#and now I’m just… considering making an extended universe out of it

[delphiniumarchangelmoon]

Is it weird to create an extended universe of oc’s adapted from fan character designs of content creators I’ve mentally killed off? Perhaps.

But I want to. So I will.

[call-me-strega]

Dc x DP Prompt #8: Best Friend’s Brother

Preface: this prompt can be used with different characters but I’m writing it as Dead on Main bc that’s my favorite. Also the colleges I mention are real colleges from the DCU

~~~

Danny Fenton was 18 when he moved to Gotham for college.

It was the only place with a half decent engineering program that would take a kid with his record; drop in grades, unexplained absences, missing class, a disciplinary record, etc. Plus there was a decent saturation of both magic and ectoplasm in Gotham’s air. After he got accepted he decided to tell his parents he was Phantom. They reacted surprisingly well all things considered. They were horrified to learn they’d been hunting their son but it quickly turned into acceptance to listen to what he had to tell them. Now they turned their obsession from hunting ghosts to learning more about ghost more humanely. He also managed to get his former rouges to agree to call off any major shenanigans in favor of less destructive outlets. (He got Ember a TikTok and a YouTube channel, he set up a drag racing circuit in the realms for Johnny and Kitty, let Technus enter the internet as long as he stayed within Amity’s grid or help Ember manage her stuff, allowed Desiree grant wishes for Make a Wish Foundation kids so long as she didn’t horribly twist them, etc.)

Now with the town not at constant risk of danger and his parents agreeing to really handle any rouge ghosts, Danny could leave Amity with a clear conscience. His friends were also growing up and heading to their own colleges. Tucker was heading to Ivy University in New England, which rivaled MIT in terms technological prestige, and Sam decided on Vandermeer University in Pittsburg, which had a reputation for being a very liberal, anti-authority campus. Although their trio would be spread out, Danny found comfort in the fact that they’d all moved from the Midwest to the Northeast.

With promises to stay in touch a visit. Danny got set up in GCU’s dorms, ready to move into the next chapter of his life.

~

Danny Fenton was 20 when Tim Drake (age 19 but nearing 20) officially became one of his best friends.

They had been introduced to each other by their mutual friend Sebastian Ives for a new Warlocks and Warriors campaign. Their friendship extended beyond WnW when they ended up on the same Applied Physics and Mechanics class. It was cemented when they got pair up for a project in class and had to spend lots of time around each other.

Danny didn’t mind that Tim tended to be a bit flaky and Tim didn’t mind that Danny was possibly not 100% human. They didn’t ask each other too many questions about that stuff. They knew the other had something odd about him and that was fine with them. It was nice to have a causal friend they could be normal with, without being questioned about their more peculiar behaviors.

They officially became best friends when the built a Rube Goldberg machine with a working trebuchet within an hour of the three they had to complete it for their Applied Phys-Mech final. Danny introduced Tim to Sam, Tucker and Jazz. Tim introduced him to Steph, Tam, and Cass. They texted and hung out fairly often. They truly did consider each other one their best friends.

~

Danny Fenton is 22 when he meets Tim’s family.

Tim’s 21st birthday is coming up and he has plans with his family the day of and is going out with his friends, including a couple from out of town, that night. They want to take him out for his first drink and it’s fortunate timing since it’s the weekend so nobody has to worry about classes. Everyone who was going was already informed that Tim would be spending most of the day with his family before Steph and Cass would bring to the club everyone was meeting up at. Which is why it’s purely a coincidence when he runs into them at BatBurger during the lunch rush.

Danny had just picked up the part-time job to earn a little extra cash to pay for his hobbies. Tim new about it but didn’t know the exact location he worked. That’s why they were both presently surprised when they heard each others voices in the drive through. When they pulled up to window Danny saw his friend leaning over a tired looking black-haired man, trying to stick his head out of the drivers window to give Danny a maniacal grin.

He quickly introduced the other passengers of the car as his dad, Bruce, and three of his brothers Dick, Jason, and Duke. He mentioned he had a fourth brother, Damian, who was still at home. Danny couldn’t really see everyone all that well on account of they were inside a car but he happily greeted them as well. They laughed and Danny wished Tim a happy birthday saying he’d see him at his celebration later tonight before handing them their food. He could the rowdy boys ribbing their brother as the car drove away and Danny resumed his work.

That incident seemed to have opened a gate because now Tim felt more comfortable inviting him over when his brothers were still around the house. He occasionally talked about his family more and Danny returned the favor letting snippets of his own family spill a little more. Occasionally, he’d see Tim’s family outside of his interactions with Tim.

He’d run into Damian, and sometimes Bruce or Dick was with him, at the museum or in the park while the younger had been walking his dog and stopped to say hi a couple of times. He chatted with Dick a couple of times when they were both in line to get coffee at a cafe. He saw Duke on a college tour once and waved at him.

The family member he probably saw the most other that Tim (and by extension Cass) was actually Jason. He’d ended up ditching BatBurger to get some more practical experience at an apprenticeship at the auto shop Jason went to to get his motorcycle serviced. The two of them got along pretty well and would often make conversation when Jason was waiting on his bike to be ready or to get his bill.

At first is was small talk about little things like how he and Tim were doing in class or how their days were going but they soon grew to have genuine interests in each other. Jason let Danny talk about space and mechanics and even gave his own thoughts sometimes, once helping Danny realize he was over complicating the circuit board of the device he was building. In return Danny let Jason ramble to him about literature, even taking the initiative to read a book Jason mentioned so he could talk to him about it better. Their conversation tended to be on the briefer side but were always enjoyable to both parties.

Danny actually liked being around Jason a lot but didn’t really bring that fact up a lot around Tim as it didn’t seem necessary. Tim was pretty glad that Danny got along with his family but he preferred to keep them in separate places in his mind. Danny knew and respected that, only really mentioning that he’d seen them recently and that they’d told him to say hi on their behalf (or die in Damian’s case occasionally).

~

Tim Drake was 22 when he came to a horrific realization.

Well, perhaps horrific was a bit of an exaggeration. Tim wasn’t necessarily horrified by the revelation. In all honesty he didn’t know how to feel. He felt an odd mixture of protectiveness, possessiveness, confusion, and optimism(?).

You see, Tim and Danny had been hanging out in the campus center, studying and goofing off when he got a text from Jason saying he was coming to pick him up for family dinner at the manor since he was closest and Dick was busy picking up Duke and Damian from their after school clubs.

“What’s up?” Danny asked him curiously.

Tim set his phone on the table and started putting his stuff away. “My brother is coming to pick me up for family dinner so I gotta head out soon.”

“Ah well I should probably get going too. Tell Dick I said hi.”

“Actually, it’s Jason. Dick is picking up Duke and Damian,” he said shoving his textbook into his bag.

“Oh? That’s nice of him. Hey do you wanna just head out together?” Danny asked, fidgeting with his hoodie strings.

Tim noticed a slight strain in Danny’s voice at the mention of Jason but didn’t comment. He just nodded his head sure and walked outside with Danny. They got out to the street when Tim realized he’d left his phone in the library. He faced palmed and asked Danny if he could hold his stuff so it wouldn’t slow him down as he ran back to the campus center to get his phone. Danny agreed to and hold his stuff and wait for Jason while Tim went back.

After getting his phone Tim started heading back to where he left Danny when he saw that Jason had arrived that Jason had arrived and was talking to Danny. He was about to call out to them when he noticed several things in quick succession. Danny was fidgeting with his hoodie, something he tended to do when nervous. The tips of Danny’s ears were a light shade of pink (it isn’t cold out yet?). Danny looked deeply absorbed in his conversation with Jason in a way that reminded Tim of how he talked about space. And Jason seemed just as absorbed in the conversation as well.

The gears in Tim’s head went into overdrive and he realized ‘Ah- Danny has a crush on Jason’. His eyes widened as his head whipped around to examine Jason again. He saw a look of genuine fondness in his eyes. Thus Tim was confronted with the aforementioned horrific realization and complicated feelings. Tim didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or both.

‘My dumbass best friend has a crush on my brother. And worse(?), my idiot brother returns those feelings.’

[mdanon027]

For a long-last friendship. | Aaron Hotchner x FemaleReader

For a long-last friendship. | Aaron Hotchner x FemaleReader

Masterlist

Summary | Aaron wants to make it up to Jack, so they go to the zoo. Not expecting to end up having a fun day with his team agent. (Inspired by the Prompt go to the zoo and point out the coolest animals by @creativepromptsforwriting )

Word Count | 1878. (I got carried away for a Prompt)

Warnings | I don’t think there’s any warning, if you found something triggering, please let me know.

Side Note: I don’t own any of Criminal Minds characters, words, or narrative. This is only a reinterpretation and fiction based on the Criminal Minds Universe they continue to develop. Also no repost is allowed. If you ever see this on another website, please let me know.

After one of the most exhausting and longest cases he had this year, Aaron needed to make it up to Jack.

Being apart from his son was difficult, specially when he was supposed to be the main care giver. Jack had spent the last two weeks with his aunt Jessica. He made a promise to spend every single free moment he had, to devote quality with him.

Jack was becoming a happy and curious kid again. He was in his animal phase; his new favorite animal were lions. In school, he was learning about them. Jack asked him weeks ago to go to the zoo.

Being the first whole free weekend, he had in months, he needed a little more sleep than normal. As a consequence, now they were late and the line for the tickets was longer than he expected. Jack was excitedly talking about some animal facts he learned with his aunt Jessica.

“Hotch?” Someone said by his side, by reflect he took Jack’s hand. He turned around to see Y/N, one of his team agents.

“Y/LN?” He said surprise to see her there on her free day.

“You can call me Y/N, we are not working.” She said smiling.

“Who is she, daddy?” Jack asked getting behind Aaron.

“You must be Jack, isn’t it?” She said getting down to match his height. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Y/N. I work with your dad.” She extended her arm to greet him.

Jack looked up to his dad, Aaron just nod.

“Nice to meet you Y/N.” Jack shyly said taking her hand.

“You have been here for a long time?” Y/N asked them, she was by their side, outside the line.

“The line it’s taking longer than we expected.” Aaron said while looking to his son.

“We planned to get earlier, but daddy got glued to his pillow.” Jack said, joking while looking up to his father. Aaron could feel his face getting warm.

“Have you considered he may be a tiger?” Y/N asked Jack.

“A tiger?” Jack was getting interested in the conversation.

“Yep, did you know they sleep up to 16 hours a day?” She added.

“Tigers sleep that much?” Aaron didn’t know his agent knew animal facts.

“Yes, they are also nocturnal animals, maybe he stayed up at night. Probably working on the papers for the last case we had.” She told Jack. “Have you seen him up at night?” “No, I’m always asleep when he arrives home, “Jack told her in low voice. “He may be a tiger.” Looking suspicious to his dad.

“We can get faster over there; I have a members card.” She said while taking her pass.

“It’s not necessary Y/N, we can wait, isn’t it Jack?” He didn’t want to interfere with the free day of his team member.

“But it’s taking centuries Dad!” Jack growled.

“No worries, I come a lot, so I have some free passes. Let’s go!” She said, while guiding them through the main entrance.

They went through security, and Jack was waiting for his dad to come closer to finally take his hand.

“Awww! You are like otters.” She said to Jack. “Otters hold hands so they don’t float afar from each other, well they do that while sleeping, but it’s really wise of you keep your dad near Jack.” She said Smiling.

“Did you know they swim really fast? I can do that too! You remember dad, I’m the fastest in my swimming class!” he said taking both, Aaron and Y/N by their hands.

“Yes buddy, you are the fastest!” Aaron says proudly. “Thanks again Y/N, you didn’t have to use your passes on us.”

“Oh, its fine Hotch, you always invite the meals when we are out, let me invite you this. And I’m with the fastest swimmer in town, it’s an honor” She smiled.

Jack pulls his dad down, and started to whisper something to him.

“Jack the Otter wants to know if you would like to spend the day with us? If you don’t mind.” He asked, if his son was feeling happy today, he was willing to make him as happy as possible.

“That would be lovely! Of course, thanks for including me in your plans Jack.” She said beam back to the Hotchners.

They started to walk to main map of the zoo. Jack had a plan of the first animal they should explore.

“Have you been to this zoo before, Jack?” Y/N asked him, while he approach the map, looking carefully.

“Nop, it’s our first time here.” He said exited. “You know it really well?” “Kinda, I know where the animals are, but its really big. So, we are going to stick together like the Beluga Whales, ok?” She told to the little kid.

“Beluga Whales?” Aaron asked her.

“Yes, they travel in pods.” She said to him.

“What’s a pod, dad?” Jack question his dad.

“It means, they travel in groups Jack.” Explained Aaron.

“That’s why you need to keep close to your dad Jack.” Y/N look down to Jack. “They are also known to have last long friendships, most of the times they spend their whole life with their pods.” She said smiling to Jack.

They started the journey. Jack and Y/N started talking non stop about the animals they where watching, Aaron was just amused by the facts both of his pod where saying.

“Why do you know a lot about animals, Y/N?”

“When I was younger my Godparents where zoologist and they used to work at the zoo, so I spent a lot of time of my childhood and teens there. I loved it! My parents always gifted me animals’ toys, specially plushies, they still send me some.”

“Really? You still collect them?” He was speechless, at this moment of his young life, he just wanted to know about all about animals.

“Yes, I just bought this tiny crocodile and just saw a Beluga Whale plush at the gift store, but maybe another time…” She said while showing the tiny plushie on her backpack. “Whenever you want, I can show you my collection, I have some at my apartment.” She spoke.

“You can also come to our house, right dad?” Aaron just nod, smiling to his son. “I’m starting my own collection; I have 20 animals so far!”

“Wow! That’s a lot of them.” She said while getting close to the aquarium part of the zoo.

The main animal on the aquarium exhibition was the Octopus.

Jack started to asked if she new any facts about them, she started to answer. Once in front the tank, Aaron got the chance to say his fun fact.

“Now the Octopuses are becoming friends?” Aaron said while looking at them.

“We are not octopuses daddy; we are Beluga Whales.” Jack said while laughing.

“Octopuses collect shells with their eight tentacles buddy, both of you collect plushies.” He said smiling, he was mesmerized at how Y/N and Jack were getting along.

“It’s that truth, Y/N?” Its not that Jack didn’t trust his dad facts, but at this moment he knew Y/N was an expert.

“He is right Jack, but mostly shiny things, they like to decorate their homes.” She told him.

“I think Y/N its an octopus.” Hotch told to Jack.

“Why so Hotch?” She asked her boss.

“Your desk its full of tiny toys, shiny post its, postcards, and I can swear there’s a photo of you with a baby alpaca, your keys are full of keychains from almost every city we have been on a case. You always travel with a small pink hippopotamus plush, and try to get a plush every time you see one, I didn’t realize it was for your collection. Still…” He couldn’t continue because she started to talk over him.

“You are profiling me?” She said amazed at the tiny details her boss had taken notes about her.

“It’s not profiling, I just know my pack.” He said smiling.

“A pack?” Jack looked up to his dad.

Y/N was amazed with this new side she got to know about her boss, always so serious and professional being chill outside the field. She had seen him laugh and smile before, even getting drinks with the team after cases, but never seen him so carefree.

“Jack, I think your dad may be a lion…” Once again, she was designating animals.

“A lion?” Aaron asked her,

“Why a lion?” Jack was getting curious.

“Well, he is an amazing leader. When we are out catching the bad guys, he always come with a great strategy and always listen to our ideas. He always tells us what to do, some times he can be bossy, “she started to laugh at the smirk on his face, now she was profiling him, “but it’s always to keep us safe. Sometimes he intimidates me…” She said joking with Jack.

“Why my daddy scares you?” Jack asked amused of watching his dad with growing smile.

“It’s not that he scares me, but he is kinda serious, with that stern look, when he’s angry at someone that it’s treating us bad, but that’s a quality of the lions. It demonstrates his discipline and authority as the Unit Chief.” She finished. It was a long time since he was profiled.

“That means I’m a lion, daddy! Just like you!” He exclaimed exited, that his dad had the qualities of his favorite animal.

They kept walking through the zoo, Aaron decided to join with the fun facts he knew about animals. But he was impressed with the amount of information Y/N kept in her brain about them. She was like an encyclopedia.

When the day was over, they separated ways.

Jack made Y/N promised to keep in touch, so they could keep talking about animals and to hang out in the near future. Aaron was happy with the new friend his son and him just made.

They learned more about animals from Y/N than from the zoo charts, so they decided to get their new friend a gift.

------

Next Monday, Aaron was the first to arrive to the office. He had the well deserve peaceful weekend having fun with his son and surprising with Y/N. He had only known her on the field, a smart and excellent agent. He didn’t get enough time to spend knowing his team, and he was grateful by knowing another side from her.

Strategically placed on her desk a Beluga Whale Plushie and a drawing of three Beluga Whales. A big one, a medium one and a small one, they were holding fins and with Jack’s handwriting.

“For a long-last friendship.”

-Jack and Aaron :)

He couldn’t wait for her to arrive. He knew for a fact, that she was going to like it.

She arrived to the office, and staid speechless.

Her smile could light whole Quantico, Virginia.

She turned around looking for him, until she spotted him looking at her from his office, smiling. His agent just whispered a “Thank you dear friend.”

She added the new piece of art to her board, while hugging the new member of her collection.

She was overjoyed.

He was glad his new friend liked the gift. And he did hope, their new friendship last long.

Autor’s Note: Hello Again! I normally don’t write stuff, I just read/comment/reblog fanfics, but now I’m in my Criminal Minds Era, so it’s my first prompt I ever write! It’s being a year since I posted an original fanfic, I hope you like it!

If any of the authors I read ever read this, to let you know I always go as anon (thanks that this is my side blog) and I always sign as -MD💜 or -MDanon027💜 (@mdanon027). Thanks for the inspiration!

Also, please be honest if you like it or nah. Any comment will help for future personal writing skills. And if you see any misspelling, I’m sorry, I already reread it several times, and English it’s not my first language. Please don’t mind on telling me to correct anything.

Special thanks to some of the plushies I keep buying every time I got to the zoo/aquarium.

[imagine-darksiders]

A reader asked the Horsemen to keep an eye on their nephew/niece, I’m wondering if it’s safe to leave them with a child because they’ve met human children, but what do you think?

I mean, bottom line? That niece/nephew is now the safest human in the Universe. Nothing is going to happen to them, not with any one of the Four keeping guard.

First, Death is just relieved you asked him before you went to one of his volatile siblings with this request. Then, he's suddenly humbled, uncertain, tentative. Are you sure? Him? You realise he's not exactly the most friendly being in existence, don't you? The children won't like him. You beg to differ. Death is so paranoid about something happening to them on his watch - they're not his, they're your family, he can't let anything happen to your family - he doesn't let them out of his sight. He even has Dust keep a secondary eye on them. To his surprise, while the children are wary of the masked Horsemen who has been employed to 'babysit' them, it doesn't take them long to decide he's more interesting than scary.

Fury isn't great with kids. She knows they have to be treated with far more patience and gentleness than human adults, two things she's noticeably short of. That isn't to say she would just let them get hurt on her watch. Far from it. She's not exactly thrilled you asked her to watch your little ones - is even tempted to track down Ulthane to do the job for her - but she vows to keep them safe, and you know she will.

When you ask War if he'd mind keeping an eye on your nieces and nephews while you and their parents are gone for the day, he reacts as if he's just been given a duty by the Creator himself. You're placing your trust in the Horseman to protect your kin, and that's a responsibility he leans into with determined doggedness. War would lay his life down for those kids. Pity that he ends up scaring them and making them think he's angry with them all the time because of his gruff demeanour and permanent scowl.

You're asking Strife to watch over a couple of kids who are related to you? Consider those kids his as well now. The fact you asked him instead of his arguably more 'responsible' siblings means more to Strife than you could possibly know. He won't let you down. Sure, he might teach the kids to shoot pistols with frightening accuracy while he's in charge, and yes, maybe he tells them some of his most exciting [and gruesome] escapades that are definitely not PG, but they're safe with him. He'd take a bullet for you, and is willing to extend the same courtesy for your family.

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Improvised Chronivac: FRAT-ifier

@dumbmusclehypnojockboy​ Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy your story!

Sometimes moments from the past last long after they’ve passed. For Fredrick Cleston that certainly was the case. It’s been almost a decade since he’d been laughed out of that blasted college for his outrageous scientific genius. They could not even humor his vast intellect with a degree. No. Instead he was found unsuitable for any place of higher education whether it be to conduct his dangerous experiments OR to push the boundaries of physicality and ethics! But no longer would that sorry spot on the collegiate map be considered a place of intellect. Once his machine was completed no one will know this small town for anything other than the idiocy that it has always held. Once his machine was completed, reality itself would be at his disposal! Sure, there had been other geniuses who found ways to bend reality and bend minds, but none like this!

-

No one at Telegre University realized that today was their last day of higher education. The world-renowned university was prided on its academic achievement, claiming responsibility for countless graduates and their subsequent success. Few could argue that this temple of education produced geniuses as fast as application rates! If you weren’t joining the medical track to become a doctor, you were in engineering to pursue grand designs! Perhaps you were a philosopher with the next greatest life methodology. Or maybe a civic genius ready to bring their ideas to law! No corner of this school lacked genius…. Until the day there was a large explosion a few blocks away from campus.

The nearly invisible pulse that surrounded the square footage of the school went unnoticed by nearly everyone! That is until that strange scientist started walking about. Many on social media called out a creeper making his way through campus!

He started with the bio medical section of school. Many of these young minds were eager to cure the ailments of the day. However, as these students studied in class many looked out the window… as if drawn to this strange man holding an odd metal box with strange screens appearing on it.

“Excuse me sir. You’re entering one of our classrooms. Are you lost? Do we need to call security?” One of the students questioned, crossing his thin arms, as he looked condescendingly at the wild looking man of science.

“Young man I’m right where I need to be. Though perhaps you’re lost? You don’t look like you belong in this stogy classroom. Perhaps you belong on the beach!” Dr. Cleston fiddled with his device, adjusting knobs! Moving levers and inputting a simple phrase. “Himbo Surfer” Soon more phrases came up! “Oblivious” “Air headed” “cocky” “high libido” “extremely breedable” and many more filled the screen as Dr. Cleston laughed madly.

Meanwhile the young man who commented stood wide eyed. His normal modes 5-foot frame had begun to contort and grow. Each pulse from this box seemingly affecting his physiology! It started with his feet. The nice leather shoes he’d worn to class began to strain and break. His normally pale feet were no more as tanned skin surrounding sizeable size 14 feet burst forth from those shoes. Then his legs extended! Higher and higher, while thickening perfectly, shredding his boring beige pants revealing a tight hugging pair of board shorts that surrounded and ever-growing ass and bulge! His torso shredded with a single flex as his pudge stomach reversed into perfectly cut abs! His pectoral muscles now revealed to the world with a just the right amount of chest hair as well! Then his arms extended growing powerful with each inch leading to hands that could grab a surfboard with ease! His moans through this process now deepened as it gained a laidback tone and his face rearranged losing his classes and sallow skin. Now tightened into a beautiful smile and longer wavy hair.

“Haha surfs up bros!” The new surfer said much to everyone’s shock! Though even that was short lived. Did they always have a surfer bro in their class? No that doesn’t seem right… was he always this overt showing off his body?

“My head bros… what was I doing here again?” the surfer asks.

Dr. Cleston smiled. “You were here to have people join your new frat I believe. For surfers and beach hunks.” The man’s words stroked a chord within the empty headed vessel he let out a dumb giggle and nodded.

“Fuck yeah bros. You gotta join my frat! We just chill and hit the waves everyday. Then we flex and show off to all the bros and babes watching for a good time!” He says luring more and more people forward. His voice naturally drew the med students in as one by one the doctor changed them in new ways! Some growing taller, shorter, stronger, tanner. Races and ethnicities were altered permanently as well as age when certain professors left their offices to see what was wrong. Before long the entire area was no longer a large building, but a run-down frat house filled with too many members! Each command entering the chronivac not changing just one! But like a wave it changed larger and larger groups till the enter med student population of the school were nothing but free loving surfers!

The mad doctor Cleston did not stop there. He moved on to the engineering quadrant of the school. There was currently a competition ongoing of who would make the sturdiest mechanical marvel. Some created miniature vehicles, others small clock towers, and even more created actual robots. Though none of that would before long. Like a piper guiding lesser beings to their true calling, Cleston’s device radiated a compulsion for the engineers to approach.  

“You all are so crafty and studious! Though perhaps we should have you allocate that ingenuity elsewhere! Perhaps work with less iron and more… gridiron!” Dr. Cleston typed furiously on his device turning to the smallest runtiest engineer! “You my friend will be the captain the one to lead this team and ensure you are the strongest dumbest unit this school has ever seen!” Phrases appeared like butterflies over this young man’s head. “Captain.” “Ruthless” “Powerful!” “Dominant!” “Tank!” “POWER!” and soon they rang true.

Before this mousy haired youth stumbled back his large legs stomped the ground beneath him. What once was a normal tennis shoe turned into a huge cleat with and even huge leg attached to it as this engineer grew into the largest football player anyone had seen. A jersey replace his normal shirt while a helmet replaced his hat. His nerdy moans grew deeper as he started shouting out for his men to line up. With each step he marched… grassy Astro turf emerged beneath him. Not only was he compelled to make his own team, he was compelled to bring a new field to this college!

“That’s right captain. Spread you influence. In fact why don’t you start brining me the me for your team. Those lucky enough to be picked by you will be your brothers on the field. Any left over… well I guess we could use some  handsome cheerleaders to motivate you on and off the field!”

One by one this massive American football player grabbed a new stunned engineer and threw him at the feet of Cleston who grew him into another athlete before their eyes. Some join their captain in gathering men. Some simply served the doctor fetching him water and doing his bidding. By the time he was done he was in an entire quadrant of a school that looked like a football field! Young men in full uniform were running exercises and making dumb jokes, while scantily clad cheerleaders danced for them.

The final stop for the doctor was the humanities segment of the school. At this point he had an entourage of surfers and football players. They crowd around the doctor happily serving as guides and guards till the last bastion of this school stands before them.

“Come out all your philosophers and lawyers! I believe it’s time you begin anew in a different court!” This time Cleston did not even wait for the student to come out! He let his device run wild as pulses of electricity now crackled from the machine. Campus architecture began to warp and reshape. Buildings became gymnasiums! Leisurely quad portions became outdoor basketball courts! Even the nearby cafeteria became a variety of concession stands. And the young men that emerged from the area fled, transforming before his very eyes!

One red haired student ran outside, skin as pale as if he’d never seen the sun. But that changed as the professor aimed his device at him amplifying his changes. “Big black basketballer” “Proud” “Self assured” “Giant!” “Godly!” “Champions!” The look of confusion on this face began to shift. His mouth found itself shaping into a confident smirk, as his body grew higher and higher. He felt knowledge leaving his brain as his body inflated with size and power! His entire burst out of his clothes revealing his darkening skin and powerful arms and legs. Large feet to support such a frame with a sizeable package that would draw attention from anyone who could see it! He even drank his water bottle in a way that almost invited a challenge!

He wasn’t the only one. Countless classmates and the professors teaching them were all changing with these command till a roaring game was going on inside the gymnasium and around the out door courts. Anyone not playing was on the bench cheering on their teammates to glory! Basketball would be pretty big at this university now. As would its players. All of them growing to be bigger and more intimidating than the next!

At this point Cleston was satisfied and walked slowly to the center of the school, the Dean’s office. His travel companions of surfers, football players, and basketball athletes following him like mindless drones… or a small army.

The bookish Dean exited the doors to his office shaking. “Kleston!  This is absolute chaos you’ve brought to this school. Using such an unstable device could tear a fabric within reality itself if you continue this madness! Shut it off and maybe we can repair the damage before you unleash unspeakable harm to the world!”

“You beg for mercy as I’m about to achieve my ultimate goal! Never! That is why you are the final to change at this school! I’m going to make you the most absent minded sports driven fool of them all!” Kleston blasted his machine right at the Dean who screamed out in surprise as surges of all sorts of changes began to strike him. However this wasn’t just any change! Just like the others it spread… but with no one else around the bolts of changing electricity began to creep up Kleston’s weedy arms… his own device consuming itself and its user as these changes progressed! “No… no! This is not my design. Change him you damn machine! Not me!” He screamed louder and louder! Until a large explosion at the center of campus unleashed every imaginable change!

-

One month later. No one outside of Master Chronivac users remember the illustrious Telegre University. Though ask any sports loving party guy and he’ll tell you he’d love to go to Titan University. Home to the biggest bros, the dumbest academics, and the most intense sports programs. Professionals could never predict how a school with such dumb strategies won their games, let alone certain championships! Many attributed it to the titanic student body this university attracted. Regardless, it serves as a lesson to all people meddling in technology out of their control. Specifically the iconic Twins of Titan U. 

They are some of the most handsomest men around social media these days… shame they’re too dumb to play any sports. Obviously this was the former Dean of the university and the made scientist Kleston… However, even the most creative Chronivac users could tell them apart. They’ve both been so substantially changed both physically and intellectually that they could not be distinguished.

So, remember not to lose yourself proving people wrong. You may end up just like them in the end.

[sketchingstars03]

aghfdsfd sry about the infodumping but i havr to get tgis out of my head hc that ink has a kind of a fixation on naming?? him naming his brush ,the doodlesphere and giving people nicknames kinda?? something something about his abandoned AU not havign a name... something about his last words being not watnting to b forgotten. wanting to be someone.. somethin about names n identity sjhjgf also uhm i just learned that it's actually like. confirmed that he's the one who put all those buckets in the doodlesphere. and also ink doesn't consider himself a Sans bc of his lack of a universe. uh mirror room. apparently its implied that the reason he doesnt liek that room is bc. Ink couldnt tell that they're the original or just one of the many reflections/imposters. since he's the only Ink who doesnt have a soul and doesnt remember jack shit ab his past.(kinda outdated but makes sense. that room was made official around that time where the fact that ink not having a soul is considered vry niche info iirc? somewhere around early 2017)

no Anon you’re onto something with the naming thing.

I think it’s fascinating that Ink, should this be true (which it seems very plausible to me), extends this need to be someone, to have an identity, to others. In a similar way to how they might subconsciously extend that feeling of no universe deserving to be left behind, in that both stem from themself, yet he can’t help but fulfil that desire through other people. Really shines a light on the side of Ink that “isn’t completely selfish”, to put it in words I remember from one post by Comyet.

I always had a feeling, like a headcanon, that Ink would feel separated from his Sans identity, or, well it would probably be more like a role or title to him, rather than a name or someone he is. They left “Sans” behind with _____tale (something he doesn’t even remember). Though, it’s interesting that he still carries over some sans-like traits, like puns/pranks (though more frequent and intense pranks than a regular Sans would pull), and the creation of their own personal Gaster Blaster companion and forming bones out of ink. And there was the sans-like sweater in their old design (something I like to think they still hold on to, even if he doesn’t wear it anymore)

I should check Comyet’s blog to see that lmao guess it probably wasn’t purely just a hc after all.

THE PART ABOUT THE MIRROR ROOM IS FASCINATING THOUGH! Now that you mention it I think I remember a post like that, again looks like I need another trip through the Inkechos tag 😅. But still!! I wonder how Ink would feel about the mirror room now, if his dislike was based around how all the other “hims” had souls and he didn’t, now that that’s changed and it’s actually the Inks with souls who are the outliers (shout out to FTFO!Ink). Would they take joy in the fact that they’re not alone? Or would it still feel, weird and uncomfortable somehow? Perhaps serving as another reminder of his emptiness deep down, and so they still avoid it even though the circumstances in the fandom have changed. I know that whenever I RP my version of Ink meeting other variants, he’s always very interested to see new versions of himself, so maybe it would just be like that! Who knows! Well, Comyet does, but I’m not her 😅.

Either way thank you so much for this thought-provoking ask, Anon! I’m always happy to discuss my favourite chaotic-neutral-artist-skeleton guy like this!

[facioleeknow]

Frat boy 1 • Choi Seungcheol

He fell first and hard. She thinks he hates her but he's actually emotionally constipated.

wc: 718 genre: humor(?), frat boy au

tw: hermit reader, bisexual and shameless Vernon, intimidating Seungcheol, not proofread, frat boys seventeen, nudity

an: hey guys this is the prologue of the series, let me know if you like it and if I should continue it

The entrance of the frat house looked menacing. SVT, short for Sigma Vau Theta, was the biggest frat in your university, counting a whopping twelve members, including your best friend, and a new pledge. Despite being friends for years you had never entered the house but Vernon, your friend, explained to you in detail where his room was “in case you needed a place to crash”.

A big and dramatic sigh escaped your lips, you didn't like being in a room with a couple of men let alone in a house with thirteen, but you had to bite the bullet for the sake of your best friend. Technically Vernon hadn't exactly invited you but he had always said that his door was open at all hours for you and he had been complaining non stop that morning about how donuts were the perfect hangover cure. You obviously took pity on him, got out of your dorm room (if something as big as a broom closet could be called a room) and bought him donuts and coffee.

So now you were stepping into a house that not only was full of men but also smelled like it was full of men.

I hate my life so much, you thought as you scanned your surroundings. 

The hall was empty, in fact the whole house seemed eerily quiet but you knew that a night of heavy drinking was basically the equivalent of having a near death experience so you weren't surprised.

You found the stairs easily and walked up with fast and silent steps. Nobody passed by you and nobody stopped you from roaming around the house, they were probably all sleeping.

“End of the hall, on the right, his name is on the door,” you whispered to yourself.

The hall looked neverending and for a second you thought you teleported in the shining’s hotel, the creepy one with the red carpet. When the name “VERNON” on a plain white door came into your line of vision you sighed, grateful. Without a second thought (and without knocking), you opened the door. An horrendous sight welcomed, your best friend was almost getting it on with a guy and they were both butt naked. 

“Vernon what the fuck!” you yelled. The two quickly got off of each other and pulled the sheets up to cover the family jewels.

“Don't be so dramatic, you've seen me naked,” nonchalantly replied Vernon while collapsing back into his pillow.

“Yes and that was a mistake that I didn't want to repeat,” you quipped back at him.

“Hi, I'm Alex,” the guy next to Vernon introduced himself and extended his hand to you, which you eyed suspiciously. Better not to shake that, you never know what it had touched.

“Hi,” you smiled back at him, “I brought you donuts.” The sweet treats were gently placed on his desk even if you wanted to throw them at him for making you witness that scene.

“I knew we were friends for a reason,” Vernon happily got out of bed, still naked, and walked to the door next to you. 

Ew.

“Right, I'm going to go, I need to bleach my eyeballs,” you scoffed.

“Bye drama queen.”

Getting out of the house was different than getting in, mostly because now you didn't care if you made noise, you just wanted to go back to your room and be alone. At the end of the stare your mood was changing, you felt somewhat proud of yourself. You had completed your mission without any major incident (seeing Vernon's dick was considered a minor incident), or so you thought. Because at the end of the stairs right when you were about to zoom across the hall to get the hell out of there, a hand grabbed your arm. 

“What are you doing here?” A guy with dyed blonde hair and very muscular arms was looking into your eyes with an intimidating stare.

“I’m Vernon's friend,” you were able to mutter out.

“I didn't hear you knock.”

“I didn't.”

If looks could kill you would've died a gruesome death.

“You should knock when you enter other people's houses,” he warned you. He slowly loosened the grip on your forearm and then let go of your arm completely. Like he appeared he disappeared, quickly.

Damn you hated frats.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: Teen Audiences Words: 1.3K~ Summary: “So, wait— what you’re saying is that you want me… to glow for you—?” In which a drowsy, throwaway comment inspires Steven to— fueled by Connie’s implicit trust and encouragement— test the very limits of his self-restraint.

@glowweek

Suuuuper late, but this one was inspired by this event's "Glow or Dark" prompts. I utilized both of the themes in this work.

Essentially, this story is me going "but what if Steven could enter pink mode but on his own terms and with Healthy emotions?" Steven and Connie are 22 and 21 respectively, here. This is the furthest in their future I've posted a work covering so far, ahah.

Enjoy!

__

“Y’know, it’s kinda a shame you only glow when you’re really, really stressed out,” Connie murmurs out of nowhere that night, nuzzling herself even further into his side. “I bet you’d make for a nice nightlight.”

“Wait, what?” Steven responds, his words punctuated by a sudden peel of bemused laughter. He props himself up in their bed, scooting apart from her wanting embrace (she gives a pitiful but very cute little whine at this, still half-asleep) so he can actually turn to meet her eyes. “Where’s this coming from?”

If he fully understands the underlying question in his fiancé’s drowsy doozy of a comment— a comment he doubts she’d ever make while awake and alert— then she’s probably inquiring about why he never consciously utilizes even half the full potential of his power, not even recreationally.

And if he’s honest, it’s a fair question. He’s been somewhat neglecting this part of himself ever since he moved in with her late last year.

After all, it’s not like there’s much practical use for many of his abilities anymore. There’s no battles left to fight. No empires left to dismantle. No need to host those monthly healing sessions he used to organize ever since he and the Gems bottled a large stock of his saliva for long term use. It’s nice, in a way. It’s like an extended vacation from all the stressors of this facet of his existence. Instead, he’s been able to focus all his time and energy on other stuff— like finally finishing his GED, pursuing enrollment in some community college courses for the fun of learning itself, and doing some experimentation with some new instruments he’s never played. 

Little things.

Human things.

That glowing she speaks of, though…

The remnants of laughter fade from his lips as he refocuses on this topic.

He hasn’t snapped pink in weeks. It’s the longest period that’s passed without a flare up since that month his gem fell into an energy conserving stasis immediately following his meltdown in his teen years. So why is she bringing this up now? 

What’s really on her mind?

He asks as such.

This appeal for emotional honesty seems to jostle Connie out of the brunt of her drowsiness. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes with the furthest edge of her knuckles and then parts her lips again.

“It’s just… you never use your powers anymore,” she says, her brow creasing inwards. “Any of them. And of course I understand why, but…”

“But—?”

“But sometimes… I wish things weren’t so muddled for you. That you felt free to express yourself as both a human and a Gem in this space.”

His brows thread together as he considers all this, his confusion-addled brain looping right back to the throwaway, sleepy statement that hurtled this whole conversation into being in the first place. “So, wait— what you’re saying is that you want me… to glow for you—?”

Connie snorts. “Well, my actual want is a little more nuanced, but sure. We’ll go with that as a shorthand.” 

“And you do know my powers are, uh… extra volatile when I’m in that state, right?” 

Her lithe fingers glide their way across the subtle peaks and valleys of his inner wrist. Caught amidst the thorny brambles of his anxiety, such feather light skin contact is grounding. 

Mesmerizing.

“Nothing you do could ever truly scare me,” she reminds him, the calloused contours of her hand dancing along every last edge and sweeping curve of the lines etched into his broad palm.

Steven hums, the latent tension in his form unraveling under the spell of his fiancé’s gentle affection.

And with the loving encouragement of her words echoing like a fleeting melody within the drowsy, wandering neurotransmissions of his consciousness comes a sudden thought:

Can he glow pink on demand?

Is it even possible for him to wrest conscious control of this ability? To find a healthy means of tapping into that vast sum of energy lying dormant in his gem without trudging through the burdens of anger, misery, or fear?

Are these diamond powers something he could one day reclaim for good?

His eyelids flutter shut. Inhaling with a deep-rooted purpose and focusing inwards on the familiar, dual sensations of his partner’s knowing touch and his gem’s constant, faint vibrations, he reflects upon the broad menagerie of feelings and emotional states that govern his other abilities: 

Responsibility.

Joy.

Compassion.

Grief.

Love.

If he’s intending to tap into this well by choice… to summon this strength and glow for his Connie… what kind of emotion does he wish to anchor himself with?

Nothing you do could ever truly scare me, her promise rings in his ears once again. 

The sentiment flows through his veins like sweet nectar, a healing magic all its own.

Trust.

That’s it. Connie trusts him implicitly— without question, without resolve.

So maybe it’s time he finally grapples with all the facets of his identity he’s long neglected and starts to trust himself, too.

Confident in his decision to at least try, he entwines their fingers together, expressing his endearment through a quick triple squeeze.

Okay. 

Okay…

Deep breath, Steven. Deep breath. You’re home. You’re safe. You can pull back whenever you want. YOU are in control.

With one final shaky inhale, he opens his mind to the potent sum of energy swirling within the fathomless layers of his gem.

That familiar glow blooms from his cheeks on command, spreading across the entire span of his body in but a split second and casting their bedroom in a soft, tranquil, shadow-casting pink. It’s almost like flipping a light switch— which makes Connie’s earlier comparison all the more amusing. He can’t help but let out a quavering laugh of relief at his victory, meeting his partner’s eyes as he revels in the sweet euphoria of everything this accomplishment means for him as both a gem and a human being. 

Her gaze surges with a wealth of pride and warmth while she drinks in the sight. Flashing him a teasing smile, she dances her hand up the length of his arm and towards his center, splaying her fingers wide across his bare chest, right over his heart. Steven’s breath hitches. Such tactile sensations seem far more sensitive in this state than they are for him normally. The sheer memory of her touch buzzes at his core like a giddy swarm of butterflies in his stomach, each and every minuscule shift in her contact commanding his full attention.

It’s a beautiful moment— and there’s a small segment of him that wishes it could linger just a while longer— but that damned logic within his mind recognizes it’s smarter to pull back now rather than cling to such a fickle surge of power a second too long and risk potential disaster. No matter how much fulfillment swells within his soul for what he’s achieved here, this ability is still untrained… unrefined. Tonight’s accomplishment is only the beginning of his journey to reclaim it.

He exhales slow and steady, willing that glimmering pink pallor to sink back into his hard-light veins. Their room grows dark once more. His gem’s once fervent hum fades into a hushed murmur. A relieved, watery smile stretches across his cheeks as he feels all the lingering remnants of that energy dissipate right alongside his fading adrenaline. 

Her head tilting with ample curiosity as she regards him, Connie shifts her hold to his shoulder. “And how did that feel?”

“Not as scary as I thought it’d be,” he admits with a shrug, carding his hand through his curls.  

She smiles. “Good.“

Pulling their bodies flush, she plants a swift, tender kiss upon his lips. (Always a treasure to savor, no matter how fleeting the circumstances.) Then, leading by example, she tucks herself back under the covers, patting the adjacent pillow in invitation. 

Entirely smitten, Steven follows in turn.

“Anyways, as usual I was completely right,” she says, nestling herself against his side once more.

His brows raises, an amused chuckle rumbling in his chest. “About—?”

Grinning, she reaches up boop the tip of his nose.

“You do make for a beautiful nightlight, silly.”

[faithforgottens]

𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆.

from the writer’s desk: i’d tell you i started this a year ago after deciding i needed closure on post - crying on newport beach about how i’m incapable of being loved but that would mean me unloading all over the dash, and nobody needs that. i’m just a girl, out here projecting like tomorrow’s not coming, and thought i’d share. please know that i love carol, i just had to pick a character that i didn’t have strong emotional attachment to in order to play my villain. motivation to continue this would be much appreciated, thnx.  summary: you’ve been stuck in carol’s web for nearly four months now, and you need a distraction before you go postal and commit a capital crime or worse, tell her you love her. fortunately for you, natasha’s willing to offer her services. contains: college!natasha x female reader —— warnings include toxic relationship dynamics that involve infidelity, gaslighting and cheating, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, nsfw content [ fingering, dirty talk ]. →  inbox status: OPEN                                        don’t repost my works anywhere.

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     am i gonna see you tonight?

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     :(

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     hellllllooooooooooo??

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     I WANNA SEE U I MISS UR PRETTY FACE

INCOMING MESSAGE FROM — SATAN    💬     pls come tonight. it would mean everything to me

You’ve never claimed to be smart.

In fact, you’re pretty sure you have to fall on the opposite end of that spectrum in order to bother showing your face tonight at the behest of Carol fuckin’ Danvers. Satan. It’s the work of the goddamn devil pulling you from the clutches of your apartment’s comfortable silence where you’d be much better off riding through the nuanced gut-punching waves of disappointing Carol guilt instead of the hell storm that is being played once again by Carol guilt. You even put on eyeliner for such an occasion, because if you’re going to get fucked over (either physically, emotionally, or both), you might as well look good doing it.

Her name’s still lighting up your phone as the Uber drops you off at the curb, boasting a flood of pictures on Snapchat that illuminate the awaiting scene inside of the frat house through blurry streaks of glass bottles and marijuana smoke and the pale expanse of her neck where a glint of her gold necklace flashes is promised to you to do as you wish, leaving behind bruises or lip prints. It’s an enticing picture painted for you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think maybe tonight will be the night she tells you she’s free from the clutches of Maria, her perfectly sane girlfriend that you’ve only ever known through Carol’s jilted lens, and that she’ll even let you climb her like a tree in front of her friends.

Lucky you.

Except you do know better. In the pit of your stomach, you know the reality is that you are in closer proximity than Maria, which therefore makes you the most convenient piece of ass at Carol’s disposal, that Carol believes — and is likely right about how — you’re still wound tight enough around her finger to make you drop to your knees like a good little girl, blinded by her golden halo of hair and the whiskey-soaked taste of her lips and ready to excuse her shit treatment of you. That even feeling like you have her for the beat of a butterfly’s wings is worth your sanity. And despite it all, it isn’t enough to keep you away. It’s not enough to exile the parts of a masochistic heart beating in your chest that somehow loves her, even if the only part of you she loves is your willingness to show up for her.

Carol’s fraternity is co-ed, which means that between all of the brothers, their social circle extends to the farthest corners of the university — they consume a fair bit of your own, considering you have at least two classes a semester with Bucky, sit with them at Wanda’s softball games (mostly so you can talk shit about your high school ex that made the team), and rent study rooms at least once a month with Thor, Bruce, and Val to spiral into late night insanity while you all contemplate the meaning of life and attempt to memorize vocabulary words. You slip in through the door, bass thudding into your molars and the heavy blanket of smoke and sweat covers your bare shoulders as you weave your way through the house.

“Look who finally showed up!” Behind the counter in the kitchen is Sam Wilson, running position as makeshift bartender. You detour long enough for a vodka and Diet Coke, stopping next to the barstool that Bucky’s perched on. He tucks you underneath his arm for a side hug, other hand tipping his own solo cup back as he tries to drain the last bit of liquor down his throat.

They’re good friends to you. It’s why you hate doing this dance with Satan — because at some point, you feel that there’s going to be a tectonic shift between the two of you that dredges up a rift in the concrete and you don’t know who will be left on your side. You don’t know who you’ll be able to look in the eye and lie to about Carol, who would pick you over her. You don’t even know if any of them would believe you or would write you off as crazy as you’ve been writing yourself off as of late.

You tell yourself that you’re trying, goddammit, to shove that piece of yourself back into a locked drawer and enjoy the company of your friends.

“Anybody seen Danvers?” you pitch as nonchalantly as you know how, planting your elbows down onto the granite of the counter while you watch Sam mix your drink. He goes heavy on the vodka, which you quietly appreciate.

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, we’ve seen her alright.”

“She’s in the dining room trying to rally everyone into a round of strip beer pong,” Sam explains. “Last we saw, she got her shirt stuck in the chandelier.”

“The face of class, this fraternity,” you tease as Sam hands you your drink. He can’t help but laugh, a jovial, guttural noise that makes you smile, even though your stomach is currently in your throat.

You bid them farewell and snake through the living room, trying to avoid the furniture or the bodies of other people and almost always fail in avoiding both at the same time as you carve out a path to the dining room. It’s densely packed, which forebodes the game of beer pong that the boys mentioned. You try not to cut your elbows into the bones and flesh of others to make your way through, but your adrenaline is humming at the thought of seeing Carol, the thought of her body glowing in the house lights and the cut of her physique out on display for anyone, including you, to openly ogle without abandon.

“Goddamn, Danvers!” someone yells mirthfully. “Keep it in your pants!”

Whistling down to one thought, one track, your mind lasers in and you’re positive that the sharp point of your elbow nails T’Challa directly in the ribs as you finally make it to the inner lip of the circle around the dining room table. It’s desperate. You know it’s desperate. You'll care about it later, you’re sure, but for now, all that’s on your mind is her.

“For the love of fuck, I—” Someone stumbles back into you, dark hair in frizzy waves and the bill of their baseball cap nearly jabbing straight into your nose. Wanda Maximoff spins around, her eyes lightening up at the sight of you as she grabs onto your wrist to stable herself. “Oh! Hey, babe,” she says with a smile. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“Me either,” you tell her, trying not to be blatant as you scan for Carol. “Carol didn’t tell me until last minute.”

“Boo,” Wanda pouts, before turning to yell over her shoulder, “Danvers! Fuck you!”

“Get in line!” Carol calls back, and your head locks in on where her voice comes from. Your stomach plunges into free fall when you see her: as promised, she’s standing around in her sports bra and jeans, white teeth glinting and blonde hair curling around onto her tanned shoulders, biceps on display and her arms snaked around — her.

Maria Hill, in the flesh, pressed against Carol’s side and her chin balanced on Carol’s shoulder as Carol makes a shot one-handed that successfully lands in a cup on the opposite end of the table. Carol cheers victoriously, and Maria kisses her cheek, and you notice that Carol’s hand on Maria’s side drifts down towards her ass.

All of Carol’s messages swim inside your mind, the ones where she assures you that it’s all real, that she and Hill are done, that Hill’s holding her back, that she’s felt things for you since the moment she laid eyes on you and just knew; the ones where she paints a beautiful picture of a future with you, the same picture she’s just doused in cheap spirits and ruined for the dozenth time. Your drink suddenly tastes like arsenic, heavy and uneven in your stomach, the room shrinking and heat crawling up your neck in an uncomfortable panic. You are going to be sick.

Wanda’s voice comes through in the midst of the ringing in your ears. Fuck you, Danvers.

It takes you a moment to realize that Wanda’s voice isn’t just a reverberation inside your mind, but is right in your ear. “Hey!” She calls your name again, and you finally snap your attention back to her. She scans over your face for a moment, eyebrows folding in the center of her brow. “You alright? Where’d you just go?”

The shock is fresh on your face, salt water from the crashing wave that’s irritating your eyes — you refuse to let yourself cry, here in front of everyone, because all that’s going to do is open the door to a conversation you don’t want to have, incite a fight with Carol that you’ll surely lose, leave you feeling even lower than you do at the moment. You shake your head, trying to shake whatever emotions that aren’t nonchalant off of your face. “Noth—nowhere,” you stammer, voice an octave higher than usual. Wanda’s perplexity only deepens. “More crowded than I thought. Got beer-splashed.”

Wanda breaks into a smile, seemingly buying your excuse. “C’mon, what’d you expect?” she ribs. It’s a loaded question, and if Wanda wasn’t Wanda, you’re sure it’d be enough to light your rapidly shorting fuse. The thin strain in your falsified smile must give something away, because she softens the slightest bit and wraps her arm around yours. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll kick your ass sideways in pool.”

You appreciatively take Wanda’s out, allowing her to guide you away from the Carol show and the crowd of people you have steeled yourself in order to not cry in front of and head with her towards the basement, which the frat has renovated into a lounge space with a giant television, sectional that is infamous for its hosting of The Threesome, and the pool table. It hasn’t garnered quite the same audience that the beer pong game has, but less people means you feel slightly less suffocated. Carol’s still got her foot on your throat, but down here, it’s easier to maneuver and act as though you haven’t just had yourself made a fool in front of everyone without them knowing.

Relieved for the little things, like elbow room, you sit down on the arm of the sectional and take a long drink from your cup — if you’re going to survive the rest of the night without your tail tucking between your legs (and you’re determined to further your self-sabotage by going the extra mile to ensure Carol knows she fucked up, even though it’s likely she doesn’t care) you’ll have to be drunker than this. Wanda adjusts her hat on her head and picks up a pool cue, glancing back over her shoulder at you. “Want someone to show you how it’s done?” she teases.

You lift your cup in acknowledgment, smile shedding off of your lips. “Go for it.”

As Wanda weasels her way into the current game of pool, you do a quick intake of who all’s downstairs. There’s a few of the brothers, a few of the brother’s dates, people that are otherwise background characters designed to make campus seem at capacity but not so many people that no one would notice if you threw up in the corner or worse, started crying. You purse your lips around the rim of your solo cup, scanning the company around the pool table. Wanda sidles up next to another one of her brothers, poking her with the pool cue. “Nat!” Wanda whines. “Give me room.”

Natasha Romanoff shuffles out of the way with the roll of her eyes. “Poke me with the stick again and it’s gonna go somewhere less than ideal.”

Wanda flicks her middle finger upright before hunching around the shape of the pool cue. “You don’t scare me, Natty.”

“Your funeral.”

Your eyes follow Natasha out of the way, and she feels their weight because the next thing you know, you’re off the cliffs and deep somewhere inside the greenery of her eyes. They’re pretty eyes, you idly note, and you find yourself mulling over Natasha Romanoff, as a person, as a concept, as Natasha. She’s the oldest of the girls in the fraternity, a senior to your junior, and she’s been around for so long that it’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t there. It’s hard to imagine a room without her in it, a constant fixture on the mantel that you don’t even bother acknowledging it anymore.  

She cocks an eyebrow at you after what’s sure to be a long moment of staring, and Wanda, who is unfortunately more observant than you’d like to believe, begins laughing. “Am I interrupting this little staring contest?”

Natasha smirks. “I could win a staring contest and kick your ass at the same time, Maximoff.”

“Show off,” Wanda grumbles as she passes the pool cue over to Natasha. She then looks at you, and whatever grumpiness dissipates, her shit-eating grin returning. “Now, you on the other hand,” she preludes with a gesture towards you. “There’s no way.”

You drain the rest of your drink and discard the cup off to the side. "You talk a lot, Wan,” you inform her as you walk up to the side of the pool table. Wanda just grins as you turn to Natasha, gesturing for the pool cue. “Let me have a go.”

Natasha acquiesces and passes you the pool cue, giving you the space you need coupled with a low nod of encouragement. There are a few clusters of balls around the table and you’re trying to eye up a shot that’ll give you not only a handful of points, but will get Wanda off your back — even if you are grateful for the timing of her diversions.

Unfortunately, it’s not enough; you can still hear the laughter and music through the walls from upstairs, a raucous noise that scatters your train of thought. Is it Carol? What’s she doing? What’s she whispering into Hill’s ear? Does she know you’re even here? Does she care? 

Probably not.

You take the shot without thinking, balls ricocheting off the sides of the pool table. Wanda barks out a laugh. “Really? That’s the best you’ve got?”

“Just getting warmed up,” you say stiffly, handing the pool cue off.

Wanda’s face is alight with amusement, nodding slowly as she moves around the pool table for her next shot. “Okay.”

You’re too far in your head, and you know it. You’re content to linger on the outskirts of the game while everyone else that Wanda goes about recruiting takes their turn. It’s a few minutes or an hour before the cue ends up back in your hand, like a rickety sort of clockwork that is unexpected but also entirely predictable. You assess the situation and find a decent enough angle now that the game has progressed, significantly so.

You bend over slightly, eyes fixed on a blue ten that’s not too far from the cue. Before you can make the shot, you hear someone behind you muttering. “Do it like this.”

When you glance over your shoulder, it’s Natasha, only a few inches from where you stand, hands hesitating before she reaches out. “Back up,” she guides, her hands stationing on your hips and forcing you to take a half-shuffle of a step backwards. “And lift your elbow like this.” You’re clay and she shapes you how she wishes, her touch feather light. “Okay. Now try.”

You do exactly as she says, pool cue shooting from your hand and colliding with the cue ball. The ten you’ve had your eyes on sails into the pocket without any interference. 

“Nice shot, sweetheart,” Natasha says, her voice ghosting along the back of your spine. As you straighten up, you glance behind you, noticing the faint grin along the curve of her lips.

“Well that wasn’t sexual at all,” Wanda comments with a low whistle as the pool cue returns to her grip. “Do losers get laid still? I wouldn’t know.” With a toothy flash of a grin, she draws the cue back and makes another shot — you’re not entirely focused on her efforts, thanks to the gravity of Natasha’s sights still pressing deep into your skin.  

Wanda talks a big enough game that she recruits nearly everyone standing around the pool shot to give it a go, which provides a window of opportunity for Natasha to brush a hand along your shoulder and steal you away. “Up for a smoke?” she asks, and you nod. You allow her to lead the way out through the basement’s French doors, slipping outside into the backyard where the sky is dotted with stars, the air smells only the slightest bit cleaner, and the music is nothing but a dull pulse from inside the house.

Natasha steers you away from the patio where other fraternity brothers and their guests are sitting around, enjoying their drinks and laughing amongst their idle, stoned conversations around the fire pit. You follow her into the grass, trailing around the side of the house until the two of you don’t have any other company aside from each other and Thor’s knockout rose bushes that he takes great pride in.

She leans up against the wall, hands fishing in the pocket of her jacket for her lighter. For someone who’s devoted the rest of their evening to shooting metaphorical (or even literal) middle fingers in Carol’s direction, you’re still too far on edge to be nonchalant about any of it. The quiet is all consuming, maddening inside of your buzzing mind. Natasha produces a joint, embers burning on the end as she lights it and brings it up to her lips. You’re left to watch as she takes a long, casual drag, a cloud of smoke billowing from her lips on the exhale. Her wrist then extends, offering the joint up; if there is such a thing as too eager, you’d be the poster child for it, the way you pluck it from her fingers and take a hit.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, her voice a low drag of gravel against the muted bass thud inside of the house. You open an eye and glance over at her, her green eyes burning holes through you as she watches. 

“Eh,” you mutter half-heartedly with a shrug. “Not worth it.”

You pass the joint back to her after you take one more drag, your eyes fixed on the steady stream of smoke that you forcibly control the exit from your mouth. It’s nice to have control over something, you think, even if it is, to some degree, just seeing how long you can hold your breath. 

“Seems like you could use a distraction,” Natasha comments, fingers idly rolling the joint between her fingers as smoke still curls from the tip. 

You laugh, a low and guttural noise that’s passive at best. “Yeah, probably.”

Natasha turns so her entire body is facing you, and it doesn’t register, the way that she’s looking at you, until you feel her brush your hair off of your face. Your eyes fully open, somewhat surprised by the action, watching her carefully. Natasha’s a lot of things, but gentle isn’t one you’d readily associate with her. It’s almost like she’s handling you like glass, waiting for the right moment to shatter you. It’s a hiccup in your chest, a strange feeling washing over your body.

“Let me distract you, then.” She says it simply, like it’s the most logical conclusion to arrive at.

“Nat, what...”

“C’mere.” One of her hands encircles your wrist, guiding you closer. You follow wordlessly in her guidance, unsure of what she’s doing or what’s to come. She takes another hit of the joint, her eyes glowing the same way the end of the joint does, a low burning fire that seems to grow hotter the longer your eyes are connected. 

The hand holding your wrist slides up your body until she’s cupping your jaw, her thumb darting across the expanse of your face to swipe across your lips in a prompt to open them. She lowers the joint, bringing her face inches away from your own as her mouth forms a perfect circle and releases smoke. You’ve shotgunned weed before, but never at such a close proximity. Natasha breathes out and you breathe in, eyes fluttering shut at the intimacy of the moment. 

“Gonna let me distract you some more?” she whispers, and you barely register yourself nodding before her lips capture your own. Her mouth is plush and soft but nothing about her is gentle anymore — this is where she forces a spiderwebbing crack across your surface, the deft way in which she manipulates your lips to do exactly as she’d like, her tongue skating across the skin and opening your mouth to allow her access. You can’t help but to sigh into the kiss. She is exactly what she claims she is: a distraction, a welcome reprieve, and the golden halo around Carol’s head seems fuzzy and jilted now.

Natasha kisses you like she’s trying to set you on fire; at some point she has absconded the joint and ground out its remnants into the mulch, both her hands cupping your face as she boxes you in with her legs and adjusts the two of you so your back is now flush against the wall. “How’s this?” she murmurs against your ear, lips starting a descent down your neck that is feather light and the gentle scrape of her teeth.

“Very... very distracting,” you stammer out, fingers curling into fiery red hair. 

“Good,” Natasha hums, her mouth vibrating over a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone that causes your grip in her hair to tighten. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be so far in your head.” 

You nod, thankful for the reward of her body pressing against yours. 

“What d’you say?” Her voice ghosts over your skin, and for a moment, you’re not sure what it is she’s asking. It takes a moment, the weed and the liquor clouding your mind, but the dig of Natasha’s blunt fingernails into your hips and the graze of her teeth along your skin serves as motivation. “Huh? What d’you say, princess?” 

“Thank you,” you gasp, the feeling of her mouth tightening around your skin wet and hot sending a glimmer of electricity down your spinal cord. Natasha chuckles, a dark and melodic noise that buzzes through your body. 

“You’re welcome,” she croons. “’S that all you needed? Or do you need more?”

More. It’s the knee jerk response you have, the way your world has narrowed down to just her and the scent of her heady perfume and each individual curve of muscle is now flush against you. Your eyes open only to see Natasha grinning like she’s the fuckin’ devil. 

Maybe you were misplaced somehow.

Natasha’s hands drag over your sides, up and down roughly as she kisses you and forces your legs farther apart so she’s able to snake one of her thighs in between them. She rucks your top up on the edges, fingers brushing over your skin in a delightful contrast to the cool evening air. Natasha is hot, her touch burning and singeing the skin wherever it moves. She’s painting you out of ashes and making you into something beautiful, something uniquely her own. Her hands slip underneath your shirt and you feel one hand trail upwards, fingers wrapping around your breast before squeezing. It elicits another tiny moan from you, which Natasha swallows down with a kiss. “Shh,” she hisses against your lips. “Be quiet.”

You arch into her touch as her fingers slip beneath the cup of your bra and pinch your nipple tight, another squeak of pleasure groaned into her mouth. It only encourages her further, the other hand of hers moving in the opposite direction. “Want me to touch you?” she whispers in your ear while you press your mouth into her shoulder, breath warm against your ear and her teeth just barely missing your earlobe. “Bet you’re not distracted now; only thing you and that pussy are thinking about is me, huh?”

“Fuck, Nat,” you mumble into her skin.

“Yeah you are,” she replies with a shit eating grin, your head tilting back until it roughly meets the back of the wall as her hand goes up your skirt. 

You’d been meticulous prior to coming over, thinking on whatever lone star trailing in the sky that you’d be seducing Carol tonight; you’d purposefully worn your skimpiest pair of underwear just to show her what she could have if she was with you. It’s only when you see the look on Natasha’s face, the way her pupils dilate and her jaw slackens the slightest bit as her fingers skim in between the folds of your thigh and vulva and feels lace that you feel something resembling satisfaction. “You came ready for a distraction, princess,” she grumbles, moving your underwear to the side and swiping her fingers through what is now sheer want dripping from you. “Fuck, you’re wet.”

“N... Nat,” you whine, squirming around in the pursuit of pressure. “Touch me.”

She places the tip of her finger at your entrance, just barely teasing it in. “Ask nicely, honey.”

The words spill from your lips without thought. “Please, Nat, please touch me, fuck m—” She cuts you off as she slips her finger inside of you and you all but rocket up the side of the wall at the feeling. Her free hand, still underneath your shirt, wrestles out from beneath the fabric and is slapped over your mouth to muffle whatever noise you make.

“Thought I told you to be quiet,” she says between her gritted teeth. “Here.” She presses her index and middle fingers against your lips and you acquiesce, opening them wide enough to allow them to slip in. “Suck.”

You do as you’re told, happy to oblige as she begins to finger you. There’s nothing soft or sweet about the way she fucks you; she adds another finger and finds a steady rhythm, curling each time she’s knuckle deep inside of you just so she can be rewarded with you humming around the fingers in your mouth. It amuses her to some extent, the way her eyes have darkened and her mouth is slightly agape. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and considering how tight you are wound, you’re not going to last long.

"Clench around me, pretty girl,” she hisses amongst the other litany of dirty things she’s whispering in your ear. “Such a sweet pussy, does whatever I ask it to; what if I want this pussy all to myself? You gonna let me have it?”

You nod, Natasha withdrawing her fingers from your mouth before she hauls you in for the filthiest kiss of your life. “Fuck,” you whimper against her lips. “Yours, Nat, your pussy.”

“Yeah, I know. This is my pussy now, all tight and hot and wet and desperate just for me. This was what you needed, wasn’t it? Needed me to fuck you silly until you forget how to put one foot in front of the other.”

“Please, Nat, gonna...” 

“What?” she teases, her thumb flicking across your clit and you know that she’s doomed you, mind and body barreling down a track that there is no return from. “What, baby? Use your words.”

“Gonna come,” you manage to get out, and she fucking laughs.

“‘S right,” she agrees. “Gonna make this little pussy come all over my fingers, since I’m the only one who can. That right?” You nod; her fingers tighten in your hair and pull your head back so your neck is exposed for her. “C’mon, baby, wanna see you make a mess on my hand. Come for me like a good little slut. You know you want to.” You do, you do, and everything is bordering on the edge of too much the way Natasha is sucking your neck and rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Show me who’s pussy this is. Come.”

Another few thrusts and flicks of your clit and you are gone, Natasha bringing her mouth back to yours to swallow the keens and cries of you hitting your climax. The brick wall underneath you scratches at your shirt but it is a heavenly feeling, losing control underneath Natasha. She just smiles when she pulls away and you slump into her, perfectly sated. 

“That was hot,” she says with a wicked grin, pulling her fingers out of you. She doesn’t break eye contact as she brings them up to her lips, sucking your taste off of them. Her eyes alight with pleasure, a contented hum reverberating from her vocal cords. “Thanks, pretty girl.”

Beat that, Danvers.

[0funsite0]

Poor us

Summary: You and Jimin have been living in poverty without parental help as they decided to disown you the moment you married the love of your universe. Life hasn't been easy ever since, but your love for each other and the will of building a family of your own may just be enough to concur all.

non-idol!jimin x pregnant!fem!reader

Warnings: pregnancy, poverty, medical issues, cold, malnutrition, childbirth

Word count: 2.9K

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You felt another blanket being placed on your body.

- Chim, I think that's enough, but thank you. - you breathed out sleepily, as Jimin carefully lays down next to you on the mattress placed on the floor.

- No, love! It's freezing. We need to make sure you don't catch a cold. That wouldn't be good considering you are 28 weeks.

He was right. Your tiny apartment was located in the poorest part of town, where cutting the water or gas was done weekly by authorities, since there was always something wrong with the system. Now not even the tiny heater in your miniature room was radiating any warmth, meaning the only things keeping you and your baby growing inside your womb warm were those few blankets you had.

- This was our last blanket though... now you have none. - you extended your hands, motioning him to lay under your blankets.

He hesitantly lifted the blankets and slipped under them, wrapping his protective arms around your waist to scoot you closer to his body. Of course, he was mindful of your bump, making sure not to crush your little one inside. A warm smile spread across his face, as he felt the baby wiggle against his torso. Moments like this reminded him, that rich, or not, life was beautiful.

- Now, go to sleep, okay? - ha pleaded, while softly caressing your hair and back. - You need a lot of rest.

- Okay... - you yawned. - But you too! Night.

- I hate that you still go to work.

- Jimin, we talked about this before! Women in my condition usually have maternity leave around their last month. I just started my seventh month, we have 3 left. - before he could cut you off, you continued. - Besides, we can't afford to have minus one working hand. We need the money. I already quit one of my jobs.

- Then I'll get another job.

- A fourth one? There's no way I'm letting that happen!

- Jagi...

You cut him off with a kiss. That kiss brought him comfort and reassurance. He still didn't like the fact that even after the doctor told you you were a bit underweight and should make sure you didn't lose any more if you wanted the baby to be healthy, you were still on your feet all that at work, which also included some physical labor. Ever since that day, he would skip meals, so you could eat more. Of course, he never told you this, because he knew you'd never let him do that.

- Good night!

- Good night, Love! - then he put his free hand on your tummy. - Night, night baby!

-

- Mrs. Park, - your doctor sighed. - even though you made some progress compared to last time, you still seem a little underweight. I want you to keep in mind that malnutrition doesn't only affect the fetus' development but can also send you into premature labor.

These were definitely news that you expected to hear at your 32-week check-up, and you had plenty of time to prepare yourself, but you still couldn't stop the tears from escaping your eyes. These facts being said out loud sent shivers down your spine and made your heart fill with worry for your precious baby.

Tears kept running and running down your red cheeks and no one was there to wipe them away. Jimin had work, which he couldn't miss, and the old lady, who called herself a doctor definitely wasn't the one who would calm you down. She was extremely unsympathetic. You just wished your husband was there, holding your hand.

The gynecologist printed out your ultrasound pictures and handed you the papers which contained the updates on your and the fetus' health.  

You didn't have a car. None of you. So you had to walk all the way home, burning calories, which you couldn't afford to burn. But you had no other option. On your way to your apartment, you stopped in front of a bakery, just staring inside of the showcase, debating whether or not you should spend those few bucks you brought with you, on some nourishing pastries for yourself... more for your baby. The debate was obviously determined when you set your thin hands on your bump and felt your bundle of joy wiggle around. A soft, but sad smile appeared on your lips, and you went inside.

-

You sat in your scummy kitchen, munching on one of the cheese biscuits you bought earlier, when you hear the squeak of the front door, signaling that your husband was home. About time... it was 10 PM.

-  Hi, My Love!

He took his shoes off and hugged you, caressing your back and pressing a gentle hand on your bump.

- How did your appointment go?

- It went great. - you lied.

- Can I see the papers?

You froze. Oh no! That will give everything away.

- Uhm... I lost it.

- Jagi... Please don't lie to me, okay?

You realized that there was no reason to lie to your husband any further. You dug deep into your duffel bag you've been taking with you everywhere for years now. The time took a toll on it as well. The rips and lose threads were becoming more and more evident.

In the end, you pulled out the folded medical papers, which will soon reveal your little secret to Jimin.

He carefully read through the words, making sure he wasn't missing any detail.

You didn't dare to look at him. You were scared. you expected scolding from him, words that would send you tears.

Instead, you just felt thin arms wrap around you and delicate hands running up and down your bump.

- Oh Jagi! - he breathed.

You couldn't help the tears. You were an emotional mess. Relief, sadness, worry, guilt...

- A-are you m-mad?

- No, no! I'm not, baby.

He carefully lifted you and slipped under you n the chair, so he could set you on his lap. He turned your head to look him in the eye and was quick to wipe the tears away, which were continuously pouring onto your shirt. He just kept wiping and wiping them.

- I'm just so worried, Jagi... But... don't you worry, My Love, okay? We'll work on it. You'll be fine! Perfectly healthy!

-

- Love! I'm home! - he said as he closed the door.

- Chim? - you breathe out shakily.

Jimin could immediately sense the discomfort in your voice, so he is quick to get into the tiny bathroom your voice could be heard from.

He dropped everything he had on him the moment he saw your distressed figure on the floor hunched over the toilet, hands on your 34-week bump, and rat to your side.

- Baby! It's okay, let it all out!

- I haven't been able to keep anything down today.

- Oh God! Why didn't you call me?

- I don't have any money on my phone... I couldn't call anyone.

Jimin cursed at himself for forgetting to charge money on your phone. It was a very dangerous move from him, especially now that you are nearing the end of your pregnancy.

- I'm having a contraction... - you panted as you clutched your abdomen, still sitting on the floor.

His hands carefully flew to rest on your stomach as he felt around. Your bump was rock-hard. He panicked. You weren't full-term yet.

- Are you sure? Maybe they are just Braxton hicks... - he held onto the last bit of hope he had.

- I'm not sure... I hope though. - you straightened your posture as the tight feeling in your stomach eased. - Chim... - tears started streaming from your eyes. - These don't feel like Braxton hicks. My baby...

- Shhh... It's alright, don't worry. We'll get you to the hospital.

-

- Mrs. Park, you are now in pre-term labor, but we can give you medication that might extend your pregnancy by a few more days or weeks.

- How much does it cost? - you ask, laying in the uncomfortable hospital bed with pink and blue bands strapped around your bump, which attached little machines to your skin to detect the baby's and your vitals.

- No! She'll have it! - Jimin said with much confidence.

- Chim...

You could barely afford the hospital bills for your labor and delivery. You didn't need to add any more to that sum.

- Can we get a moment, please? - your husband addressed your doctor.

- Of course. - she walked outside.

Jimin sat down next to you on the bed, his eyes flaming as he stared at the bands and machines attached to your still small bump. At least compared to how far along you were. Baby didn't weigh much and you were supposed to work on that in the remainder of your pregnancy.

And while Jimin's stare was livid, he stroked your hand and talked in the most gentle way possible.

- You are getting that medicine. I'm not letting my baby have potential risks or even die!

- I know, Ji-

The next contraction hit you out of nowhere. You curled around your hardened stomach and gripped Jimin's shirt.

- Breathe, breathe! - he whispered.

- I know, - you started as the contraction ended. - and it's the last thing I want as well. But tell me honestly how will we pay for that. That shit is expensive and we d-don't even have baby products yet.

That's when the tears spilled.

- It's okay, - he wiped your eyes. - I'll make sure everything is perfectly fine. You'll have that medicine and won't worry about the bills. I'll sort everything out.

His tone calmed you a bit, just enough to stop crying. But it didn't free you from the concern you felt about your child's well-being.

Your husband called the doctor back in, who immediately started preparing the procedure.

- No, no! - you whined. - No needles, Chim...

- Shhh... - he stroked your hair. - Just focus on me. Think about how is you are strong now, we'll have a strong baby in a few weeks.

So you did. You were strong and the IV was in, pouring some fluid into you. You didn't look at it, but you were nauseous non the less.

Just in time, a nurse assisting the doctor shoved a bowl in front of you. You let out the contest of your stomach. You didn't know you had anything left in you, and now, vomiting with Jimin tying your back with an emergency hair tie on his wrist, then rubbing your back.

- We're going to wait now and see how your contractions turn out. If they stop, we'll do a check on the baby and determine whether you are safe to go back home or now. If they continue to progress, we'll get ready for delivery.

So you waited there in the arms of your husband. Breathing through contractions and praying. Praying that the medicine worked and that your baby is okay.

Hours went by, but the constant pains tormenting you never stopped.

- Mr. and Mrs. Park, I'm afraid there's no other solution, we have to go through with the delivery.

Your heart ached. You wished you could give your beloved child, whom you haven't seen yet but lived with everything you had, a bright future. You wanted them to grow up in comfort and love at the same time. These are things you got to experience in your life, only never at the same time. Comfort you had while in the care of your parents, but love you only ever found when comfort was taken away, with Jimin.

A strong contraction ripped through your abdomen, squeezing your helpless baby inside. Jimin was close to tears himself.

- Breath, beautiful. You've got this. - he whispered with a broken voice.

You would have thought that this little gesture (him reminding you to breath) would be useless and would only agitate you, but thanks to him you realized you've been holding your breath which didn't help with the pain. As soon as you were reminded by him you let as much air into your lungs as possible and that relieved a lot of pressure from your stomach.

At some point the pain got extremely bad. No matter what you did, walking around, or squatting, the pressure was worse than ever amd could no longer be relieved by breathing.

- Wow, that was a big one. - the nurse exclaimed as she inspected the red line on the monitor, possibly measuring the intensity of your contractions. - How do you feel about some kind of pain relief?

The word "yes" was at the very tip of your tongue, it wanted to escape faster than light travels. But a voice, that has been chanting the same word over and over again since the day of your engagement, stopped you. Money.

- What do you suggest? - your husband asked after seeing your doubtful gaze.

-No... Ugh... I- W-we can't... - you huffed in the middle of feeling your baby squirming in discomfort as your belly hardens again.

- What do you suggest? - Jimin asked again, this time with a much more impatient voice, ignoring your protests.

- At this point it would be too late for the epidural, but I would recommend either oxygen, or gas. Oxygen is great for your lung capacity, helping you with breathing, amd gas kind of works like a drug. It's completely harmless of course, it has a numbing effect, so your brain can't process pain the way it is now, making it seem less intense.

- Jim-Jimin! You no we can't-

- We'll take oxygen.

After a bit of time and a lot of convincing from your husband, the nurse brought all the equipment needed and soon you had a mask-like plastic thing in your hand. She showed you how to use it and you were good to go. You were hesitant at first, but after feeling the difference it made, you couldn't resist anymore.

Jimin was relieved to see you have some break from the constant torture. That break, however, didn't last long.

A sudden strange urge and pressure broke you from your relaxed state. Your water broke and the contractions, which brought your baby so low, came almost immediately after each other.

- I ned to PUSH! - with that last word you were pushing, there was no going back.

Jimin worriedly smacked the calling button above your head, and 3 nurses entered the room, taking their places around you like the professionals they were.

They quickly understood that you prefered being encouraged with gentle words, not like some who needed them to shout like a football coach. You were scared for your baby, who would be born prematurly into this cold world, without a warm home, without a place to sleep. Damn... you don't even have a crib yet.

The only thing that allowed you ta stay focused was the thought of your little baby being in your arms, and Jimin's heartwarming words. These two pushed you forward.

- IT BURNS! - you scream in pure agony.

- Push through it! It means you're doing it right. - one of the nurses assured.

To be honest you couldn't tell the difference between them at this point. You could barely even see, your vision was so blurred by the tears pouring down your cheeks.

- We're so close baby! So, so close. It'll all be over.

Oh how wrong he was...

Once this part comes to an end the rest and most difficult part begins.

Several pushes and one last scream later the pain faded into nothing and for the first time in your life, you smiled when a baby cried.

You remember countless times when on long plane rides a baby was close to you on an aircraft you silently cursed at all living species on Earth. You would do so again when you realize you forgot to bring your headphones, and you'd have to listen to the annoying wailing sounds of an uncontrollable infant. Now, however, it was the world's most wonderful sound.

He was alive, breathing, gunky and slimy, just covered in all kinds of birth fluids, but he was the most beautiful thing that's ever existed on this planet.

You became a mother.

A mother to a child whose father is the love of your universe. You chuckled at the silly thought. Of course, how else would it be?

Your beautiful newborn son was placed on your chest and his warmth made you forget all the hardships you've faced and the ones you'll have to face once this moment is over. He was tiny but had a healthy set of lungs and an even healthier heart, which was all you cared about. His squished face scrunched even more with his cries. You were in love for the second time in your life. You never thought your love could get bigger, you imagined becoming a mother would split your love into two, half for your husband, half for the new addition to the family. But you were so wrong!

- Our little son. - the voice of your husband pulled you out of the state of mind you were in. He pulled you out to be with him. Him and your son so you could enjoy these moments with those who matter. Who you live for.

- Thank you Jimin...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Might make a part 2 if enough people have interest in it, because I'm curious what happens to them now 🫣

[sidebaxolotl]

I have a question for you if you wouldn’t mind answering. I’m a lesbian and I’ve been considering turning to religion and being side b, but my main question is why would God want me to suffer this much? Why would He let me date my girlfriend for 3 years, all of which has been blissfully happy and feels totally right and good, if He really wants me to give it all up and break both of our hearts? It doesn’t feel like sin to me. We didn’t even sleep with each other until we’d been together for a year because I found it very hard to get over my shame and they waited for me the entire time. Isn’t there that verse about the fruit something brings? Being a lesbian has brought nothing but joy into my life. In fact, the only suffering it’s caused me is when I used to try to be side b. I don’t see why God would want that for me if He allowed me to be made a lesbian.

And to be honest, it seems like most of the side b people I know struggle a lot with being side b, like it doesn’t come naturally to them. I wonder how you reconcile that difficulty and pain with believing that a good God would want this for you. You could make the argument that Satan wants you to suffer and is causing your temptation, but if that’s the case why doesn’t God just fix it, if He’s all powerful? Maybe He wants me to have free will, but I’ve asked Him countless times to make me straight so it’s not like I want to be gay.

Anyway, sorry for the rant. I just find this sort of thing really hard to wrap my head around, but I want there to be a good answer that I can hold on to.

Hey friend! To be honest I do understand where you're coming from. My relationship with my ex was one of the most wonderful things ive ever felt, and it did feel right and very good, unlike a lot of the sin in my life. Even now I struggle sometimes to reconcile that and I know if things hadn't ended so badly I'd be in your situation right now. I also prayed many times that God would make me straight (and for a while I thought it worked lmao). For a long time after The Breakup I struggled really hard with what to do, i was struggling with lesbian erotica/fandom content, wondering what to do with my faith, wondering if I should force myself to marry a man, crying out to God to curse Him or blame Him for my situation, for taking her away from me, etc. I fell into a very deep depression and was very close to unaliving myself over it (and other things). I had to go on medication for an extended period of time because I did not want to live. It was a really rough time in my life and I'm glad despite all the things that I said and did out of grief that I made it out of that period of my life with my relationship to God in tact. Letting go of sin, particularly sexuality related sin can be really hard because sin doesn't always feel bad. A lot of sin does and has immediate consequences, which makes it particularly easy to avoid/stop doing but a lot of it doesn't. We live in a world where sin has permeated the deepest reaches of our universe and our own bodies. Our own judgement apart from Christ cannot always be trusted:

"The heart is deceitful above all things,     and desperately sick;     who can understand it?" Jeremiah 17:9

So it might not feel bad or wrong(it still doesn't feel that way to me personally), but we know God is objectively good and knows what is best, so if He says its bad, then its bad. There are reasons for this, but that's beyond the scope of this post so maybe another time. What I will also say though, is that the Christian life is hard in general and suffering is guaranteed. The apostles suffered--many of them endured gruesome deaths for the sake of the gospel, and even Jesus, the author and sustainer of our faith was abandoned by his friends and made to unjustly die on a cross with common criminals. If the son of God, the prince of peace, could not escape this fate then neither will we. This particular passage comes to mind:

"But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps" 1 Peter 2

The thing about Christian suffering is that none of it is meaningless. Because of God's grace and mercy He can use something that was never meant to exist (suffering and pain) and use it to bring us closer to Him and help build us into the people we should be, emulating God's character and love. These are some verses about suffering in regards to faith that I've found particularly helpful or enlightening:

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal" 2 Cor 4:16-18 "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything" James 1:2-4

And as Christians we know for sure our suffering is not eternal. When we shed this mortal coil we will never feel the sting of sin ever again. And when the New heavens and the New earth are brought to fruition we will experience life as it always was supposed to be. And even now my life isn't just suffering. I'm doing very well now. I'm no longer depressed, I'm off medication (with doctor approval). I genuinely love my life. I'm super satisfied with being single, i freaking love it honestly lol. And my relationship with God is stronger than its ever been. Being side b isn't always easy but it really is not a death sentence devoid of happiness either!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! This may be a controversial question but do you think the Overblot victims (and by extension any antagonist's past) falls under the Freudian Excuse Is No Excuse trope? I feel like it's controversial due to A LOT of villains (or awful people) using their past as an excuse to justify their behavior and some people just sweep their crimes under the rug because of their sad backstory.

Before I give my thoughts, let’s first define what the “Freudian Excuse is No Excuse” trope is. According to TV Tropes, this is when “characters that have gone through something horrible believe that they have the moral high ground or that they are in the right for their actions, no matter how evil they are or who the targets are”. Said character’s difficult past experiences are often used by the character to justify why they are taking sometimes immoral or extreme actions. Now, it's important to also note that "this trope comes into play when a character (possibly even the character with the excuse themselves [...]) acknowledges that their actions are wrong". There has to be a moment where there is in-universe acknowledgement of the trope, be it in someone giving a “you suck and here’s why” speech or other characters being disappointed by the motive being poor life experiences. Furthermore, there must be explicit mention that the character's past doesn't justify their current actions in the call-outs.

So there are two main lenses (or perspectives) we can consider: that being the in-universe characters’ point of view and the real world audience’s point of view. I’m going to say right off the bat that I believe that, objectively, the information presented to us in the game doesn’t automatically mean the OB boys fall into the trope; it is the individual fans’ interpretations that leads to the “their pasts excuse their present actions” mentality.

When examining the the OB boys, the only one that comes close to the “Excuse is No Excuse” trope is Riddle. Even then, he doesn’t cleanly “fit” into it. Riddle is the single OB boy whose backstory we learn about prior to his OB; his past is also framed as “justification” by other characters that know him, such as Trey (who points to the past as the reason why Riddle is so fixated on the rules now). We also have the big moment where Ace calls Riddle out for being a tyrant and for not taking responsibility for his own actions (and instead attributing the bad behavior to Mama Rosehearts). Riddle himself doesn’t consciously think of his experiences as justifications for his actions; he genuinely believes he’s in the right and that strictly following the rules will lead to happiness, as this is what he has been told his entire life. This belief is grounded in his own experiences, so in that sense it can be argued that his past informs his present actions. However, Riddle is lacking the awareness that his actions are evil or bad to begin with until after his defeat.

In all other OB incidents, the characters don’t have their backstories fully explained, if at all, to the others (so there’s no context for others to point at their past and go, “Ah-hah! So this is why you’re such a jerk!”), and/or the OB just… straight up doesn’t weaponize their pasts to be excuse their actions. This is particularly evident in cases like Vil (who takes full responsibility, apologizes multiple times, and does everything be can to make amends—and, above all else, does not make excuses) and Idia (who, while still grieving, cannot have his snark and general rudeness entirely attributed to him still struggling to deal with his brother’s passing).

I think the issue with saying all of the OB boys fall to the aforementioned trope is that there is a false equivalency of explanation = excuse, particularly during the flashback scenes post-OB. In truth, explanation and excuse are NOT synonymous at all. In presenting the extended backstories to us, TWST is NOT asking that we turn the other cheek and forgive the OB boys. They are only providing context for why the character may think or act in a certain way—they explain how they ended up the way they are. This is different from excusing their actions (in which the narrative gives the character the “right” to act a certain way). Excusing a character is when the story is spun in such a way that it makes morally questionable or evil actions appear “good”; this would be like saying “it’s okay to commit murder because the person you killed was a criminal themselves”.

The way these flashbacks are presented are obviously biased in that they’re coming from the point of view of the OB boy, but other than that, we don’t really see the characters using their experiences to talk down the “badness” of what they have done or try to frame their actions as “good” because of those experiences. Rather, these flashbacks inform us how their life experiences shaped their personalities and how they think and perceive the world. For example, Leona was beaten down time and time again even when he tried so hard to earn respect through his own merits. This has led him to forming a defeatist attitude despite having very sharp wit and cunning. This is NOT the same as saying, “Everyone thinks it’s okay that Leona almost killed Ruggie! Leona was upset about not being king and Ruggie was pissing him off for making him try even when he had already given up”.

Most of the OB boys don’t actively go about using their negative life experiences to justify attempted murder, coups, poisonings, etc. Most of them are NOT acting and outright thinking, “Yeah, this is okay for me to do because I suffered before!” These are all things they did on their own, personally motivated and perhaps informed by their pasts but never excused by it, whether by themselves or by their peers. Sure, maybe their punishments are minimal compared to what they would be in real life for similar actions, but this is a Disney anime boys game with CROWLEY in charge. (That guy’s probably not taking his job all too seriously.) It’s also difficult for the narrative to consistently hold the boy accountable for their actions due to the bulk of the cast (returning characters have to share screentime with the newer characters). We don’t get to spend enough time with them all to see how they’re dealing with post-OB events and punishment outside of maybe the mandated therapy sessions.

Still, the OB boys do suffer the consequences of their actions and people don’t automatically forgive them. Even Riddle, who was the closest of the OB boys to the trope, is told to apologize and to bake an apology tart. His dorm members are still wary around him due to his known temper. In other OB instances, no one really knows the full backstories of the particular boys but this doesn’t stop them from being held accountable in other ways (like Leona still being forced to play in the Magift/Spelldrive Tournament, Azul having to restructure how his business runs, etc).

Ironically, TWST’s one-off event exclusive antagonists more often fit the “Freudian Excuse is No Excuse” trope than the OB boys themselves do. Take, for example, Eliza of Ghost Marriage. She was a princess seeking a husband because she perished young and was never able to find love. Eliza is literally grounded to a physical plane of existence because the unfulfilled wish is keeping her from moving on, and is willing to kidnap people and resort to violence (slapping, sending her ghost army after others) to get what she wants (even if the groom protests). She, and by extension, her entire ghost entourage, believe she is justified in this because of her premature death and her intense longing for a happy ending. Ace has to speak some sense into the ghost bride by telling her that the ideal prince she made up in her head doesn’t exist, and that she can find happiness with just a normal, realistic partner.

Another example is Rollo from Glorious Masquerade, who, like Riddle, comes close to fitting the whole trope if not for his lack of self-awareness (except, unlike Riddle, Rollo fully commits to denial post/defeat). He literally has a moment in the event where he implies he supports “the ends justify the means”, which says a lot about his character and how far he’s willing to go to bring his plans into fruition. The NRC gang learn via diary entries that Rollo detests magic and blames it for claiming the life of his younger brother. He turns his hatred outward and believe he is justified in robbing Twisted Wonderland of all its magic in an effort to “save” people—but, as Idia rightfully points out, Rollo is doing this not to save others, bit to put his own guilt-ridden soul to peace. This puts Rollo in an odd grey area where he acts self-righteous and morally superior about the deplorable acts he commits, but he at the same time accepts no personal fault for what happened in the past.

In any case, what I meant to say is that most OB cases in TWST do involve other characters reacting and trying to hold the OB responsible to some extent. Though the punishments seem to generally be on the light side, the fact remains that no one in-universe is dismissing the harm the OBs have done just because the boys have sad backstories. Not even the OB boys themselves seem to think this way.

Where I think this “sad backstory justifies their bad actions” comes from is individual interpretations from the fandom 💦 Fans empathize with certain characters (especially Riddle, Leona, and Azul due to relatable themes of controlling parents, being compared to siblings, and being bullied), and this empathy can come with sympathy—and when you start feeling bad for the characters in addition to feeling “connected” to them, or course you’d be more likely to excuse the terrible things they’ve said and done. People are way more likely to forgive and forget that Azul has become a bully himself because “He was bullied before and this is how he’s retaliating, by becoming someone ‘strong’ enough to fight back against those bullies”. It’s ultimately not the characters making excuses for their actions (or, if they are the few that did make excuses, they’re now working on changing their mindset and becoming better individuals); it’s the fans that do make the excuses and perpetuate them, usually to defend a favorite or a relatable boy.

What this ultimately amounts to is… well, you can be the judge of whether or not you forgive each boy for their present actions and their past actions 🤷‍♀️ It isn’t really up to a single trope to decide (though personally I’m not a fan of slotting so many individuals under the same broad label; it kind of invalidates their unique circumstances and homogenizes their characters).

[vampk1zzer]

Adventure time and it’s sequels along with all of the lore and the story telling and everything about the extended universe has for years inspired me to make beautiful things and feel and think in beautiful ways and I think that’s amazing considering how stupid it started out. This dumb little show with candy people and a crazy old ice wizard that turned out to be the most fucked up emotional character ever that I ended up loving with all my heart and feeling so hard for and crying over every instance of the love between him and his emotional could’ve been wife that would’ve spent all of eternity together in a different lifetime. This is what rotted my brain in a very good way. That’s the show that made me access my emotions on my own terms and understand myself.

I think a lot of my friends don’t understand how significant Adventure Time is to me, it’s not just me being autistic about a silly fucked up show I’ve been obsessed with it since I was a kid, it’s been my favorite show for YEARS, it’s genuinely helped me during a lot and it feels like a part of me, it means so much to me. I’m not sure at what point it stopped being a silly show I liked and became my comfort media, or at what point it stopped being my comfort media and became something I genuinely cherish in all of its forms, but it’s important to me now beyond words. And I kinda want people to understand that.

Also the finale of Fionna and Cake fucked me up a little and I cried a little more than a little. I have too many thoughts about it so much going in my little brain about the last 2 episodes too much for a post I love you all

[giddlygoat]

some of my thoughts on drawing, learning the accordion, and how they apply to each other.

i have been drawing my whole life. the last time i can remember feeling genuinely ashamed of my artistic skills was when i was probably 12. at some point i was able to look at my art and realize it wasn’t anywhere near perfect, and i became okay with that. nowadays, i have no anxiety about posting my art or leaving a piece with flaws, because i like my style and i’m comfortable enough in my skills and the knowledge that there will always be room for improvement to allow myself to simply enjoy what i create.

i have always been fascinated by the accordion. around age 11 i started considering learning to play it. by 13 i saw one at an antique store and seriously considering buying it for a long time, but did not. as the years go on i find that artistic burnout is becoming more of a frequent issue with me, and i often find myself desperately wishing i had a gratifying way of expressing myself other than drawing.

i’m always humming, and doing the mouth trumpet, and clicking and clapping out tunes all day. singing and scatting are some of my favorite pastimes. i can do all this but it’s not the same as playing an instrument. i feel like it can never quite extend past my fingertips; like i’m cranking out all this energy and excitement but it can’t go anywhere. it’s like not being able to get past the sketch when you have a whole painting inside you.

about three months ago, i finally picked up the accordion. i don’t know how to read music. my understanding of the technical side of music is pathetic, although i have a good natural sense for it, and now, a good teacher. i am scared.

i have all the usual beginner issues: my hands don’t know where to go, i’m not used to the weight of the instrument, and it feels alien in a way, just to name a few.

there’s another problem, too. i’m good at drawing.

everywhere i go, i see things i want to paint. i’m taking pictures of the pickled jalapeños and carrots at work because i want to study how they interact with the opaque black plastic container, all little dynamic shapes of green and orange swimming in vinegar. i’m watching a cat stretch and yawn on the concrete and lay down in a sunbeam that looks too heavenly to be real - it gives me an idea for a sketch.

i look at the arms of the man loading hay bales with me, and try to commit to memory how the muscles move under the skin, what foot he puts his weight on, how he wipes his forehead and shifts his weight. it makes me want to draw pages of people doing mundane things, studying how weight and action and stylization works together to create something satisfying and alive. i want to do the beauty of the universe justice.

when i open procreate to draw, i am not thinking of anything. my hands know where to go, i don’t even have to look at the buttons or tools to know what i’m doing, and all these complicated layers interacting with each other and their applied effects and backgrounds etc come like second nature to me now.

the first day i used procreate, i was so overwhelmed, i was afraid to touch anything.

the first day i held an accordion, it was the same.

my problem is that i know how to look at art and examine why techniques work or not, and i don’t quite have those skills when it comes to music. sure, i can slap beautiful harmony onto any song, but heck if i know what notes they are. i couldn’t tell you what key the song is in or what defines a measure.

and i realized that while now i am looking through this frosted glass trying to make out the basic shapes behind it, one day, i will be able to peel back the mystery and truly understand not only how this instrument functions, but how music flows, too. because i see art in everything. i understand the weight of people and objects and how they would interact in a cartoon. the colors of a blooming cactus in my yard become lemony saturated in the early light and pale and dusty in the late evening. i can see the line of action in characters and better understand the composition behind paintings, and why it works.

it’s my hope, that as time spent with my accordion goes on, i will start to see music in everything, too. there’s nothing i want more than to understand it and speak its language as i do with art. i want to someday pick up my accordion and make up a melody as i would sketch out a doodle. this is the kind of stuff i think about all day.

[cocogum]

Leorio is NOT CANONICALLY bisexual.

It is 100% CANONICALLY CONFIRMED that Leorio is NOT bisexual. This is not a theory nor a headcanon. This is a fact.

This also goes for every other sexuality from the lgbtq+ community that has ever been attributed to Leorio. I’m simply talking about the bisexuality flag since it’s the most popular one that has ever been ascribed to him.

Despite what others may think, this Leorio situation is a bigger problem than it may seem. Some fans have decided to fully believe at the bottom of their hearts that their headcanons are facts. This is never a good thing and due to their assumptions, they have voluntarily spread disinformation in the HxH community that Leorio is part of the lgbtq+ community.

Leorio Paladiknight is a major character in the HxH universe who strives to become a doctor to heal those who cannot afford to pay for their injuries. His down-to-earth attitude and honest reactions are what makes him relatable to the audience and in addition to his saddening backstory, this has helped him receive more love from fans and made them understand his decision better for wanting to become a healer.

His immense popularity has led people to create headcanons to extend his character even further than the anime and manga have let on.

However, despite the huge amount of love and appreciation for the future doctor, a distinct headcanon attributed to him by the fandom turned into something more than just what should’ve been considered a simple headcanon.

This specific headcanon that many fans have come to accept as a fact and not just a headcanon anymore is the fact that Leorio is a true bisexual.

Now, there is nothing wrong with headcanoning a character from any source of media as a member of the lgbtq+ community.

Many have repeatedly done this to characters they especially took interest in for the sole reason of creating new ideas and concepts for this said character. This practice is also put into use so that the headcanon creator may feel comfortable or related to their favourite character in some way shape or form.

But as much as making headcanons can be fun and harmless at first, they may turn out to become a bother and obvious disinformations if the user in question takes it too far.

We have this same situation happening in this case here.

Throughout the HxH fandom, you’ll come to find out a repeated Leorio sexuality headcanon. By only barely scratching the surface, you’ll know that fans often like to portray Leorio as a bisexual man and not a straight one.

The problem, in this case, is NOT the fact that these fans have considered him to be bisexual. Lots of them are aware that he is not what they truly claim him to be and understand the difference between his canon self and his fanon self.

Unfortunately, some don’t understand the difference.

In this big group of fans, two types of people fully believe that he is canonically bisexual and will not stand that claim down under any circumstances.

The first is the delusional one.

They are stubborn people to a painful degree and will most likely call you a homophobe if you try to explain to them that the doctor in training is not a bisexual person regardless if you yourself are part of the lgbtq+ community or not.

The second is the major and popular one, the ignorant one.

They are aware that the headcanon they are presenting is just a headcanon but they will also at the same time consider their headcanon to be a canon possibility and state how there is no actual evidence that Leorio is straight OR bisexual. They will say this by choosing to phrase it in a convincing matter so that they can make anyone think that their headcanon has a chance of becoming a possibility.

Which is why you’ll come to find out now that these two types of fans are completely wrong no matter if they do these kinds of practices willingly or unconsciously.

Throughout the whole story, here are the only moments of pervert Leorio we have come to witness with our very own eyes.

And it just so happens that all those moments where he acted like a literal simp were targeted at women and women only.

1) He’s mainly based on an already straight character from Togashi’s past work Yu Yu Hakusho named Kazuma Kuwabara.

2) As soon as we first get to see him at the beginning of the hunter exam arc, he was reading what looked like a playboy magazine which is a type of publication mainly targeted at men to display the female body as erotic.

3) In the Trick Tower, the second he sees the female prisoner named Leroute taking off her cloak, he gives a surprised expression in addition to a blush implying that he’s attracted to the convicted woman.

However during their brawl, when Leroute bets on whether she’s a man or a woman, Leorio immediately starts to stress and looks at the woman in a rather confused matter wondering why she would bet that when it is obvious she’s a female. This reaction also gives us the fact that Leorio was hoping she was a female and NOT a man but as soon as she tells him that if he guesses her gender wrong, he may “examine” her to be sure she was telling the truth, Leorio immediately starts to lie and wanted to assume she was a man just so he could find an excuse to grope her feminine parts.

The important part about this scene was that he fully knew that the answer was obviously female but still took the trap even when he knew he would lose time for his team because of his perversion.

If Leorio was bisexual, he would have seen no problem guessing her gender and would have immediately told the truth without wasting any time or would have still wanted to grope Leroute no matter if she was a man or a woman.

4) At Yorknew City, Leorio was planning an arm wrestling scam to gain some quick cash for profit. When the first female challenger who just so happens to be a phantom troupe member by the name of Shizuku wishes to arm wrestle Gon, Leorio persistently tries asking Shizuku her personal infos which would usually be asked when a person is interested in another person.

If Leorio was bisexual, he would’ve done the same thing to a man who he found equally attractive by pestering him with the same questions.

5) During the Election arc, he confessed right at the microphone that he invited girls over to his place and was having fun while Gon and Killua were out risking their lives.

If Leorio was bisexual, he would’ve said ‘people’ or ‘guys and girls’ or anything else that implied both genders but he only mentioned girls meaning he’s officially confirmed to be straight.

Many of those disinforming fans would make you believe that these specific moments you are seeing of Leorio are only the ones you, the viewer, are seeing which means that he might also be doing the same thing with men while we’re not looking.

This is an obvious lie since this way of thinking can be solved with only one sentence: If many scenes of the same type of behaviour are aimed at ONLY ONE specific gender, then chances are, this means that this lewd behaviour is only specifically restricted to ONE gender. Which is in this case, the female.

However, there is one so called ‘explanation’ that they seem to like to use to prove their case and this one comes from the second group of people of fans who’d do anything to claim he’s anything but straight: they would make you believe that since Togashi hasn’t confirmed from his mouth that Leorio is straight, there is no proof that he is one therefore he may be bisexual.

This is also an obvious lie because this way of thinking is what people call “the appeal to ignorance”.

To ignore the clues that make up the answer and instead wait for the solution from the source is what you call an appeal to ignorance.

Leorio is painfully obviously straight.

All the given clues answer it for us.

There is no need to overcomplicate oneself and believe that we have to ask the direct source for the exact explanation when the story has already given it to us.

Plenty of shows and movies had situations that solved a question from their fans without needing to confirm it from the creator.

But, in HxH, plenty do have a problem understanding what they’re seeing and choose to ignore the obvious signs to disinform people and make them think as they do for the sake of “diversity”.

Nevertheless, this should not stop you from making headcanons to characters you like.

Whether they’re from HxH or any other shows/animes/movies the possibilities are endless and no one can tell you to stop.

The unlimited creativity and potential your ideas can have is immeasurable compared to the negative comments people can make about them. You can do anything you put your mind to as long as you don’t believe you have the critical right to say that what you believe in is the right thing to do when fully knowing that that is further from the actual truth.

At the end of the day, Leorio Paladiknight is a bold and loyal man who deeply cares for his friends and would do so much for them.

Ever since his closest friend Pietro died due to a debilitating illness, this taught the man to never leave a life behind no matter if that individual doesn’t care about theirs or not.

He cares for his friends as well as their well-being and doesn’t want to lose them like how he easily lost his first.

That is one of his deepest fears.

To lose someone he loves when there could have been a chance of saving them.

This explains his worries for Kurapika and his clear frustration towards the fact that he could’ve helped Gon and Killua in his own way during the ant extermination.

He will not give up and will not care if he looks relentless or hot-headed to the general public because of his constant worries for his reckless buddies.

In the end, Leorio is a perverted moron who simply cares for his friends’ well beings and we love it for him.

[thesoulspulse]

Danny Phantom Randomness (Supernatural Endurance/Healing)

Something came to mind recently I’m not sure if anyone else has talked about before, so as usual, here I am. This is actually part of a passing thought I had more or less during the episode “Public Enemies” where a bunch of people at Casper High and the Mayor at the time were possessed by Walker and his goons. It goes something like this:

I touched on this a little before in a previous post about possession vs overshadowing so here I’d like to expand it a little further. Now, we all remember how Dash along with many other students and teachers at Casper High were overshadowed by Walk and his men, right? Well, while their bodies were being controlled, Danny didn’t pull any punches and honestly a lot of things that happened during their confrontation could have either killed or seriously hurt them if it weren’t for the superhuman strength and endurance that was extended to each person through the ghost inhabiting them at the time.

Here’s one example. Kwan gets slammed into the sidewalk with enough force that it breaks yet he’s able to escape completely unscathed. To be completely honest I kinda suck at math so I tried to look up a few things to get an idea of how difficult it is to break concrete in general and this is what I came up with...

32736 lb (Minimum Concrete Breaking Force) = 4000 psi

3000 lb (Concrete Endurance)

360-450 lb (Average Force Behind A Human Punch) = 120-150 psi

1000 lb (Average Force Behind A Human Kick)

190 lb (Average Weight Of Teen Football Player)

Feel free to crunch the numbers if you’re better at math than I am, but hopefully you get the idea. My point is, considering Danny’s superhuman strength and the force behind slamming Kwan into the ground like that (or Dash into the roof of a car for that matter) these two are lucky to be alive. They’re ALL lucky to have survived, which they only did because of the ghosts inside of them literally shielding these guys from all that serious damage.

With all that in mind, what I’m wondering is...does this protection include superhuman healing in the unlikely event that their host DOES get injured? Think about it, Danny’s taken quite a few beatings himself up until this point, but always bounced back the next day tired but without a single scratch or bruise on him. So let's say one day during a patrol or something, Sam or Tucker twist/break an ankle or their wrist. If Danny overshadowed them long enough, would that heal the bone/fracture as good as new?

If so, that would be a really cool way for him to indirectly heal people, which is an interesting concept if you ask me. Similarly, Danny could save someone from drowning by overshadowing them since ghosts can breathe underwater, or I guess it's more like they don’t have to breathe at all! I’m just saying there’s some potential here for ways to think of some more creative ways to make the most out of how overshadowing/possession works in the Danny Phantom universe.