And again. And again, over and over until you were both mentally and physically restraining yourselves due to your children being in the next room.

“We have to stop.” Dean chuckled, his hand tangling in your hair as the other inched down from its place on your hip, taking yet another hit of your honeyed lips.

“We do.” You whispered back, meeting his ministrations with the slow massage of your thumb against his scalp from where your fingers ran through his hair, your other hand on his chest.

Over his heart.

“Hard to when y’looking so pretty, darlin’, and you know it.” He huffed, nuzzling your nose before dipping to press a slow, hot kiss to your jugular. “Wearin’ my shirt too, hardens the bargain. And these sweats, god, you know what they do for your ass.” As if to punctuate his point (and sentence), he gave a quick, firm slap to it. “Ain’t makin’ it easy for me here, baby.”

“Dean!” You squeaked, giggling. “Our kids are in the kitchen.”

“Lil’ buggers. My sex drive’s arch nemesis.” He groaned against your neck, but listened anyway, taking his hand off your ass and cupping your cheeks, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, then hairline. “C’mon.” You two made your way to the kitchen, where Miracle then padded over, rearing on his hind legs to paw at Dean’s jeans for attention. He obliged, bending down to ruffle Miracle’s golden coat.

“Hey, boy.” He whispered, fingers doing good work to give Miracle the love he was whining for. “I love you a lot, ok? But I’ve got a wife, a very sweet, very sexy…” Dean gave you a once over with a lick of his lip and a quick bite of the bottom one, “wife. And I wanna get her in bed today, so don’t ruin this one for me. All respect given. Alright?”

A small whimper of affirmation.

“Attaboy.” Dean gave Miracle a quick scratch behind the ear before straightening up.

“C’mon, mom, tell us what happened to the cool guy!” Sam insisted, which had Dean raising an eyebrow at you in question. Cool guy? Who, what, when, where, how, why?

“Yeah, the one that stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes!” Charlie added, making a heart with her tiny hands.

Dean smirked, leaning against the counter by his hip. “Oh? Who stole your heart and put rainbows in your eyes, honey? Do tell.”

“First of all, I did not say that.” You chuckled, raising a finger.

“You don’t have to. It’s all here.” Charlie pointed to her own eyes with an intense stare at her finger and a cute pout. It almost had you melting. “But tell us!”

“Oh, fine.” You rolled your eyes playfully with a laugh, then took Dean’s hand and kissed the battle-scarred knuckle.

The gesture making Dean internally melt and externally making his eyes fill up with hearts and his lips twitch into a warm smile.

“I married him.” You said softly, your eyes mirroring the same look.

“Damn right.” He chuckled, leaning forward and meeting your lips in a sweet, slow kiss. Free from the stress of an Apocalypse or a battle. That tasted like coffee and toothpaste rather than beer or whiskey and had no rush. His hand cradling your cheek while yours gently cupped the back of his head. Breathing in his body wash that wasn’t low grade anymore. You still had the unlimited credit cards, so you had more time for things like these. The little things.

You became absorbed in everything Dean, the kiss not as passionate as when he’d dipped you and took your breath away in front of a crowd of hunters on your wedding day but still had the same meaning. The whispers of the vows you two had choked out through tears. He became absorbed in you, in the sweet taste of a croissant on your tongue and your floral scent dizzying and overwhelming his senses in a good way. It was you he was feeling. It felt like you, so real, so safe. It felt like home.

“Ewwww!” You were interrupted by Sam and Charlie, and you broke apart, foreheads pressing together with a soft laugh coming from the both of you.

His hand on your waist, yours carding through his hair. Comfort, assurance, something you both had been deprived of for fifteen straight years. You wouldn’t let being Mrs Winchester go. Not now, not ever.

Mrs Winchester. Never got old.

I’d appreciate a like, comment and/or reblog! Make sure to do this for all your favourite writers so they get inspiration!

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[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi! So I'm currently re-reading acotar and honestly I forgot how much I love this series. Because you're such an amazing writer (and if you're taking acotar requests) i was wondering if you could write a little angsty love triangle involving Eris x reader x Azriel? She's Rhys little sister and has been pining over Azriel for years but he never gives her the time of day and because of this she develops a strong friend with Lucien (they both just want to be loved) and in swoops Eris. Or Rhys makes some sort of deal with Eris requiring her help. I'm not sure I'm just such a sucker for an angsty love triangle 🤍

It took me a hot minute so I apologize. I hope you will still enjoy it. 🤍✨

You look lonely - I can fix that

You loved him. Loved him so much that you were willing to tear yourself apart over and over and over again. Watching him fall and break himself over females that wanted nothing to do with him. Settling for a temporary glimpse of love when you were there offering him a lifetime of devotion. But it’s as if he was unseeing when it came to you. As if all of your gestures of love went right over Azriel’s head.

“I just want to be someone’s first chance”, he chuckled bitterly after an argument he had with Mor. “You are though”, you muttered, despite eyes looking up at the males clouding your eyes for decades. “Not like a friend to you, little one”, he smiled at you. Making the aching whole shape of him within your heart bleed all over again. “But you are”, you muttered. Silently begging him to see you. But all he did was brush the side of your face, “You’ll sweet but you don’t know what it means to love someone who doesn’t love you back”, his words sliced you open. But you pushed the emotion deeper within. Watching him step away from you.

Then in came Elain. You had tried to keep him away. Keep him away from the hellfire that was gonna swallow him if he chose the path that he was going down in. But that had only made his frustration pour out on you. “I’m trying to warn you because I care”, you screamed at him, bitter tears falling down your cheeks. “No one asked for your opinion on my love life”, Azriel bit back, “Stick to your tea parties and pretty dresses”. You wished you could cut him out of your system. Get rid of the flame of hope.

“Save some for me”, you flinch slightly. Dropping the bottle of bourbon on the grass before reaching back to pull the spilling bottle up. Lucien didn’t seem to mind. And you were too tipsy to care as you offered the bottle to him. “What are we drinking to?”, he sat down next to you, pulling a handkerchief before handing it to you. “Our fucked love life”, you sniffed, hating yourself for it. “Yeah, fuck them”, Lucien saluted before throwing his head back, “You and I, we are on the same boat sweetie”, he handed the bottle back to you. “Two outcasts of love”, you chuckled bitterly before taking another sip.

What you didn’t expect was to find such comfort in Lucien. You two had no mutual interest in being together. There was nothing between you romantically but the comfort of having a soul that called to the same pain was as if breathing again. So you stuck together. Going on hunting trips. Parties. Gatherings. Visiting each other in your homes. So it wasn’t that big of a surprise when Lucien asked you to accompany you to one of the celebrations that were happening in autumn.

That’s how you found yourself watching him make females swoop over the magic tricks he was casting. Not being able to suppress a light smile. Loving that his playful side was slowly coming back. “Mind if I join you”, that voice alone made a shiver run down your spine. And another one once you eyes too in a sign in front of you. In a deep shade of green stood none other than Eris. Lethal the beauty of this male was. “It pains me that my brother brought a lady of unmatched beauty with him but left her alone to play ancient tricks instead”, he stepped closer bringing a scent of pines and forest with him. “I don’t mind”, you shrugged, “I’m happy that he’s in a much brighter spirit”. Eris hummed at your words. Eyes never leaving you. “And are you?”, he asked, making your heart flutter, “Are you in brighter spirits?” You tried to open your mouth to say something. Anything. To smile. To brush off the ache that didn’t leave you. Eris reached out, brushing away a strand of your night black hair, “You look lonely, my love”, he muttered, “I can fix that”.

And to his promise Eris stayed true. And soon your time was occupied with him. And only him. He showed you Autumn. Brought you down his childhood trails. His dogs had been an immense part of your everyday walks. But all of that only mattered because he saw you. Not past you. But right through you. Into the depths of your soul. “I’m not a good man”, he muttered one night, fingers lazing and brushing over your exposed shoulder. “I don’t agree with that”, you shook your head. “That’s because you make me better. I don’t have the urge to bite when I’m with you”, he admitted, filling your heart up with so many emotions yet keeping all the scars from cracking open.

You bring him home after that. To your brother. To your family. Fueled by the same urge to show him your home. Part of it you loved dearly. Only joy was wiped off your face within a heartbeat. “What is he doing here?”, Azriel snarled, narrowing his eyes at Eris. “It’s my pleasure to see you once again”, Eris didn’t even miss a beat as his fox-like eyes followed Azriel. “I’m here because I’m courting this lovely woman”, he reached out for your hand before bringing it up to his lips. “That’s bullshit”, Azriel grunted, “Step away from him, Yn”, he ordered.

“No”, you breathed. Making Azriel frown even harder, “What do you mean no?” “I am seeing him. We’re together”, you watched all of the emotions fighting in Azriel’s eyes. From confusion. To anger. To hurt. “But…”, he muttered. “I got tired of waiting, Azriel”, you sighed, “I was ready and willing to give it all to you but you pushed me away, I was a child to you”, shrugging you looked up at him. “I can’t live like a second… no fuck that… tenth? Twentieth choice?”, “That’s not true”, he cut in, reaching out for you to be met with Eris’s firm hand, “Times up, bat. She’s my girl now. And I take pride in calling her mine”.

[mxtantrights]

HELLOOOOO!!!! IT’S 🌬️!!! SO SORRY FOR THE RADIO SILENCE :((((

But I’m back and ready to get this party started hehe, SO! What about Boxer!Jason running into you at the train station while you’re getting home from work. You don’t know each other, and he’s an intimidating guy, with bandages on his hands and a fading shiner on his face.

And Jason knows that, so he keeps to himself. Up until a group of drunk guys stumble into the almost deserted train station and start bothering you…

Have fun!!!! Much love, you’re amazing :))🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

It’s late at night and work really tested your limits today. So when you get on the train you don’t take notice of the guys in the cart with you. It wouldn’t be the first time that you got him into a cart with sketchy people.

But something about this time is different. Out of your peripheral vision, you see a guy a couple of seats to the right of you with bandages on his knuckles and maybe one bandage over the bridge of his nose.

And you think to yourself in that moment, he’s probably the one guy you will have to stay away from.

 much to your dismay the guys in the car proved to you that that’s not the case. They start coming over to you one by one. The first two don’t say anything to you. They just take up both ends of the bench that you’re sitting on. The third one is the one that actually says something to you. Something sleazy with a pet name that you really don’t like.

You can’t slide away from the man and you second-guess standing up and picking another seat. There’s only a few ways that could go even though you’re just trying to be by yourself. So you try and shake your head and tell him no, but he doesn’t seem to take no for an answer.

 It’s not until the fourth guy comes over, and they are both blocking your front view, that you decide enough is enough. You stand up and tell them to leave you alone and walk over to the only other soul in the cart.

Cue boxer!Jason.

 of course the guys weren’t gonna give up. But that doesn’t mean that boxer!Jason wouldn’t let it slide. He wasn’t going to let it slide to begin with, but once he saw that you got up, he decided that he would step in.

The guys follow you over to your new seat. But it doesn’t last for long because boxer! Jason stands up at his 6 foot height and stairs, both of them down. Which makes them both back up and try to act like they weren’t hounding you.

You’re silently thanking the beat up guy who saved you from whatever unknown fate you were going to meet in the train cart with those guys. And at the next stop, they decide to get off. Which leaves you alone…

With him.

He tells you that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. And you thank him for just being there. Of course, boxer! Jason is going to say you handled it well on your own. And you’re gonna throw in there that you had the confidence of a worker scorned.

So you give him your name. He gives you his. And you two hit it off. Non stop talking for several stops. And when it is you’re time to finally get off you pull out a sticky note with a pen. You scribble out your number as fast as you can and give it to him. And then run out the cart.

The doors close as boxer!Jason looks down at the little note you left him. Wondering how he was gonna turn this into more than a one time thing.

A/n: wind anon is back yall!! I hope you’re doing well and thank you so much for sending this in I adore you so much for this new idea <33333 I hope you enjoy.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Yandere Wanda Maximoff Headcanons (platonic-ish)

She doesn’t quite know when or how it happened but somehow her darling came into her life, even after everything. Wanda hadn’t thought she’d ever grow close to someone again, she never thought she’d end up gaining a friend after all the loses she’s had to endure. She didn’t even really know how much she desperately craved having a friend until she had you.

Wanda tries not to come off clingy, she doesn’t want to risk you pulling away because of it. She really doesn’t know what to do with herself when it comes to being around you. She doesn’t want to do anything to ruin the wonderful thing she’s been gifted. It would really take for you to be the one to instigate showing her even the slightest bit of affection or just the smallest amount of physical contact for her to allow herself to feel like she can do the same to you now. And now that she can she can’t help herself, she just wants to give all the love and affection she can muster. She never wants you to feel like you’re going without, no matter how small it may be.

Wanda knows what it’s like to be touch starved and lonely, she would make it her purpose to ensure you don’t ever have to feel that way. That you never have to go without or question whether you even deserve any form of affection to begin with.

Wanda would do her best to appeal more to you, she doesn’t only want to be what you need but what you would want too. She would adopt whatever trait or habit you seem to be drawn to if only to ensure her place in your life.

You would never have to ask for anything with Wanda. Except maybe some space and privacy, even then you’re most likely to never really get any again after she’s come into your life, but other than that your needs are all met and more. The thing about Wanda is that she puts her all into everything. Your care is her utmost priority, even if she believes you need more than you actually do. Wanda is a nurturer and in her mind you came in to her life when she had nothing at all, when she was completely lost. You saved her, you brought some meaning to her life again and she wants to repay you by taking care of you, by becoming something similar to what you’ve become to her.

She’s lost so much. All she’s ever wanted was something she could hold onto and love. Now she has you to do just that. She finally has something, someone to give her love and attention to, to hold in her embrace once more. And Wanda is not going to lose you, not after everything else she’s had taken away from her.

I think given everything that Wanda’s been through, everyone she’s had torn away from her, I could see her platonic and romantic feelings kind of mixing together. Her darling starts out being strictly platonic until she delves deeper into her obsession and the boundaries of her affections begins to blur together at some point. Her darling has inevitably become her everything so there for she in turn gives them her all, her everything.

Wanda would be extremely fragile in more ways than one. After everything she’s been through it’s to be expected. She’s really tried taking in and living as normally as she could after you came into her life but there’s only so much she can take. Having to watch her darling interact with others on a daily basis it really starts to stir something deep inside her, something very possessive.

It really wouldn’t take much for her to come to the conclusion of taking you away from the life you’ve known and bringing you into her new world, an entire place she’s made just for the two of you. She’s spent a lot of time working on it, not to mention she’s learned from the Westview situation too so it’s entirely secluded without anyone else having to be or ending up thrown into like before. It’s strictly just you and Wanda.

Wanda wouldn’t be able to handle any animosity or resentment from you. Any kind of negative response would just break her all the more. She’s trying her best, can’t you see that? Can’t you just be good and give in to the world she’s created for you? This is all for you after all, just a world meant for you and her to be together in with no interruptions or obstacles. In this life, you two are the only one either of you can truly depend on in her mind.

You may not see it, yet, but you need her and she needs you more than anything else. You’re her last shred of being able to experience the life she’s always wanted, her last hope for normalcy, even if your situation isn’t exactly ‘normal’. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it but she’s putting her everything onto you, plunging you into her darkness along with her, unconsciously. If she knew what she was doing she would hate herself all the more for it and try to protect you from herself but at this point she just can’t see it. And honestly she doesn’t want to see it. Any of it. As far as she’s concerned this is fine, everything is fine and if it’s not then she’ll make it that way.

Her overprotectiveness is out of this world, especially at this point in time. She’s lost so much, has had so much ripped away from her but she won’t let it happen again. Not with you. You’re her last chance, her last bit of sanity clinging on still, if she loses you too then what’s the point to anything anymore. What’s the point to anyone getting to be happy if not even she can experience her own shred of happiness. Why should she be the only one to suffer? There was a time where she would gladly take on any suffering to protect others from ever having to experience it themself but now it’s all she knows and she desperately wants it to end. Wanda just wants to be happy and you’re her new found happiness so you can imagine how far she’d go to protect you, ensuring you stay by her side.

[skinnybritishdudes]

So, holy shit. I, a person who has not written fic in a good fifteen years, suddenly decided to take a crack at this prompt from my own post the other day. It's got a bit of flirty/confident Edwin, some catwin, jealous Charles, and smooching.

I don't have AO3 yet so I'm just going to (trepidatiously) post it here and hope for the best haha don't be alarmed by my extreme vulnerability

3500 words, teen rating, no warnings.

The Case of the Tempting Mirror

“Of course it isn’t dangerous,” says Edwin. He’s standing just in front of the mirror in the corner of the office, wearing the green sweater Charles associates with the day he saved him from Hell. He’s looking back at Charles with an infuriatingly relaxed smile, head tilted slightly to one side. “He wouldn’t hurt me.” 

“He’s not the only threat out there, is he?” Charles huffs. “We ran into loads of dodgy stuff in Port Townsend.”

“He’ll protect me,” Edwin says. “Honestly, you don’t have to worry. It’s only that I asked him to gather some plant samples for me and told him I’d be by to check on his progress. It’s for research, Charles, and won’t take a tick. Nothing to get so worked up about.” He takes a step backward toward the mirror.

“He’ll protect you,” repeats Charles, nodding sourly, his mouth a downturned line. “Alright. Go on, then.” 

“We’ve been over this before,” says Edwin, more softly. “I can handle myself, and–”

“Right, got it,” says Charles. “I said go, didn’t I?” He flops down on the couch, looking straight ahead into the room instead of at Edwin as he leaves.

Edwin nods with a small sigh. “I will not be long,” he says, and takes another backward step before turning in one swift pivot to walk forward through the mirror and out of the office. 

The moment he’s gone, Charles growls loudly, his hands becoming fists on his knees. 

The fucking Cat King. Again. Couldn’t they ever be rid of that wanker? The first time Edwin said he was thinking about popping back over to see him, Charles thought he must be joking. 

“He was kind to me about Niko’s death,” Edwin had said, looking down. “And I think he’s sad, you know. I find myself wondering if he’s alright.”

“If he needs a friend he’ll have to find someone other than you, mate,” Charles had said. “He’s trapped you before, and you said yourself he’s a trickster. You can’t trust him.”

Edwin had been completely sure he’d be safe, though, and he wouldn’t entertain the possibility of Charles coming with him. He’d been so stupidly stubborn about it, and they’d bickered until the argument was exhausted unless Charles was willing to escalate it into a fight. Though he was panicked and angry at the situation, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It felt desperate enough that he would be right to beg or threaten or shout if that’s what it took to keep Edwin safe, but he knew he couldn’t be Edwin’s best mate and also be the guy who tries to control what he does by threatening and shouting at him. If Edwin wouldn’t see reason, what could Charles do? He makes his own choices, in the end.

This was the fourth time. Each time with Edwin so irritatingly determined to go, so unmoved by Charles’ obvious visceral concern. Each time with the same tense mini-argument before Edwin swivels away from him so easily. 

Charles stands up, his hands still in fists hanging at his sides. He rolls his head around as if trying to ease tension in muscles that aren’t there, then begins pacing in long strides back and forth across the office. 

And Edwin says stuff like “just a tick,” and then comes back three hours later. Every minute of waiting is agony, with Charles never sure if he’ll be back in a moment or if this is just the beginning of a much longer nightmare. He never knows how long until it’s reasonable for him to be as afraid as he has been the entire time, at which agonizing moment his barely-contained panic might become appropriate. 

The most nauseating thing of all - if Charles could truly be nauseated - is the sort of lightness about Edwin when he gets back from his visits with the Cat King. He returns in a good mood, the subtle smile at the corner of his lips lingering for hours. It makes Charles want to hit something, and then he worries about himself over that urge. Not rational, is it? 

When Charles asks him what took so long, Edwin will say they got caught up talking. It isn’t that he was whisked away to some kind of time-warp space like the first time, he’s just hanging out with his friend the Cat King, on the other side of the world, and lost track of time because he wasn’t thinking about Charles at all. But he never gives much of an account of what they talked about that lasted hours, and Charles never feels like he actually understands what Edwin is doing over there. 

It’s like he can’t even bring himself to suspect the thing he suspects. It couldn’t be, could it? 

No. It couldn’t.

He growls in his chest again. Could it? 

Charles stops his pacing in the middle of the room, sighs again, and turns to look at the mirror. It could be hours more of this. Likely would, in fact. Part of him wishes Crystal were here to distract him and wonders if he should go find her, but a larger part feels like it’s appropriate for him to be here and agitated. He doesn’t want to be distracted from his worries about Edwin, he wants to address them. 

He takes two long steps toward the mirror, then sits on the edge of the desk facing it. As always, for a moment he wishes he could see his reflection, but even his memory of that image is foggy now. He hasn’t seen his own face in thirty-five years and can’t quite conjure the details. These days when he tries to imagine his own face, he sees Edwin’s, the only one with which he’s so intimately familiar. 

The mirror ripples, just subtly, sending waves through the reflection of the bookshelf behind him. He isn’t even touching it - not yet doing the thing he knows he shouldn’t do but is thinking about anyway - but the mirror can already feel him searching for Edwin and is responding to his anguish. 

Charles holds his hand up two inches from the glass surface, just suspended there for a moment like he’s stopping traffic. He can feel the energy of the mirror reaching out to him, and though he knows he really, really shouldn’t do this in the end he barely hesitates before letting his palm touch the turbulent surface. It clears almost immediately, showing Charles a dimly-lit bedroom he’s never seen before. The space is lit by lanterns and a tacky neon sign, shabby but with a large, round, satin-sheeted bed in the middle. Edwin is sitting at the head of the bed, cross-legged, his posture as sharp as ever but looking relaxed and at ease. The Cat King lays curled around him on the mattress, his head at Edwin’s left hand, his knees tucked up on the other side where Edwin’s right hand rests on his ankle. 

Charles watches as Edwin gazes down at the Cat King, his left hand moving to bury itself in the cat’s loose curls. They both smile, the Cat King slowly closes his eyes, and Charles feels like he’s choking. 

~*~*~

“You did very well,” Edwin murmurs, running his hand through the King’s hair slowly a few times before settling in to gently rub and scratch behind his ears. The cat’s purring vibrates the bed, the sound filling the room as he moves his head into Edwin’s touch, his body squirming against his legs. 

“Thank you,” sighs the Cat King. “Right now I can barely remember all the traipsing through the filthy woods I had to do to complete your little scavenger hunt so I guess it must have been worth it.” He rolls over just a little, enough to expose a wide strip of belly through the undone front of his velvet robe. 

“Your help is much appreciated,” says Edwin, his right hand moving up to rub the back of his knuckles lightly, gently across the Cat King’s presented belly. “And I’m happy to be able to give you something in return.” He turns his hand over to pet more firmly with his palm, adding some gentle scratches.

The Cat King sighs contentedly, arching his back a little against Edwin’s touch, then frowns. “You could just come and see me, you know,” he says. “Without making me do your little errands.” He flips over onto his side in one swift motion, propping his head up on his hand while Edwins’ fall away. The ghost quickly brings his hands back, clasping them in his lap. 

“I thought you liked making me happy,” Edwin says, teasing and earnest at the same time. “That is what you told me, is it not?”

It was rather lovely, actually, the first time Edwin had come back to see the Cat King. First, he was oddly touched to find the King had had mirrors installed all throughout his warehouse in hopes Edwin would come through one of them. But the way he smiled when he saw Edwin had radiated such genuine affection, it caught him off guard. There had always been games between them before, tension and fear and deceit. But when he stepped through the mirror this time, not even fully able to account for why he was doing it but feeling compelled, the strange cat-man smiled at him with the unguarded elation of a long lost friend. Edwin couldn't help but feel an unexpected tenderness toward him.

And then the cat had been so eager to please him. They had spent most of that first visit with Edwin perched on the pallet throne while the Cat King sat below him, rubbing against his leg while they talked. The purring was actually remarkably soothing and satisfying, and Edwin found he enjoyed it very much. Something else he found satisfying was the feeling of the Cat King being at his command; of having him bound the way he had once bound Edwin to this town. So he took advantage of it, to both their satisfaction. 

“Yes,” says the Cat King with another sigh. “I did say that. And I meant it, dumbass that I am.” He pouts. 

“The knowledge you gather for me is useful,” Edwin says. “And don’t I always give you the reward I promise?”

The Cat King makes a hmphing noise in his throat. “I do like the petting,” he says. “But it also sort of makes it seem like you wouldn’t come and see me if I weren’t useful.” He pushes himself up and in one graceful motion is sitting knees-to-knees with Edwin on the bed. 

“You could refuse the tasks, you know,” says Edwin. “I’m not forcing your will in any way, unlike what you did to me.” His words have an edge, but there’s still a smile at one corner of his mouth. 

“You’re manipulating me with your adorableness and it’s humiliating,” says the Cat King. “It is like a fucking magic trick.” His frown softens. “I mean, look at your eyes. How am I supposed to live?” He leans forward, gazing into them sadly.

Edwin quirks his head to one side. “My eyes?” he says. 

“They’re, like, unfairly gorgeous. You didn’t know that?” 

“Actually, I–” Edwin fumbles. “As a ghost, I can’t see my reflection or be photographed so I haven’t seen myself in a very long time. I barely remember my own features.” When he tries, he sees Charles’ instead. That rich, warm, inviting brown, so full of kindness and compassion.

“That’s tragic,” says the Cat King in a breath, laying one hand on either side of Edwin’s face. “They are deep, deep, magical green. And so soft and beautiful. You deserve to know.”

Edwin looks down, embarrassed. He feels fluttery, too, though. Light and jittery. He flicks his eyes back up to look at the Cat King. 

“Are you ever going to let me kiss you?” the cat asks softly, hovering close enough to Edwin’s face to deliver if given the go-ahead. 

Edwin grimaces, and the Cat King groans, pulling back. “Are you kidding? You are the worst!” He throws his hands up. “Aaand I love you. What a disgusting nightmare.” The Cat King grumbles, his hand moving to slash across Edwin’s lips before the ghost has a chance to react. A glittery gold mark appears on his mouth and Edwin recognizes this feeling, knows he will be forced to tell the truth to whatever the Cat King asks now. It felt like a violation before and does again, but it’s also a dizzyingly liberated feeling.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” asks the Cat King, too frustrated to formulate a more thoughtful question. 

“I love Charles,” says Edwin simply, as if that’s the entire story. He supposes it is. 

“I mean, duh,” says the Cat King. “Everybody knows that. But does he love you back?” 

“No,” says Edwin. He doesn’t feel compelled to explain further; the truth isn’t complicated. 

“Then what’s the difference if you let yourself loosen up with me?” 

“I don’t know,” Edwin says. “I want to, in a way. That is, I–I believe I could because Charles truly doesn’t love me that way and I am increasingly intrigued, you know, by all these new feelings. And you are certainly not Charles but I cannot deny that you appeal to me, and I find myself wondering what would happen if I did try to let myself go with you.”

“You should let go,” says the Cat King, moving close to Edwin again. “Eternity is a long time to fucking yearn, and I can help you with that.”

Edwin moves his head without thinking, just a little and just in the right direction to indicate receptivity, and the Cat King eagerly moves an inch closer, so ready but wanting to be sure. Then Edwin exhales in a way that sounds like surrender and lets his eyes close, and the King closes the gap between them. Edwin is surprised when pushes back and lets his mouth move, firm and curious. They kiss only for a moment, and Edwin feels it: a tingle, a warmth, something more visceral than the sweet, chaste kiss he shared with Monty. The Cat King purring into Edwin’s mouth causes his whole being to feel like it’s vibrating in a way that isn’t unpleasant in the slightest, and he finds that even without a body he can still shiver. 

Edwin’s eyes are half closed and dazed as they pull apart, the Cat King exultant but meaning to check that he’s still OK before going any further. As it turns out, he doesn’t have time to ask the question.

“That’s enough of that, then,” says Charles in a rough voice, twirling his cricket bat as he emerges from the mirror at the far end of the room. He advances in battle stance, feeling very sure something is going to get smashed to bits tonight and the Cat King will be lucky if it’s not his face. 

“Charles–” Edwin begins, shocked, with no idea what to say next. He would blush if he could, embarrassed to have been caught like this but also surprised by the surge of emotion he’s feeling at seeing Charles this way. 

Charles would not have been able to describe what he was feeling looking at Edwin in this moment, either–the sharp ache and the rage that had sent him hurtling through the mirror, the need that is swirling in his chest like fury. 

“Excuse me,” says the Cat King, turning to face Charles. “You are not invited to this rendez-vous and I will absolutely fuck you up.” 

“We’ll see who gets fucked up, mate,” says Charles. “Get away from him or I’ll–”

“Oh, are you under the impression he’s not enjoying my attention, Charles?” the Cat King purrs, eyes wide with mischief masquerading as innocence. “Look, he’s still got my mark on him, so he can’t lie. Edwin, didn’t you want me to kiss you?”

“Yes,” Edwin says, his voice emphatic but his face miserable. He sounds like he’s choking, and it reminds Charles painfully of that day on the stairs in Hell. “But only because I know that Charles won’t.” He gulps. “You were right, eternity is a long time and I’ve been longing more and more to experience–oh, do take this cursed thing off my mouth, please!”

The Cat King touches Edwin’s lips perfunctorily and the gold mark disappears. He then scoots away from him and stands, crossing his arms and turning away, stung. 

Edwin turns to look up at Charles, standing next to the bed beside him, and opens his mouth to speak.

“Edwin, do you want me to kiss you?” asks Charles, before he can decide what to say.

“Yes,” breathes Edwin without a beat’s hesitation. “But not if you–”

While Edwin is answering, Charles is climbing onto the bed, his long limbs surrounding him in an instant. He drops the cricket bat on the mattress beside them and takes Edwin’s face in both of his hands. 

“I think the fuck NOT,” says the Cat King, kicking the mattress hard with one foot and sending Charles and Edwin sprawling, almost falling off the other side of the bed. “You two will not be having your big romantic moment in my fucking bed, thank you very goddamn much. Are you fucking kidding me?” He points at Edwin. “Don’t you dare come back here, do you understand me? You take your scrawny ghosty boyfriend and your nasty teasing lying manipulating–”

Charles and Edwin scramble off the bed and move quickly toward the mirror, holding hands. 

“I truly did not mean–” begins Edwin as he passes the Cat King. 

“Fuck you,” the King interrupts. Edwin grimaces, his eyebrows knitting together in remorse. He gives the Cat King one last look, then follows Charles through the mirror.

“But let me know if you need anything,” says the Cat King pathetically, flopping back onto the mattress. “I love you,” he whines, and it turns into a meow as a plume of pink smoke envelopes him. He becomes a sleek black cat with green eyes, slinking slowly to the head of the bed to curl up in the warm spot where Edwin had been sitting. 

~*~*~

The moment they’re back in the office, Charles turns and advances on Edwin, arms outstretched to embrace him. 

Edwin takes a step back and then to the side, moving away. “Wait,” he says, one hand on his chest. “Let’s take a breath. What is happening here, Charles?”

“You said you wanted me to kiss you, didn’t you?” Charles feels a desperate kind of urgency but forces himself to slow down, and he gives Edwin a smile. 

“I did, yes,” says Edwin, straightening his posture and casting his eyes to the side, trying to compose himself, too. “But I know that your feelings are not the same as mine. You don’t have to pretend for me, you know, frankly the idea of that is–” he makes a sour face.

“That’s not it,” says Charles. He takes a step closer. “I’m sorry for spying on you. That wasn’t right, I know. But I wondered–I kept wondering what you were getting up to with the Cat King for all that time.”

“Oh? And that gave you license to invade my privacy, did it?” Edwin quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

“It didn’t,” says Charles, his smirk becoming a bashful smile. “But I’m not perfect, and it’s what I did.”

“And you didn’t like what you found me getting up to, is that it?”

“Sort of,” says Charles. “But more like, I felt like I wanted to tear the Cat King limb from limb for touching you like that.” 

“A bit extreme, perhaps,” says Edwin, his face fighting desperately to crack into a grin. His exhilaration in this moment is palpable and thrumming, even without a heart to race.  

“Just a feeling, innit,” says Charles. “I wouldn’t actually have done it, of course. But it made me realize some important things.” He takes another step forward and reaches out to take one of Edwin’s hands in his, pulling him closer still. “Like how much I wanted to touch you like that. And that I didn’t want anybody else to, either. And once I knew it, of course I had to tell you, didn’t I? Especially since the alternative was watching you snog that creepy prick.”

Edwin doesn’t wait any longer, moving his free hand to the back of Charles’ neck and pushing himself up to kiss him with his joyfully irrepressible smile. Charles drops Edwin’s hand and winds his arms around his waist, pulling him in tight while Edwin wraps both arms around his neck. There is no room to regret that they don’t have skin to feel with as the explosion of love and delight reverberates all throughout their beings, crackling like electricity and unfurling like endless blooming vines. Like reality itself was exhaling in relief, the world becoming the way it was always meant to be. 

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

I found I enjoy the Stiles is best friends with Laura Hale dynamic. Do you have any recommendations?

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

Burn with hellfire in the blue light of midnight by babisays (20/20 | 203,189 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles met the Hale siblings when he was eleven years old. Now it has been six years since he lost his best friend Cora in the fire, and Derek and Laura left Beacon Hills.

Six years was a long time, so he didn't think he would ever see them again, but now he was wondering what the hell was Derek Hale doing back in Beacon Hills.

How We Serve by GrimReaperlover11 (16/16 | 53,280 | Not Rated | Sterek) Stiles is selected to become the servant to Prince Derek Hale.. however his new master gives off total 'Ima rip your throat out, with my teeth' vibes...maybe its a werewolf thing. Nonetheless Stiles hopes he can survive his new life

Sacrifice (Whatever It Takes) by adara, Swlffangirl (7/7 | 38,519 | Teen | Sterek) In which Laura lives, the Hale Pack grows, and Derek finds a peace that he'd never thought could be his. It doesn't come easy, because when does anything ever, but they've got a real shot at it for the first time since before the fire that stole their family and sent their whole lives up in smoke.

My Sister’s Boyfriend by Niecy8 (14/14 | 36,297 | Mature | Sterek) Derek loves his sister very much and is looking forward to seeing her since they haven't seen each other in a while. However, he's not thrilled that she is bringing home her new boyfriend - someone they know zero about. He will be nice but what he didn't expect was how attractive he would be.

Stiles will do anything for Laura. She's his best friend and like an older sister to him. However, this has to be the worst idea she has ever had - pretending to date one another? No one will believe it and it becomes increasingly harder to play the part when he meets her gorgeous brother. 

Or two idiots slowly falling in love with each other with Laura playing a hand in it.

The Ghost of You (It Keeps Me Awake) by StaceyMarie123 (1/1 | 21,477 | Teen | Sterek) She took each step slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal that might spook any second.

“You can see me?” she asked, and her voice was higher pitched that he’d expected. It was a complete and utter marvel that Stiles hadn’t keeled over from shock yet.

He nodded and her face broke into a huge grin.

She had bunny teeth, just like her brother.

…

Or: the one where Stiles accidentally develops the power to see and communicate with ghosts, and there seems to be someone haunting their favourite grumpy alpha.

Samhain by nightlight9 (1/1 | 20,135 | Teen | Sterek) The ghost of Talia Hale has been showing up in Stiles’ bedroom on the night of Halloween for years. Normally their conversations are pretty normal. But when she shows up screaming about how her daughter is going to be killed, Stiles knows that he’ll do anything to prevent that from happening.

Platonic Absolutes by sparkandwolf (1/1 | 7,362 | Gen | Sterek) When Stiles first met Laura, there was no doubt in his mind that their soul bond wasn’t meant to be anything but platonic. He had heard of that happening, that the marks on a person’s body could mean they had a soulmate by any meaning of the word, and was momentarily disappointed that his meant a lifetime best friend. 

Then he realized that Laura was the most incredible woman he had ever met. If it wasn’t for the fact she was very, very, gay, he would’ve fallen in love with her the moment she barged into his life.

A Death Omen Too Strong to Stomp Out by one-fandom-became-all-fandoms (1/1 | 6,668 | Mature | Sterek) The dream had haunted him for nearly a year since moving to New York. With no friends but his therapist to confide in, Stiles raced to figure out what the wintry orchard had to do with saving a life. Accompanied by a mysterious stranger, Derek, Stiles may unravel his psyche before it's too late.

love and soulmates by EvanesDust (1/1 | 1,747 | Teen | Sterek) Derek watched as Stiles looped an arm around Laura’s waist and laid his head on her shoulder.

“Aw, Laur, don’t be like that. You know we’re soulmates…” 

Soulmates? And just like that, Derek’s heart broke. Laura brought home Stiles--perfect and delectable and entirely Derek’s type. Fuck his life because, of course, Stiles would be in love with Laura.

[sorceresssundries]

The Wizard who Waited

Summary: It is time to go and face the Elder Brain, and Tav stops by Sorcerous Sundries in the hope of saying farewell to Rolan. Let's all just pretend we don't meet him at the high-hall before the battle.

Pairing: Rolan x gn Tav - SFW

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N - This work is inspired by one of George's cameos. Featuring a monologue written by @gender-in-a-blender. I loved it so much that I wanted to create a short story to wrap it in.

'Wait! Before you go, I have something I need to get off my chest. You are without a doubt the most maddening person I have ever met! You are reckless and foolhardy! You put yourself in harm’s way time and time again, and it’s enough to drive a man to insanity... because… You see, I think about you constantly. Wondering where you are, what you’re doing, whether you’re safe. I think about the brief moments of time we’ve had together and how it’s not been enough. How it will never be enough. I know I can’t convince you to stay here with me, safe in this tower, but when this is all over... I want you to come back to me. Please, will you come back to me? Don't answer me right now. Go save the Gods-damned Gate. And if you want this, if you want us... come back to me. I'll be waiting.' - Written by @gender-in-a-blender

It was time.

Night fell, as surely and steadily as it always had. The last blood-red rays of sunlight sank below the skyline of the quaking city, leaving Tav to wonder if they would ever feel its warmth on their skin again. 

There was no time to dwell on it. Blades sharp and spells readied, Tav and their companions made their way through Baldur’s Gate, the night air thick with promise. Whether that promise was of victory or defeat, there was no way of knowing, but the dread Tav felt was so intense they could choke on it. Candlelight flickered in the windows of the houses they passed, and babies cried, hushed by fretful parents unable to soothe them from the now-regular tremors rumbling through the city like shockwaves.

It would all end soon.

In front of Tav stood Sorcerous Sundries, light filtering out from the stained glass of the magnificent domed roof, scattering ripples of blue and orange through the surrounding streets.

Perhaps Rolan was there...

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Tav said to their steel-faced companions. “Let me see if I can get any last-minute supplies…”

They exchanged a knowing glance as Tav headed off.

“Darling, a giant brain is about to split the city apart, is now really the time for this?” Astarion called as Tav made their way over to the wizarding shop. Tav ignored him, as they often did.

“Leave it, Istik. A warrior should be granted a final goodbye to the source of their joy before a battle.” Lae’zel’s usually sharp voice was solemn.

The source of their joy. Was it so obvious?

It was late, and the shop was empty. Only a few enchanted sets of armor clunked around, guarding the precious wares and tomes. Despite its emptiness, the air was ripe with magic, sweet and delicate, like spun sugar and silk. The disappointment of not seeing the new archmage at the front desk busying himself in books was more profound than Tav had thought it would be. He must be in his tower. Perhaps they could leave him a letter, or even a...

“Well, if it isn’t the meddling hero!” Rolan appeared at the top of the stairs. His words were a usual wry quip, but a smile played on his lips, warm and inviting. “What trouble are you in now?” He made his way across to Tav, he looked as beautiful as ever.

Tav saw his gaze rake over their freshly sharpened blade and restless hands. His smile died.

“I…” Tav hesitated, searching for the right words. “We’ve gathered what we need to destroy the Absolute. We’re leaving now.” Tav wanted to say goodbye, but the words didn’t leave their throat.

The truth was, it was more than saying goodbye. Tav had stopped by to commit his face to memory. To count and remember each freckle and burn them so deeply into them that not even death could wipe them away. They were a constellation Tav wanted to map out and carry with them, wherever they went. They wanted to hear his voice one last time, so it would be fresh and colourful in their mind as the world quieted into darkness around them.

They wanted to tell him they loved him, but couldn’t bring themselves to say it.

It wasn’t fair to offer that now, freshly uncovered and full of potential with nowhere to spread out it’s wings. It is a precious thing, deserving more than to be grasped for a fleeting moment only to be let go.

‘I love you’ was a beginning to something that Tav couldn’t offer. 

“Right.” Rolan looked up through the stained dome of the ceiling, up to the stars, and squared his shoulders. “Let me leave a note for Cal and Lia. I’ll grab a few things and then…”

“No!” Tav grabbed hold of his arm in a panic before he could move away. “I need you to stay here.” His face slips further into his familiar frown.

“I can assure you I am perfectly capable of helping, despite what I may have demonstrated so far.”

“I know,” Tav said as calmly as they could, trying to keep the frayed edges of their nerves from knotting into their voice. They couldn’t let him know how frightened they were; it wouldn’t be fair.

“I need you to prepare the artillery. We’ll need it when the time comes.” Tav could see he was torn, clever thoughts dancing just behind his eyes, restless and painful. “Besides, the city will be in trouble and the tower will be the safest place for people looking for shelter. The safest place for Cal and Lia. For you. Please, Rolan. I’ll send a signal for when to fire.”

“Get someone else to send the damned signal! Stay here, if it’s so safe.”

“I can’t.”

“Let the others handle it!”

“Rolan.”

“Why must it be you?! Don’t be so foolish!”

“Rolan…”

“Surely there is someone else out there willing to die for this fucking city.” The air fizzled with his anger. Tav took a deep breath, steadying themselves. 

“Am I allowed to say something now?”

“Not if that something is ‘goodbye’” His voice cracked against that final word.

The world had not been kind to Rolan. Tav couldn’t bear to think about the countless goodbyes he must have endured throughout his life. To Elturel, his family, his friends, and now, to them. The scars of these losses ran deep, each one carving away a piece of his heart. Another challenge was about to come his way, and Tav prayed his would be the last scar Rolan would ever have to bear. He deserved a life of joy with the ones he loved, free to settle into the peace he had fought for. 

The thought of not being there to witness it almost caused Tav to crumble. They could picture it so clearly - Rolan laughing with his siblings, standing in the moonlight at the top of his tower, gazing down at the home he had finally found. It was a vision Tav yearned to be part of, but one they knew they might never see.

They had to leave now, or they would lose the strength to go at all.

“I know what needs to be done, and I have what is needed to do it.” Tav eyes shimmer. “It has to be me.”

They took a step towards him, a hand held out, but Rolan stopped them before they could get close.

“Don’t you dare hug me! I do not want our only embrace to have been as you wave me off on your way to war, leaving me behind like some weepy, heart-wrecked widow.”

A fresh ache stretched out in Tav's chest. Would he really let them leave without at least a hug goodbye? They hadn’t realised how much they had been relying on it.

“The world could end if I don’t go.” Tav said simply.

“Let it” Rolan replied.

The air between them was thick with unspoken words; the soldier who came to say goodbye and the wizard who would not let them. Another rumble shook the walls, and books tumbled from their shelves, scattering like fallen bodies across the floor, spines cracked and splayed open.

“We’re running out of time,” Tav said softly, unsure if they were referring to the world or the two of them. In this moment, it might as well be the same thing.

Rolan sighed deeply, holding his head in his hands for a few moments, his tail swaying in agitation. Tav wanted to go to him, to feel his arms wrap around them and lose themselves in the few quiet moments they had left, for their own sake as well as his.

His reaction was different from what Tav expected.

“You are without a doubt the most maddening person I have ever met!” Rolan suddenly burst out. Tav didn’t know how to respond; they hadn’t been expecting a scolding. Rolan took a step forward, coming within reaching distance. His eyes blazed and his chest heaved with angry breaths.

“You are reckless and foolhardy! You put yourself in harm’s way time and time again, and it’s enough to drive a man to insanity... because…” The bluster suddenly lessened, and the hurt and worry spilled through the cracks in his voice. “You see, I think about you constantly. Wondering where you are, what you’re doing, whether you’re safe. I think about the brief moments of time we’ve had together and how it’s not been enough. How it will never be enough. I know I can’t convince you to stay here with me, safe in this tower, but when this is all over... I want you to come back to me. Please, will you come back to me?”

He sounded gentle and afraid, and Tav wanted to say, “Of course I will. Of course, you stubborn, uptight, short-tempered, wonderful man.” But that was not an oath they could bring themselves to swear. Tav couldn’t bear the thought of dying with the pain of a breaking a  promise to the man they loved.

“Don’t answer me right now,” he sighed into the hesitant silence. “Wait there.”

He began to move through the chaos of the shop, rifling through drawers, shifting clinking bottles in cabinets, and pulling down various concoctions to gather in his arms. Murmuring in Infernal as he read labels and blew off dust, he eventually brought his collection back over to Tav.

Placing them on the counter, he started to sort through them.

“Thank you, but I really don't need…”

“Shut up and take them. This one is peerless focus. Give it to Gale; it will help him maintain his concentration. Gods know that fool will need it. This one is Bloodlust, fitting for your vampire friend. There are a few oils for blades and arrows which will increase their effectiveness. Giant Strength for Karlach and Lae’zel. And this one is for you.”

He set down a small vial that glistened with a honey-like substance, viscous and molten, the same color as his eyes.

“Guileful Movement,” he declared, his fierce gaze meeting Tav’s.

“You are strong, but you lack speed, and you get so caught up in watching out for everyone else that you leave yourself vulnerable.”

Placing the vial in Tav’s palm, he wrapped his hands around theirs, the warmth and softness comforting.

“Drink it before you fight. Move fast. Focus on your own strikes, and for the love of gods, run if you need to. You never seemed to do enough running.”

Tav smiled at him. “I never needed to.”

“Yes, yes, you were very tough and brave and beautiful, but trust me, there was no shame in running.” He kissed Tav’s hand, still cradled between both of his. “Run back to me.”

There was a sudden gentleness to his voice that Tav hadn’t properly heard before. They wanted to spend entire afternoons, whole summers, a lifetime sinking into the softness of that voice. They only had a few minutes at most.

Tav smiled, for the first time since coming into the store. Rolan wanted them to come back to him, he believed he would see them again. Perhaps things weren’t so bleak after all. A warm drop of hope fell upon Tav’s poor, burnt-out heart and it was enough to let something settle and take root. 

“Look at how far you’ve come.” Tav cradled his cheek with their palm. “From the chains of hell to the top of the tower. You, Cal, and Lia, all safe and together, as you should be.”

“I should be keeping you safe.” His voice was small and quiet as he fixed his eyes to the floor. 

“Always the protector.” Tav said, and they tilted his chin so his gentle eyes meet theirs. “You are. Keep me safe a little longer, wait for me, and i’ll come back to you.”

They kissed then, for the first time. 

When Tav had imagined their first kiss with Rolan, they had expected softness, uncertainty, maybe a little clumsiness—but there was none of that here. There was no time to be uncertain. His hands gripped the front of Tav’s robes like they were a lifeline, and his lips caressed theirs as though the taste of them could save him. Tav held onto him just as desperately in return, wishing it was enough to anchor them there.

Tav craved the luxury of an unhurried, tentative kiss. Perhaps during a leisurely stroll through the park, or after a little wine-soaked bravery from an evening spent together in the Elf-song Tavern. A slow kiss under a clear sky, savouring the joy of knowing it didn’t have to be perfect - it just had to be the first of many.

Tav thought of this now as his mouth moved against theirs, feeling the cool dampness of his tears mingling with their own. The kiss softened, their breaths steadied.

It was time to say goodbye.

Tav reluctantly pulled back, their forehead resting against Rolan's. 

"That was not a last kiss," Rolan said, his voice a hushed murmur. "That was a first."

Tav nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in their throat. They didn't trust themselves to speak, afraid that any words would break the fragile dam keeping them together.

Rolan's hands lingered on Tav's cheeks for a moment before he let them fall to his sides. "Go save the Gods-damned Gate," he said, his voice steadier now, "And if you want this, if you want us... come back to me. I'll be waiting."

It was done.

Tav left more hopeful than when they arrived, their soul bright and burning and loved. 

They had a battle to win, and a new future to fight for.

______________________________________________________________

Hours had now passed, and Rolan stood at the top of his tower, a solitary silhouette against the flames and cries that echoed through the city. He gripped the ledge with white-knuckled intensity, his red skin stark against the pale stone, keeping himself steady.

The cannon had been fired, its aim fierce and true, and Rolan knew he had done all he could. Below him, Baldur’s Gate burned. Nautiloids filled the night sky, their fiery payloads raining down destruction, and the air was so choked with smoke that Rolan thought even the gaze of the Gods could not pierce it. There would be no help from them now. Debris and explosions collided with the tower's defenses, dissipating into dust and smoke against invisible barriers. Cal and Lia were on the lowest level, rallying the survivors, providing aid and shelter amidst the devastation.

His eyes, accustomed to fire and loss, remained fixed on the High Hall and the looming Elder Brain above it. The city was a grim echo of a past he did not want to think about. How many war-torn, flame-licked cities would he have to watch be assaulted? 

He could not think of Elturel now; that was the past, and he had a future to hope for. 

The temptation to reach for a bottle, to drown his helplessness in wine as he had done at the Last Light Inn, tugged at him. But he resisted. He was not that man anymore; Tav had made sure of that. He would not succumb to ineffectuality. He was more than he was then. For Tav’s sake, for his own sake, he would wait here, steadfast and vigilant. He would watch out for the person he loved, for as long as it took.

Through the smoke and clouds, atop the brain, strobes of magic flickered. He tried to discern the signs of each spell, to picture the battle. The light was dim and soft through the smoke, like lightning blanketed by storm clouds. The flashes of battle-slung spells bloomed through the dark. Sounds of cracks and hisses followed the scattered lights, shots of reds and greens and pulsing golds.

Rolan’s heart pounded with each flare, each distant explosion. He imagined Tav amidst the fray, their blade slashing through the chaos, their determination as fierce as ever. He whispered a silent prayer to any deity who might be listening, hoping that Tav’s courage and skill would see them through this nightmare.

The minutes stretched into an eternity. Every second felt like a lifetime, the wait unbearable. But Rolan watched and he waited, the fate of Baldur’s Gate - and his heart - hanging in the balance.

And then, the elder brain fell. 

Time fractured into shards as the creature tumbled from the sky like a marionette with severed strings. It convulsed and spasmed, desperate waves of psychic shockwaves firing from it erratically. The dangling spinal column lashed and whipped into the city's buildings as it descended, ensuring a final barrage of destruction. With a resounding crash, it plunged into the waters of the Chionthar, its reign of terror culminating in a colossal, explosive orb of energy. The shockwave erupted outward, smashing through the city, shattering glass and hurling Rolan backward, knocking him against the wall of his tower and into unconsciousness. His last thought as he slipped away being of Tav’s fate, and the certainty that he would not see them again. 

He was wrong.

When Rolan awoke, roused by Lia and dragged down to help the wounded, he felt broken. It hurt to breathe, to think. He just wanted to get out into the city, where the light of a new day spilled over the wreckage of the night before. He wanted to find Tav, whatever that meant. 

The hero of Baldur’s Gate stood, leaning against the doorway to the tower, clutching their side. Bloodstained and bruised, their armor and weapon abandoned, they now wore only a sweat-soaked shirt and trousers, looking less like a mighty hero and more like a lost refugee. The second they saw Rolan amid the survivors and chaos, joy filled their chest and pulled a laugh from between cracked ribs.

It was over. They had won. And even though their legs were tired, their muscles burned, and their heart ached from saying goodbye to forged family, they had come back.

The taste of the golden, honey-thick potion Rolan had pressed into their palm still lingered sweetly on their tongue.

They had run back to him.

Rolan's eyes widened when he spotted Tav. He pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests of those around him. In moments, he was in front of them, his hands hovering uncertainly before he finally pulled them into a tight embrace. The feel of his arms around them was everything Tav had fought for. 

“You idiot! I thought you were dead.” He admonished.

“Careful.” Said Tav, wincing from the enthusiasm of his hug. “Don’t be greedy.”

There would be time now, in the settling dust, for peace to be found, clutched, and cherished. 

For the two heroes who had given each other hope when it had all but been extinguished. 

For the soldier who came to say goodbye, and the wizard who did not let them.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! All of you do fantastic work! Do you have any fics with like magical curses and true loves kiss? I don’t really care about rating. Thank you again!!

Hello! You can fics along these kinds of lines on our #fantasy au tag. Here are some curse/true love's kiss specific fics...

The Fairy Prince, the Toad and the Snake by KannaOphelia (T)

Aziraphale supposed it was interesting that his flaming sword still managed to flame while underwater, but there were better ways to find out than dropping it down a well. He craned over the side and gazed down, seeing the glimmers of red and orange, far beyond his reach. "You've done it now," said the snake, watching him from the apple tree. "I suppose I have, yes." Aziraphale wondered if he could hook a rope around it or something, and draw it up. He wasn't quite sure how it would work. "Bound to happen," the snake said, not unkindly. "Don't want to go waving a big killing thing like that around. Sssssupposed to be a weapon." A Good Omens retelling of The Frog Prince, for Fairy Tale Inspired 2021

Fairest by lilliankayl (T)

(Snow White Retelling AU) Aziraphale has no memories of his father and very few of his mother. His father died when he was an infant and his mother remarried shortly afterwards. When his mother died just before his seventeenth birthday, his stepfather’s true colors were revealed. Now on the run and taking shelter from those who will help him, Aziraphale must never let the king find him, for it will surely mean his death if he is found.

The Dragon's Greatest Treasure by Sir_Bear (T)

Once upon a time, the kingdom of Eden was protected by the eternal knights. One of these ageless warriors, the healer Raphael, disappeared hundreds of years ago after saving Sir Aziraphale’s life. Now, while escorting prince Gabriel across the kingdom, Aziraphale is captured by the dragon Crowley. The two begin to fall in love, but can a relationship like their's work, when all Crowley sees himself as is a monster, and Aziraphale feels bound by his duty to the knights? *** He shrugged his scaly shoulders, his eyes looking about as if trying to find a change of topic. “Didn’t you have a magic sword?” “Uh…” “You did, you were waving it about and everything. What happened to it?” Aziraphale’s throat made a croaking noise, unwilling to answer. “Lost it already have you?” “Gave it away…” He muttered, despite himself. “You what?” Crowley’s golden eyes went wide, tilting his huge head to the side. “They’d be in danger without it!” He burst out. “There are dangerous creatures out there, not to mention you!”

A Demon's Guide to Love and Curses by cyankelpie (G)

(Crowley has been cursed by a witch, cut off from his powers, and trapped in serpent form. Only a True Love’s Kiss can restore him to his former self. There’s just one problem: demons can’t fall in love.) “So what’s your plan?” Crowley said at last, sounding resigned. “You want me to ssslither into town, find some random human, and see if I can fall in love with them? And get them to fall for me?” “Goodness, no. That would never work.” Aziraphale crossed the floor and pulled his cloak off the coat stand. “My plan is to take you into town, and then, together, we’ll find someone for you to court.”

(Someday I'll Be) Part of Your World by Pearl09 (T)

Aziraphale is a merman who likes human things a little too much. Crowley is a human who just wants to leave the awful place he’s at. A chance meeting, a surprising rescue, lead to more than the two of them ever imagined. Would they truly risk their own souls to be with each other? And, more importantly, will they meet the necessary requirements on time to keep them? A Little Mermaid au/fusion featuring two pining idiots.

hearts and thoughts fade away (I swear I recognize your breath) by Melime (M)

Due to a clerical error, Crowley is cursed by Hell, losing his memories of the past six thousand years. Now, Aziraphale has to regain his trust and find a way to cure him, but the only way to do this is by confronting his own prejudices regarding demons' capacity to love.

- Mod D

[yuurivoice]

Do you have any sort of dislike toward autistic people?

No??????

This is a wild question, but I'll bite.

I interact with multiple autistic people in my day to day life, and that expands beyond my inner circle of friends and into the broader community as well. As an ADHD haver, we're sorta rubbing elbows here and I wonder what would have turned up had I been tested for autism myself. We spoke about it during my screening and it came up as a "huh, maybe" but we didn't pursue it and it didn't get diagnosed.

In the course of my eight years of doing this whole YuuriVoice thing, I have dealt with a wide variety of internet strangers. Unfortunately this includes people who are purposefully rude, entitled, or some flavor of shitty and I have taken a firm stance when certain attitudes and language smacks me in the face. It has saved me a lot of grief from jerks.

Even more unfortunate is that sometimes there are autistic folks who for no fault of their own might come off that way when dealing with me anonymously, when I have no clue who a person is, what their intentions are, or what tone they are trying to take. So they end up getting bonked when they didn't need to be, and I wouldn't have bonked them in the first place had I known.

As it turns out, when someone is a random anonymous message in a sea of hundreds, I cannot actually decipher who is who or what is what. In any interaction I have had with someone I am familiar with and have even a slight understanding or inkling that they may be autistic, it's a whole different story because I can use my understanding and experience to manage my own expectations and comprehension of the interaction we are having.

It is sort of a strange phenomena because it's not like there's been some sort of sudden spike in autism amongst my audience, that's not how that works. They've been here the whole time. If I had to hypothesize, the latest batch of young adults who've found me might have folks who have not had the same experiences online that us older folks have had that sorta trained us differently. Not to sound like a boomer, but I think most millennials dealing with a variety of cosmic mental gacha rewards could probably attest to this. So we might have a lot of people having new types of interactions in new spaces.

I think on my end, I need to start assuming the best of people's intentions instead of the worst. I had to be hard in the early years, and there were genuinely people who would behave in ways that would bug the shit outta me and it had to be called out and dealt with in the light so people understood the expectation. It could also turn off people, and that was a loss I was willing to accept if it meant people didn't treat me like a content machine to be bent to their will and poked with sticks if their favorite blorbo didn't want to have a damn pet...for example. I swear to you, that exact interaction could happen with someone neurotypical who just wanted to kick my shins and give me a hard time because they didn't like the way I was writing my character. We've seen it happen plenty over the years, I've lived it, it's a thing.

So no, I have no issue with autistic folks. I cannot immediately diagnose someone based of the flavor of their text and assume the nature of their intentions. Through years of being an online person, I've been conditioned to be on the lookout for certain flags and unfortunately there are times where a completely innocent person ends up bumping into a guardrail.

Much like how I cannot control how people react and behave, I would caution against expecting me to not also react and behave in my own ways. I'm a person who struggles with my own shit too, and have had to manage it and purposefully adapt to my situation.

My little comfort characters I cooked up for my own delight ended up getting popular, and at any given moment they're loved, hated, slandered, adored, hyperfixated upon, not good enough, the best thing ever, absolute abominations, or just ALMOST okay but I didn't do it exactly how they would have done it. It's obviously a wonderful thing, that's the dream, people give a fuck about my work! But the downside is, that shit has my head in a blender constantly and is why I try to step back from wading into the deeper waters of the community, because I'm managing my own shit and trying not to make it everyone else's problem.

When things land in my inbox, anonymously, it's a big ol soup of everyone who could at any point be either my biggest hater, biggest fan, or just a troll who wants to piss in my cheerios.

So again, I will endeavor to try and assume the best intentions instead of the worst, and when in doubt I can just...STFU and not respond. It's that easy, so I should probably keep that in mind.

Hopefully that helps explain some of what's up in that regard, and certainly if anyone has felt like they've burdened me or been a nuisance, they should know that I understand and immediately recatagorize that interaction in my brain. So for example, the Finn Pet thing, I responded by stating that I was uncomfortable and understood and accepted that they did not have ill intentions. I'm not going to pretend I liked the question or the tone, but I respect that it was not coming from a place of trying to give me a hard time and I don't hold it against them. I like to think that is how moments of unintentional friction should be handled among adults. Apologies do not suddenly make things okay or undo your discomfort, but there is an understanding of the intent and an acceptance. I don't want to infantalize people, if I said "awww it's okay you're not dumb here let me indulge your headcanon" that not only sends the wrong message about how to respond to people who self depricate in response to negative reactions, but...no, I'm not just going to double back and treat the question differently.

Alright, I gave this a whole lotta energy and genuine care. I hope it is taken as such and we're all square.

[stompandhollar]

I have some….. harsh(?) words for rtd.

I miss when Doctor Who was scrappy. Where the working class was at the forefront of our story. Where the hero had a broken time machine and one shitty little gadget that only sometimes could do anything useful. When the TARDIS was cobbled together with glue sticks and a dream.

Rose as a story worked because it was paired down. ALL of good DW works when it’s paired down. The stakes aren’t the whole world or the whole universe ending. The charm and the stakes both come from the same place— focusing on the characters, and making their problems the central focus. Blink was stunning because the world wasn’t in danger, just Sally Sparrow, and for 40 minutes of runtime, she was the focus of the viewer’s world.

The “base under siege” episodes work because it matters just as much to us that the Doctor gets the crew to safety as it would if the whole universe were in danger.

Even Utopia works because while being a high-stakes-for-humanity episode, it’s focused heavily on each character, and on concepts, not flashy visuals and dramatic build ups with no payoff. Utopia has exactly the right level of stakes for the story it’s telling, and the twist at the end delivers because it’s on that same level.

Ncuti is phenomenal. He and Millie are the only reason I’m sticking around (with s14, not with DW. I metaphorically sold my soul to this show a long time ago and that’ll never change) and watching each new episode with the hope that it’ll get better. But good gracious we do not have a lot of substantial evidence to back that hope up right now, lol.

The dialogue is hollow because we don’t sit with any characters long enough for their emotional moments to hit home. These brilliant actors can’t even save the scripts they’re being given.

I liked Rouge so much because it felt so bottled within its own episode. The stakes seemed so low, and it was fun and campy and the energy was electric. But I’m disappointed all over again with the Marvel-ization of the show in the newest episode. We saw it in the 60th specials, and it’s back swinging again in TLORS.

We don’t want Stark Tower SHIELD UNIT and their big flashy technology to save the day. The Doctor running straight to UNIT for help at all was crazy to me.

Part of me got so excited when Death was revealed as the big bad. The deluded part of my brain immediately thought we’d get a paired down concept of Death, like in the Big Finish Master audio drama. And I still really hope that happens, or is at least a little bit alluded to. (or maybe not. maybe i want to write that story myself some day when i’m in the damn writers room for this silly perfect show) But as soon as they got my hopes up, they got dashed again five seconds later when it became evident how overpowered and goofy and trope-y our big bad is shaping up to be.

RTD shines when he’s writing characters full of hope and wonder and a need to see the stars. Moffat shines when he’s writing twisted little think pieces that show the indomitable human spirit. Both of them have had my heart and changed my life with their writing. And right now I need them both to take a back seat and pass the baton. Russel keeps trying to outdo himself, and it’s all become too grandiose.

We need a writer in that room that doesn’t care how The Doctor is going to save the world next, but instead, cares about how he’s going to save that one person right in front of him, who needs his help, now.

[bimir]

it's not something strange or unique to say that after the last haikyuu movie, most of us got into it again, but at the same time, I know for sure that I'm not the only one who benefits the most from this re...union.

I went to see the haikyuu movie alone, and at first, it didn't hit me that much. maybe it was because I couldn't help but wonder how much I would have enjoyed it with my best friend, but we are grown-ups now and long distance.

after a couple of days, the internet was full of haikyuu content again, just like during lockdown, and because of that, I also got into it again and realized how much of a masterpiece it is.

haikyuu is well known, but in my opinion, it is underestimated and categorized by others as just a silly volleyball-sport anime. it saddens me so much that there are so many people who will never get to embrace this piece of art.

Furudate not only created a coming-of-age story, a story that inspired and still inspires generations to fight for their dreams, to engage in the complex mess of relationships, teamwork, and partnerships. haikyuu teaches you that if you really do have a dream, and if you are really ambitious, if you work hard for it, your time will come too. but it also teaches you that not choosing to be great is not a tragedy; your dreams of what a good life means can be different from the ideals of others: "life is unfair, but damn it, at the same time, it is really fair too."

so why did I go on writing about this? because I can't comprehend how haikyuu manages to be there for me at the best time—or the worst, better said—how it really took its "comfort anime" title seriously for me. I started haikyuu in my last year of high school: extremely stressed, depressed, and anxious, so scared of what the upcoming end would mean for me that I'd tricked myself into living by coming to the conclusion that I'd simply not make it to 18 if I didn't see a future for myself. it seemed only fair and the universe would do its thing, no? I know, kinda depressing and triggering, but it did help that miserable me then, it did help but not in the way I prayed it would. the universe didn't send me "death," it sent me life and hope through haikyuu. feeling so empty, so bland for such a long time, haikyuu managed to make me laugh and cry. it doesn't sound like much, but real ones know what I'm talking about. seeing their connection, their ambition, the troubles and feelings I was so desperate to put into words right in front of me saved me from my misery. I began to wish to live, to wish to be like them, to wish to fight, to wish to connect again with people.

now, after almost 4 years, I'm in my last year of uni. the main reason for my depression back then in high school was because I didn't know what to do with my life, what uni and career to choose. hell, I didn't know I would take this path until last autumn, but here I am, on my way to becoming a teacher. it's hard, really hard, but right now, after the new movie, I finally committed to start and finish the manga even though I knew bits and pieces of what happens. it was the best time to read it now. over these 3-4 years, I pondered why I couldn't start getting into the manga and see for myself what happens, but damn it was the best time to read it now. seeing them go all out on their path, learning that in order to succeed you need to fight and fight and fight, to push through, to overcome your limits, to push yourself, to not take it easy if you really want it, came at the best time as I got into a slump and a burnout from learning too much but also not learning enough. I've got to see all of the characters continuing to be pros while fighting for their way, but also choosing to let go of something they once loved in order to live a normal life.

haikyuu is like a reminder that there is more to life than just your high school/childhood years, that your path could take a 180-degree turn at any point, but at the same time, it makes you appreciate those times and not want to sweep your childlike wonder, your growth, and mistakes under a rug. Furudate was a genius for creating haikyuu, and I really hope and pray that haikyuu will continue to be there, to comfort and save future generations until the end of time.

[justatalkingface]

I JUST FREAKING REALIZED SOMETHING!!!

Aizawa didn’t get into the hero course until his second year and was bullied by Sensoji for being a waste of space.

And Sensoji's actions were justified.

Now stick with me here.

Isn’t it a bit odd how Bakugou's behavior was justified? And I don't mean just in a favoritism way.

Despite how much he was willing to bash Class 1-A, Hitoshi didn't seem to acknowledge Aizawa favoring Bakugou. Not once. This is odd as he was there when Aizawa openly defended Bakugou during the Sports Festival. And you'd think Aizawa would correct Hitoshi's opinions on Class 1-A, but he doesn't.

And with how Aizawa made the battle between both hero courses focus on Hitoshi...

I'm sorry. Correct me if I'm wrong but...

Was Aizawa setting things up for Hitoshi to become like him? Was Bakugou going to be set up to be another Sensoji that Hitoshi had to face off?

Because if the war didn't happen...Hitoshi was going to be in Class 1-A way earlier.

...I don't think Eraserhead is self-aware enough to plan something like, which is saying something because even more self-awareness would tell him how stupid it is, but...

It's hard to get past the fact that, fundamentally, he's a hollow shell of a man. In all likelihood, he was a mess before Oboro, but after he died? I think something just... broke inside him.

This isn't really something I talk about, but at the core of him, Eraserhead is someone going through the motions, just existing one day at a time. He doesn't seem to have... goals. Objectives. Plans. Desires. Dreams. All he really has is his work, and he's not really doing his work well, is the thing. The first thing he does after getting life altering injuries is go back to work the next day, held together by staples and a prayer. Logically, that not only put back his healing, it might have actually worsened how much permanent damage he had.

He works day and night, and it's clear he's not managing his time well by his constant exhaustion, so most likely if he's not doing UA stuff, or being dragged around by his friends, he's off fighting crime. I mean, hell, he barely even eats.

He doesn't shave, he doesn't clean up, he doesn't get his hair cut... all of that stuff is because he probably doesn't have the energy or will to do it, and, real talk? I honestly wonder if he's so skinny because he's malnourished in some form, because those jelly packets or whatever can't actually be meeting all his nutritional needs, especially with how much energy he has to be burning every day.

I think the main reason Present Mic and Midnight got him to join UA was to save his life. Not from a major threat or anything, but from himself. With him at UA, they could dial him back, stop him from running around picking fights and parkouring across roofs 24/7, and maybe even get a real meal in him.

All of the stuff I've been talking about... 'logically', doesn't that ruin his vaulted 'efficiency'?

When Eraserhead says, 'efficiency', or 'logically', or whatever other word he uses to sound smart, he doesn't really mean, 'doing it in the best way possible', even if he's lying to himself that he is; what he's actually saying is 'doing it the most simple and straightforward way possible, right now'. If he thinks a student is too much trouble, rather than trying to fix the problem he just gets rid of them, and if they manage to pull themselves together after he does that? All the better.

The reverse, though, is as long as they aren't too much of a problem, then they're not actually worth punishing, not unless he's basiclly forced to: he doesn't let Bakugou run wild because he likes him, really, he does it because he doesn't think dealing with him is worth his time, the same way he lets Minoru be a creepy little pervert without really doing anything to make him stop, until he finally crosses the line enough that Eraserhead has to be involved, like by putting a kid in danger. The reason his only comment when he holds Bakugou back that first time is about his dry eye is that honestly, that was all he actually cared about: not that he was attacking other students, but that Bakugou was making him do extra work.

It's why the few times we see him actually deal with a student's problems (that weren't his favorite, anyways) is when he was already doing something else involving them in the first place, because if he's already there, working with them, might as well do this other shit, right?

It's only efficient.

To bring it back to your original point, though, I think part of the reason he's such a hypocrite is he doesn't really reflect on himself, or his actions. While he does think on the past, it's not anything productive, it's just him... wallowing in his grief and self loathing.

The reason Hitoshi was the main focus was because, well, Hitoshi was Eraserhead's main focus, so he wanted him to get a lot of the experience everyone else had been having as fast as possible, and beyond that I don't think he was thinking through the implications beyond that.

I've found a lot of Eraserhead's actions make sense if you ignore everything he says, and instead draw a metaphorical straight line between him and whatever it is that he wants to do. It's not deep, it's just so OOC for a normal thought process that it throws you off.

[roguemonsterfucker]

The website I lost was about the game Petz. The *real* petz games, not the new 3D ones that fucking suck.

The original Petz games, Dogz and Catz, came out in 1995 and spawned a dedicated following. I originally played Petz 2 and had no idea more were made until I stumbled across Petz 5 in a computer store in the early 2000s.

After that, I found the online community. So many websites and forums dedicated to the games. People modding it to make custom pets, people using the breeding mechanics to create their own breeds. People trading pets with each other. It was magical.

And then websites started dying. Geocities took a lot of wonderful sites down with it when it died. Several other hosts died. Some websites were taken down by their creators.

Downloads and information were lost to internet decay. Even by the time I started being active in the community, some links were dead and I never even had a chance to see them.

One by one, a favorite Petz creator of mine's websites went down. Her first website, featuring unmodded pets available for download which I used to spend hours scrolling through for the perfect pet... gone. Her website dedicated to selective breeding, which contained so much information that helped me with my own projects... gone. Her modded Show Breeds pages, of highly realistic dogs and cats, and even her Show Rats... gone. And finally, more recently, her massive website hosting modded animals of all sorts, (giraffes, snakes, parrots, fish, etc)... gone. All of her websites are gone. Every. Single. One.

And now several of my websites have joined the list of lost content. My original website, hosted on Webs, was lost a few years ago when that service went down. I hadn't touched it in a long time as Webs wasn't a very good host for what I wanted. And it vanished without me realizing. It didn't have much, but it had the start of my selective breeding journey. My original creations from when I was a young teenager. And they're gone. Even the wayback machine didn't fully save it.

While my weebly website is still up, for the moment, it has now joined the ranks of dead Petz websites. And that's really fucking sad.

The old adage about nothing going away once it's online... That only works for things you want to go away. Anything you want to keep is in danger. The internet is a hostile place for the things you love. All information is just a misclick away from being lost forever.

The Petz community is still alive. When I updated my forum post about my website, telling people I could no longer update it, someone replied within a few hours to say how valuable my website had been to them. A game that came out nearly 30 years ago still has a community of people that adore it. But sadly we have lost so much over those thirty years. Some has been preserved via the wayback machine or via community efforts but much hasn't.

It's so depressing to scroll through the petz forum for links only for nearly every one to be dead. And it's so depressing to know that now my websites are among them.

[sachirobabe]

Chapter 10

Gojo Satoru x reader

Wc: 4628

Curseless au

Summary: Amidst the zombie apocalypse, your courage shines as you not only saves lives but capture the heart of Gojo Satoru. Together with his first-year students, you all embark on a perilous journey, not only for survival but in a quest for a cure that adds a poignant layer to the unfolding romance.

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Taglist: @spindyl

You and Satoru talked all night, up until it was your turn to be on watch. "You should go to bed." You say to the man.

"Why? I'm having fun talking to you." He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, "You're going to be tired tomorrow."

"I've gone days without sleeping, I'll be okay, sweetheart." He hums, tapping his fingers lightly on your thigh. You enjoy the proximity, a bit too much actually.

You're not sure how the lines became so blurred between you two, but you're not really complaining. You enjoy his company, a lot—a little too much. You're staring to crave more with him.

But going a step further gives you anxiety. You didn't want to ruin the friendship that was still blooming. You stare at him, he seems to be amused by his finger tapping on your clothed skin, he was way too pretty for his own good.

You couldn't help but push a few strands of hair away from his face, his hair had gotten really long now. He looks up at you, smiling at your action, he's now moved closer than he was before.

"You think I need a haircut?" You could feel his breath on you, your noses almost touching. You place a hand on the side of his face and your eyes flicker from his eyes down to his mouth.

He smirks widely, loving the affection. He also glances down at your lips, bringing you closer to him. You pull back when you hear footsteps and he frowns, seeing who interrupted.

Megumi rubs his eyes as he entered the kitchen, eyeing the two of you sleepily. He's too tired to notice the blush on Satoru and how you aren't making eye contact with him.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Satoru quickly regains composure. Megumi frowns and takes a sip of water then walks back to the room where everyone was sleeping.

"It won't be much longer before everyone else wakes up." You clear your throat, pretending that little moment didn't happen.

"Yeah," Satoru sighs, "Did you want to try and catch some breakfast?" He asks hopeful to be able to talk to you.

You nod, "Let's go." You smile and get up, stretching before following after him to quickly get ready. He quietly opens the door and waits for you as you're writing a quick note to the others as to where you've both gone.

It's chilly, more than usual as you step outside. Satoru wraps the scarf he lent to you to cover your face more. "You look cold." He smiles quickly and immediately brings his guard up now that you're both in the open.

"Thank you." You mutter and match pace with him as he takes you somewhere new to hunt. Your gloves weren't doing much to prevent you from the cold, they still felt numb and tingly as you held onto your bow.

Satoru quickly goes down and you follow him, trying to spot what he saw. Your blood runs cold as you see a zombie.

"Why's it here?" You quietly whisper just enough for Satoru to hear.

He shakes his head, his hair moving along with him, you can't help but smile softly. Zombies were not commonly seen near the base, it was too much of a climb for them.

Satoru moves forward, wary of where the zombie might be, he leads you to a familiar place, one where you've had the most success in getting food.

He watches you as you're completely focused on finding breakfast. He admires the way you look right now, the sun hitting you just right and the small snowflakes falling onto your hair making you appear more beautiful.

Satoru gives himself this one time to come to terms about how he's feeling, he thinks it's wrong to think about you this way. He quickly shakes his head, knowing it would pass.

But everything in him wants to ask about the moment you shared on the couch earlier. He wonders what would've happened if Megumi had stayed asleep for not even a minute longer.

Would you have allowed him to kiss you? Why did he want to kiss you? All these thoughts ran through his head, he frowned as he tried to come up with the most logical explanation.

You had caught breakfast effectively, it did take awhile, but it was done. "We can go now." You smile at him and he's taken out of his thoughts, nodding and allowing you to lead the way back.

He's nervous. He's never been this nervous before to talk to you, he's debating if he should bring up the incident. Now would be a perfect time, but he's stalling.

"Did you ever tell Nanami about the base we found?" You break the silence.

He nods, "I mentioned it while you were ignoring me." He teases.

You pout, "I said I was sorry."

"Kidding, kidding." He chuckles amused, "He says he'd like to see it for himself today. We're only here for another day and we head back tomorrow."

"It went by too quickly." You sigh, "I'm not looking forward to walking all day."

He chuckles kicking the snow, "Me neither, princess." You both walk in and see everyone in the living room/kitchen.

"We'll go start a fire." Inumaki signs and drags Maki and panda with him.

"Took awhile." Shoko yawns, "we were starting to think that you'd gotten eaten." She jokes

You shake your head, "We saw a zombie."

"A zombie?" Nanami's attention is caught.

"It was all alone." Satoru shuts the door and makes sure the door is barricaded well.

"That's..weird." Nanami says.

"When are we leaving?" Nobara asks and gets up from the couch and Megumi and Itadori follow after her, like she's their leader.

"Sometime after we eat breakfast, thank you, by the way." Nanami smiles and takes the animal from your hands to prepare it.

"No problem." You smile back, you sit down at a chair and wince a little. Remembering how Satoru was needy the other day and had leaned against the bathroom door waiting and when you opened it he fell on top of you, making your ass hit the ground.

"What's wrong?" Satoru asks, watching Shoko leave with Nanami to help prepare the breakfast.

"My ass still hurts from the other day." You frown and try to sit more comfortably, now hyperaware that it hurts.

"You want me to massage it?" He smirks.

You're not amused in the slightest, "I'm leaving." You say and move to the couch, he smiles widely and hurries behind you, tackling you onto the couch in a bear hug. "Satoru!" You yell.

"What?" He asks acting cluelessly, wrapping his arms tighter around you, not letting you break free no matter how hard you try. 'Damn he's strong.' You think.

"What's gotten into you?!" You giggle and move to at least be able to breathe.

The first-years hear the commotion and see their teacher goofing around, as usual. But this time, a small smile adorning their faces, happy to see Satoru laughing with you.

"Breakfast is..ready." Shoko walks back in and sees what the first-years are looking at. Her features softening at the sight. "Cmon you two." She says chuckling.

"You're annoying." You say breathing heavily and Satoru just smiles widely at you.

After eating breakfast, Nanami prepared to go check out the new base. You waited by the door, waiting for Satoru who always took the longest to get ready.

"We're losing daylight." Maki looks at her watch.

"He said his hair needed to be perfect." Inumaki signs while chuckling.

"For what? To impress a zombie?" You jokingly sign back.

"Maybe not a zombie." Panda responds and you're confused as to what he meant, but Satoru had finally left the bathroom and declared he was ready.

"No casualties please!" Satoru reminds and walks out the door, dragging you by the hand.

"I can walk." You chuckle and take your hand back.

"Stay by me." He says.

"I always am. You never leave me alone." You say back and he chuckles, knowing there was no denying it.

"Focus up there." Nanami's deep voice pulls the both of you out of conversation and you made sure your gun was full of ammo and focused entirely on your surroundings.

The cold air was harsh as ever, snow falling harder than any other day. You wished there was a hot spring near, but the only one you knew of was on the way back to the original base.

You feel like your hands are going to fall off, as you turned the corner there was a hoard of zombies blocking your path. They had been feeding on what you assume was a human. Your face contorts into one of disgust and sadness,

You raise a hand, indicating something ahead. "Nanami?" Your whisper barely heard, but he knew it was one to get his attention and make a decision on what to do.

"Let's go back, I think we can go around." Satoru suggests and Nanami nods along with him. You're all carefully walking backward, making sure not to get any attention from the hoard.

You can feel yourself holding your breath and letting it go in relief as you're out of sight from the zombies. The group navigates around the zombies, careful to not run into any trouble.

As you all pass by the mall where you had endangered your friends your stomach churns and does flips. Satoru takes note of this and places a hand on the small of your back, reassuring you silently.

You give a half smile and look ahead, knowing what he was saying without him even saying it.

"How much further?" Inumaki gets Itadoris attention and signs.

"Not much longer." He signs back.

"Are you sure it's the one?" Nanami joined in the conversation.

"I'm positive." You sign back, and look ahead to point at the base all alone, no buildings around it, making it perfect to see any enemies.

"The electric fence shouldn't be on." Megumi signs quickly, "looks the same as we left it."

Nanami nods and looks around before quickly yanking the gate open and allowing all of you through, shutting and locking it before any danger could get in.

You all ran towards the door that the first-years found last time and go inside. The mess of Megumi was still there, Nobara and Itadori tease the boy about it.

"This is it." You smile and you all scan the entire base, making sure nobody was there. "Come with me." You grab Shoko and buzzed with excitement to be able to show her the lab of her dreams.

She gasps softly as she walks in, taking in all the equipment and technology. "It's everything and more." She says.

"I know." You smile widely, "isn't it great?" You say with a glimmer of hope, finally seeing something positive in all of this negativity.

"We need to move here as soon as possible." Shoko says and turns around to face you and is met with everybody in the room now.

"We will." Satoru says seriously.

"Everything works here." Nanami says, a hint of a smile forcing itself onto his face. "We need to claim it immediately."

"We leave tomorrow." Megumi reminds.

"Will some of us stay here and wait for the rest to pack up things and then come back?" Nobara asks, you're all grouped up moving towards one of the shared living spaces in the base.

"I'm not sure splitting up would be the best idea." You say sitting down next to Satoru.

"But what if someone else claims it while we're gone?" Panda brings up a valid point.

"I think a few of us could hold down the fort for a few days." Maki says.

"A few days? It takes like a week to get from here and back." Inumaki signs.

"Walking," Maki corrects, "but if we were to take one of the cars we could get there much quicker."

"That'd bring too much attention," Nanami begins, "if anything were to go wrong and someone attacked us, we'd be down in numbers."

"And we know most of the powerful gangs are full of numbers." Itadori adds.

"Are you saying we're weak?" Satoru pipes in, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Nanami quickly shakes his head, "No, I believe in each and every one of you. I was just hypothetically saying the worst."

"What if we all go in the car?" You bring up, "We'll take two so we can all fit and we quickly go back and get whatever's the most important and come back."

"That would take away the worry of somewhat being outnumbered." Satoru goes along.

"We'd still attract attention." Nanami frowns. Any solution brought up was retaliated by another statement.

"We're going to be using the cars at some point." You clear your throat after a moment of silence, "Might as well start now."

"It could make us seem more powerful and others won't want to engage." Satoru backs you up.

"We're willing to fight." The second-years say and the first-years nod along.

"It doesn't sound bad." Shoko says to Nanami.

Nanami nods. "Okay. We'll do that." He says and goes to find a piece of paper and pen to write out some scenarios and ways to get out of them with the least amount of damage.

"The drive will be about 2 hours, less since we don't have to follow laws." Satoru smirks. "Nanami and I will drive the two cars."

"How do we know there's nothing wrong with the cars?" Inumaki asks a question that was on everybody's minds.

"I used to fix up cars with my dad," Nanami says, "I'll check them out right now." With that he excuses himself to get to work.

"Stay here with them?" Satoru asks Shoko and you and quickly follows after Nanami.

"Let's lock all the doors here just in case somebody gets in." You say and split up into small groups to get the job done quickly.

"Do you think the cars will be in good shape?" Panda asks you.

You think for a moment, "I would think so, but I don't know much about cars." You laugh, remembering how you jokingly used to play a game where you'd try to collect as many lights on your dashboard

"As long as the battery isn't dead and there's gas, we should be fine, right?" Maki chuckles.

"Tires too, they can't be flat." Inumaki reminds and you nod, glad that they knew slightly more than you. Knowing yourself, you probably would've just tried to start it and drive.

After securing all the doors and windows you all go to check on Nanami and Satoru, fearing that Satoru might've died from annoying Nanami too much.

You're glad to see he's still alive and chuckle at your thinking, your smile quickly disappears from your face as you see Satoru shirtless leaning on the car Nanami was currently looking at.

You take him in, looking at how chiseled his body was, sweat dripped down his body, glistening his soft pale skin. Everything moved in slow motion, his hair had become wet as well from his sweating and stick to his forehead.

He brings a hand to wipe away his forehead and he flexes unintentionally. He looked amazing. You couldn't look away. He finally sees that you're all there and smiles, not caring at all about the way he looks.

His confidence in his steps as he walks towards you makes your knees go weak, he says something to you, but it never registers. You're still admiring his body.

"Are you..going to faint?" Satoru chuckles nervously, holding onto your arms just in case.

"What?" You finally come to your senses.

"You feelin' all right?" He smirks, forgetting anybody else was in the room.

You shake your head, "I feel fine, was just worrying about the cars." You try to clear up and save your ass. Not wanting to admit you were ogling him.

"Ah, that pretty little head of yours is always worrying." He chuckles and you force your eyes toward at the car. "They're all good."

"That's great to hear, right Y/n?" Shoko smirks.

"Y-yeah, it is great." You clench your jaw, but put on a fake smile.

"I'm giving you guys 5 minutes to get whatever you need from the house and then we're booking it." Nanami says and shuts the hood of the car, he too was shirtless, but you couldn't stop looking at Satoru.

"I'm on first watch." Shoko pats your back harshly, bringing you back to reality.

You knew Satoru had a nice body, you got a glimpse of it when you all went to the hot springs, but this was more intense. And you're not sure why.

"You guys should get some rest." You say to the students.

"Can I ride with Nanami?" Itadori asks and Satoru frowns at him.

"We'll figure that out tomorrow." You chuckle, gaining your composure back.

"We're leaving earlier this time. We shouldn't run into too much trouble at those hours." Nanami wipes his hands on a cloth and throws it to the side, putting his shirt back on.

"You're going to get sick." You throw Satoru his shirt and he grins.

"You won't help me, doc?" He says and grumbles about putting his shirt back on.

You roll your eyes, "I'll let you suffer." You say and start to walk away. Your face felt hot remembering the picture of his body engraved in your mind.

"Hey! Wait up!" Satoru laughs and follows you.

"I need to shower." You say.

"Without me?" He jokes, but deep down within him he wants to.

"What?" You laugh.

"We'll save water." He shrugs.

"Stay here." Your fake smile is the last thing he sees as you shut the door in his face and he groans. He huffs and waits outside the door for you. His imagination running a little wild and he has to keep shaking his head to stop.

You come out wearing only a towel, and a very small one Satoru notes. He gulps at the sight of your body, your wet skin making you look like you're glowing and he's loving every second of it.

"Can you pass me my clothes?" You ask him and he stays in place, watching you talk to him, but nothing reaching his ears.

"Satoru, quit being annoying and hand me my clothes." You chuckle and be finally looks you in the eyes, he stutters and grabs your clothes. "Thanks." You eye him and shut the door to finish.

How was he supposed to function now? His pull towards you was getting out of hand. He can't bring himself to admit anything other than it's a small crush, but god was he starting to lose his composure.

He showers after you and his mind goes crazy. 'You're going to be the death of him.'  He thinks.

You smile and see that somebody had set up your bed for you, you're exhausted and lay down, closing your eyes and trying your best to fall asleep. Your sleepiness goes away as soon as you feel Satoru come into the room and set up his bed right next to you.

He's restless next to you, tossing and turning. You're getting a little annoyed at his constant moving. "Stay still." You whisper and turn to your side to face him, sleepiness evident in your voice.

Satoru huffs dramatically, 'it's your fault.' He thinks to himself.

"Go to sleep." You mumble tiredly.

"Sorry, princess." He turns to face you as well, moving a piece of your hair out of the way. You're plaguing his mind without even knowing. He thinks he needs to see Shoko as soon as he can to get checked out, something's definitely wrong with him.

He finally falls asleep once he hears Nanami and Shoko trade places for being on watch.

You're awoken by Nanami's voice, telling you to get ready to leave. You try to get up but feel the weight of Satoru's arm around you.

You're sure he didn't mean to, you move it so neither of you have to have that conversation. Your hands find their way to his hair, giving him light scratches, he looked content.

He hums sleepily, a smile on his face. "What a great way to wake up." He says, voice hoarse and deep.

"We're about to leave." You say and remove your hand from his soft hair, he groans and sits up reluctantly.

Everyone was up and moving, waiting for their dear teacher.

"Did you wake him up?" Megumi asks you.

"He's up." You sigh, "Are you guys ready?"

He nods, "Nanami is getting the cars ready."

"Satoru, let's go." You peek your head back into the room and say, he frowns as he puts his shirt back on. "Are you in Nanami's car?" You ask Megumi.

He nods, "Itadori, Nobara, Shoko, and I are riding with him."

"Sounds good, where's Maki, Panda, and Inumaki?" You look around, trying to pinpoint them.

"They're already in the car waiting." Itadori yawns and makes his way to the bathroom last minute.

"Nanami said to give this to you, he doesn't trust Gojo with it." Nobara comes up and hands you a walkie talkie.

"Thanks." You chuckle and Satoru comes out of the room, seemingly ready, he throws a heavy arm over your shoulder, grinning at the first-years.

"Are you guys excited to ride with your favorite teacher?" Satoru says obnoxiously.

"Yeah, we're riding with Nanami." Megumi smirks, loving to her under his skin.

"What—?"

"Let's go." You interrupt Satoru and drag him towards the cars, the first-years following after you and getting into Nanami's car.

"He wasn't kidding?!" Satoru says loudly and Maki flinches at his volume, a glare being sent his way.

"Follow me. I gave Y/n a walkie talkie, call in if anything happens." Nanami says, starting his car.

"Got it, got it." Satoru huffs and rolls his eyes, "We're ready, over." He grabs the walkie talkie from your hands and speaks into it.

Nanami was not impressed by this and gives Satoru a deadpan look. "I can hear you just fine." He says and rolls up his window, looking ahead for the door to open.

Satoru grins, "Buckle up!" He says and accelerates the car to follow Nanami. You're on high alert now that you're all out of the base, Nanami drives ahead and stops at a stop sign, making Satoru scoff and quickly grabbing the walkie talkie.

"No way you're following the law right now." Satoru yells.

"Just being cautious." Nanami answers.

"Who cares!" You can briefly hear Shoko over the walkie, Nanami reluctantly obeys and speeds up, not caring about traffic laws.

Satoru grins as he steps on the gas, enjoying the fact he can break all the rules on the road. You look around as he drives to make sure nothing is raising a red flag.

"At this pace, we'll be back home in an hour." Inumaki signs to Maki and Panda.

"I think Gojo is having fun." Panda chuckles.

You'll admit it felt nice to not see any traffic in sight, remembering how awful the traffic was before the apocalypse. You glance at Satoru, his smile still plastered on his face, he looks cute.

He's having fun driving this way, he even gets so close to Nanami's car that they're about to touch. Nanami warned Satoru on the walkie to quit it. He then sees there's multiple lanes ahead and speeds up to drive side by side with him.

His boyish laugh brings butterflies to your stomach, you're having a hard time holding back, you stop yourself from looking at him and focus ahead.

He eventually calms down from the high of being on the road again and drives behind Nanami. The second-years were somehow able to sleep throughout the entire drive.

No dangers were faced on the way to the original base, you quickly wake up the second-years and they prepare to pack as quickly as they could.

Satoru comes to a hard stop and the students rush out to grab their things, you're next to follow and start throwing your things in the large trunk. No words were said, in fear of wasting time.

You're done before the others, panting slightly as you wait by the car. There's movement from the corner of your eye, you take the safety off your gun and get ready for anything.

"There's no sneaking past you." You hear the voice say, you look around trying to pin point it and get focused on a bush. The voice is familiar, you've heard it before.

"Show yourself." You say loudly, clenching your jaw. You point the gun, finger on the trigger.

He emerges from the bush you were pin pointing. It was the one you shot awhile back when you all were heading to the radio tower. "The names, Jogo. Nice to meet 'ya." He grins evilly.

"I don't care. Go or I'll kill you." Your voice has no hint of backing down.

"You're the one who shot me." He scoffs, "Look, I'm all better now."

"All better? Is that why you have a cane?" You roll your eyes, getting ready to trigger the gun.

Suddenly another figure runs to your side and tackles you down to the ground. Your gun gets thrown off to the side. You hit the ground hard and wrestle to get free, you're struggling at his strength, but you remember the knifes littered all over your body.

He straddles you and goes to punch your face, you dodge easily and pull out a knife from your leg pocket, you easily stab it into his side and he screams loudly, you push him off of you and run to grab your gun.

Jogo drops his handcuffs, ones that you assume he was trying to capture you with once the patch face guy knocked you out. Jogo runs to grab your gun, or do anything to prevent you from getting it.

Shots were fired behind you, your vision getting blurry, Jogo gets to your gun before you, before he can aim and fire, you tackle him.

Satoru found it weird that you hadn't came back, as soon as he heard a scream he and the others ran outside. They see the scene in front of them, you were currently tackling Jogo and throwing punches to him.

Off to the side Mahito was reloading his gun, trying to shoot you, but at the same time cautious of his friend. Satoru sees red and shoots Mahitos hand, he screams and falls down.

You were unaware of anything, but taking care of Jogo. Other shots were heard, but you felt no pain, so you could keep going. Jogo managed to straddle you and tried to inject you with something, he manages to stab it on your arm and quickly inject, you scream and try to fight him off.

Satoru wastes no time in shooting him in the leg, he was aiming for higher, but it wasn't working well for him. Jogo falls to the side and you get up quickly, swaying from side to side, your vision getting blurry.

You fall into Satoru's arms, he could only focus on you, not even realizing that Jogo and Mahito had ran off.

"What's wrong, are you okay?!" He ask frantically, trying his best to not let any tears slip.

You're having a hard time understanding him, your vision sways and gets worse, you're feeling more sleepy and your body can't fight it. "He..injected me with something." You manage to say and finally go limp in Satoru's arms.

[in-my-loki-feels]

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss - if you're still doing these for the ask game!

Don't think too much about logistics or this probably falls apart. I just went with my first thought, which turned into this sappy mess. 🙈

(I'm also counting this as a bingo fic but all of that will be at the end.)

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss

Mobius had never been to space, but he supposed that it might have felt like this: drifting through nothingness in a bulky suit, witness to the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen—well, second most. Either way, the screens at the TVA hadn’t done it justice. It was breathtaking, vibrant green and blue and purple ribbons of light, and somewhere deep within was possibly, hopefully, the god who had saved them all. 

He knew this could be a fruitless endeavor, and maybe even a one-way trip, but he’d had to try. After waiting so long for a sign, what could he do but go look for one himself? Especially after O.B. had told him he’d possibly found a way to reach the Citadel at the End of Time, a place Loki had described but Mobius never expected to see for himself.  As he drifted closer, Mobius could see that the tree before him was made up of countless glimmering timelines, all woven together to create a slowly shifting, shimmering Yggdrasil. The Tree of Life. The connection between the Nine Realms, and now all of time, he supposed.  Mobius wondered how exactly he’d get inside. He’d told O.B. he had a plan but the truth was he was making it up as he went along. He’d had to say that to get O.B.’s help to make it this far. He couldn't rely on O.B. for everything. Just as Mobius thought he’d have to raise his hands or bump face-first into the tree, the timelines slowly parted before him, allowing his momentum to continue carrying him forward.  The inside of the tree glowed with as much light as the outside. It didn’t seem entirely hollow but there was definitely space for him to float forward. There were also scattered pieces of black rock that had veins of gold running through it. A larger chunk looked like it could have been a piece of a window. It took Mobius back to the moment he’d received the file that changed his life forever, standing in the golden light passing through a stained glass window.  His foot bumped into something and he came to a stop. It was difficult to see in his cumbersome suit, but when he moved his foot around it felt like something stable. It also, strangely, felt as though there were gravity now. Mobius lifted his other foot and found another surface just above the first. Stairs? Slowly, laboriously, Mobius ascended the steps.  His breath caught in his throat when he reached the top and saw a familiar figure seated on a golden throne. Mobius’ legs shook with exhaustion and anticipation, but he forced them into motion so he could cross the space between them.  Loki looked ethereal surrounded by the sparkling, swaying timelines. He still held some in both hands, but the rest seemed to be woven into his cloak, stretching out all around him. Loki’s hair moved as if nudged by a gentle breeze, but Mobius couldn’t feel anything inside his suit. Loki’s eyes were open, glowing the brilliant green of his magic, but as Mobius waited, there was no sign he saw Mobius at all. He was silent and still, the guardian of all of time now. Always.  Mobius couldn’t stay in this stupid suit any longer. If his skin was gonna get peeled off at least he’d have one last look at Loki unobscured by a window pane or dirty helmet. He fumbled with the heavy latches, not wanting to remove his gloves just yet. Finally, the clasps snapped open and he was able to turn the helmet enough to unlock it. With shaking arms, he lifted it off his head. 

Loki looked no different than he had through the visor: motionless, bathed in the light of the timelines he protected. Mobius stared long enough to realize he hadn’t turned to spaghetti or had his skin peeled off. He waited a few more seconds just to be sure then decided if it was safe enough for his head it would be safe enough for the rest of him. He hurriedly stripped off the rest of the suit and then approached Loki.  He’d had no plan for what came next and still didn’t. All he knew was there was a growing need within him to touch Loki, to know he was real. He started with Loki’s hands, so cold they seemed as if they should be frozen stiff. Mobius was able to take them in his—careful not to brush the timelines—and press a kiss to each knuckle. He kissed the back of each hand, then turned them over and kissed the pale underside of each wrist. When he looked up, Loki’s eyes were still unseeing, or all seeing perhaps. He was the guardian of the timelines now. The God of Stories, but what of his own?  Mobius swallowed down that bitter thought and gently set Loki’s hands on the arms of his throne. He reached out to cup Loki’s face and found his skin was just as cold here.

Mobius leaned forward to press a kiss to the crown Loki wore, made of the same black stone threaded with gold that floated around them. Below that, he placed a kiss on the center of Loki’s forehead. He kissed both brows, then each cheek and then hesitated before placing a gentle kiss on Loki’s lips. They were as cold as the rest of him, so Mobius kissed them again and again until he felt he had transferred some warmth. Loki’s mouth remained still against his, but what else did he expect? Even if Mobius’s vision was a little blurry when he pulled back, he didn’t mind. This was still more than he thought he’d ever have when Loki locked the doors against him and Sylvie and walked out onto the gangway alone.  Mobius brushed his thumb across Loki’s cool cheek and wondered if he could chafe warmth back into Loki’s hands without disturbing the timelines. Then Loki blinked.  Mobius’s heart stopped. He waited, counting the seconds in his head. At thirty, Loki blinked again, then after a shorter wait, a third time. The green glow remained in his eyes but his gaze shifted ever so slightly to focus on Mobius, instead of looking through him.  Loki blinked one more time, a slow brush of dark lashes against pale skin, and then his eyes widened ever so slightly.  “Hey there,” Mobius said in a thick voice.  A tear escaped the corner of Loki’s eye, rolling down his cheek to land on Mobius’s thumb. Mobius felt his own eyes overflow as he leaned forward to press another kiss to Loki’s lips. This time, he felt a gentle tremor against his mouth before Loki kissed him back.

This unintentionally mirrored an idea I had for a longer bingo prompt fill (which I still may do!) but I'm going to go ahead and count it towards the "citadel" and "together at the tree at the end of time" squares. @kcscribbler @lokiusbingo Bingo card here!

Also shoutout to @thosegayoldmen for planting this idea in my brain a month ago. It never let me go!