#and kinda under-utilized so far

[nouearth]

baby-sitting for miguel o'hara. (part ii)

miguel o'hara x m!reader headcanons.

part i.

warnings: smut, perverted!miguel, top!miguel, soft!miguel at times!!, bottom!male reader, small!male reader, thoughts of sex, fantasy!sex, masturbation, humping, kinda domestic idk.

notes: it's been a long time coming. 💀 i honestly was struggling to find like a plot for the second part, or just how to move forward. lmao. but i hope this turned out okay???

—never again, miguel promised himself that night. 

—it had been a few weeks since he last jerked off to your briefs. the blue undergarment that he came into were thrown somewhere under his bed, far from his reach.

—and as tempting as it was to smell you again, he mustered up the courage to leave the stained fabric alone. 

—for good.

—miguel despised what he had become.

—settling his sex life on a lone piece of fabric, it was pathetic. 

—from dusk til dawn, you participated in a triathlon of his delirious state of mind and competed for several awards that would then be mediated by miguel. 

—had it been a real competition, he would’ve been fired for exhibiting extreme favoritism because you’d win all the trophies and medals.

—a ‘helping hand’ award he would award you a few mornings ago, where he jerked off to the thought of you giving him a handjob during his lunch break.

—multiple ‘most improved’ awards for when you were able to throat his cock a little more than before.

—and another for when your ass was able to take miguel in without needing to pause or adjust for his size, even if the strain of your facial expressions told a different story.

—gagging in between moans, coughing out thick globs of spit, wincing in bittersweet pain when he pushed in, arching in complete pleasure when he pushed out.

—he loved the idea of watching and hearing you struggle because of his cock.

—though, it was only until recently when he began feeling a strong sense of guilt for portraying you in such a manner.

—it was a promotion at work that allowed his hours to be more flexible than before, and miguel utilized that to the fullest by spending every waking second with his daughter.

—and you.

—even when he came home early, he never sent you home.

—maybe it was the perfect opportunity to get one step closer into your pants.

—or maybe he wanted to get to know the babysitter that gabriella had taken an extreme liking to.

—get to know the babysitter that had somehow made miguel feel something more than simply lust.

—you hungry? you haven’t taken your eyes off of your thesis paper since i got here.

—hm...?

—that night, you’d look up at him with those bright eyes, that bright smile that latched onto miguel’s adam apple and made it hard for him to swallow. 

—it was as radiant as the first time he saw you. one wouldn’t be able to tell that you’ve been pulling all-nighters for the past few weeks.

—oh! i guess i’m a little hungry. i haven’t eaten since breakfast—

—breakfast? i told you that you could rummage through the pantries, right? you practically live here at this point.

—i know, i know! once i get in the zone, i kind of forget about everything… except for gabriella! it’s funny. as loud as her cries are, they’re kind of my savior right now.

—hm...

—it’s getting late, so i’ll just whip up something at home—

—no, stay. i’ll cook something.

—sir, you don’t have to—

—miguel’s chest swelled. that word again.

—i’m cooking. stay, or i’m firing you for wasting my ingredients.

—hey, unfair! pretty sure that’s a violation of our contract or something!

—it didn’t take long for it to become a regular occurrence.

—miguel would cook a late dinner for two, and he’d join you on the couch with a plate of what the limit of his culinary skills could whip up. 

—it wasn’t like this every day, but it was often, which was more than what miguel could ask for.

—he would use the little time he had with you to learn about you more. your interests, your background, your passions, your personality, and you’d do the same. 

—on some nights, he’d proof-read your thesis paper and provide some feedback that you would immediately take in consideration and make the changes to your paper.

—on many nights, he’d simply close your laptop and force you to take a break because as alluring as those recent eye bags were, your health was a priority.

—stay for the night. it’s late.

—i’m almost done for the night! i just have a few more—

—nope, you’ve used up all your excuses. i’m confiscating this.

—where am i even supposed to sleep?!

—and on those many nights, you’d end up sleeping on miguel’s couch despite the persistent offers of his comfier bed.

—there would be times where you two would chat into the night while the tv played in the background. 

—you’d ask each other about your day, tell stories about gabriella, bond over shared interests, fueled debates over a quality of a certain movie, until fatigue hit either you or miguel.

—usually you were the first one to fall asleep, and he would watch you silently.

—the flickering lights from the tv would accentuate your features in the night, and he never knew he could find you even more handsome.

—your complete vulnerability was enticing. 

—you would curl into the blanket he’d given you, and miguel would take the time to count the seconds it would take for you to exhale your dreams.

—the longer it was, the deeper you were into your sleep.

—it wouldn’t be until thirty exhales more that miguel would send himself to bed.

—five seconds, miguel would find himself mimicking the pattern of your breath before he drifted off into the night.

—then there would be nights where the subject matter would be more personal, more than miguel would have liked.

—does it get lonely sometimes?

—i’d be lying if i said no. not all the time, though. i have gabriella.

—huh…

—is that why you’re a complete grump all the time?

—watch it.

—i’m kidding! good thing you have me too, right?

—yeah.

—good thing i have you too… miguel sighed heavily at the empty side of his bed, staring into the darkness until the shadows from the night had forged a shape of your body.

—he closed his eyes when he felt a whisper of your lips near his, barely ghosting over his pair, and stroke himself to the possible reality of you becoming his. 

—fuck... he then lied on his stomach and began humping into the bed, against the bed sheets, and held the imagination of your body close to his own, protecting you like his life depended on it.

—i need you… miguel pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling the memory of your shampoo as he polished his hips further into the bed. 

—his cock rubbed in between his body and the soft sheets as he’d imagine unsheathing himself in and out of you at a slow yet steady pace.

—because he needed to savor you.

—he would imagine how you’d respond with every thrust. 

—your words would glue to your throat because you’d be too overwhelmed by his size, by the pleasure that miguel would finally be delivering to you, by the doting hold around you, and with the aid of his hips, your words would like crystallized honey.

—miguel would push his cock into you deeper, taking in the sound of your voice into his with a warm kiss. — i— 

—you would draw out sounds from your throat until they were practically begs when miguel would pull out excruciatingly slow to tease, then a demand as he would doubt your confession by cautiously following the outline of your pucker with the tip of his cock.

— need—

—his hips would lift, then come down onto you like hail. hard and sudden as his cock would ram into your tight fill, knock your breath back into the tight of your throat.

— you— 

—you need him. 

—miguel could tell from the way you completed allowed him to invade your reserve until he was balls-deep inside of you. 

—from the way he’d pull out once more and your hole would memorize the shape of his cock, down to his thick girth. puckering to the recollection of his throbbing veins.

—and he’d be the one to bridge the puzzle pieces together as he would press himself forward and bend your legs back before slamming his cock back into you  with the delirious evocation of lust.

—you would stifle your moans into your forearm as the bed rocked to the strong rhythm of miguel’s thrusts, but he’d pull your arms away and hold your wrists above your head.

—he needed to hear you.

—hear how much you wanted him, how much you needed him.

— i’m going to come—

—you’d grunt in between the heavy and sticky sounds of your skin colliding against one another, into the thick air that you and miguel had mutually forged together. 

—his other hand had been wrapped around your cock, jerking the throbbing muscle to every count of his balls bouncing off your bottom. 

—he would squeeze and stroke, your pre-cum coming down in thick drips, and he would thumb at the slippery wet slip until the pad of his thumb was layered in your thick substance.

—until his fist was covered in a glorious amount of your warm cum, inking him deep with your devotion before feeding you of your own need. 

—he would bring his hand up to you and slip two fingers inside of your mouth. your tongue would slowly roll over his cum-covered digits, sucking the bittersweetness off of him.

—it wouldn’t be long until it would be miguel’s turn. 

—miguel would continue bringing the remaining fingers up to your mouth for you to cleanse him off, and it would be enough for him to have him in shambles.

—imagining you devour your own sweet lust until all five of his fingers were polished clean awakened him to another level of pure ecstasy, and miguel groaned, rocking desperately into his bed.

—your warm hands would all over his toned body, fueling the tension in his stomach as you would prioritize the center of his abdomen.

—fuck, come in me—

—miguel would his weight onto you, his large body practically devouring you in sheer size as the heat and sweat confined you to the parameters, and he’d hold you close once more by slipping his arms around you.

—a cycle of thrusts quickened every round and you held onto him. kissing at the side of his neck. suckling at the round of his shoulder. 

—i’m coming… he muttered to himself, to no one but the wrinkled sheets beneath him, and fucked his cock harder into his bed.

—and when you heard a shudder coming from the depths of miguel’s strained throat, you licked a stripe at the center of his throat to pacify him, making your way to the plush of his lips, and kissed him at the pivot of his climax.

—miguel would exhale hard against your mouth before kissing you and spilling delirious moans into the captivity when he would begin flooding your insides with his thick and warm cum. 

—heavy ropes would ricochet off your violated inside, but miguel would press into you closer, harder, and intimately so, until your foreheads were bruised into one another.

—in occurring reality, miguel painted his bed sheets in thick layers of warmth and musk. layers of cum wetting his bed as he desperately held onto his fantasies with sensitive rolls of his hips.

—his tongue would tangle into yours, practicing a slow, sensitive waltz as his softening cock would sink deep into your hole. 

—and you would moan and suckle around him as you felt every drop of cum warm you from the inside and out, shielding you from the goosebumps that would frost your skin.

—the kiss would remain its passionate dance as you both relaxed into each other. your legs unwrapped to tangle into miguel’s, expertly lifting the blanket over your feet in the process. 

—he would hold you tighter once he broke the kiss, turning you on your side as he lied flat on his back. 

—your head would rest on his chest after pulling the remaining blanket up to your bodies and you would sigh, suddenly feeling drowsier with miguel’s warm caress aiding sleep against your back.

—for the remaining moment, he would gaze at the sheen of sweat that highlighted the flush of your skin. 

—he would listen to the beat your heart, slowly coming to its resting pace as you succumb to sleep under the spell of his doting touch.

—and he would strangely feel a need to hold you, shelter you inside of his arms because he feared something would happen to you.

—fuck.

—miguel quickly rolled back onto his back in the midst of catching his breath, the shadows that had formed the image of you unfurling into obscurity. 

—he felt his heart race, bullets rebounding off the beating surface like a drum, and he placed a hand over his chest to pacify at the sudden swell of his chest. —i think i love you.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

science experiment is my new favorite, dear lord it’s incredible

"We might have a problem, Alfie," Dick sing-songed as he leaned against the wall where Alfred was making sure the outdoor shenanigans that were serving as "training" today didn't get out of hand.

The butler glanced up to where Jason kept watching you, almost hovering near you. But trying to make it look like he wasn't. "So far as I'm concerned, it looks like the opposite of a problem."

"Maybe," Dick mused.

"How much did he see? Last night, I mean?"

"The aftermath," Dick sighed. "Mud, blood, tears, and snot."

"Oh dear," he tutted. "Master Bruce told me that he found Jason tending to the wounds on her hands and feet this morning. And that he seemed... almost like his old self."

Dick nodded to where you'd made your way over to Cass, the newest addition and offered to be on her "team". Cass wasn't a big talker- she could hardly speak at all- but. Thanks to your empathic quirk, neither of you really needed to talk to team up. And it hadn't taken Cass long to figure that out. OR to figure out that you were physically not very durable. Still. The smiles and the fist bump said it all. "Do we have extra hydration packs on hand?" he asked.

"Always," Alfred said. Reasonably, no one expected you to participate. And no one pulled punches when you did. But- watching you laugh with the other girls when Dick jogged over to even it up properly... well. Maybe, you could get a couple nights of decent sleep.

Bruce strode out onto the lawn and dropped into a chair with a grunt. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Swimmingly," Alfred said, pouring cold drinks and making sure that yours had the specific blend of things that had been prescribed to you in your bottle. "Miss Y/N and Miss Cassandra have been working out some things they can utilize in the field and the others have been enjoying creating chaos to facilitate that."

"Hn."

"And Jason has been hovering like a mother hen," Alfred chuckled.

"So much for not having a crush," Bruce hummed. "How is Y/N holding up?"

"Tiring out, I think. But they've been doing what they can to keep her from having to over-exert herself- after all. It's not like we need to know what the upper limits are."

"Fair-" But before he can finish asking for specifics, you waver on your feet halfway through a strategy you'd been working out with Cass. But before you crumple, Jason is right behind you. Picking you up against his chest.

His face burning as he murmured something against your flustered protests. You radiated flustered embarrassment. And he deposited you in a chair carefully. "It probably would have worked," he muttered, "Dick and Steph talk too much."

You nod and accept the proffered water bottle awkwardly and take a drink, "Thanks."

"What were you trying to do?" Bruce asked? He hadn't SEEN Cass, but that didn't mean anything.

"Lead her into the best position for a sneak attack using my location with emotional resonance... since I can make the people feel things we were playing hot and cold. So I was picking up on where she was and kinda leading her to where she needed to be as we were wandering around."

"Hn." Bruce nodded. Considering that. He'd THOUGHT about using that as a strategy before. You did possess the ability to hone in on people you knew well-

"You okay?" Jason asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"Fine," you murmur, rolling your water bottle between your hands and looking down. Taking a few deep breaths to shove all your emotions back under control as the others lope back up from the grass for drinks and snacks. Cass sat on the arm of your chair and thudded her head gently on your shoulder. Smiling a little when you lean your head on hers.

Bruce watches the little exchange with bemusement and nods to himself. It made sense. Cass had few words and you could make yourself understood without it. But0 he did wonder, as he watched Jason watch it all happen, how he felt about it.

[terrestrialnoob]

Time and Information

She was walked through the halls of Bel Rev Prison by four guards down an unfamiliar passage. She was soon joined by a younger woman with blonde pigtails who was happily chatting to her escort until she saw her fellow prisoner.

“Oh my gosh! A new face!” She cheered in a heavy Brooklyn accent, “Better be careful or it’ll get blown to bits!”

The two were taken into separate rooms and there was a sudden jolt of horror at the chair in the center of the room. It looked far too familiar, straps and gaps for easy access to specific parts of the body – the soft, weak parts. It was similar to something she’d once made when she was younger, dumber, and too scared of the unknown – no, too scared of being wrong about the unknown to see what was right in front of her. She struggled against the guards, but one punched her in the gut and she was forcefully strapped down into the chair. She was warned not to move before there was a sharp pain at the back of her neck. She sat frozen as something was forced under her skin, she could feel it anchoring into bone. After that, she was unstrapped and furiously asked what they’d done to her. “They’ll explain it soon enough.”

She was lead out of the surgical room and into a large concrete room, with 2 metal crates. She spotted the girl from earlier standing next to one of the crates. She looked up at her from pulling on a red and black diamond patterned leotard over fishnet leggings. The girl waved and shouted, “You made it!”

She waved back to the blonde then one of the guards lead her to the other crate and opened it. Her eyes stared to tear at the sight of her old aqua jumpsuit. There were also her goggles, utility belt, respirator mask, and a handful of non-compacted weapons.

She followed the implicit instruction to change into her jumpsuit, and it felt like putting on her real skin on again. It had been so long, she was starting to see silver in her auburn hair that had grown so long her braid went all the way down to her back. But the suit fit, just like it always did.

“Awooga!” The girl cheered and shouted, “I’m not usually a MILF kinda gal, but you look tight.”

She almost laughed at getting catcalled by the other woman and even flexed her arm to show off her prison muscle. The two were soon lead to a new room and she saw three other non-guards in the room, all in their own colorful costume. A large man had on a bear-skin cloak over body armor while another seemed to be dressed up like an airline pilot. A humanoid tiger creature was also there, they were already wearing a sleeveless Chinese-style martial arts uniform.

“Boomer!” The girl shouted and waved at the airline pilot and he smiled and greeted her in turn.

“It’s good to see you Harley,” He said with an Australian accent, “who’s your friend?”

Before she could answer, a door slammed open. A woman entered; thick and sturdy who held herself like a pillar of The Acropolis, like if she fell, the whole of civilization would fall with her. At her side was a man dressed up in his own custom red, silver, and black body armor.

The woman stopped and glared at the prisoners like they were less than human and took time to memorize all their inhumanity before she spoke, “Ladies, gentlemen. For those who don’t know, I am Amanda Waller, head of Task Force X, an off the books strike team of convicts used as expendable agents working for the U.S. Government. You are now members of Task Force X. Succeed in your mission, and you’ll get time off your sentences. Any questions?”

“A few, ma’am,” She rose her hand.

Waller raised her eyebrow and nodded, but before she could ask, the man in the bear skin shouted, “The Bear fight for Mother Russia, not U.S. Pigs!” His accent was thick and he stomped his heavy boots up to Waller, towering over her in an attempt to intimidate. “I will not work for you.”

Waller glared up at him and waved at the door behind her, “Be warned, there’s a small explosive in your neck, and if you do any little thing I don’t like, your head will be blown clean off. Take one step out that door, and you’re dead.”

The Russian growled at her, then pushed past her. He took one confident step through the door - the explosion was bright but quiet, and eviscerated the man’s head in seconds.

Waller turned back to the others, “Did that answer any of your questions?”

“A few yes,” She smiled and gently rubbed her neck where the small lump was indicating which of her questions had been answered. Then she continued, much to the horror of the Australian. “Are the terms of this – arrangement negotiable?”

Waller answered before she even finished, “You can’t refuse.”

She nodded her head, “I assumed as much. But, there’s something I want more than time off my sentence.”

“Oh?” Waller gave her a scrutinizing look, the kind that a woman who’s always looking for a better deal has.

“It’s about my son. Last I saw him, he was being experimented on in a government lab. The thing I want is unredacted copies of the files. I want to know Every. Single. Thing. any research lab anywhere has ever done to my son. And his current location.” Her voice shifted from relatively polite to absolutely deadly; almost like she now blamed everything the government has ever done wrong on Waller as a representative. The man next to Waller seemed to flinch, but the two women didn’t break eye contact.

“Might be difficult, given that most of the facilities that would have that information were destroyed. But I don’t have to tell you that, do I?” Waller stared her down, or at least tried to. There was silence, and for a moment several people in the room expected a head to explode. But then Waller said, “Do the mission, and I’ll see what I can get from the guys in white.”

The woman who stood up to The Acropolis smiled dangerously as she said, “I’m sure a woman of your standing and reach can get her hands into any government office.”

Waller smiled back, “You flatter me, Ms. Fenton.”

“Doctor Fenton,” She corrected, “One doesn’t lose their education simply because they’re imprisoned.”

[hiddencityhijinksau]

I'm totally gonna create art for this - already have - but in the meantime I should probably explain this concept lol.

So basically, in one way or another, the turtles each stumble upon the Hidden City at around age 8 to 10, and decide to keep it a secret from their bros >:3

Leo is the first one, technically, when he goes out to explore NYC when he's eight, and discovers Run of the Mill Pizza, because I'm obsessed with the Uncle Hueso idea, but he doesn't go to the actual city until much later, though he knows of it's existence.

I actually kinda started writing this starting bit? It's totally unedited and missing bits but whatever, I'll include it under the cut.

Leo peered up at the manhole cover from the bottom of the ladder, imagining what he would see if he climbed up and lifted it. The young turtle mutant didn't get long to think about it, hearing his brothers call for him.

"I'm coming!" The 8 year old ran to catch up with his family, sending one last considering look at the rungs of the ladder.

Later that night, after his brothers were asleep and his father was dozing in front of the TV, the red-eared slider crept out of bed, utilizing all the stealth skills he'd learned from the lessons Splinter thought he hadn't been paying attention to. Once safely out of the Lair, Leo practically sprinted down the route to the manhole cover he'd spotted earlier. There were entrances closer to the Lair, of course, but this way, if he got caught sneaking back in he could say he was just wandering around the sewers.

Reaching the top of the ladder, the slider paused for a moment, savoring the adrenaline of what he was about to do. Splinter never even let them explore the sewers without him, nevermind letting Leo venture out on his own. And now he was about to go Topside!

Shoving at the metal disc with all his strength, Leo cautiously poked his head out, eyes wide to take it all in. Of course, this wasn't his first time on the surface – Splinter had taken all the boys with him once or twice for scavenging trips, especially when they were younger. But now, Leo was here on his own! This was so exciting!!

The slider climbed out of the manhole, tugging the cover almost back into place, but leaving a small gap so he could get in later, as he wasn't sure how to lift it from the top side.

Bouncing in place, Leo looked around the alley he'd surfaced in with a wide grin, wondering what he might find.

Hmm. There wasn't much in this alleyway. In fact, it was pretty much empty. Nothing but a few scraps of cardboard and a colourful graffiti tag decorated the concrete.

Well, Leo didn't come here just to hang out in one measly alleyway! Full of confidence, the eight-year-old marched to the end of the alley, pulling up the hood of his sweater as he rounded the corner.

Even with the late hour, there were still people on the streets, eyes focused on getting to their destination. No one paid attention to the small figure in a battered green hoodie hurrying along, sticking close to the wall.

Leo ducked into the next alley, heart pounding. Okay, so that was a lot more nerve-wracking without Dad or Raph than he'd thought it would be.

Luckily, he realized as he took in his surroundings, this alleyway was much more interesting than the one he'd come out of. There was a huge dumpster on one side, and the walls were covered in graffiti. Even better, the far end of the alley was actually a corner, meaning there was more to explore!

Leo started poking around, kicking at the small piles of trash and inspecting the locked dumpster. Not finding anything cool, he moved on, admiring the graffiti.

He ended up turning two more corners while following the trail of graffiti, and found himself facing the street again. The constant something of spray paint broke off at the corner, meaning the skull painting in this alley stood out sharply.

Bla blah blah some yokai open the door to run of the Mill while Leo watches from behind a dumpster or smth

Leo's eyes sparkled. Was that actual magic?! Donnie said magic was impossible, but Donnie also said it was impossible for the two of them to be twins, and Leo knew that wasn't true. The turtle bounced forward with glee, eager to see where those people had gone, only to stop short when the portal closed in his face.

Leo frowned. Clearly, he just hadn't been fast enough. Wait, what was that gesture they used to open it? Leo lifted his hand, trying to mimic the pose he'd seen, and wiggled it with great concentration.

Nothing happened.

Huffing, the boy tried again. And again. And was glaring at the wall, ready to shout at it to let him in, when he heard someone approaching the alleyway. Eyes lighting up with an idea, Leo darted behind the nearest dumpster and peeked out, watching carefully.

Sure enough, another mutant-like person entered the alley, heading for the graffiti tag. Leo stared hard at the gesture they made, but instead of waiting and trying to copy it, he darted in behind them as soon as the portal opened.

As soon as he was inside, Leo stopped. And stared.

There were so many people! And none of them were human.

"This is the coolest place I've ever seen," Leo whispered to himself in awe. He slowly started walking further in, craning his neck to stare at every little detail.

So entranced was he, that he didn't see the bony figure approaching until he nearly face-planted into their suit.

"Where are your parents, little pepino?"

Leo froze and looked up at the sound of the voice. Towering over him, arms crossed, was a frowning... skeleton?!

Instantly forgetting to feel guilty at being caught, Leo blurted out, "are you dead?!" His eyes were wider than they'd been all evening, he was sure. Because, come on, that was a walking, talking, skeleton man!!!

The aforementioned skeleton man, somehow, raised an eyebrow. "No, I am not dead. Have you never seen a skeleton yokai before?"

"No," Leo responded, eyes still wide. "What's a yokai?"

"Que pasa con este niño," the yokai muttered under his breath, then continued in a normal tone, "Yokai is what we are. You, me, and everyone in this restaurant is a yokai."

"Oh. Hey, what was that language you were talking in?"

The yokai looked at him weirdly, but Leo really did want to know! He'd only said one sentence but it sounded so cool! Leo already knew he wanted to learn it.

"Spanish. Why are you here, niño?"

"Uhhhhhh... Dad... sent me?" Leo cringed a little at the blatant lie, and decided to distract him with another question. "Can you say something in Spanish?!"

The yokai sighed. "Tell me your name and I'll consider it."

He beamed. "I'm Leo! What's your name?"

"You can call me Señor Hueso."

"Whoa, is your name in Spanish?! Wait wait wait you gotta say something in Spanish now! I told you my name!"

"Deberías estar en le cama, tortuguita."

"Coooool! What does that mean?"

"It means 'you should be in bed, little turtle'. Let's go, out, time for you to go home." Hueso began pushing at Leo's shoulders, nudging him towards the door.

"Whaaaat? Come on, you can't kick me out! I just got here!" Leo dug his heels in, refusing to be pushed.

"This is a restaurant, not a daycare. I do not have time to be babysitting lost children. Out!" With one final shove, Señor Hueso let go of Leo and prepared to shut the portal.

The turtle mutant stumbled and whirled around as soon he was free. "Wait! You're just gonna let a child wander around New York alone? At night? Isn't that illegal?"

"Well, since you won't tell me where your parents are..." Hueso trailed off with a raise of his eyebrow, waiting to see if Leo would offer any more information.

Leo huffed in defeat. He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting tired, as it was already far past his usual bedtime. "Fine, fine, I'm going! But I'll be back tomorrow!"

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

Leo did in fact come back the next day. Hueso wasn't there when Leo scampered in behind a weird frog yokai, so the slider was quick to scurry off into the restaurant, hoping he could hang out for a little while before Hueso found him and kicked him out again.

To be continued...?

[blond-jerk-tourney]

Champagne Bracket: Round 2, Poll 7

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Vil Shoenheit

He's snobby, a drama queen, kinda mean, expects perfection from everyone and yee :3

Where do I even start??? He's literally if the evil queen from snow white was a bitchy influencer. So like if patrick bateman was an influencer. so like one of those beauty influencers that were in drama but the crime this time was murder. He's vain as fuck and kind of the worst. Has trauma but idk what it is cause I'm not far enough in yet. tried to kill someone probably. amazing at chemistry and making poisons to kill people with.

link to image of quote

Eichi Tenshouin

He is literally the centerpiece of The War in ensemble stars. He more or less rose to student council president position, gutted their entire school and instilled lots of new rules and stuff. He made 5 students public figures, then promptly dragged them through the mud. He gained intel from people close to them and utilized their weaknesses against them to execute them. They all ended up getting severely bullied. He's treated many friendships as transactional relationships. He sabotaged numerous idol units, putting one out of commission for months. All in all, it was brutal. He almost succeeded in shutting down an entire revolution a year later. On another note he is just. a cheeky little guy. Sassy man apocalypse

link to image of quote

both submitters invite you to read this explanation of "the war"

[venus-haze]

Bad Obsession (Mickey Altieri x Reader)

Summary: Summer semester comes and goes without much consequence, or so you think, having inadvertently captured the attention of your classmate-turned-stalker, Mickey Altieri.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I had so much fun writing this even though it’s foul as hell, so I kinda left it open to a follow-up. Please look at the warnings before deciding if you want to read this. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Yandere behavior including voyeurism, stalking, blackmail, manipulation, filming without consent. Sexually explicit content that involves coercion (extremely dubious consent), masturbation, phone sex, degradation, choking, some elements of sadomasochism. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The summer semester was always sleepy at Windsor College. Only a few hundred students stuck around for the limited summer course offerings, usually people who wanted to stay in town and utilize campus housing or to catch up on course credits to graduate on time. While Mickey was the former, you were the latter. 

Taking Statistics 1101 during the summer was essentially signing up for hell, a full semester’s worth of material packed into the 8-week session. Mickey figured he’d pass with a B or C, at least. By the third class, wherein you’d established yourself in the next seat over from him, it was clear you weren’t as confident. The two of you didn’t talk much. You were far too absorbed in trying to understand the material to hold a conversation with him for long. Maybe that was a mistake, because it just gave him more of a chance to watch you.

Sure, the way you’d bring your pencil to your lips while you were thinking caught his attention, but sometimes, when you were especially lost on one of the problems you worked on in class, you’d whimper or groan softly. Every time you did, he couldn’t help but glance over at you. On the few occasions you caught him looking over, you always mouthed a silent apology, assuming your expression of frustration had bothered him. 

Instead, you’d inadvertently wormed your way into the darkest recesses of his mind, almost exclusively occupied by his plotting and fantasizing about the killings he’d commit upon the upcoming preview of Stab. He had it all planned out perfectly, and with his friends back home for the summer, the Stab premiere a few weeks away, and no further word from his accomplice, a side project could do him some good.

He didn’t get close to you, not bothering to attempt to become your friend or acquaintance during the short semester. Having to keep up appearances with his existing friend group was exhausting already between pretending to care about everyone’s problems and keeping up with their banal drama. It drove him crazy. He was restless for some action.

So, he remained the guy from your Stats class as far as you were concerned. Meanwhile, he had gone to the library to look up your student profile and followed you back to your dorm at the end of the day. A wicked grin threatened to spread across his face at the revelation that you not only lived in the same residence hall, but also right next door to him. He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed before, but he supposed he didn’t have any reason to. It was almost laughably easy from there to memorize your habits and schedule so he could sneak into your room as he pleased. Besides your shared Stats class, you were taking another general education course and worked part-time at a consignment shop in town. Plenty of opportunity for him to sneak around.

On his first visit to your room, he took his time, inspecting your choice of decor and rifling through your belongings. There was no need to familiarize himself with the layout since it was the same as his. Two beds, two closets, two desks—either side of the room a perfect mirror of the other. You’d claimed the side that was next to the window rather than the door. Perfect for a peeping tom, except that was far too tame to describe Mickey and his intentions. Besides, you were smart, closing your blinds whenever you changed. 

The posters on your wall screamed your taste in music at him, all pretty much what he expected except for a few outliers. You owned a small bookshelf which mostly held books for your classes and a few for personal reading, along with some CDs, knick-knacks, and framed photos. A TV and a VCR sat on top of the bookshelf, though he didn’t see any video tapes among your belongings.

Your desk was nothing short of a goldmine. Notes and pencils littered the top of it, and the wall behind it was plastered in post-its and reminders you’d taped up. He found your schedule for the upcoming fall semester in one of the drawers, complete with your own personal notes about student clubs that you’d be busy with outside of class hours. Folding the paper small enough to fit in his pocket, he resolved to take a closer look at it later.

Sometimes he’d take things. Most of the time you didn’t notice, but it sent a bit of a rush through him when you did. He'd watch your brow furrow in confusion as you searched your backpack or closet. He imagined you probably figured you had left your pencil behind in a classroom or a pair of panties in the laundry room. Other times he’d leave things–specifically his camera. After some trial and error, he found the best angle to hide it and record you, concealing it among the books and clutter on your desk.

His first few recordings of you were busts, either out of focus or in an awkward position to where he couldn’t see you, but he figured there was no harm in keeping them for posterity. With his ideal set up figured out, he’d break into your room twice a week while you were out and would either retrieve or leave the camera.

Stalking you became ritualistic, an almost meditative experience with so few moving parts to worry about, no fake best buddy persona to keep up. As he’d watch back the recordings of you studying, talking on the phone, and on occasion talking to yourself, he’d become wrapped up in elaborate and sadistic fantasies. In most of them, he utilized Ghostface to terrorize you, cornering you with a knife to your throat and threatening to slit it if you made a sound. Of course, because you’re you, you’d inevitably let out a moan or whimper in frustration, and usually his mind would run wild from there. 

Once in a while, he’d get really lucky and catch you getting yourself off with the lights on. He nearly came in his pants the first time he watched you wrap your own hand around your throat as you rubbed your clit. The sight nearly made him lose control and storm into your room then and there. He covertly made copies of those in the campus media lab, figuring they’d come in handy. 

The summer semester came to an end, and you looked more than relieved to hand in your final exam and kiss Stats goodbye. He was almost disappointed the game was ending so soon. He would be busier than ever with the Stab premiere coming up, two years of planning finally coming to fruition as he and his predecessor’s mom hacked their way through Windsor College’s student body to get to Sidney Prescott. As he watched you grab your things from your seat, you gave him a smile and a quick “See you around.” He responded with a smile of his own and a wave. Yeah, maybe he would.

Fall semester started unceremoniously, except for the arrival of a new roommate. She seemed nice enough, but you were going to miss having your own space. The two weeks between semesters where you didn’t have to worry about Stats anymore were beautiful. You vowed to never put yourself in a position to take a math course over the summer again. Still, it wasn’t all bad. Your roommate had a lot of night classes so she could work part-time during the day and have the rest of the week off. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from five to nine were all yours until December. 

Wednesday nights were your favorite to spend enjoying the four hours to yourself. After getting something to eat in the dining hall, you would head back to the room and put on a movie. Your small TV didn’t have cable, so you were limited to local channels and movie rentals. It was the biggest reason you bought the VCR in the first place. 

On one particular Wednesday night, you’d finished watching a copy of The Princess Bride you rented from the video store a block over from campus. There was still about two hours to spare before your roommate would be back. While you waited for the tape to rewind, the phone rang. You reached over to your desk to pick up.

“Hello, Y/N,” an unfamiliar man’s voice said.

“Who is this?” you asked, fumbling with the tape a bit as you tried to eject it from the VCR and put it back in the box with one hand. You groaned in frustration.

“Call me a secret admirer.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Easy tiger, I just wanna talk.”

“Look, you’re skeezing me out. Don’t call again,” you said, hanging up. 

Almost as soon as you did, you heard a knock at your door. Phone in hand, you walked over, opening it to find no one on the other side. You looked up and down the hall to no avail, but noticed a small package wrapped in brown paper on the floor in front of you. You frowned, kicking it lightly. There was definitely something in it. Leaning down, you took a closer look at what was written on the paper. In black marker lettering, the package read:

TO: Y/N

FROM: GHOSTFACE

It didn’t seem like Ghostface’s M.O., though. You weren’t all that familiar with the Woodsboro killings, having seen mentions of it on your local news station when it first happened. Even though Sidney and Randy were both students at Windsor, you didn’t run in the same circles as them. They probably wouldn’t want to talk about something so traumatizing anyway. Gale Weathers’ sensationalized book wasn’t exactly at the top of your reading list, and your roommate was still trying to sell you on the movie adaptation. After hearing about the two students who were murdered at the preview screening, you definitely weren’t interested. 

Sighing, you grabbed the package off the floor, tucking it under your arm. At the very least, you could call campus security to come by and take a look at it. 

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the phone in your hand rang and muttered a curse to yourself when you picked up, hearing that same menacing voice from just a few minutes before.

“Don’t hang up on me again if you know what’s good for you, bitch.”

“Is this some Unabomber type thing?”

“Consider it a gift. Go on, open it.”

Against your better judgment, you shut and locked the door behind you, placing the package on your bed and tearing open the brown paper wrapping with one hand to find–a plain Nike shoebox. You pulled off the lid and saw a VHS inside, Y/N 07-27-98 scrawled on the white label stuck to the spine.

“I don’t–what is this?”

“Why don’t you put it on and see?”

With a shaky breath, you picked up the VHS and brought it over to the TV on the other side of the room, turning it on and putting it in the VHS player. The other end of the line was silent except for faint breathing as the video began to play. 

Dread overwhelmed your senses as your bedroom came into focus, and it looked like the camera had been placed on top of your desk. You glanced over at the desk, not noticing anything immediately standing out as a possible secret camera, which could have only meant that your voyeur had access to your room to plant it. 

You watched as a grainier version of yourself locked the door and then walked over to your CD player, turning it on. Your stomach dropped when the music began to play, soft and not the clearest through the video, but you knew as soon as you heard the opening notes of ‘Call Me’ by Blondie, it was the mix CD you put on to muffle the sounds of—

“I’m not fucking afraid of you, asshole,” you spat into the receiver, tears welling up in your eyes at the sight of your oblivious self shedding your clothing and making yourself comfortable on your bed. “Sidney Prescott got the losers who pulled this shit two years ago. She’ll wipe the floor with a knockoff like you.”

“Would you shut up? You’re gonna miss the good part,” Ghostface said.

The sound of your own moaning mixed with the music began playing over the TV. Fuck, people were gonna think you were watching porn. You kind of were, except you weren’t. Being your most vulnerable, intimate self was never something you wanted anyone else to witness. 

“Fuck you. I’m turning this off,” you said, your voice little more than a whimper as you tried not to cry.

“You sure know how to put on a show. I wonder what everyone else on campus would think? I made plenty of copies to go around.”

“What do you want?”

“An encore.”

“My roommate could be back any minute.” 

“She still has class for another two hours. Now strip.”

You trembled at the realization of just how much he knew about your life, to the point where he even knew your roommate’s schedule too. Suddenly your fall schedule disappearing over the summer, things of yours going missing and sometimes reappearing, even feeling like you were being followed at times all made sense as a chill crawled down your spine. You always considered yourself aware and alert, at least enough to never end up in a situation like this.

Turning off the TV, you looked around the room. Slowly, you walked over to your closet, kicking inside it. Nothing. “Where are you?”

“Why? Feeling lonely?” he taunted.

“I just wanna know how you can see me,” you asked quietly as you approached your bed to look under it.

“You’re about to find out if you don’t stop stalling and fucking do what I say. I won’t be as nice about it.”

Setting the phone down, you dejectedly shed your pajamas. Part of you wanted to say fuck it and hang up. You huffed, figuring he wasn’t bluffing about the copies if he already went to this much trouble. You grabbed the phone, bringing it back to your ear.

“Okay,” you said, your voice shaking. “I’m—I took off my clothes.”

“Get on the bed.”

Your lip trembled as you looked at your bed. The springs seemed to squeak especially loud as you laid down, stiff as a board with a death grip around the phone. There was silence until you spoke again.

“N-Now what should I do?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it? So many options, but we can start slow. Play with your tits for me.”

Reluctantly, you brought your free hand to one of your breasts, half-heartedly squeezing it.

“Like you want to,” he snapped.

It felt humiliating to be taking orders from some pervert over the phone, but nevertheless, you kneaded the soft skin beneath your fingers, pinching your nipple for good measure. 

“Shit,” he groaned, “you’d let me fuck your tits if I were there, you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, I’d let you do whatever you wanted.”

“Of course you would, slut,” he growled, and despite everything, you let out the faintest whimper at his words. His tone turned mocking, condescending as he caught your slip up. “You like that? You wanna be my slut?”

“I—“

“C’mon, I wanna hear you say it.”

You hesitated for a few moments. “I wanna be your slut.”

Fabric rustled on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a zipper. You could hear him utter a curse, his only words that hadn’t been altered by the voice changer. Desperately, you tried to place where you’d heard him before, but to no avail as the modified voice spoke.

“Now, I want you to put the phone on speaker, and lay it right next to your head.”

You did as you were instructed, dreading what he was going to tell you to do next.

“Why don’t you slip your hand between your legs and see how wet you are? A slut like you must be dripping by now.”

Sliding your hand down from your breasts to your pussy, you hesitated before slipping your fingers between your folds.

“You wanted this all along, didn’t you?”

“N-No,” you protested weakly, your stomach dropping upon feeling your wet pussy. You didn’t want to be turned on by the situation, but your body seemed to think otherwise.

“No? You knew something wasn’t right, Y/N. You’ve known for weeks. That didn’t stop you from putting your cunt on display for me, but your fingers aren’t enough, are they?”

Almost as if possessed, your hand moved to your clit, fingers playing with it as you bit your lip.

“You’re such a fucking whore, choking yourself to get off. Yeah, I saw that too. You want it to hurt, huh?

“S-stop,” you whined.

“I bet you’re the type of girl who thinks being tied up and smacked around is foreplay.”

“Fuck,” you whispered, slipping two of your fingers inside your pussy. There was no way he couldn’t hear the sound of your fingering your wet cunt over the phone.

“If I were there—fuck—I’d have you begging for my cock. I wouldn’t hold back. I’d fill you up until all you could do was cry. Maybe I’d gag you with your panties to shut you up, make you taste how fucking wet you are for me while I ruin you.”

“Oh my god—fuck.”

“Now, put your hand around your throat, and squeeze,” your tormentor ordered.

There was no hesitation as you brought your other hand to your throat, your fingers constricting your airway as your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and you imagined a black gloved hand in its place, your fucked out gaze met with a pair of black eyes, stony and indifferent to your protests as he pounded into you. 

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice husky, and you could hear him getting himself off too, fast, mean strokes on what you could only imagine was a cock that’d split you in half. “Harder.”

You squeezed tighter, and at the same time felt your pussy clench around your fingers. There was no way anyone walking by couldn’t hear the sound of you fingering yourself, you wondered if they could hear Ghostface over the speakerphone too. Maybe that was the point.

“Go on, cum. I know you want to,” he groaned. “I’m close too, been picturing your mouth around my cock. You’d probably love to—fuck—choke on that. Fucking slut.”

This time, he moaned, and you could hear him cursing under his breath, his voice unaltered again. You didn’t bother trying to place the sound of his voice, too busy chasing your own orgasm until you gave your throat another squeeze and your hips bucked, cumming all over your fingers as a pained moan tore from your throat.

The phone was silent except for the two of you breathing heavily. You brought your hand from your throat to your forehead. What the fuck did you just do?

“See you around, Y/N,” he said, and you knew it was a promise rather than a suggestion.

The other end of the line went dead. You spent at least fifteen minutes lying there, the dial tone buzzing in your ear. Finally, you willed yourself to get up from the bed, slamming the phone into the receiver before shuffling over to the VCR. 

Taking the video tape, your hands shook as you considered what to do with it. You could bring it to the police, but was there really any way for them to trace who recorded it? Besides, you’d rather die than anyone else see the video. It was bad enough that Ghostface or whatever fucking pervert was getting his rocks off to it. The last thing you wanted was a room full of cops and detectives analyzing a video of you fingering and choking yourself. It was diabolical, really, how well he had planned the whole thing. 

In deciding between shame and justice, you angrily chose shame, throwing the VHS onto the floor and taking out all of your frustration on the damn thing. You stomped on it, jumped, spat, screamed, all the while picturing that stupid mask in its place. You ended up cutting your bare foot on a piece of broken plastic, and finally sunk to the floor in a mess of sobs. 

Insomnia claimed you as a victim following the phone call from Ghostface, especially after you returned from class the next day to find a pair of your panties you’d previously thought were sacrificed to the depths of the dorm laundry room placed at the top of your hamper, dried cum all over it. Gagging, you threw it into the garbage and washed your hands under scalding hot water for no less than three minutes. You almost wished it was the result of your roommate bringing a guy back to the dorm, but you knew better.

Your roommate noticed your skittishness and confronted you about tossing and turning all night, offering to go to the student health center or even the emergency room with you. You declined, deciding to spend your nights in the dorm’s common area to at least let her get some sleep. Despite chugging coffee and applying copious amounts of concealer beneath your eyes to hide how discolored the skin had become in your exhaustion, people were starting to comment. You may as well have been a dead woman walking. 

Jumpy and paranoid, you were seeing cameras out of the corner of your eye wherever you went. It didn’t help that a few of your friends were film majors. Their cameras were practically glued to their palms. Not to mention, just about anyone could be Ghostface. You withdrew socially, no longer attending the clubs you’d been involved in and hardly giving your friends the time of day. You didn’t know who to trust.

After nearly passing out in your Introduction to Eastern Religions class, your professor practically forced you to leave. You shuffled out of the classroom, trying to ignore how much your head was pounding. Except, the pounding noise wasn’t in your head, as you turned around to see Ghostface striding toward you, boots beating against the floor as he approached. 

In your delirious state, you ran into a storage room rather than to the nearest exit. You silently cursed yourself as soon as the door shut behind you, effectively trapping you inside. It wasn’t big by any means, but there were at least a few shelves and boxes you could hide behind and delay the inevitable. You didn’t have much hope in your ability to get the upper hand on him with your sleep deprivation.

Just as you crouched behind a stack of boxes, you heard the door open and promptly slam shut. Your stomach sunk when a lock clicked. Fuck. Why hadn’t you thought to check for a lock? Involuntarily, you let out a whimper in frustration, immediately throwing your hands over your mouth.

A cruel laugh echoed through the room, while not the same low pitch as the phone call, you recognized the tone, the mocking cadence that made you get yourself off to him just days before. 

“Talk about playing hard to get,” Ghostface said, pushing you down as soon as you tried standing up. 

Your skull bounced against the floor beneath you. You were seeing double. Suddenly, as you groaned in pain, the wind was knocked out of you by his boot on your chest. Teary-eyed and delirious, you went limp beneath him. There was nothing you could try, nothing you could do. You were completely at his mercy, or lack thereof was more like it.

“Thought it was about time we got up close and personal,” he mocked, his boot pressing on your chest harder as he leaned down, the stark white mask with its soulless eyes and haunting grimace just a few inches from your face.

Between the pressure making it difficult to breathe and your exhaustion, you could feel yourself losing consciousness. As you began to black out, you thought you finally recognized the voice behind the mask.

[multifunctionalnitroglycerin]

Heaven is not entirely on the wrong – a Hazbin Hotel theory #1 - Adam

Alright fellas, before you start shooting and cursing at my name with the most colorful strings of curses, hear me out.

But first let me get this out of the way, heaven not infallible no, I am not going to paint them as the perfectly good guys, no flaws whatever. And yes, Adam is still an arsehole. A big one. A heartbroken one, but still a royal arsehole. One that is one of the most memorable characters in Hazbin.

I mean imagine being the first man and having two women made for you. The perfect pieces to complete your puzzle. You know, as soulmate-y as it goes. And then both of them, one after the other end up leave you. For the same dude. And said dude is the reason you were cast out from the garden of Eden in the first place. Yup, that hurts. And I can only imagine it creates a bunch of insecurities, a hint of inferiority complex (How can one complete with an ANGEL – fallen or not?) an a very healthy misogynistic view.

Because hey, the first man was created, given a purpose, and given a partner to carry out that purpose with. A partner tailored specifically for him. Made for him, made to complete him in every way. And he is ecstatic.  And she cheats on him. With a fallen angel. His purpose is now null. And when given a second chance, IT HAPPENS AGAIN, WITH THE SAME DUDE.

And allow me to believe that Adam cherished Eve much more than Lilith. After all you don’t fully realize how much you love something, util you lose it. And Adam had lost a wife once. So, it is not difficult to imagine that he was much more devoted and caring to Eve. Consequently, when Lilith “corrupts” her, and Eve cheats on Adam with Lucifer – AGAIN, well he loses it. And here we are 10000 or however many years later, and he is a royal arsehole. Because how can you look at any woman the same way again, when the two women made for you, hurt you that way.  

And the heartbreak kinda bleeds out to his personality. His whole demeanor practically screams “Hey bitches look, I have been through shit, cheated on that way twice – with all the implications that come with it – and I am still here, standing and triumphing like Heaven’s very own Hollywood celebrity. And I have a bunch of badass women under my command that love, admire me and follow my every order, that cherish me like my two wives never did.”

And that last bit, is an important plot point, cause here comes Lute. Lute that was his second in command and cherished him and followed him right to the very end. Lute the only woman that did not betray him. And Adam dies with a smile.

Given all of that, I would think it is safe to assume that Adam is pretty jaded, as far as both women and second chances go. Because he got his second chance, after the first one was squandered – not out of his choice, but Lilith’s – and the second chance as well did not work out, because Eve ended up betraying him as well. For Adam, second chances amount to another chance at failure. We can all see why he wouldn’t be all unicorns and rainbows for Charlie’s plan to rehabilitate sinners and give them a “second” chance, when his own second chance amounted to nothing but a repeat of the first failure.

All in all, Adam is a major pain in the neck, and a misogynistic asshole yes, but he is also someone that has been hurt, and that in his own way conquered his trauma and heartbreak and made something of himself. That is not to say he is an altruistic goody-two-shoes hero, far from it, but he is a bit of an unintentional hero, that while following his own agenda and self-interests, freed many souls of their eternal torment.

And before you come at me for the nonsense that my last sentence is we move on the next part.

#2 – Exterminations

[doyouevenshipbr0]

u know what. im in the mood to piss ppl off. heres my ranking of the 10 strongest waterbenders in atla and lok (not including avatars, and im not including anything from kiyoshi or yangchen’s era. i havent read those hehe. sowwy. strictly going off the shows).

now im doing this bc waterbending is by FAR my fav form of bending. and in MY OPINION!!!!!,,, people overlook some pretty important facts and feats and decide based more on who their favs are. this is my opinion anyways so im sure i inevitably did that too! but anyways. here we go.

10 strongest waterbenders:

honorable mentions: kya- listen. she is my GIRL. and also she is very strong, but at the end of the day, shes a healer. she has very little combat experience, and she was up against some real monsters in tlok. and shes known to be a great healer, but we dont even see that much of that. for this reason, she cant be top 10:/. eska and desna- they are GOOD. and their synchronized waterbending is super interesting. unfortunately i just kinda think everyone else in the top 10 is stronger. and i feel like the reason they are so strong is because they’re a unit. if they were separated, i have doubts.

10. tonraq- right off the bat im wondering if im going off biases LOL. but i love him. i love his style of bending. he is arguably my fav waterbender to watch waterbend. but unfortunately, in most of his fights, he’s kindaaaa getting worked (im on s2 of lok rewatch now. so i may be forgetting some stuff. but the big fights that stick out for me are him vs unalaq where he gets worked and him vs zaheer and korra where again, he gets kinda worked.) very clearly strong, but does not have all that much to show for it in the show. but he fights with all the big shots for a reason, and he led the water tribe army or something like that. so. hes good.

9. huu- i honestly don’t remember a whole lot of him, but swamp style of water bending is super interesting, and he clearly does it the best. i know we dont see a whole lot of him, but i cant overlook that he is THEE swamp bender.

8. pakku- obv. hes a member of the white lotus and was the master waterbender of the northern tribe. a slayer for his time but i do think he is outclassed by most waterbenders we see in tlok. cannot deny his strength tho. he was the goat at one time for a reason!

7. hama- as far as we know, she is the first blood bender. aka the strongest aspect of waterbending. she is a LEGEND. but again, i think she was a master for her time, but would have trouble holding her own in modern day bending esp without a fully moon.

6. ming hua- the way she uses waterbending as an extension of herself is clearly masterful. and i feel like we never see anyone utilize waterbending anything like how she does. unfortunately, she cant be any higher bc we dont see any extraordinary sub-water feats (healing… i think???? don’t remember lol. bloodbending, spirit healing). but clearly, she was an insane threat to everyone around her.

5. unalaq- so like. MAYBE he should be 4, but i really hate him lol. but i cannot deny he is an EXCEPTIONAL waterbender and pretty much no other waterbender (that we see in s2) can even TOUCH him. hes got the spirit healing, and hes got the skill. somethin somethin vaatu vaatu. idk. i hate him and i dont rly like this season lol. moving on.

4. katara- ok. she was the best in atla. no ifs and or buts. HOWEVER. she gets outclassed in lok and i think we know why. BUT. she was a complete prodigy as soon as she started training with pakku. there was no extension of waterbending that she could not do. she clearly thrived learning waterbending how she did, in such a fast paced, high pressure, and high stakes situation, and thats not even HER PRIME! she was waterbending for under a year when we see her. and we still got the greatest waterbender of that time. there was no one like her, and no waterbender could hold a candle to her by the end of atla. and once again, was only 14. only waterbending for a year. whos doing it like my sis?!

3. tarrlok- unfortunately for katara, the bloodbending family, without a doubt, outdoes her. bloodbending without a full moon? done and done. sorry! i believe katara COULD bloodbend outside of a full moon given the extensive training tarrlok and noatak were given but unfortunately, we will never know, so i cannot in good conscience put her any higher than 4. tarrlok was a master waterbender in itself and pretty much a master blood bender.

2. yakone- he bloodbent. a whole courtroom. with his mind. we dont see anything else from him, and we really dont need to. sorry. it is what it is.

1. amon- he bloodbends with his mind. and learned to take away someone’s bending ability with blood bending. katara, the best healer in the world, could not restore korras bending. granted, she was probably going about it wrong, but the point is, she couldnt do it. taking away someones bending with bloodbending just takes the cake. that aside, even in a combat setting, when he wasnt even trying he was wooping on all other benders of all kinds bc he was controling their movements w his mind. imagine him openly using waterbending AND having his mind control technique?! he would be unstoppable. im ngl i dont love how lok handles waterbending/bloodbending in general. i kinda think they made it TOO strong with little reasoning). also we do see him do an awesome lil water tornado at the end. so. not that we needed that, but its a cute lil cherry on top to his waterbending. hes the strongest waterbender. sorry!

want to finish this by saying had katara learnt to bloodbend outside of a full moon, she would be number one. and i do believe she could have learned. but she didnt. so she cant be first.

[swangtup6]

Demo Review: Fenriz - A Funeral of Light (1996)

Ok so there's like no info on this band online that I've found, I have a policy of not reviewing NSBM (for the record) and the Polish scene (where this band comes from) is a minefield of sketchy politics but as far as I know they're clean. If im wrong abt this lmk n ill look further into it. all ik is that this demo goes hard as fuck

The first thing I want to talk about is the production, actually. This is DEFINITELY raw black metal. Everything sounds muffled, like it was recorded under water, you can barely hear the snare drum, you can't hear the cymbals at all, and the vocals are completely drowned out by everything else. All in all, it's lovely. I think the minimalistic sound makes for pretty perfect kvlt black metal, and this band is a huge inspiration for my own project, actually.

Next up has to be the guitar work. The guitar playing on this demo is phenomenal, with plenty of menacing riffs, eerie melodies, etc etc. I think the production serves the guitar particularly well as it gives it a kinda otherworldly feeling (like on Burzum's first demo) and the minimalistic songwriting let's the guitars stand out as the driving force behind this demo.

The drums are the only other instrument audible, so we're gonna talk about them next because we have to. The drumming is great, whoever drummed on this (metal archives says all of the instruments were played by one person named Thorn) can play with the best of them in this genre. The drumming is written well too, with plenty of blasts and a healthy dose of slower bits. It all feels natural and fluid, and only being able to hear the kick and the lower freqs of the snare drums is honestly a pretty cool effect. It's like the drum production on Transylvanian Hunger turned up to 11, with only the pieces of the kit absolutely necessary to get the rhythms audible.

The vocals are also fantastic. Thorn utilizes a somewhat-pained sounding high rasp that sounds totally sick and manages to cut through the thick guitar pretty easily. It almost sounds like the vocals are sitting on top of the instruments but in a cool way not a shitty production way.

Overall, this is one of my favorite black metal demos ever. I'm not going to give it as high of a rating as I think it deserves because I have to stick to my principles on how I rate these things or I'll rate everything 10/10, but it's easily like a 9/10 in my heart. I wouldn't recommend this to a newcomer to the genre, I don't think it's an essential listen even for experienced black metal fans, but it has a special place in my heart for being ridiculously raw, well played, well written, and all around dope as hell.

7/10

standout track: The Blaze Mountain

[rustboxstarr]

🎻You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me🎻

Pairings: Eddie Munson x UndiagnosedAutistic!PlusSize!ViolinPlayer!Orchestra!Harrington!Reader (Goddamn thats a lot)

Plot: When Dustins 15th birthday comes up Eddie is set out on a mission to get Steve to help. Unbeknownst to Eddie, Steve has a younger sister, a very strange, very mean sister. Theres something about her, he needs to understand how she became to be so different from her brother, so hes set out on his next mission to get the answers to his questions.

Summary: Eddie seeks out Steve and is introduced only briefly to you.

Chapter warnings: Practically absent father, slightly abusive mother, unfair treatment between Steve and Reader, Steves kinda mean, swearing, use of Y/N. Read series masterlist for storys warnings, tropes and Reader description, dw they're not major just a few)

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: This is the first chapter for You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me, thank you to everybody who voted for a series! This first chapter is short but they'll be longer in the future :)

Love yas!

Check out my other works! Series Masterlist

Next chapter

Dirty white Rebocks pattered against the gravel as Eddie hopped out of his van and made his way across the fading white lines littering the parking lot outside of Family Video. Looking around at the surrounding businesses littering the industrial area on the outskirts of town. All built with weakening concrete, mustard yellow and cream whites turning darker and blacker with age, just as the video store was. Hints of pink and purple painted the horizon as the sun and heat were starting to ease up from summer 1985 now that September was approaching. 

He was thankful for it as he started wearing his jeans again, leaving his worn down cargo shorts to gather dust under his bed till he had to dig them out again next summer. He had never been a fan of those cargos, but he had trouble finding any other article of clothing that could strife away the scalding temperatures, so he had been stuck constantly pulling at the hem by the waist, forcing them to stop sagging from under his belt, he felt ridiculous walking around in the, hanging off him as if he’d dressed himself in a trash bag, but now he was back in his comfortable skin wearing properly fitted jeans. 

He was on a mission after he’d been told by Mike that this was where the infamous King Steve worked and was given precise instructions on how to approach the subject, instructions which went in one ear and out the other as Eddie fought with the gamestick playing Pacman at the arcade only one day prior.

A greening gold bell rang above his head as he opened the glass door and stepped foot in the building lined with dark brown wooden shelves sporting various movies from a stingy amount of genres, the shelves depicting a confusing maze within the wallpapered walls. Whoever was in charge of planning how to best utilize the space, clearly had no idea what they were doing. 

He shimied around shelves placed too close together and far too close to comfortably open the door, navigating to a counter placed in the middle of the room as You don't have to stay forever, I will understand was heard through the tinny speakers, Elvis Presley's You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me occupied as the only sound in the room. The desk connected to the back wall where a relatively large box television hung silently playing Police Academy 2: Their first assignment. Eddie recognised the faded people moving about the screen but barely remembered the film, he knew he had seen it and from what he could remember he concluded that he was probably laughing his ass off with Gareth, completely out of it as they passed joints back and forth for hours on end.

Having Gareth over so often for weekly sessions was probably the biggest reason as to why his room smelled like skunk whenever someone entered it, smoke attaching to the fibers of his curtains, bed sheets, and clothing all dumped out onto the floor. Had they been at Gareth's house more often he might not get in trouble with his teachers quite as much as he did, being sent to the principal's office to be scolded and threatened with police by a strong whiff of weed lingering on every clothing item he had in his possession. 

The store wasn't exactly busy but stray patrons roamed the isles, selecting movies to gawk at for their perfect little family movie nights or possibly to numb the pain of living in the sleepy town of Hawkins on a friday night, that's what Eddie would do anyway. 

He’d never been close enough to see Steve Harrington in proper, only ever seen him roaming the halls when he attended highschool or picking up Dustin from hellfire but it was undoubtedly him as he laid eyes on a lemon yellow polo shirt fitting tightly over a muscular figure slouched at the counter flipping through some comic with his head resting flat on his palm, even more so certainly judging by the golden brown hair flopping over his eyes, the same hair he overheard girls fawn over as he walked past. Gag. 

Even though he had never even attempted to get to know Steve he still felt a distaste for the man, writing him off the instant he noticed him. Popular, jock, boring, basic and probably a complete asshole just like the rest of the school. He did sometimes find himself wondering how on earth he had managed to befriend Robin Buckley of all people, a grade below him and on the complete opposite side of the social spectrum. He himself knew Robin in passing and from what he had gathered she was far from the type to associate herself with the populars. That was a mystery no one could figure out. 

“Steeeeve” he said in mock excitement throwing his arms out as if he was meeting up with an old friend he hadn't seen for a while. Steve looked up, confusement painting his face as he locked eyes on the metalhead before him. Long brown wavy hair cut into a shag, ripped jeans, ratty band tee with a fading print of a metallica album, softening leather jacket and silver chains and jewelry adorning his body. They were polar opposites. “Do I know you?” he asked unamused. “Funny” Eddie sneered as he sauntered over, placing his hands on the linoleum surface. 

Eddie may not be popular but he would like to think he made himself well known as a town pariah, devils worship, selling drugs, petty criminal, trailer trash and all that. 

“What do you want?” Steve closed his comic which Eddie noticed being Albedo Anthropomorphics issue number 7 as Steve straightened up on the stool, squaring his shoulders to give Eddie his undivided attention. “You're Dustin's babysitter right?” He was intentionally getting on Harrington's nerves, because it didn't matter how annoying he was, he knew Steve would help, despite Mike and Lucas’s warnings. A fact that that was proven as he remembered Dustin ranting about the exact same comic Steve was reading. 

Unamusement turned to disgust as he glared at Eddie. 

“NoO, I am not” he corrected, the second vowel raising in pitch as if correcting a child who he was very impatient with. “Yes you are” Eddie grinned, “Anyway, I need your help” he smirked, slanting his body to the left and cocking out his hip as his firm hand on the counter supported him “And why exactly would I help you?” boredom laced Steve's words as he narrowed his eyes in annoyance. 

“Aren't you supposed to be in customer service?” he gestured towards the fact that Steve was sitting at the checkout counter in a literal store “Show me that customer service smile” his grin widened but in response all he got was a deep scowl. “Anyway” he straightened his back to watch Steve intently “It's Dustin's birthday next friday, he is under the impression that his lovely sweet mother is taking him out to dinner, but in reality he’ll be getting a surprise party” Steve couldn't help but let his scowl ease slightly “-and that's where you come in” Eddie continued as he pointed towards the video store clerk. “-we need some help planning.” 

After some convincing and some very weak pleading from Eddie, Steve gave in although making it very clear the only reason he would endure Eddie's presence was because of Dustin and Dustin alone. His shift ended at 5 pm sharp and informed Eddie he could come by at 5:30 to plan. “But you're not staying past 6:30, I don't want you in my house” he had crossed his arms, eyes staring at Eddie as he scoffed “Relax, I wouldn't want to be surrounded by your mothers ghastly interior for more than an hour at a time anyway.”

And that was where they were now, sat in Steve's kitchen, bickering about the theme of the party as they faced each other at the round table. As expected Eddie had made faint remarks about the previously mentioned interior when he entered the Harrington home, much to Steve's dismay. As Steve began going on a rant about how Eddie was in under no circumstances allowed to bring alcohol Eddie glanced out the window in boredom. But the only thing to entertain him was a round figure walking lazily down the sidewalk, back straight and arms swaying, head held high and confident, so he found his eyes drifting back in to the kitchen and was brought back to the argument at hand. “You think I'm that irresponsible that I would bring Alcohol to a birthday party for a 15 year old?” 

“Well..”

“Oh shut up” Eddie's upper lip curled in displeasure at the accusation.

Steve seemed unbothered when the door clicked and swung on its hinges in the next room over, and continued with his assignment on planning. Taking it upon himself to start writing a shopping list, not yet sure if he trusted Eddie with the responsibility of following through with getting all the things they needed or if he should take care of it himself. 

That same round figure showed up in the open doorway drawing both of the men's attention. Eddie barely got a chance to look at her, only registering her face as she leaned halfway over the threshold with a simple “Yo”. Her face looked slightly annoyed he registered, cupid's bow pulled up almost as if in disgust while a slight furrow showed between her brows. “Hey” Steve returned before she turned promptly and made her way down the hall, he heard as footsteps led her up the stairs and out of earshot. 

“Whoa trouble with the missus?” Eddie chuckled, leaning back in the fancy intricate wooden chair that matched the rest. “What? That's my sister” Steve frowned, a frown similar to yours but more deep set. “Really? You look nothing alike” he marveled, within the few seconds he laid eyes on you he could only distinguish the fact that your hair was a shade darker, and that your body was very clearly the opposite of Steves. His lean form and sleek muscles were obviously something that he had not inherited or something that ran in the family. “All siblings don't look alike you know” Steve breathed as he sat back in his chair, one leg crossing over the other to rest his ankle on his thigh. 

“Why does she look like that then?” it wasn't a comment on your body but on your expression as you appeared by the open frame, Steve had already anticipated the question, he knew it was coming the second you stepped through the door.  “I dunno, she has like a permanent frown, shes fuckin’ unapproachable, hence why she has no friends” Eddie looked surprised as Steve rolled his eyes “Well in school anyway, even if she was approachable shes too i hate everyone to even make an effort” he made bunny eared quotation marks in the air as he described your personality. “Wow, didn't know easy breezy perfect King Stevie ‘The Hair’ Harrington had a sibling so different from him, or well one at all actually” he felt a surge of annoyance at Eddie's words. “She your older sister then?” Steve only rolled his eyes again, you were clearly invisible to everyone around you .“She's a senior at your high school, shouldn't you know everyone by now? Seeing as it's your second year as one?” he felt slightly proud at his jab at the man across from him who'd been getting on his nerves all afternoon. “She is?” Eddie ignored the latter.

“Told you, she's unapproachable, sticks to herself” that was true but he couldn't help feeling slightly sad for you, even if you were in his parallel class he would have hoped at least someone would know who you were, you weren't all that different from Eddie, both weird. “She used to be in band, with Robin” he squinted his eyes slightly to gather information on whether or not Eddie knew who Robin was, he continued when he got a single nod of confirmation “But now she's in some orchestra in New Castle, so she doesn’t like stick around after school” he explained, giving Eddie another reason as to why he had never heard of you. “Her? In orchestra?” from the brief look he had gotten of you, you did not look like some nit picky orchestra person. “Yeah she plays the cello” “The cello?” Eddie asked, utterly baffled. “Yeah the-” he held his hands up by his neck, pulling an invisible bow back and forth “That's a violin man” 

“Yeah whatever” 

The conversation surrounding Steve Harrington's sister and how you were so unlike your brother died there and the topic of Dustin's party was brought up again, to the slight disappointment of Eddie.

–

“Mm?” was your answer to the knock at your bedroom door, allowing Steve to open it and peep inside, finding you propped up against your headboard, a paperback copy of In Cold Blood by Truman Capote in your hands. “I’m having some people over” he jumped straight to the point, hand resting limply on the doorknob while the other found its place on his hip “For that party planning thing I was telling you about so please don't like, play your weird loser music or that stupid viola.”

“First of all” you sat up to glare at Steve “Elvis Presley is not weird loser music, second it's a violin you dick” you scowled, the frown which Steve said you wore constantly, tightened. “Yeah yeah, just shut up for the evening ok?”

“I was done with practicing but just because of that, I think I might continue” an ill intentioned smirk formed on your lips.

“You are so fucking annoying” he breathed.

“Tell me something I don't know” you rolled your eyes, lying down and turning away from him. Even though you utterly sucked he still had to inform you “We're eating alone tonight by the way, Mom's at the country club playing golf and Dad's staying late at work” 

“Great” you answered sarcastically before Steve shut the door. 

You weren't necessarily complaining, it was a regular occurrence that Charles Harrington stayed late to handle the law firm and you would rather Sharon Harrington was far out of sight when he was. Bad blood simmered between you and your mother, her constant criticism for your behavior, style and eating habits were not something you particularly looked forward to when you came home especially in comparison to Steve who had always been mommy's perfect little boy. 

–

Eddie, Mike, Lucas, Will and Steve sat strewn across arm chairs and couches in the off white pristine living room of the Harrington residence. They had only just sat down, notebook on the ready for budget planning and fresh coca colas from the fridge in their hands when the undeniable sound of a bow slowly brushing over hard metal strings was heard throughout the house.

The second you heard Steve welcome them in on the Sunday afternoon you got up and kept your promise to continue practicing on your instrument. Steve audibly groaned below you, its volume traveling up the stairs and through your open door only egging you on further as you began playing Symphony n.5 by Beethoven moving your bow up and down the strings. 

Sure Steve had taken on his brotherly duty to play nice and explain the situation for tonight, not that it was any different from any other night, and he was on occasions friendly with you, but that didn't change the fact that he was a fucking ass to you. During your 18 years on this earth Steve had bullied you, pestered you and made your life almost as miserable as your mother did, she claimed it was Steve's way of showing love but you didn't accept that fact as true. You may have, however, if you actually knew what Steve did for you, multiple times he had gotten into fights with classmates to defend your honor, both in his childhood years up until the end of high school, only easing up when he was no longer in contact or around to hear the crude remarks about you. But, you didn't know, so you had no issue with creating a slight hell for him as he did for you. 

With each 8 beats the chord changed and you only increased in strength. “Is that Y/N?” Mike asked as he listened in on you upstairs “You knew he had a sister??” Eddie piped up, turning towards him “You have a sister?” Lucas was shocked “Of course I know he has a sister, doesn't everyone?”

“No!” 

The vigorous strumming and skillful fingerwork slowed to slower notes, slowly building as Steve started to get annoyed, rising from his comfortable seat in the armchair and preparing for battle. “She's gotten really good since I last heard her, damn” Mike awed as Steve brushed past him and out into the hallway, following the sound of shorter notes echoing throughout the house. You were clearly interrupting but Eddie couldn't help but feel amazed at the sounds, so different from the instruments he usually heard in his music or the music he listened to, a whole different genre but from what he gathered you were very good with the violin. He listened in a daze, as if your bow and strings cast him under an enchantment as Steve stormed down the hall and made a loud show of him coming up the stairs, giving you one last chance to back down. You did not. 

Eddie was torn from his enchantment as the music suddenly came to an abrupt hall. 

“Give that back you fucking asshole! That's a ten thousand dollar instrument!” 

He had ripped the fragile maple wood from your hands in anger. 

“I told you not to play it while I had people over!” 

“And I told you I dont give a shit!”

The shouting match had begun.

“Of course you don't! Because all you care about is this stupid fucking thing!”

“Because it's my life! That thing is my whole life! That is my ticket to a degree! Don’t go giving me shit because you’re too fucking stupid to even get in to community college!” you screamed but within an instant your voice softened to an insulting hiss upstairs “You couldn't even pass the PSAT’s at a respectable grade.”

“I would take having a life over whatever your sad excuse for one is anyday! Locked up in your room every waking hour studying, oh unless you're in school where you don't even have the human decency to talk to people or be in any way polite” Steve was no longer shouting but spewing words with pure venom.

“Because they’re all fucking pieces of shit! Who don’t give a flying fuck about anything other than mindless sex, popularity and LYING to themselves that this fucking Hawkins Indiana is the place to be!” he heard you scoff before an exasperated shout “LIKE YOU!”

“And if you're not at school you’re at fucking orchestra practicing for shows-” his voice became firm and short of a temperfull whisper as he interrupted your speech “-who no one ever comes to”. It seemed a shame, your playing had been amazing, from the short snippet he heard you had some intense skills, it must be wasted to play for only a few people.

Eddie couldn't have known that Steve had the urge to throw your precious violin that disturbed his peace every day of the week in to the wall, maybe even thrust it onto the ground and smash it to tiny pieces under his sock clad foot, but a part of him in the back of his mind knew that would both leave you heartbroken and that he would never come back from doing such a cruel thing to you, so instead he tossed the violin onto the soft plush of your bed before storming out with a “Fucking bitch” muttered under his breath and slamming the door behind him. Eddie heard you shout a “Sanctimonious piece of shit!” back at him and then footsteps down the stairs. 

The group scattered around the livingroom sat awkwardly as Steve emerged from the hall and back to them, they didn't know what to do or say and it was clear on their faces. Steve breathed a heavy breath before apologizing “Sorry about her and that you had to hear that” Eddie raised his brows at him as if to say Are you kidding me? Steve saw it and was quick to announce “Trust me, we’re fine, we fight all the time”

Even though you were upset you would not back down, you were quick to retrieve your violin and find its place resting atop your shoulder and under your chin. 

“She's gonna start playing again any second, she's fine” Steve sank back down into plush leather just as the music started up again. He gestured his hand up at the ceiling to prove his point. 

Eddie was experiencing a mixture of feelings, all reeling around his head as you began playing again, a new found interest for the classical genre, sadness for you who had to go through that, anger at Steve for saying such hurtful things but also surprise at how even though you had been insulted so harshly which would have left the girls he knew, granted only a few, crying, you continued playing, as if it didn't bother you. 

And it barely did bother you, Steve was right, you did fight all the time, and through years of bullying from classmates and close family you had become tough, strong, learnt to deal with feelings, push them as far down as your mind would allow you and move on. It was even the moments after the horrible fights that you had learnt to cherish, just as you did when everyone had left for the evening. Steve didn't verbally apologize but you knew he was sorry, and he showed it by becoming your friend again and ordering pizza for dinner, paying with it from his hard earned money (your parents didn't give him allowance since he got a job) and sat with you, watching soap operas on the couch. 

It was a destructive and toxic relationship, being bullied and only fighting back when no parents were around to hear it and then instantly becoming friends, but it was your destructive and toxic relationship.

[occasionally-good-ideas]

Void hopper

The Infinite Realms: the ‘void’ that separates dimensions, and the home of The Dead.

A boy sits alone in the void and writes about his travels

—————————————————————

It really is infinite!! time is non linear over all and all the realms/zones have their own ‘land’ formations and colors

so far I’ve seen:

—the classic green ‘ghost zone’ [that names a little bit inaccurate; there’s ghosts everywhere] green, a bit slimy, flouting islands, doors, ghosts with strong obsessions

—the ‘furthest ring’ that one’s mostly blank with… frogs?? And really BIG anncient entity’s [are they a specific type of ghost?] that blow bubbles into the void, ghosts that look eerily human sometimes make it out of the bubbles… don’t know what that’s about.

—the ‘Phantom zone’ (lmao) couldn’t get a real good look it’s gaurded really well, I saw clouds? Pilers and.. living? Villains?? Not dealing with that.

—one that’s all fire and rock, it’s inhabits are mostly skeletons and demons… I’m pretty sure it’s straight up Hell but I didn’t stick around to ask for a name.

——————————————————————

Danny closed his journal, he’s been wandering the Realms in both his forms for almost two years now, and it’s fun! Don’t get him wrong, it’s just- when there’s no ghosts around the silence gets… disturbing. So he goes about in human form! Thinks out loud and listens to his organs work. There pretty noisy when you’re not used to it.

Before he left His Realm, all those months ago, he packed a duffel bag with nonperishable food, under clothes [thin long sleeves, leggings, tang-tops and sweats] tools, weapons [blasters and knives mostly] and a blank book/writing stuff.

He’d put on a hazmat/jumpsuit like the one he died in, steal toed boots, and modified fenton phones he calls ‘coms’ and headed to the Ghost Zone. On his travels he picked up a black coat, utility belt and a cool viser that gets compacted into his coms

He hasn’t visually aged past 16, he’s got no idea if that’s cause he’s in the Zone or it’s All Him. still 5’3 and well- not ‘baby faced’ but not all that sharp.

Right now, he’s sitting on an empty island, watching the swirling purple, pink and orange sky as he picks at the dull red grass after finishing his latest little journal entry.

“Huh” the ‘clouds’ of this place shift abruptly as they hit a wall-like membrane on the far side of this… area/realm/zone “It kinda looks like a wall…” a cave? he looks more closely at the horizons around him “yeah there’s another one… walls…” walls between what?

He packs his book and writing stuff into its pocket of his bag, gets into a crouch at the edge of the island he was sitting at and kicks of, watching his black hair drift around his face as his momentum carries him towards one of the ‘walls’.

When he’s close enough he reaches out a hand, the wall is… soft? Like rubbery- not so much a WALL-wall but like a lining, kinda flesh-like and living “Woah…” awe and intrigue lace his voice as he presses and runs his hands over the barrier to feel it move. Some areas seem… thinner? Easier to move deffinetly, one part in particular feels about as thick as a half filled water balloon, so thin “what if iiiii”

he pushed into the thin spot, not expecting much when he felt it give, a deep hum filling the air around him the smell of rain filled his nose and static ozone filled his mouth as a force pulled him forward by the hand that used to be on the wall “Oh FU-“

He’d torn a hole through the barrier and was now /Free-falling/ on the Other Side.

Rain pelts his face as he falls, so that’s where that smell came from! He wills off gravity in order to slow his fall.

Now he’s falling at the same speed as the rain instead of faster, he opens his eyes to see- the rain drops. At this speed they look still, suspended in air refracting the dappled light of the sun through the clouds. Like silver stars on a backdrop of gray clouds and green- green?? What’s green?

He looks up- or, is it down… towards the ground. Which is still rapidly approaching! Turns out rain drops fall pretty fast. He quickly scans the forest for a good place to land… “that’ll do”

He lands in a bush that splinters under the force of his fall, some of the sturdier branch’s don’t snap and end up stabbing Danny through his right leg, the skin of his waist- no guts thank the ancients, and two places in his right arm. “FUCK WHY?! AUGHCK” he takes a deep breath in, holds it then lets it out “huuhhhh this looks so much better in cartoons- ooookay how do iiiiii-“ wait a minute.. he’s a ghost! He turns intangible, falls through the Death Bush and rolls on to his back in the clearing the bush was bordering.

“Well that… could’ve gone worse! At least the rain feels nice..” and the rain does feel nice, refreshing in a way that’s hard to come by in the realms, it drums gently on his face and suit as he calms down, rinsing the blood away from quickly healing wounds.

As he lies on the grass catching his breath, rain soothing his scratched skin, breathing in the smell of mud and wet leaves, blood long washed away, tasting fresh water as the rain seeps into his mouth.He feels Alive.

He lets gravity push him into the mud “hehe squish” he laughs at the sky, giddy and a bit out of it as the adrenaline settles.

“Ha! how far did I fall??” He sits up clicks the button on his com to activate his visor. The screen materializes in a wave of rectangular pixels from one com to the other. Looking up, now he can see the tear about ehhhh four story’s up? Pretty dang high to get Launched from.

“Huh I… tore a hole through a ‘wall’ in the zone… and ended up in the mortal world… was that the veil?? I thought that was a metaphor..” he mumbled that last part.

That hum when he broke through, it resonated in his core like intangibility cranked up to 10, a familiar frequency kind of like when wulf would open portals- “Ancients I made a portal!!! Wow that’s really obvious. How did I not get that until now?!?” If he could make a portal out. That means he can make one going in.

Reaching for that Hum, he feels himself shift through the planes of reality like turning a nob to find the right radio station. He focuses on his core, feeling himself pass all planes of human perception -he closes his eyes as the world around him becomes a flashing mess of unknown colors and seemingly meaningless shapes- Trying to get it to match the Hum from before- There!

Eyes still closed, Danny listens closely… that’s it! That bone deep Hum. When he opens his eyes the first thing he notes is that the world has reformed from that splotchy haze it was before, the second thing is The Veil, translucent Walls criss crossing over Everything like a spider web made three-dimensional. “Woah…”

He slowly reaches out a hand to touch one of the walls- part of The Veil man that’s so cool! It feels… less fleshy, more flexible, it has more give without breaking. “Cool!!” Now to make a portal back, he pushes on the veil like before and… it just stretches. Hm.

Maybe it just takes more effort going this way, he pushes harder on the stretchy membrane, nope it just stretches! “Hm. Okay” Danny takes a few steps back, “how about, this-“ he runs headfirst into the wall, and promptly gets thrown back by said wall. “DANG IT man it was so easy to get through the first time what gives!?” He punches the wall, nothing. He kicks it, nope nothing. He starts clawing at the wall trying to dig through it but nothing is WORKING- he slammed both fists into the veil and they bounce back and hit him in the face. “AUGH”

ok this isn’t working. He takes a step back and takes a breath, he looks around at the shattered glass like walls around him, some are thick, others thin. They reach up into the sky and don’t seem to rely on anything physical to keep them in place… nothing physical. how about non-physical?

He gatherers plasma in the palm of his hand, when the Plasma Ball is about as big as a tennis ball he chucks it full force at the section of the veil he’s been abusing for the last ten minutes, the wall makes a sizzling sound as the plasma makes contact and then the plasma- gets absorbed?? Soaked up like coffee on paper, “well. It did something at least”

What about electricity? The black haired boy walks up to the flimsy, deceptively strong membrane, he squares his shoulders, places his left hand on the veil. he lets the energy build for a moment before sending it running. It shoots past his shoulder and races down his arm in arks of electric yellow/green till it shocks the barrier. The veil goes stiff like brittle rubber under his fingertips -now-

Hand still on the wall he curls his fingers and claws into the weakened veil. It crumbles under his hand, releasing the acidic smell of the pure ectoplasm of the realms, an opening. He quickly gets his other hand in the tear and struggles to pull it open, he can see reality fold and ripple as the hole in The Veil opens into a portal just large enough to fly through.

He takes a step back, eyes wide under his visor, he lets out a deep exhale that frosts the air around him “woah” breath heavy with adrenaline he looks at the portal, small oval shaped and swirling electric green and ice blue. He looks down at his hands electricity still sparking between them and his just-now-noticed claws. When did that happen? His usually blunt nails have grown to sharpened points, pressing against the tough rubber of his gloves but not breaking through.

A mischievous grin split his face revealing sharp fangs, “oh this is gonna be fun”

[fatcowboys]

i rlly kinda need fat liberation or body positivity or whatever to be so so so So much better about includong masculine folks in their resources and conversations.

ive rarely been femme even before i knew i wasnt a woman so its not like ive really had a bountiful access to fat resources aimed towards femme folks but god damn i have felt my options shrink even smaller the less comfortable i am with femme aimed resources and how out of place my body seems within so many of those spaces and resources. ESPECIALLY ones that can accomodate my trans body, tits (that i don't hate! and don't foresee going anywhere anytime soon!) and all.

i know how few plus sized clothing brands there are (not even getting into affordable + ethically made etc etc) but if the ones that exist its an OVERWHELMINGLY femme aligned majority that i feel miserable wearing without a lot of extra styling and modification work. or the amount of masc clothes in stock at plus size resale stores vs femme clothes. or if i am looking for style inspiration or folks speaking about fat liberation finding fit insp for fat women is easy! but i have a much smaller pool of fat masculine folks (who i treasure dearly!) that ive found and return to their content regularly because its so valuable to me because its often hidden under content that, while important, has limited usefulness for me

i find this extra prevalent in body positivity spaces, where it often feels like resources and information is shared with the assumption that its been shared to other femme folks and women without specifying that is who its usefulness is aimed towards. what triggered this post right now (although its honestly always lurking around the corner, watch out if you have a single conversation with me about fat liberation) was a post about body positivity where someone shared a resource of a website where you can put in your height, weight, other info and see people who might look like you (and make it easier to appreciate their body where you find it difficult to appreciate your own). and i thought thats a cool resource! i dont get to see people who look like me, hardly ever! lets check it out!

unfortunately what wasnt included was that the subtitle for this site is "what real women look like" so while there wasn't any info stating identities of the people shown on the photos, of the few i clicked through they all were femme and while they looked great, i didnt see anyone who i felt looked like me to get what i hoped out of that site. this would have been fine if the person had posted it had stated its target audience up front, but this isnt the first time, and wont be the last time, that i got excited about a resource only to learn it actually has very little that applies to me.

if you are someone who shares content about fat liberation, PLEASE consider how much content and resources you share that can be utilized by your masculine followers as well - and at the very least, please don't state something as universally beneficially if its not. i understand why there is such a focus on this considering the history of beauty standards applied to femme folks (and more). however im unlearning those too and now also dealing with new ones as i transition that are far less talked about and i just ask we give some space for fat men, masculine people, butches and more to also create space to deal with these struggles within fat liberation spaces. especially especially especially for fellow folks larger than small fats because the need only grows.

[witchofthesouls]

I don’t know what’s a better premise for a Humans-to-Cybertronians!Darbys in a Other!AU:

A world where the ‘bots and ‘cons are trying and failing to figure where the hell the random Cybertronian signal is coming from: it pops all over the place as if it can teleport or the disguise is so well hidden that no can tell what’s the alt-mode.

It’s Jack. And his “alt-mode” is a human teenager disguise. That’s why the ‘bots and ‘cons can’t fully triangulate on his position. His actual form is the Cybertronian equivalent of 10 year-old child. He’s an honest-to-Primus sparkling and it’ll drive everyone nuts since sparkling!Jack has no chill- 

Jack literally tore up Ratchet’s ambulance alt-mode when he was lured into a trap. Sure, the medic could withstand the damage from his naturally reinforced frame, but doesn’t mean it was an enjoyable experience getting clawed up.

Ratchet’s alt-mode was shaking at the base. He was literally bouncing on his tires from the sheer force, so the rest of ‘bots were prepared for a spooked child. When Ratchet unlocked his doors. Nothing. Until one brave soul approached to open the door and Jack came at them swinging with bladed extensions. He managed to cut a wrist and disable an arm before someone grabbed him by the scruffbar.  

Several hundred years ago, a Foundation site was working to contain an Artifact, which reacted extremely with several measures, so it induced a transformation within the personnel of the established perimeter.

Metamorphosis via scientific, magical, or alien measures is an occupational hazard. It was ruled that the new metal forms were a cross of Clockwork and the automata by Hephaestus, especially now they are sustained by fae-derived foodstuffs.

The Fair Folk had long since cultivated their crops and livestock by utilizing energon mines…

The personnel kept doing their jobs. Some managed to figure out T-cogs and transformative sequences far faster than others. Many opted to stay in a particular space in Elsewhere to take advantage of the strange time flow to get their new bodies under control to a degree they could return to mundane Earth. Sure, they can still go to the Night Markets as a 25-feet metal giant, but it would be nice to able to condense down and slap on an enchantment to go to the movie theater or the pick up the kids from a mundane school.

The Autobots are absolutely lucky that June is the one that fetched her son and not Grandma Darby because she would rain hellfire and brimstone.

This Jack has learned different lessons and is willing to stab and set people on fire. Much to Miko’s amazement and the ‘bots’ collective horror.

When Jack isn’t in his human form, he’s taller than an full-grown adult human, so he can actually give Miko and Raf piggy-backs if he needs to travel fast.

Then there’s a world where the Autobots stumble on the Other side because Raf calls Bumblebee on how to care for a robot baby that’s crying in his house -his sister’s room to be exact.

Raf, by sheer chance, came home to pick up things for a sleep over at the base because he needed to catch up the science project Of course, Bumblebee thinks it’s a weird toy or an advanced experiment because his sister just came home for a break-

And then Raf opens the window to the room and Bumblebee shits a brick because oh Primus, oh fuck, it’s a newspark-

Holomatter!Bumblebee and Raf carefully blanket-carry the infant to the black and yellow Urbana as Bumblebee is frantically hailing Ratchet over what to do.

Raf is riding with the baby in the back and has no idea that Cybertronians could be soft and kinda jiggling since his fingers leave smudges and the baby’s metal shudders and slightly warps while wailing and flailing rounded, short limbs.

Ratchet didn’t think it was funny and was chewing out the scout’s tailpipe until Bumblebee, after breaking so many traffic laws, hit the base and practically shifted with the newspark and Raf in his arms.

Autobots at the base: Bluescreen

Ratchet is trying to stabilize a premie infant when the intruders in the form of June’s friends (one former human and one hybrid) gets into a standoff with the Autobots over “kidnapping.” Pilar is there trying to diffuse the situation. June’s friends immediately nab Ratchet (and newspark!Jack) since he’s a well-trained medic that’s blowing a gasket over the baby and June really needs help from traumatic injuries from a breech containment.

Ratchet is spirited away. Pilar has to guide the others to the Other Half of Jasper Hospital where a fistfight almost breaks out.

June recovers. Grandma Darby is very grateful for the extra help, and hassles Ratchet about becoming a consultant since Ratchet is a treasure trove of necessary medical information with the new Cybertronians in the personnel.

Grandma also hassles June and Jack into the base because she’s utterly worried about their health and she’s flying blind about their new frames.

Grandma Darby, no matter the iteration, she’s the embodiment of “Do wanna start a fight? Do wanna catch these hands?”

Like if Airachnid tried to target the remains of her family, Grandma would pantomime the itsy bitsy spider using her fingers, shadow-stitching, precise weather manipulation, and Airachnid’s unwilling body.

Miko and Raf would be absolutely enamored by her since she’s willing to indulge their curiosity about the Other side as well as their heritage and how to tap into that potential should they want to utilize it.

[fluffysymphony]

Omg Fluffy’s monthly art post HOLD ONTO YOUR HATS!!

I’m working on more stuff but the month’s almost up and I haven’t posted anything- I am working I PROMISE!! Little sketch of my cookie run oc Yumberry Dragon Cookie, to do something small, I’ll post more finished artworks soon!!

Massive info dump on their character and story under the cut if you are uninterested that is fine be me!!

Yumberry Dragon cookie is probably one of my longest standing cookie run OC’s and as such their design has so many outtakes and redesigns it’s NUTS

Anyway, some sparse facts about my little eeper

-They are the crimson dragon! Living in solitude on a mountaintop in a kabuki theater! It often invites and allows cookies to take part in the theaters plays (Which are actually retellings of dragons from the age of dragons who have long since passed)

-The reason for the dragon lower half is simply from damage to their cookie body, choosing to keep their dragon form active by mixing the two together. Yumberry Dragon is quite old and wise and definitely has the dough to prove it.

^Most of the dough on their back/arms is actually stale and scarred! From weathering and the dough aging naturally, Yumberry’s dough is far from crispy!

-They are the same age as Longan, and they grew up together!

-Pronouns are They/Them! But they really don’t care to stick with it, so you can call them anything!

-Actually likes cookies! Doesn’t see themselves as above them really, they know they are, they just don’t point it out.

-The red squares with that white marking is their wings! They have a MASSIVE wing span but can’t fly due to their unfortunate circumstances. They can’t properly fly anymore so they just use them for show.

-Yumberry Dragon Cookie sees Snakefruit as a fellow dragon, they are just that chill they do not care.

-They are an absolute gossip, they love drama and they are all ears if you have a story to tell.

-Yumberry Dragon is basically an old person that instead of just getting bitter and angry at their age just refuses to care and just goes with the flow. So many cookies inside the theater often see them just walking about.

-They were the first one to make Longan smile! It startled many of the other dragons in the area but Yumberry seemed overjoyed!

-Yumberry’s favorite colors are green, blue, black, and white!

-A very, VERY, friendly dragon! Many younger cookies visiting the theater were even allowed to pet Yumberry Dragon, all while they chatted and drank grape juice with the adult cookies.

-Their powers? Not good, they can create barriers and set pieces of a stage play! However they have to utilize it personally to fit the problem. Just an old and jolly dragon that kinda their business.

There are certainly more facts and info about my silly little critter pingponging around in my notes or something but for now that’s everything! Hope you like them!!

[youuuimeanmee]

I LOVE YOO 220 Thoughts

1. What excites me the most on this episode is, we got a glimpse of how Yui abused Nol in the past! (Not that I enjoy seeing Nol being abused, far from it, but I'm glad we finally see the plot moving) This is the discussion back in ep 150:

And with today's episode, we now see how Yui utilizes her power as the owner of the hospital: interfering with the doctors and nurses' decision, having their license revoked if they try to defy her, rewarding them with money -or anything- if they do as she say... Of course Yui's hand would stay clean if everyone is too scared of her! It really give us a glimpse of how she abused Nol in the past. Ugh. Now I wonder, did he also had the nurse he's close with removed from his sight because of Yui? Did she also gaslighted him into thinking it's his fault? 😒

Hearing Yui's argument is laughable actually. When a patient is unconscious, a doctor has the right to do some tests based on medical judgement in order to reach the correct diagnosis for the right treatment, because a sleeping patient can't tell the doctor what's wrong with them afterall. She has no right to veto as a mother too(?), since Kousuke is already an adult. Now, whether the CEO of the hospital has the right to revoke a medical lisence based on personal opinion -- or not, I can't tell because I don't know the laws. But well, money and power goes a long way, sadly.

2. At least Nol wakes up with the person he care by his side. Kousuke wakes up with no one in sight, and the sound of arguments outside. Quimchee just loves hammering down Kousuke's sign of neglection, huh. As much of an asshole Kousuke is, he's still the victim of abuse just like Nol :(

3.

AW NAH BITCH, STAY AWAY FROM JAYCE. STAY AWAY FROM NOL. JUST GO AWAY, NO ONE WANTED YOU HERE.

4. Now, about the reason why Yui is so adamant not letting Kousuke be tested by a literal professional. Many people has guessed it's because Yui doesn't want anyone to find out Kousuke is not Rand's biological son, but I don't think we're there yet. Hansuke mentioned basic tests; as far as I know, the basic, standard tests don't include blood-type test or DNA test. It usually only covered the potentials of:

Irregularity in blood (haemoglobin, platetet, RBC counts)

Infection (WBC, Lymphocyte counts)

Liver disfunction (AST, ALT)

Kidney disfunction (Creatinin, Urea, Bilirubin)

Diabetes (blood sugar)

Cholesterol-based illness (LDL, HDL, triglycerides)

Irregularity in electrolytes (Na, K, Cl, Ca)

And that's the gist of it. There's not much to get, unless Yui doesn't want anyone to find out Kousuke is actually diabetic? Maybe she inserted diabetes medicines inside his food? Kousuke did say they have personal chefs, maybe they also received Yui's order. I kinda doubt it though, this seem like a stretch.

It's a different story if Hansuke wanted to check the possible substance inside Kousuke's body, though. Hansuke suspected Kousuke is under the influence; it's the easiest answer that could explain Kousuke's abnormal behavior.

This is just some wild theory but I suspect Yui inserted some antipsychotic drugs in his drink or food (remember the family chefs?) to keep Kousuke in check. If Hansuke finds out about it, it will reveal that Yui has been hiding the fact that Kousuke has some mental disorder, and that could jeopardize his position as the new CFO; that's why Yui doesn't want a blood work. Just a guess 💀

Btw, this is Shinae on episode 14 LMAO

Oh Shinae. Now this doesn't seem like a joke anymore ☠️

Oh. WAIT.

💀💀💀

5. [Yui: what has you scrambling around in distress?] [Kou: I can't recall... ] [Yui: Aww that's too bad...]

Look at that sinister smile. She is DELIGHTED Kousuke forgets. Since Yui knew he hit his head on the wall, I think it's safe to assume(?) she knows Kousuke was looking at patient record earlier. She knows which name that triggers him. Does it mean she doesn't want Kou to find out about Nessa (further, what she did to her)? Has Yui always used Kou's "ignorance" (memory issue) about Nessa's fate to let him mock Nol about her disappereance?

Nol you couldn't be more right. I look forward to see Kou finding out he has been mocking Nol's mom's absence when it's his own "dear mother" who "killed" her. The devastation...

6. I still don't get why would Yui throw away Rand's gift. If anything, I think it'd benefit her more if she give it to Kousuke. Something like: praising him, how he's done such a good job being a CFO that his father would give him an early expensive present, gaslight him into thinking it's not enough, but just a little more until he'd truly acknowledge him, etc. I thought he'd be easier to manipulate if he get enough reward (which he clearly didn't get)? It feels like Yui's manipulation is getting old. Idk, I thought a goal would be much sweeter if he get to taste it, so he'd work even harder. But so far, he didn't taste any of it.

But then it hit me. If Kousuke sees the real present, he'd know his father does care about him. He won't need Yui anymore, he'd start to rely on Rand, as in, the person. And Yui doesn't want that. She wants Kousuke to be fully in her control, she wants him to keep relying on Rand's image by her words; that Rand is a cold man who doesn't care about his family unless Kousuke surpassed him. She just... never let Kousuke to be free. (Which is why I realized Nol has the potential to be a much scarier manipulator than Yui, but that's another topic for another day).

7. Yui touching Kousuke's injured hand without apologizing is such a psychopath thing to do: lacking of guilt or empathy.

8. BAHAHA since we're almost at the end of the year, it's nice to see the reference of earlier episode!

Though, could this be a foreshadowing? If Shinae really becomes Kousuke's assistant in the future, would she be included in the future hospital inspection? Would she play a role in uncovering Nol and Kousuke's mistreatment in the hospital? Lol.

9. MEG!! AOEBJDDJ I hope she would return the gift to Kousuke, just like Shinae who return the bible to Nol! Kousuke needs to know Rand is more caring than he seemed and Yui is much more wicked than he thought! This is probably Meg's role as the member of the Black Team: to open Kousuke's eyes that he still has people who care for him as who he is.

And that's it! See you next week 👋

[howlingday]

The Scare

"You awake in there?" Emerald knocked again on Oscar's door. Usually, he was up before just about everyone else., except for maybe Ruby. He was definitely awake before she was, which was why it was so weird that when she came down for breakfast, he wasn't cleaning his plate or sitting close by with a book. "Oscar?"

She'd knocked enough times. She turned the knob and opened his door, slowly creaking it open just in case he was indecent. But no, he was still in bed, laying flat on his back with his hands folded over his trunk. She snickered at how 'proper' he slept with his hands over the covers.

"Hey, you up?" No response. She gave him a nudge. "Oscar?" She nudged him again, getting a deep inhale and a slow exhale as Oscar rose to a seated position. "You good, Oscar?"

The younger man looked to Emerald, slowly blinking his bleary eyes free from last night's slumber. She took a step back to give him his space. After rubbing his eyes, he stretched his body and let out a loud yawn.

"Good morning, Miss Sustrai."

That wasn't Oscar. To him, it was either 'Em' or 'Emerald'. He'd never called her 'Miss Sustrai' once since they met, or that she knows of since she switched to the 'good guys'. The older girl gave a small gasp, feeling something tight grip her chest. She swallowed before daring to ask.

"O-Oscar?"

"No, it's me, Miss Sustrai." Her chest grew even tighter. "I'm allowing Oscar to get some extra rest." She let out a sigh. "Is something the matter?"

"No, no, I just..." Emerald thought for a moment. Why was she so freaked out? She and everyone else knew his body wasn't just one person, though it would eventually be that way in the near future. Still, she was freaked out at the idea that, as it would inevitably happen, Oscar was gone and replaced by the thousands of years old spirit of that Ozma guy. "I thought that Oscar was, y'know..."

"Melded into my subconscious until he existed only in body?"

"I was going to say gone."

"Excuse me." Ozpin swung Oscar's legs from under the sheets. "Unfortunately, tact is something I still have trouble utilizing."

"Yeah, it's not like you had a thousand years to learn, right?"

"Funny." He scowled. "Is there a reason you came to wake up Oscar?"

"He wasn't up before me." Emerald shrugged. "Kinda weird that he'd suddenly decided to be the last one up."

"I guess it would be strange, wouldn't it?" He placed a hand under his chin. "But since we're alone, relatively speaking, I'd like to ask you to do something for me."

"Like what?"

"I'm sure you're as aware as I am as to Oscar's feelings towards you."

"What? Really? This is news to me." He flat tone pretty much gave away that she knew, though there was the possibility that it was still too subtle for him.

"Oscar is still sleeping." Ozpin clarified. "And judging by your sarcastic tone, I'd say you are just as painful aware of his intentions as I am."

"Hard to say, since you guys literally share the same headspace." Ozpin narrowed Oscar's eyes. "Far as I can tell, he's got some kind of puppy love crush on me."

"And what are your feelings on this?"

"It's cute, but kinda naive." Emerald shrugged. "He'll grow out of it eventually."

"And are your feelings the same?"

"That's none of your business."

"I'll remind you that Oscar is still asleep."

"And I'll remind you that you're a shitty liar." Emerald narrowed her eyes. "If there's something Oscar wants to ask me, then he can ask me himself."

With a shake of his head, Oscar's body slumped a bit, shifting from a confident gentleman's seat to the more familiar blushing face and innocent eyes she'd grown used to.

"Emerald?!" He leaned back in shock. "What are you doing in my room?"

"You weren't at breakfast, so I came to check on ya." She leaned forward a bit. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "yeah, I'm fine. I guess I stayed up late last night."

"Yeah? Doing what?"

"Just some reading." He scooted to the side and stood up. "Uh, is everyone else awake?"

"Yup." Emerald walked to the door. "I managed to save you a plate, but it's probably cold by now. That, or Pinkie ate your share."

"She said she wouldn't." He sighed. "I'll be down in a sec."

"Alright." Emerald stepped out, holding the doorknob in her hand. "Don't take too long. Hate to waste a day like this." She smiled, and she watched as his face lit up. As she shut the door and left, she could make out the faintest cheer.

"She smiled at me~!" Emerald chuckled. He'd grow out of his puppy love soon enough, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy how happy she seemed to make him.