#as in; what else am I capable of? as in... I've got to do something... is there a single other thing I could actually pull off?

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

> posts a fic i'm proud of about dark subject matter to do with five and his abuse, which came from a very personal place, on AO3

> gets a comment

> it is, Course, a hate comment from an anti, demanding on anon to know why i would 'spend my value as a writer who's read Legacies' to write it

> roasts their ass like a thanksgiving turkey and immediately goes to write more of the thing

[medicinemane]

One final thought, if you're looking at Ukraine and you're saying "yeah, I feel bad for them, but I'm more worried about China", well... I do agree with you that the idea of China attacking Taiwan is horrific and real thing to be concerned about given the rhetoric China uses around Taiwan

However, all I have to say is that how we handle Ukraine will likely strongly factor in to China's thinking around anything to do with Taiwan

The parallels are blatant, and there's no way they aren't watching

I argue to you that the stronger our support for Ukraine is, the more painful this ends up being for russia so long as they refuse to withdraw; that the stronger the deterrence to China to engage in something that's really similar to what russia's doing in Ukraine

I argue to you that one of the best ways to deal with China and support Taiwan, is for us to support Ukraine

A Ukrainian victory supports a more stable world

[coldflasher]

you know what’s a scam? at the end of last year i just severely stopped giving a fuck at work and i was literally spending so much time doing fuck all, messing around on my phone for most of the day only to then edit like 30k in the space of 2-3 hours after lunch, and somehow i got away with it and my quality scores were fine. this year i was like okay this is not cool, i’m gonna make a determined effort to do this properly. so now i actually focus and don’t procrastinate, and yet i’m now consistently underperforming and i’m about to be put on performance review for the second quarter in a row which is... not great

i personally think our scoring system is stupid and needs an overhaul because in spot checks, they take off the same number of points for everything. so if i were to completely fail to edit a sentence and left it in a completely unreadable state, i would only lose one point, but then i also lose a point if i misplace a hyphen. so like. last year i somehow managed to fully miss this massive sentence that ended up making no sense whatsoever, and that was fine, apparently, because i didn’t lose points in other areas, but now i’m about to be put on performance review because i missed a few commas and accidentally used a mixture of single and double speech marks in a quote

the worst part is the way they do checks is so annoying because they just pull two random papers from the past 3 months and you can GUARANTEE they will pull a shit one. you can be on top form for ages and then have one bad day and somehow they always manage to pick the one paper you made mistakes on. i’m aware that they do this on purpose to put the fear of god into you because the idea is obviously that every paper should have no mistakes but let’s be real, that’s not realistic. human error is a thing. everyone makes mistakes. and somehow they have a sixth sense for finding the papers you made those mistakes on.

the problem is that last time i went on performance review, they monitored me for a bit and then did an extra spot check and the papers they pulled that time were basically perfect. one literally had no errors and the other had like. two. so i got a near-perfect score. which probably made me look great, like i’d worked really hard to fix the issue, which to be fair, i did. and they were really happy with that. except this quarter they pulled two more and i got the exact same bad score i got last time. so now it looks like i only started putting in effort when i was being monitored and then just immediately stopped trying again as soon as i wasn’t under review which ISN’T EVEN TRUE. i’m genuinely trying, here. but i’m very aware of how bad this looks and now i’m gonna have to do another one of those awful meetings where they bring up the fact that i’m Underperforming (*already shaking and crying at the mere prospect. once again i am about to get a bad grade in having a job*) and they literally have a senior manager who just. sits in the meeting in silence. watching. and nodding. while some other guy points out all the mistakes i’ve made. because that isn’t unnerving at all

i hate employment, i want to go live in a little hobbit hole and never have to receive another performance review again

[allsadnshit]

Sometimes I think about my best friend in my 20's response to when I told her I was envious of how talented and skilled she was cause she was always the friend that was doing a million new hobbies and just really had it together in my eyes and she seemed so disappointed in me and said how she's always been perceived as "talented" for things she was not a natural at and had actually worked tirelessly hard to learn to do and how it's never a compliment to assume someone has something you don't simply because they got lucky because more often than not they were just as capable as you and just chose to take risks, dedicate time, push through discomforts or doubts that maybe you succumb to, and really earned things that are often nonchalantly disregarded by peers as having walking in with already in hand

And I feel like that conversation really changed me cause I've always been bad at school and been a slow learner so I just sort of decided I wasn't smart and it wasn't my fault I wasn't born with the same advantages of people around me and I think that's something we all do as self protection from the truth that the only thing truly keeping us from what we want is usually ourselves and our decisions about our own narratives that aren't actually in stone even if we see them that way

I realized my friend was actually just not a quitter, and that she also felt not good enough often but decided to keep going in times where I know I would have stopped in her place

And I feel like taking ownership of my life a lot in the last few years has made me understand her better, even with stuff like chronic illness that practically begs us to victimize ourselves and then that way of thinking makes us sicker and more dependent on others when we could be accepting help without considering ourselves so helpless

It's really weird interacting with anyone once I've realized so much of that because I see my old self in people when they talk to me like I have something they don't because I am finally making different choices than I used to and honestly it is very irritating regardless of intention

If you want something someone else has that doesn't give you permission to assume how they got it or what it is even like having it - and I think more and more people have decided it's not their fault how they are choosing to live and that's why they are so stuck

[sweetfirebird]

I just read something about some fanfic readers on TikTok, mostly younger ones, are against AO3 because it doesn't recommend fic to them. As in, it doesn't track them and auto-feed them content using an algorithm.

I am sure it's not every younger fanfiction-reading nerd. But....

The generational divide between old internet and new internet users is so stark sometimes. Like. That younger people don't remember the individual fanfiction websites days... okay. I get that. Some of them weren't even born and time is time and it moves on. It's fine.

But to grow up with an internet where you do not get a choice, or not much of a choice, except to be fed content? Oh wow that's a yikes I've never thought about before.

Yeah, there's some filter capabilities but companies override that all the time with subtle little changes. Youtube recommends stuff constantly (often conservative videos even to me who has no history of watching or liking that shit). Twitter and Facebook got rid of chronological posts and even when you try to get rid of suggested posts, they come back. Instagram is basically all ads now. And then TikTok literally doesn't even ask you to search (and as I recall, their search function sucks), and you can like videos to change what you see *a little* but ultimately the algorithm will lead you wherever it wants.

That's so sad to grow up with that. Choice and searching and relying on your judgment and the recommendations of people you like... those are good things.

I am not like "oh those youths!" here. I am "fuck these corporations!" here. Look at this shit. It's not a rec list from someone you like and trust--it's what corporate has decided you should like. And a lot of these kids have not known anything else. That's scary and infuriating.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Reminder; Don't Forget

(Scrap)

❥Park Seonghwa x fem reader

➯a/n: i want park seonghwa to be mean to me while wearing a tank top, that is all ➯a/n: i'm going to start posting drafts that haven't been touched in over a month so they don't just collect dust, enjoy ya filthy animals

✃ "You need a reminder of who's good girl you are."

✫彡wordcount: 2.7k

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: YANDERE SMUT (hinted mafia/crime au)

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: THIS IS A DARK FICTION. EMPHASIS ON DARK FICTION. i do no condone pretty much anything seonghwa does in this fanfic. this is very dark, the darkest i've gone so if you are uncomfortable with that check out something else. we have here: dark/yandere/savior complex hwa, degrading, unsafe physical restraint, choking, destruction of personal property, shaming, dubcon, extremely possessive behavior, some ddlg themes, slapping, praise, yelling, captivity, crying, knifes thrown at reader as a punishment(none hit!!), threats of violence, manipulation, mind break, hair pulling, mention of edging, face humping, throat fucking, messy bj, not proof read

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

"Did you forget your place, hm? It certainly seems like it, acting like a slut when you're mine!" His grip on your neck tightens, a chuckle leaving his furled lips as you grab at his tank top desperately trying to force out apologies through the pressure he puts on your wind pipes. "What, you can't even say that you're sorry? Another's man's number in your phone and you can't tell me you're sorry?"

Oh he's evil, he loves to see you squirm. And squirm you do: pushing against his heavy weight on your hips and clawing at his arm as your lungs beg for air.

He lets go, arms crossing his chest as he leans back nonchalantly, every bit of his weight in your lap as you heave. "Hwa-seong...Hwa, I'm s-sorry! I thought, thought, it'd be okay hes just a f-friend-"

   "You thought," he laughs cruelly, "are you even capable of that? Dumb little girl," he slaps your jaw, lightly, but it still makes you face the wall with a look of defeat.

"I think for you, is that clear?" You nod, tear stained cheeks gleaming in the light.

"Hey, am I clear?" he shouts this time, making you jump.

    "Yes! Yes, Hwa, clear..."

   "There's my good girl—" He brushes back your hair, cooing as you lean away, "you're the prettiest girl I ever laid my eyes on, and you think men don't see that? You think they're blind? Or are you really just that naiive, pretty baby?" His cool finger tips trail down to the blooming bruise on your neck, pressing softly to make you whine. "Give me your phone."

   He's up and off your body in a second flat, letting you catch your breath as you slowly manage to pull yourself to your knees. He doesn't press you to hurry or yell, he doesn't do anything but sit back in the bean bag chair he gifted you for previously good behavior and watch you like a hawk. His legs spread and hands on his knees, resisting the urge to snatch you up. When you turn and see him on the other side of the room, you simply outstretch your arm with the old prepaid phone he provided you with a few weeks ago. "Bring it here," he commands lowly, eyes tracking your every move as you slowly move towards him on your knees- having no energy to stand.

He spreads his legs further, a silent instruction. You slot yourself between them and hold the phone to him tentative, shoulders relaxing as he takes it. "Thank you, beautiful. See, isn't it easy when you listen to me?" He unlocked the phone quickly, eyes flicking to you darkly when you go to take it back. "Got something to hide?" You shake your head, looking down as he takes your hands and places them on each of his thighs. "Don't move."

So you don't, simply breathing deeply to replenish your abused lungs while he combs through your phone with a fine toothed comb. You know you haven't done anything truly wrong, but it seems like he has different definitions to you.

"Good girl..." He whispers to himself as he sees the message of you shooting down the idea your friend tried to corrupt you with, to go out without him. "Stupid, but good..." He continues as he reads through every message with the phone number of the man. He monitors everything you do, it was only a matter of time before he got around to checking all of the numbers in your phone and their owners.

"Aw, you really are just naiive, huh? My poor little angel. Cant even tell when someone's trying to take you away from me-" He tuts his tongue, setting the phone down on the floor. When you go to pick it up, he kicks your hand away. "Sorry, Baby, you can't be trusted with big girl stuff yet. Gotta learn first." He smashes the device beneath his booted heel, a squeal passing through your lips at the loud metallic crunch.

"Hwa!" A pouty whine comes before you can stop it, tears welling up in your eyes all over again. When he cocks his eyebrow up, you cower between his legs, stuttering quietly. "Sorry, m'sorry..." He swipes the destroyed phone to the side with his boot before tapping your hip with it. You shuffle quickly, untying his shoes with a shaky breath.

"I know you get bored baby, but I can't have others corrupting your mind. I'll get you some new books, maybe even a TV for in here if you're extra good." You whisper a soft thank you, and a promise you will be as you set his shoes off to the side neatly.

"Look up at me, Doll. C'mon don't be angry," you look up at him as softly as you can, a groan of affection bubbling past his throat, "there's my pretty little thing." You rub your fingers on his jean-clad legs in an attempt to ground yourself as he looks down at you like a predator that's spotted it's next meal.

"Aren't you so happy you have me to take care of you? Who knows what others would do to that pretty face of yours— not to mention that pretty cunt."

A heat immediately finds it way to your face, and he laughs deeply. "Oh, please, don't be coy. You know as well as I do that if I didn't take you out of there that that little hole would be ruined in an hour. I saved you."

You hide your face in his lap, mind racing. It's true that he's more gently than other people you've had the dis-pleasure of encountering in his line of work. But that doesn't make him any less over bearing and obsessive. His possessiveness bordering on ownership. Sometimes you're truly thankful he scooped you up before anyone else could touch you- other times you curse him for it.

He rubs the back of your head gently, leaning up in the slouching chair, like he can sense your thoughts. "You aren't going anywhere, Baby. You're mine- until the day you die and even after that. Even God himself couldn't pry you away from me. You are mine. Do you understand that?" You nod into his lap, a quiet 'yes,hwa' muffled by his jeans. "Such a sweet thing," he whispers before gripping your hair and pulling you up, earning a gasp.

That glint in his eyes- "Hwa, wait, wait—" he did no such thing, standing up with his clothed crotch in your face, pulling your hands up to his belt.

"You need a reminder of who's good girl you are-"

"No-"

"No?!" He laughed in disbelief, nails digging into your scalp as he makes you look up at him, the stretch of your neck uncomfortable as he cranes it up. There's a sharp hunger in his eyes, "you're so cute -so, so, so, cute when you're defiant... but I'm not in the fucking mood. Get your ass up," he tugs you up by your hair, ignoring the sharp yelps that tremble past your lips.

     "Ple-ase don't take me downstairs! I'll be good, I'll be good!"

    "It's okay baby, we aren't going downstairs," he positions you back to the wall and backs up, pushing you back when you try to follow and apologize. "I'm too tired." The glimmer of hope is stomped out as he unlocked his side of the nightstand. "You can take your punishment here."

   "Hwa... I'm real sor-" A skinny throwing knife that thuds into the wall next to your head shuts you up quick, a squeal replacing your pleas.

   "Been looking after you so much, I'm rusty-" He throws another with a groan, hiding his smirk as you jump, "stay still baby, I'm out of practice." You can't help but duck as it thunks into the wall just above your head.

     "Stand up straight!" His booming voice shakes you to your core, and you stand as straight as you can manage with the knot forming in your gut. You grip the wall with your finger tips, looking down at your feet so you don't see the sharp objects coming. You've found that it's less fearful that way.

Knife after knife is thrown, each dull thump making you twitch as they're buried into the drywall in the outline of your body.

When they finally stall, his sock clad feet come into view, his curved knuckle lifting your chin. The flame in his eyes has faded to a simmer, an almost fond one. "Are you done being a brat? Or should I let my hand slip next time I need target practice?"

   "I'm done..." you speak with a gulp, body still frozen against the wall lest you move and graze against the blades.

He seems to sense your thoughts once again, cooing softly as he notices your tense shoulders. "C'mon, sweet girl," he carefully pulls you straight out from the wall and twirls you around.

He wraps his arms around under yours and grips your shoulders, holding you close to his chest and resting his chin on your head. "Your life in my hands... Such a delicate thing you are." You eyes trail over the outline of your body, traced with throwing daggers. "If you just behaved, I wouldn't have to scare you. It's the best way for you to learn, my love. That fear you feel when we go downstairs, when I have you pinned up- that's the fear you would feel every waking moment without me. Just be a good girl, and let me protect you..."

"...Okay, I'm sorry, Hwa... I don't know why I act out," You don't know if you're telling the truth anymore. It is even acting out? You sometimes think you have a right to.

Maybe— "Maybe you like it when I'm mean to you."

You don't know what you would have thought, but that wasn't it. You think he likes being mean to you. He always finds a reason to punish you: whether it be with bone chilling fear or being pushed to your sexual edge and then repeatedly denied.

    Some days, he's softer with the sexual aspect of his obsession with you.

He turns you back around and shoves you to his knees, right back into his clothed bulge where you started. "I want to claim you, I'm going to claim you. Every part. Take it off now before I decide to skull fuck you." Your breath hitches in your throat, lip trembling at his threat, knowing full well he will follow through.

Today is not one of those days, you realize.

You hands quickly find their way to his belt, unbuckling the golden buckle and letting it dangle, the button undone next and the zipper followed. He didn't bother to kick his jeans off, or even pull them down. Only his cock out, twitching to life infront of you inpatiently. "You belong to me, I'm gonna get that through your thick skull" -he flicks your head- "even if I have to use my cock."

He rubs against your cheek, sighing out in pleasure at the feeling of your hot embarrassed face. "Say my name," he whispers deeply, eyes swirling with an unreadable mix of emotions.

"Seonghwa," you pant out shyly, eyes closed as you feel him rutting against your face, his pre cum smearing on your cheek bone. His grip is continually becoming softer, loving as he lewdly humps your head. Your hands find purchase on his sock clad feet, helping you lift up your body into him. "Seonghwa," it comes out as a moan, and a thick groan comes from him in response.

He steps back just an inch, looking down at your tear stained face, his fresh pre-cum glimmering on the side of your face.

His full lips curve into a smile, his previously angry facade fading as quick as it came when he busted in the door earlier, while he lifts you to the bed and lets your head hang.

He's even beautiful when viewed upside down-

    "You make it hard to ever leave your side, pretty girl. I could spend the rest of my life buried in any of your gorgeous holes, I love you so much."

"I love you, Hwa. I-" Your breath catches in your throat as the words tear through your throat. "I do want you to claim me, I want to know I'm yours." One of your hands seems to sprout a mind of its own, wrapping around the base of his thick and smooth girth. "Let me take care of you, and you take care of me."

A groan dies on his lips, shuddering as you slowly stroke him, the words you speak shooting through his heart and down to his balls. "Let me be your good girl. Please, I know I can!"

The fear he instilled in you just moments ago festered into a need to please, to solidify your place by his side so he would never leave. He never would dream of it- leaving you. You are his heart and soul personified. You hold his entire being in your hands, and you have no idea.

"Yeah? Gonna be my good girl again? Make it up to me?" His heart flutters as you nod enthusiastically, your mouth opening wide for him and tongue lolling out."Fuck, that's a good girl," he spreads his legs around your dangling head, slim fingers gathering yours to your chest and holding them ever so softly as he slips right down your throat.

The hot, velvety skin encasing him makes him moan loudly, squeezing your hands to ground himself and keep himself from fucking your skull like his life depends on it. But, oh, how he wants to—

"Good fucking girl, that's it, just like I taught you," you gulp around his overwhelming length, eyes closing as you focus on breathing through your nose, the smell of his body wash somehow soothing to your fried nervous system.

   He holds himself back as long as he can, thrusting in your throat slowly and basking in the warmth of it. But as your saliva builds, nowhere to go, and the wet and lewd squelch of your throat grows louder, he can no longer do that. He intertwines his fingers with yours and lets you squeeze tightly, a soft growl letting you know his arousal is at a peak before he loses all control-

   His hips draw back and slam into you, the head of his cock poking at the very depth of your throat and making you gag, and the noise just stirs him on, going again and again and again to hear that sweet sound of you choking around him. Sticky saliva tainted with the white of his pre-cum drips from the corners of your stretched mouth, dripping up your face. It seems like the onslaught will never end, but he has bigger plans for his building release.

     The moment your throat is free of his cock, you draw in a large gasp, all of the wetness in your mouth dripping like a waterfall, letting you heave as he watches with dark eyes. Not that you can see the lust driven look on his face, if you were to open your eyes you'd be blinded by spit and cum.

  He discards his pants and top as he lets you catch your breath, cooing all the while about how good you just did for him. He uses the softness of his tank top to wipe away most of the filth on your face, and you finally peek your eyes open as you feel him lift you.

   You swear there's hearts swirling in the darkness of his eyes as he scans your messy face, a permanent smirk plastered on his features. "Pretty girl, you're such a mess for me," you can only pant in response, leaning into the palm he places on your cheek as he lays you down right-side-up, letting your head collide with the soft pillows.

The moment he put a pillow under your back, you knew you were in for a long ride.

And by the end of it, you wouldn't forget who you belong to.

[simpjaes]

hi i just stalked the crap our of your page and HOLY CRAPTHIS IS MY NEW GUILTY PLEASURE

can i req seeing how enha hyung line would take care of you after railing you soooooo hard????

hyung line + aftercare after very intense sex

warning: uh....painful sex, fainting, dissociation, anal, implied squirting, degradation, idk just a lot of intense sex stuff ig

note: it's a lil messy, i've been running errands all day and am using this to push myself back into the writing brain :D

★ heeseung:

what i wanna say is that depending on the circumstances, he'd probably throw a towel at your head and walk away to shower alone but we all know heeseung is so much more than a careless fuck boy for the most part. in my opinion, if he's got you where he wants you and he's allowed to fuck you as hard as he can, rendering you faint, dizzy, and almost dissociated, he either has some sort of feelings for you, you're someone else's girlfriend and he wants you to like him more, or you're already in a committed relationship lmfao

and you know, you thought that after he managed to pull three orgasms out of you, fucked all three of your holes, and managed to get you all twisted up for him to cum in places he definitely isn't supposed to, you really thought he was done.

but then he chuckles, taking one look at you once his own mind clears from his orgasm and it's like...how could he not just continue to fuck you? you look so pretty already fucked open, lying there with tears in your eyes and shaking?

you'd hear something akin to "you're gonna take a bit more, open those eyes back up for me," and "i can tell you can take it, just keep your eyes on me."

it's kind of pathetic, actually, how you really do just lay there and take it until he says you're finished.

so, yeah, when you're with someone like heeseung, there's always a thought in your head about if he'll even take care of you at all after the fact. at least, the thought is there before he breaks your brain. even if every time before this where he's needed to bring you back, he has without question and with a voice from him that is always so rare to hear.

just kinda hard to imagine someone who fucks you near to the brink of passing out, sometimes actually passing out, finding it within themselves to take care of you as deeply as they fuck you, yknow?

but, time and time again he has to remind you that he's not only capable but willing to make sure you're well taken care of. after all, you do your part in taking it, so he'll do his part in giving you what you need too. only after scooping half the mess with his fingers and feeding it to you, of course.

after that though? he's very much hauling you off for a warm shower and tenderly washing you. very very gentle with his hands, knowing how sensitive your holes are. he'd compliment you, he'd praise you for letting him absolutely destroy that ass, and ultimately, lay you to sleep next to him regardless of what the relationship status is, making sure you're well aware that he's not just using you for pleasure. he's very much appreciative of what you bring to his bedroom, and there's no reason to pretend he isn't.

☆ jay:

i like to think that jay would have you in fucking pain and barely able to stand on your own two feet by the time he allows you to close your legs with deep groans as you try to catch your breath.

honestly, the stamina this man has and actively spends on you could render anyone immobile for at least a week with the way he snaps his hips and holds you down from wiggling away in sensitivity. and man, the things he'd fucking say to you through it. so degrading, so controlling and dismissive, entirely fucking insulting. you're shocked time and time again that even while knowing it's just sex talk, it still hurts your feelings every single time.

then again, he's aware of that. but you're so goddamn pretty when you're crying and moaning, it drives him insane to know you endure it for his pleasure.

you're soaked by the time it's over and done with, he's soaked, and honestly the swollen marks against your ass still burn intensely when he rolls you over on your belly to get a good look at his work.

always with a breathy "aw, baby, i really fucked you up this time, huh?" or a little "took it so well, you still can't even focus your eyes on me, can you?" before rubbing any and every pained mark he left on you.

after his own brain clears of the sex-fog, he'd wrap you up, really warm and tightly in his arms as if his hug would wipe away any of the spit and cum drying between your bodies, as if it could mask all of those insults he flung at you. still, he'd be fluttering hundreds of kisses against your neck and ears, whispering little compliments about how pretty you are when you're barely able to keep your eyes open, about how much he adores you, and how often he wishes you'd believe these words over the silly orgasm-fueled insults.

still whispering, throughout the entire session of his care after the fact. always loving that you let him harm you as long as he's healing you just as good. and he does, truly, with the back rubs and the showers, tons upon tons of sweet kisses. constant praise. he'd put your lotion on you and rub it in thoughtfully, occasionally some medicated cream if his fingernails dug in a little too deep.

always always always holds you against his chest when you drift off to sleep, making sure any pain in your body feels more like love than anything else, and promising time and time again that he'll make sure you always fall asleep knowing he loves you, and that he doesn't at all think you're a fuck-doll, that he wouldn't let his friends have their turn way you.

(i am madly in love with him, pls look away and stop thinking of him now thank u)

★sunghoon:

ah, sunghoon. yeah. sunghoon. this man would leave you a fucking mess of tears and drool, edging you for hours. hell, he edges you for fucking days just because he can. not at all because you've been bad, or a brat, or have managed to make him jealous.

this is one of those days. you could tell he came home with that look in his eye, grabbing your face and practically forcing you to lift on your toes just so he could whisper the planned torture against your tongue.

so, after the second day with you whining, fucking begging to be released from your prison of sensitivity and lust, maybe he gives it to you. maybe he wakes you up from a deep and much needed sleep with fingers harshly pinching your clit.

ah, the pain. that alone was enough to make you cum, and you did. unfortunately, he didn't like that very much so your new torture was to get off as many times as he expected you to.

after about, what, the seventh orgasm? you stopped counting, it was closer to eleven in the afternoon and he'd been giving it to you for hours, all over that little mishap.

an eight orgasm knocked your ass out, exhausted, spread out, fucked senseless. you could barely hold your head up, but he does it for you. first by your hair, but noting the look in your eye indicating that he really needs to stop by this point.

and sunghoon is the type that would stop at that point. something in his brain clicking and forcing him back into that perfect boyfriend persona, where the only thing in the world he wants to do is make you happy.

and he knows it's not that you're not happy right now, it's mostly just the fact that he thinks he broke you're brain and you forgot how to feel anything other than his cock ramming inside of you.

so, he'd remind you time and time again. how his hands can do so much more than choke you, and how his lips can be sweet and less bruising against your temple when you really need it. you'd feel entirely loved when he's taking care of the mess he caused. both physically and mentally for you. needing to bring you back to reality with soft touches and tight holds.

it worked every time, because by the next morning, you'd just be moaning and groaning about how if he hadn't of make you breakfast in bed, you may have very well slashed his tires for the amount of suffering he put you through.

☆ jake:

bro is taking care of you not only after sex, but the entire time during sex. there's not a single moment where he's intentionally trying to hurt you, or forcing you to take more than you can handle.

it just....kind of happens on nights like these. where his hands are clinging, and his throat is begging, and your body can't say no. with his pretty puppy dog eyes asking if he can try anal, with his fingers slamming too deep, with his grip on you so tight you know it'll bruise, with his ability to knock the breath out of you and not give it back until you're nearly blue in the face.

yeah, most of the intense shit is accidental, but god is he taking care of you. always apologizing but continuing, always promising to make it up to you, always feeding into your ego more than his own, reminding you that the pain his body lends only comes from the immense amount of need he has to practically crawl inside of you and live there forever.

it's kind of amazing actually, that someone who starts so gentle can also end with blood in his mouth from bitten lips and swelling bruises all over your body.

he tends to you hand and foot. carrying you where ever you need to go even if just to your closet three feet from the bed, dresses you, undresses you, fixes your hair, does your skin care, all while kissing the bruises and ignoring the fact that he knows he'll never have enough of you, and you're probably always gonna be in pain when he loses his control like that.

[pyrrhiccomedy]

I am genuinely so proud of my wife for becoming a crafts person over the last few years.

Like, I was always a crafts person. I was an arts and crafts kid. My parents sent me to classes or summer camps or after-school clubs pretty much continuously from when I was about 5 years old, and over the years I did metalsmithing, stained glass, polymer clay sculpting, loom weaving, oil painting, charcoal drawing, clothes-making & tailoring, carpentry, woodcarving, macrame, miniatures, beading, jewelry-making, basket weaving, leatherworking, paper-making, bookbinding, papier mache, decoupage, sand sculpting, and probably more that I'm forgetting. There was never a day in my life while I was growing up when my entire bedroom floor wasn't taken up by 2-5 different ongoing art projects. As an adult, it's given me the firm confidence that I can walk up to pretty much any crafting skill, and get the hang of it, and enjoy doing it.

My wife never had that. She wrote, but that was really her only artistic outlet. Art & craftsmanship were just not any of her business. She always expressed admiration for my gumption when it came to making things with my hands, usually with a "bigger idiots than me have done it" attitude, but she was certain she'd be bad at it if she tried it, and that she wouldn't have fun. As evidence, she would offer every time in her life when she had attempted to learn a craft, and didn't have fun, and all the Arts And Crafts kids picked it up a lot faster than her.

Which like - yeah! Learning how to do a new craft is a skill all on its own! Fine motor control is a skill developed over time! So is spatial reasoning, and materials intuition! She wasn't just 'trying to learn wreath-making,' or whatever, she was trying to learn how to learn how to make something with her hands AND wreath-making, at the same time, so of course it would take her longer than the kids who already had the first part, and of course it would be more frustrating for her. I knew she wasn't uniquely bad at crafts: she just didn't know how to approach picking them up, because she was never encouraged to learn.

And then the pandemic hit.

And while we were all trapped inside and going insane in new and exciting ways to all of us, she tentatively decided to pick up embroidery. She probably wouldn't stick with it, she explained: she'd probably be bad at it. It probably wouldn't be fun. But she thought embroidery was pretty, and literally what else did she have going on?

And then she did stick with it. For over a year. And she got pretty good at it! She embellished a baseball hat for her sister with cactuses and wildflowers from where they grew up which came out adorable. She made an embroidered portrait of one of our friends' cat that they still have displayed in their entryway. And she discovered - and remarked on it often, with mild surprise - that she was having fun. She'd say a lot of stuff like "this stitch was so frustrating at first, but now that I get it I really like doing it," or "I kept getting this tangled but I've figured it out now. I just needed to relax."

Then she took up pottery. We did that as a couple for about a year, too. Now she's a knitter.

And it's just been so great, to see her eyes light up when she sees a sweater she likes, and hear her say, "I could make that!" She's slowly let go of the perfectionism that I think holds a lot of people back from doing crafts: that dismay when you make a mistake which leads to discarding a whole project, or starting something over. More and more she's taking on the veteran crafter attitude of "oops lol, whatever I'll just keep going." She's picking things up faster. She's taking pleasure in learning incremental steps. She's started to see crafting as something that relaxes and engages her, instead of as something inherently frustrating. I've gotten to watch her learn to find joy in making something with her hands. I always knew she was creative and artistic and capable of learning how to do anything. It's been so much fun to watch her start to take that on as part of how she sees herself.

We have this running joke about how she will prematurely declare herself to be in an era. Like, she'll go swimming twice and announce that she's now in her "swimming era," and then never go swimming again. Or she'll make one smoothie, buy a bunch of fruit, and declare that we are now in a "smoothie era," and then a week later we have to throw out a bunch of fruit that's gone bad.

The other day (while she was knitting, and I was sitting on the couch next to her doing crochet), she went, "I feel like I've gotten - like, I'm a bit crafty these days, I think. Like, I've done a couple of different crafts, and gotten pretty good at them. I think this is now, kind of, you know...something that I can say that I do."

I supplied that I would even go so far as to say that she was in her "crafting era."

Her eyes widened. "It's an era?"

I pointed out that it was something she'd been doing pretty much continuously for the last three and a half years. That feels like the start of an era to me.

"Yes," she decided. "It's an era. This is my crafts era. I'm a crafts person now."

She's planning to make me a sweater with a duck on it for fall.

[flimsy-roost]

I realized the other day that the reason I didn't watch much TV as a teenager (and why I'm only now catching up on late aughts/early teens media that I missed), is because I literally didn't understand how to use our TV. My parents got a new system, and it had three remotes with a Venn diagram of functions. If someone left the TV on an unfamiliar mode, I didn't know how to get back to where I wanted to be, so I just stopped watching TV on my own altogether.

I explained all this to my therapist, because I didn't know if this was more related to my then-unnoticed autism, or to my relationship with my parents at the time (we had issues less/unrelated to neurodivergency). She told me something interesting.

In children's autism assessments, a common test is to give them a straightforward task that they cannot reasonably perform, like opening an overtight jar. The "real" test is to see, when they realize that they cannot do it on their own, if they approach a caregiver for help. Children that do not seek help are more likely to be autistic than those that do.

This aligns with the compulsory independence I've noticed to be common in autistic adults, particularly articulated by those with lower support needs and/or who were evaluated later in life. It just genuinely does not occur to us to ask for help, to the point that we abandon many tasks that we could easily perform with minor assistance. I had assumed it was due to a shared common social trauma (ie bad experiences with asking for help in the past), but the fact that this trait is a childhood test metric hints at something deeper.

My therapist told me that the extremely pathologizing main theory is that this has something to do with theory of mind, that is doesn't occur to us that other people may have skills that we do not. I can't speak for my early childhood self, or for all autistic people, but I don't buy this. Even if I'm aware that someone else has knowledge that I do not (as with my parents understanding of our TV), asking for help still doesn't present itself as an option. Why?

My best guess, using only myself as a model, is due to the static wall of a communication barrier. I struggle a lot to make myself understood, to articulate the thing in my brain well enough that it will appear identically (or at least close enough) in somebody else's brain. I need to be actively aware of myself and my audience. I need to know the correct words, the correct sentence structure, and a close-enough tone, cadence, and body language. I need draft scripts to react to possible responses, because if I get caught too off guard, I may need several minutes to construct an appropriate response. In simple day-to-day interactions, I can get by okay. In a few very specific situations, I can excel. When given the opportunity, I can write more clearly than I am ever capable of speaking.

When I'm in a situation where I need help, I don't have many of my components of communication. I don't always know what my audience knows. I don't have sufficient vocabulary to explain what I need. I don't know what information is relevant to convey, and the order in which I should convey it. I don't often understand the degree of help I need, so I can come across inappropriately urgent or overly relaxed. I have no ability to preplan scripts because I don't even know the basic plot of the situation.

I can stumble though with one or two deficiencies, but if I'm missing too much, me and the potential helper become mutually unintelligible. I have learned the limits of what I can expect from myself, and it is conceptualized as a real and physical barrier. I am not a runner, so running a 5k tomorrow does not present itself as an option to me. In the same way, if I have subconscious knowledge that an interaction is beyond my capability, it does not present itself as an option to me. It's the minimum communication requirements that prevent me from asking for help, not anything to do with the concept of help itself.

Maybe. This is the theory of one person. I'm curious if anyone else vibes with this at all.

[pellucid-constellations]

Angstober 🎃

Prompt: "What's Wrong"

A/n: Hi surprise! I've decided to do some drabbles for angstober!! They won't be every day and it will be very informal, but I feel like this is a great opportunity for writing! I'll be making a masterlist for these drabbles soon. Enjoy!! :)

~~~

“What’s wrong?” 

His voice was broken, anguished. You were sure you’d never heard the tone before, the way the words cracked over each other and crumbled into a rasp. 

Nothing was wrong. Nothing felt wrong. 

“Please, what’s wrong?” he tried again, and somehow those words hit you harder than the first time. 

Nothing was wrong. Nothing hurt. But—you thought, as words refused to pass the parting of your lips—nothing was right either. You were stuck, immovable. You felt hands on your face, and there was still the ache that blossomed in your chest as Bucky’s voice echoed there, but there was nothing else. You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t move. 

“Baby, come on.” The hands on your face were moving in untraceable patterns, rushed and illogical. “Come on. Come on, please.” 

How did you get here? There wasn’t a clear path. You’d been alone, there had been darkness, and then there was this strange, stagnant air that refused to leave you. You’d been alone for such a long time. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you. We found you, baby. We finally fucking found you. Please snap out of this. Tell me how to help you.” 

You weren’t sure if this unbearable pain invading your lungs would be livable long term. You weren’t sure how to follow Bucky’s request. You were seeing him but you weren’t. He was talking to you but he was really talking to a brick wall. 

There was another light in the room, a door opening and more footsteps echoing in whatever chamber you had found yourself in. How long had that door been closed? Days? Weeks? Bucky would tell you if you had the capability to ask. 

“I love you so fucking much. Please. Please.” 

“Barnes, we can’t take her like that.” 

The deeper voice was alarming—recognizable but distant in your memory. You preferred the gentleness of Bucky’s tone. 

“To hell with whatever Shield expects me to do here,” Bucky seethed, eyes never leaving you. “We’ve been looking for her for over a year. You really expect me to leave my girl hooked up to this thing?” 

“She’s gone, Sergeant. No life signs reported on the scan. No activity.” 

That wasn’t true. You were hearing everything. Some part of your consciousness was still here. 

“Her heart’s beating. She’s there. Get someone. Help her,” Bucky demanded, the breath from his words on the skin of your face. He was so close and you could do nothing about it. 

“That’s all she has left. Hydra’s had her hooked up to this machine for months with no brain activity other than what they’ve created. We can’t bring her back to the tower, Barnes. She’s already gone.” 

A cry—no, a sob—reverberated against the stone walls.

No. No. You weren’t gone. You were screaming at them but no sounds were escaping you. You were here, you could feel Bucky’s lips as they trembled and pressed to your temple. What scan were they reading? It was wrong. 

“No,” Bucky denied with thick, heavy words. “No, Fury, you can’t say that. You don’t get to say that to me. I’ve made her my top priority since the moment she went missing and it’s been like pulling teeth getting help. I finally get someone to pay attention to me and you give up? No.” 

You were being compressed now. Bucky was wrapping himself around you, coveting you as if you were a possession he needed to protect. You wondered if it was due to the finality in Fury’s tone—if there was something you were missing. Something you couldn’t see.

“Barnes, there’s nothing we can do. She’d be a danger if we got her out of here.” 

Another kiss was pressed to your skin, damp this time, tears soaking into your cheek. They weren’t yours. You weren’t sure if you could cry anymore. 

“I’m not giving up on you,” Bucky whispered against your ear. More footsteps entered the room. “You’re gone, so am I.”

So much noise. 

The small, echoing chamber erupted into a cacophony of uninterpretable noises. 

And you couldn’t see, but something was wrong now. You would tell Bucky as soon as you woke up. 

[zephyrchama]

Hi!! I love your hc’s , can I request how the brothers would react to a s/o from who’s deathly afraid of wasps , like phobia strength fear . (It’s spring where I am and I have a phobia of wasps so i really want comfort stuffs lol)

Thank you! I've been wanting to write something bug-related, hope I don't disappoint too much! If there's not enough fluff or comfort, I'll try to come up with something else. I wound up writing how they'd handle the situation.

(little scary note: Devildom wasps are probably awful monstrosities, maybe even bigger than human realm ones. They could have all kinds of RPG monster-style wasps in addition to the “normal” sized ones that humans are familiar with (yet have some crazy venom).)

-----

Lucifer revels in being the first person you go to when you feel afraid. He doesn’t quite get why it’s such a big emergency, and he doesn’t like the chore of having to stop what he’s doing just to take care of a common pest, but there’s a warmth in knowing you come straight to him when you're scared. At first he would tell you to go ask someone else. Or, couldn’t you chase it off yourself with magic? He knows that surely you’re more than capable. He has better things to do than deal with a wasp. But with enough begging, he’d give in. Especially if you bury yourself under his coat. He can feel you trembling. Grasping his shirt in your fingertips and shakily asking “Lucifer, please?” will usually do the trick. He takes his coat off and drapes it over your head so you don’t have to watch while he takes care of things. Typically, it only takes seconds to erase all traces of the wasp’s existence. It takes far longer for you to convince Lucifer to help than it does for him to actually help. As the problem persisted and the weather got warmer, Lucifer started insisting you wear bug repellant to keep the problem at bay. He stops you in the morning to make sure you’re wearing it. If you come to him later in the day with a wasp-related issue, he’ll hold you back and personally make sure every inch from head to toe is coated before you leave. "I can't have any pests approaching you when I'm not around," he explains.

-----

Mammon loves when you rely on him. He has no trouble getting rid of a pesky bug or two. The first time it happened, he panicked. His human was crying and shaking and could hardly speak - the human he’s supposed to be in charge of. If anything happened to you, he’d be in a world of trouble. “What? What happened, huh?” he asked, grabbing your shoulders. He couldn’t understand unless you told him. “Help,” you whimpered, pointing where you had been standing moments before. “What?” The only thing there now was a buzzing wasp, flitting to and fro. “That thing?” You nodded and the relief that washed over him was immense. He almost laughed. “Man, don’t scare me like that! C’mon, the Great Mammon’ll take care of it for you.” Now, he’ll ask for rewards. Nothing big, but just enough to motivate him and keep you from taking advantage of him. He can’t let you find out that your tears are his weakness, after all. Mammon makes a big show of playing the hero, saying “get behind me” and pulling you in close. He’ll wrap an arm over you, guiding your head into his side while firing off a spell with a “bang!” Sometimes he’s so focused on how cute you look that he misses and sets fire to a shrub, but as long as you’re not looking, he can coolly escort you in the opposite direction as if nothing is out of the ordinary. “Well? Don’t ya think the Great Mammon deserves a reward for savin’ ya?”

-----

“Do I have to?” Leviathan gets anxious and doesn’t want to confront the wasps. He can see how distraught you are and it’s tugging on his heart strings, but they freak him out too. He’s so much stronger and he knows it, but their unpredictability is unsettling. He’ll let you take shelter in his room for as long as you want, or under his hoodie as long as you don’t move too much. If you’re especially persistent, he’ll eventually work up the courage. It might take a while though. With a mighty wadded up newspaper in one hand and the other hand outstretched protectively in front of you, he’ll slowly inch forward towards any unsavory bug. At the smallest sound though, he’ll jump and it’s back to square one. If the wasp moves and you shriek, he shrieks with you. “Don’t scare me like that!! I-I… I almost had it!! Arrghhh!” If you two are lucky, the commotion attracts one of his other brothers who rolls their eyes and crushes the wasp like it’s made of paper. On days when backup never arrives, you have to play hype man until Levi finally works up the nerve to one-shot the target. “I did it!” He looks so happy, and he occasionally strikes a silly victory pose despite also falling back in relief. He is the hero who saved the human in distress, after all. The next time it happens he’s still incredibly reluctant, but he upgrades his rolled-up newspaper to one of those electric zapping polls so he feels a little cooler.

-----

Satan is usually unperturbed by the bugs. They’re certainly annoying, but nothing to fret over. “You want me to take care of that?” he’ll ask, no questions asked. You don’t even need to say anything. He notices when your attention wanders from him, when the look in your eye changes and your demeanor shifts upon spotting one. You don’t have to speak if you’re unable to. Grabbing on to the empty sleeve of his jacket is enough of an answer. Satan is especially handy if there are multiple bugs buzzing in the vicinity. It’s not often he gets to practice his curses on a moving target. If he’s having an especially rough day, he’ll pack all his frustrations and wrath into a single blow that’s way more powerful than necessary. That is doubly true if he’s interrupted during a nice moment. Satan likes to savor good times without being disturbed. He’s ruthless if a wasp comes along and ruins the nice atmosphere between you two. He tries to be careful around his book collection, but anything else in the way is fair game to be destroyed. His attempts to calm you down afterwards are less helpful. He tries to distract you with trivia. “That was just an infernal warrior bee. You can tell by the three horizontal stripes and ones vertical stripe on its back. We must have walked past its nest, they’re mostly harmless unless you get too close and they start unsheat-” ”Aaaaaahhh!!!” The quickest way to shut Satan up before your fear gets worse is just to shout louder than he talks, especially if you nuzzle your head against his chest while he does it.

-----

Asmodeus gives you a nauseated look. He could probably destroy a bug in seconds, but they’re gross. He wants nothing to do with them. “Isn’t there anybody else around to get it?” It’s quite a sight to see Asmodeus publicly charm people into disposing of a wasp for the two of you. It is the most convenient way when other people are around. He does it as naturally as breathing, and then the two of you have to run from his obsessed fans instead of an insect. If Asmo sends a distress text to his brothers, it’s rare for someone to actually show up. But if you join him and spam the house’s group chat together, somebody will inevitably come to your aid. The two of you have cowered together in a corner many times waiting on one of his other brothers to show up. Due to this, you’ve perfected a defensive formation. If you both hug each other, fingers intertwined and head resting on the other’s shoulder, it calms you both down while also minimizing the blind spots in the room. You can spot any bug approaching with a 95% accuracy rate. If it’s a long day and bugs are a major recurring issue, Asmo will snap. Enough is enough. He still manages to be so pretty, despite his raging demonic energy knocking down everything in its path. He feels so disgusted afterwards though and will invite you to bathe the grossness away with him in a long, long bath.

-----

Beelzebub the reliable. Beelzebub the wonderful. You have so much appreciation for this dude. Beel is often the one you can turn to when nobody else will help. He’s not the best at spotting the smaller insects so you need to be very descriptive about where you saw them, but he shows no hesitation when it comes to exterminating them for you. The way he casually just whacks them aside is astounding. He’s more concerned about your shaking and crying and will try to prioritize comforting you over handling the wasps, but that just makes you more scared. With each passing moment, who knows where they’ll fly to next? “Please, please Beel. Just please take care of it, make it go away!” The sooner the better. The corners of his mouth will turn down, hesitant to turn his back on you, but he agrees. “Ok.” You must ensure to reward him with plenty of snacks. It keeps him protectively by your side for longer and otherwise he starts wondering how the felled wasps would taste fried. He used to get concerned you wouldn’t eat with him, but has since learned you need time to calm down before you appetite returns. It helps if you can sit in his lap, a fortified spot you’re certain no wasps can get near.

-----

Belphegor is too lazy to lift a finger most days. If they’re not bothering him, he doesn’t want to bother with them. But the way you twitch, the way you shriek and jump over the smallest movements, will start to concern him. It’s cute at first. He enjoys seeing a new side of you, the easily startled side. It's amusing. If it goes on for too long though he knows you’ll get nightmares and it will mess with your health. Humans get sick easily like that. He’ll laugh at you and then fell the buzzing menace with ease. It’s easier to get Belphegor to help when he’s tired. The buzzing annoys him to no end when all he wants is a peaceful nap. He might not even be conscious of what he's doing and protects you out of pure instinct. When he’s cranky, he shows no mercy to the insects hassling you. You’ve got blanket permission to throw yourself in his arms when he’s taking a nap. His demon form tail is an especially potent fly (or any winged creature, really) swatter, ensuring nothing gets near the two of you. Belphegor will literally take care of everything in his sleep while he snuggles up to you without a care in the world. One time you were escaping a nagging Lucifer instead of a wasp and tried the same tactic. It only made him madder. But it was great to see him get bapped in the face with Belphegor’s fluffy tail.

[hotxcheeto]

Heyyy, I hope you’re doing well ! I am so happy that you opened your requests again ! I would love to read a young vi x reader where through some actions the reader makes Vi realize that she’s gay. I hope it makes sense lol and thank you if you write it !

━ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐕𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Vi x Fem!Reader 

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, vi has a wound in #3, mentions/descriptions of blood and pain ( vi ), hidden feelings, friends to lovers, happy ending

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - sorry it took forever!!!!! this is such a cute idea thoughhhhhhh thank you for requesting this! ily! <3

REBLOGS ARE EXTREMELY APPRECIATED AND NOTICED!

Vi wondered three times if you were gay, three, and probably more that she doesn't remember. But these moments she does, and looking back, she wonders if it was her not getting it right away, or you not giving it too easily.

It was probably both. Yeah. It was definitely both.

#1: The time when Powder and you were hanging out, and Vi was a bit too close by, and couldn't help but listen in. But it didn't give her any answer she was looking for.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Powder asked, scribbling onto the wall beside your bed. "Yeah, I believe in a lot of things though. Things people call crazy." Powder dropped her marker and turned to you, seeing you laid out on your pillow while staring up at the top bunk.

"Like what?"

Nearby Vi sat quietly, staring at a puzzle cube in her hand, rotating it again and again but never solving it. You had before though, many times actually, you even tried to teach Vi.

"Reincarnation. Fairies. True love and soulmates." Vi looked over at that, hands faltering around puzzle. "You believe in fairies?" Powder giggled while Vi was much more caught up on something else.

"Yep, I bet that one day I'll even see one." "Will I be there?" You nodded happily, sitting up and crossing your legs. "If you wanna be. Vi too, if she wants." Your eyes then snapped to hers, Vi looking away with a coat of blush on her cheeks.

"No way, she'd just scare away the fairies." You giggled while Vi huffed and tossed aside the cube. "No I wouldn't, you would. You're too loud for your good." Powder stuck her tongue out at this, making Vi roll her eyes and do the same.

"Alright you two, that's enough." Powder then looked back at you with a grin. "What about other things?" "Hm... like I said, I believe in soulmates, dragons are probably real. Magic."

Vi then laughed, catching your attention.

"What? Think I'm ridiculous?" She quickly shook her head, brushing her hair back while swinging her leg over the chair arm. Dangling it off the ground.

"No, but soulmates? Magic? Never seen it." You huffed. "So? Just because you've never seen it, doesn't mean it isn't real. I've never seen you cry, but I believe you're capable."

Powder nodded profusely, sliding off the mattress and walking towards her sister.

"She's got a point." The blue haired girl said, skipping towards the couch. "Shut it Pow." "Oh c'mon, Vi!"

You watched the two sisters glare at one another, silently watching while amused. Standing up and off your bed to walk towards Vi.

"Besides, everyone has a soulmate. You can't go through life alone." Vi's smile faltered at this, Powder no longer listening and having skipped off to bother her inventions that had yet to work.

"How do you know?" You shrugged, looking off while leaning against her chair.

"Well, I think that at some point everyone has had one. Romantic or not. And they may have lost them, they may have married them. But they've met them at some point. They feel it. They know."

You looked away at the walls of the room, thinking for a moment while biting your lip.

"And?" You looked back at her, meeting her eyes. "And some people, people kind of like you, just don't care. They don't chase that feeling, that person. They give up or they convince themselves they're nuts. I believe when you feel it, you go for it."

She snorted, standing up, taller than you as she moved to walk in front of your frame still sitting on the arn. Unfazed at her lack of belief.

"You really believe some guy is just out there and ready to find you?"

"Who said it was a guy?" You swore her face changed, barely, but it changed. "And I never said it was romantic." And then again, it changed once more, but again, you didn't notice. "But yeah, probably."

It was quiet, Vi staring into your eyes as you stared back.

"Y/n!" You looked over, Powder holding a few of her monkey's in hand. "C'mon we have to test them now! You promised!"

"Alright, alright I'm coming."

Vi watched you disappear, off with her sister, wondering much more about what the feeling you described, actually felt like.

#2: When Milo was a little too close to Vi's curiosity, and it ended up with you both giving away a little more than you realized.

"What about that guy?" Milo pointed to a man walking passed, Powder gagging and shaking her head. "He's hideous." "I thought you two could be soulmates!" Milo then joked, turning to smile at you while you only rolled your eyes.

"What about you Y/n? What are your opinions on that fine man?" You giggled crossing your ankles while shrugging. "He's... alright?" You swear you heard a few snorts, Powder and Milo glancing at each other. "What you don't think he's cute?" "Not really my type?" You shrugged once more, looking at them both with a questioning expression.

"I don't get it? What's so funny?" You asked, messing with your fingers. "You've said that about everybody!" Milo began, "Same thing every time, do you even have a type?" He grinned, Powder leaning over farther to be able to see you better, kicking her legs off the wall of the building.

"I do. And it isn't you, or that man." Laughter came from behind you guys, all three of your bodies shuffling to turn around. "What's funny Vi?" Milo asked, a slight frown complementing his furrowed brow.

"You don't have a chance in the world Milo." She laughed, her hands in her hoodie pockets, still dressed in what she slept in. "And you do?" You swore her face turned light red, but you didn't pay much attention, looking back down at the streets.

"What about her?" Powder pointed at a woman, walking down the road with her arms crossed. "Now that's what I'm talking about." Milo nodded earning himself a smack on the back of the neck from your pink haired friend. "Shut it Milo."

"What? Don't you agree, Y/n. She's pretty!" All you could do was laugh, then nodded. "I mean, yeah, I guess. I think, though, everyone has their own beauty to them." "Except for maybe Milo." Vi joked, Milo glaring at her. "I wouldn't talk if I were you since you seem to have a type too."

You didn't notice, but Vi couldn't help my glare at Milo, a laugh coming from Powder as she stood up.

"I'm bored, you should come play with me Y/n, Vander just got me new markers." You turned the little girl, nodding. "Sounds good, just give me a sec." Watching Powder skip off, Milo followed after her with a mutter of nonsense towards Vi, leaving you and the girl alone on the rooftop overlooking the slow to set sun.

"So I hear you have a type?" You giggled, glancing over to Vi while bumping her shoulder. "What? No, he was just being a dick." "So you're telling me you haven't had a crush?" She hurriedly shook her head. "No, just... I dunno. Never put a lot of thought into a girlfriend."

"Ahh, okay." You hummed. "What about you?" Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, watching you take a deep breath as the orange colors reflected your eyes. Her own breathing not quite catching up with the rest of her.

"Never put a lot of thought into dating, like you said." Vi nodded, biting her lip as she thought about her next question, but before she could ask you interrupted her.

"I should probably get down there with Pow, she tends to get impatient when I spend too much time with you. Scared I'll pick a favorite sister."

A smile a lingered on her lips as you stood from beside her, brushing off your pants before meeting her eyes.

"I expect you to be down, help me come up with good backstories." You jumped to the main part of the roof. "You're better at it." Vi then said. "But you're my memory, I can't remember all my best details. Quit looking at the ladies on the road and come hang out with your bestest friend in the whole world."

Her face went up in flames once again, looking away from you, though this time you caught it. Biting your lip with a grin.

"Whatever, I'll check you later. She's a ladies, lady, hates my guts." You rambled to yourself, Vi scoffing. "I'll be there soon, moron."

#3: Or the time Vi got hurt, not the first and not the last, but you were there again, and she realized that something in her hoped you'd always be.

"Ow, ow, ow.." Vi muttered to herself, lifting the side of her shirt in order for her to see the giant cut that rested on her hip. The memory of snagging it on the broken pipe replaying her mind once again.

"Mother-"

"Language.." You walked in after, carrying a first-aid kit in hand and a few other things with your arm. "How'd this one happened?" "Don't wanna talk about it." She said, anger lingering behind her words and a sour expression on her face.

"Alright then, sit please." Despite the frustration, Vi plopped down on the couch, feeling you softly pull her shirt up higher exposing her stomach to the cold air. "I'll be done before you know it, promise."

The guilt then set in, Vi looking away from you as you began to clean the blood around the cut. Focusing on being as light as possible in order to not hurt your friend.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, almost inaudible if you hadn't been sitting as close to her as you were. "It's okay Vi." "Not it's not, I feel like an asshole." "Never said you weren't." You met her stare, giving her a wink before pouring your cleaning liquid right onto the wound, watching her hiss in pain.

"You okay?" "Yeah, yeah fine." You continued to patch the wound, wiping away everything else before laying the bandage overtop of it. Vi staying silent nearly the entire rest of the time.

"Sorry about ruining your time with your friend." "We're not friends" You giggled, tapping her to sit up so you could wrap the bandage around her stomach. "What?" "Well-"

"Vi." Vander's voice came from behind you, Vi's eyes shifting from your own to right beside your head. You turned around, facing the man who had his hands on his hips and a worried look in his eyes.

"What happened out there?" Vi huffed, rolling her eyes and smacking her hands over her face. "Milo happened." "Again?"

You began to pick up your things as they talked, standing up when Vander's hand rested itself on your shoulder. The man smiling at you.

"Thanks for looking after her." "Anytime, but hopefully not again too soon?" A laugh passed through Vi's nose, the girl watching you put everything away and leave the room.

She began to hum and nod to everything Vander said, standing up from the couch. A sudden curious energy running through her, wanting her question to be answered before you could return to your friend. The one that was a little too touchy for her liking.

"Yeah no problem we'll be more careful, swear it." "Vi, are you even listening?" She nodded quickly. "Yeah, of course." "Vi." She grinned at him, walking towards the stairs.

"We'll be careful next time, swear, but you should really be lecturing Milo since he's the one that got us into that mess." Vi moved her hands around dramatically as she spoke, crossing them over her chest. "Not me. Okay? See you later!"

She skipped away before the man got a chance to argue, Vi practically flying to the front of the bar. Looking around for any sight of you.

And for a second, there wasn't one, unable to find you lurking in any of the corners or chatting around any of the tables. It was like you'd disappeared.

"Boo!" "What!" Vi whipped around, breathing heavily with her hand resting on her hip where it hurt. "Sorry, had to take the chance! You should've seen your face!" "Fuck I hate you." You continued laughing, looking around.

"What were you looking for? You seemed worried?" For a moment Vi noticed the flash of worry that crossed your face. "Nothing. What happened to that girl, that you're 'not friends' with?" You shrugged, taking her arm and walking towards an empty table. "Didn't work out." "What didn't work out?"

You sat down, Vi across from you while you grinned.

"A lot of things, and she was one of them."

"Why are you so cryptic?" Vi then asked, resting back against her chair. "Why are you so boring?" "Got me there, cupcake."

#1: The time she finally realized.

It was late, and it had been a long day, yet somehow you couldn't sleep even if it would've saved your life. Instead you sat up, laying on the couch while everyone slept around you, curtains keeping them from the rest of the room.

You instead messed with the puzzle cube, solving it before closing your eyes and mixing it up once more. Opening them to solve it once again. You did this over and over before your mind was fried, looking around in the darkness.

You wondered if Vi would mind being woken up, but instead you decided against it. Standing up and walking back towards your empty bed, except it wasn't empty anymore.

"What are you doing?" You whispered, almost startled at your voice that you hadn't heard in the hours of silence. "Making myself comfortable, my bed is too hot and Claggor snores too loud. It's quiet and cold over here."

"So invade mine, thanks." She smiled at you, despite both of you barely able to see each other. Vi then felt you climb beside her, then over her body to sleep beside the wall.

"Geez, you're hot Vi." "Thanks, cupcake." You laughed, shoving her shoulder before laying down, opting to only rest half the blanket on your legs. "Not like that, asshole." "What? You don't find me pretty?"

You finally laid against the pillow, rolling your eyes as you relaxed into the mattress.

"I find you very pretty." Vi felt her face heat up, covered by the inky room that kept her flustered state hidden. "Thanks, can say the same for you." "Such a ladies lady." It was Vi's turn to roll her eyes, hand messing with the very end of her tank top.

"Do you say that to all the girls?" You then asked, moving to rest your cold cheek on her chest, her arm still up and behind her head, closing your eyes when you felt her lower it around your shoulders.

"No, only you." You then giggled, moving to touch her stomach with your freezing fingers. "Holy shit!" She whispered, making you hide your laughter with your other hand.

"Only me, huh?" Vi hummed. "Liar." "What about you and that guy from earlier? Bet you thought he was pretty." You snorted, opening your eyes again. "No way, he's not my type."

"What is your type?" You thought for a second, opening your mouth before taking a breath. "Girls. With pink hair and loud mouths." You could feel her freeze up, hand coming to a still from twirling her shirt. "They also have to be considerably dense to flirting."

"You have a crush on Sevika?" You sputtered out broken sounds, digging your face into her stomach as you laughed, her lip between her teeth so she didn't burst out in giggles. "How'd you know?" You sat up, a grin on your lips while her eyes focused in on your face.

"You made it so obvious."

For a second you went silent, staring at one another in silence. The moonlight finally shifting into the room, hitting Vi in the face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" "It was fun, watching you squirm around the question." She scoffed, pushing you away. "Thanks."

You then turned to roll over, Vi continuing to watch you.

"What? No goodnight kiss?" You turned your head, gesturing her forward, the girl leaning towards you.

"C'mere." You grabbed her, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Give me a real one tomorrow, that way its on your terms. Besides, I've waited long enough for you to make a move. Now I'm giving you a go ahead. Make the most of it."

Vi nodded, a cute sparkle of excitement on her face.

"Deal."

[harunayuuka2060]

Sebek: Sensei! *his voice filled with worry* Aren't you supposed to be in the hospital right now?!

MC: *chuckles* I'm fine, Sebek. It's only a minor injury.

Ace: MINOR INJURY?!! YOU GOT SHOT!!!

Epel: Ace is right! We were worried about you!

MC: That's why you shouldn't be watching TV during class hours. Though I always allow you in my time, didn't I? Hehe~.

Professor Crewel: Professor MC, please come with me so we could clean that up.

MC: Thank you, Sir Crewel~. I'm glad you're just as calm as always.

Professor Crewel: *frowns* Indeed I am. However, you need to be scolded for pulling that stunt.

MC: Aww... Can I please wear headphones if you do? I've already got an earful from Mr. Venue.

The NRC students: *had all watched how the dating show had turned into a whole chaotic situation*

*Vil's dad almost getting kidnapped right after the winner was announced.*

*Professor MC fighting off the kidnappers and treating it like a children's game, where they even allowed one of them to shoot because they felt bad of how 'clumsy' they were*

Crowley: Professor MC! I didn't expect you to be this careless!

MC: *sad frowns*

Professor Trein: What you did is a bad example of someone who is supervising the disciplinary department of this school.

MC: Ow... I think my wound actually hurts... *smiles* May I take my leave now?

Crowley and Professor Trein: *frowns* *then sigh*

Crowley: You may.

MC: Thank you, sir~. I'll go see my students.

The students: *frowning at them*

Floyd: *except him* You were so cool, sensei.

MC: Thank you, Mr. Leech. *smiles*

Jamil: It was amazing, yes, that Sensei handled those kidnappers in a graceful manner. However, allowing them to hurt you so you would be even was something I didn't expect from you.

MC: You're right about that, Mr. Viper. After all, I have taught everyone else to use everything at your disposal while ensuring your own safety.

Jade: Then, why didn't you do that, sensei?

Malleus: Because they're more than capable of doing anything.

Azul: If someone is strong, they would foolishly let their guard down. However, MC-sensei did that to mock them.

MC: *chuckles* Oh. Don't phrase it like that. I actually felt bad for them.

Leona: You're kinda twisted too, sensei.

Idia: It's almost scary.

Vil: Enough of this conversation. Sensei, my dad sent you a blender. Since that's the only thing you've asked him.

Vil: *frowning a little* Are you sure this would be enough?

MC: Why, yes. I've already bought some fruits to try it. That's right! How about I treat you all to a small, fruitshake party?

The students: YOU GET REST!

MC: Aww... *sad pout*

Crowley: Professor MC will be resting for a week until they're fine to teach classes again.

Professor Trein: Headmage, there's something I would like to inform you.

Crowley: What is it, Professor Trein?

Professor Trein: The Queen of Briar Valley, the King of Sunset Savannah, and the head of Al Asim's want to meet Professor MC as soon as possible.

Crowley: ...

Crowley: Why do I feel nervous?

Professor Trein: I don't know...

MC: *drinking their fruit shake alone* *sigh*

MC: I can't believe I've got scolded by my students.

MC: Have I taught them too much?

MC: ...

MC: Hehe.

[tiredgoodomensfan]

Fuck it we ball fanfic time. Gn reader x lars pinfield WOO

Okay WOO lmk if this is shit or ooc or anything, but im pretty happy with how this went :D its a little rushed, might redo it in the future idk. Also i made Y/N bit too much like me (northern) so watch out for that american readers SORRYYY. anwyays enjoy!

I am smart.

No don't laugh, I am, genuinely I am.

Maybe not in the way that others deem important, maybe not in the traditional sense, but I am bright.

Pinfield doesn't think so, the prick.

Every day I come into work, all smiling and welcoming, and what do I get in return? A roll of the eyes if I'm lucky.

Dickhead.

But I don't let him get to me, I love my job. My boss is chill, I love hanging out with Lucky, and the Spenglers seem nice! It's a good gig, really.

I'm the "PR guy" for Ghost Corps. Every time they fuck up and destroy a building or whatever I'm the one who covers it up. I'm a real smooth talker, 'gift of the gab' my mum used to call it.

The team needs me, I know that, they know that. Im crucial to the whole operation, the sole reason why that whiny mayor dude hasnt shut them down.

I'm the one who goes to press interviews, who goes on the radio or on TV. I'm the social media manager, I make videos, and post tweets, fuck I've even started a Ghostbusters youtube account! I deserve a raise honestly. #justiceforY/NthePRguy

I get on with everyone at work except for Pinfield, and I genuinely dont know why.

I've tried getting him to feature in videos, or explain the science of stuff to me so I can actually seem like I know what I'm talking about- but he just brushes me off.

Gary tries to reassure me about this on a daily basis. "Its nothing to do with you Y/N" he smiled one day, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me away from the busy scientist. "He doesnt really talk to anyone, he gets really passionate about his work"

"I get that, but there's no need for him to be a dick to me, he's got me thinking all kinds of shit honestly!" I replied, exhasperated "I've never done nowt to him"

Suddenly, Pinfield raised his head from his work, scrunching his eyebrows together. "thats a double negative" he commented, looking at me as if I was stupid. Great, It's the most he's ever spoken to me and its a fucking insult- atleast I think it is.

"you what?" I ask, making my way over to him despite Garys protests. I fold my arms, looking as menacing as i can (which ive been told isn't very menacing at all)

"I said its a double negative, if you've never done nothing then you must've done something" before I can reply, he adds onto the end "which you haven't, by the way. I dont know why you think that. I treat you the same as anyone else"

I can't explain why his answer bothers me so much, but it does. Why does he view me in the same way he views the others? That's hardly fair. I'm always welcoming to him, I make time out of my day to include him in things. I hate to admit it, but I genuinely admire him aswell. His love for all things paranormal, the way he gets so excited and proud when he gets to explain the science of ghost-catching to someone. It's oddly endearing.

I tell him as much (excpet for the stuff about him being endearing, he doenst need his ego inflated any more than it already is)

He looks confused, I've never seen him look like that- its weird. Arrogant? sure. Annoyed? when is he not bffr. Happy? Once or twice. But confused? Weird. This is the guy with all the answers, the smart one.

He thinks for a moment, before seemingly making a desision. He stands up with a small huff of exhasperation, and walks off.

As he goes past me, he grabs my arm, more gently than I thought he was capable of. Okay, i guess im coming too. Fun, roadtrip time.

He takes me out of the lab and down the corridor, into a relatively well lit small room.

"Well this is-" before i can speak properly, he cuts me off. Told you he was a prick.

"I dont understand you Y/N" he blurts out, looking at me, as if I'm some sort of specimin hes studying in the lab.

"Well good." I joke. I dont like the serious tone he's taking. Dont like how aware I am of his gaze. HATE the fact I can feel my cheeks burning. Gross. Pinfield is a dick, we've established this. Why the fuck am I BLUSHING because he's LOOKING at me? Bit embarassing, pull it together Y/LN.

He doenst like this though. He shakes his head, pacing around.

"No Y/N you dont get it. I understand everyone, sort of anyways. I've observed them, I can predict their reactions to things. I know what they're all like- but you're... I just dont understand! You're so happy and nice all the time, but you also get angry at stupid stuff, but never really properly angry? I cant make sense of it, genuinely. You've not done anything wrong, you can't do anything wrong. Thats frustrating too. It's like you're this perfect, beautiful person, and I've been trying to see flaws but I cant-" He rambles, speaking like hes just letting out one stream of constant thoughts. He seems stressed, poor guy.

I interupt him, grabbing his arm. "Hey, c'mon Pinfi- I- Lars. C'mon Lars. I'm not worth the stress mate" I try and reassure him, but that just agitates him more.

"See! That's just it! I've been horrible to you, I admit it. But you've kept trying with me! When I hurt my hand you were the one who bandaged it and put it in a sling"

(i had found him almost blacked out from the pain on the lab floor, even the memory of it sent a shiver down my spine)

"you were the only one that looked for me after we all nearly died fighting Garraka"

("Pinfield? Pinfield!? Oh my god, there you are! Thank fuck you're alright!" Okay maybe this tiny non-crush had been going on longer than i thought... christ)

"I dont like the thought of you hurt..." i muttered, embarrased. this definitely wasnt how i was expecting this conversation to go, fuck my life I was crushing on a nerdy scientist who defintely didn't like me back.

He stopped his pacing and walked over to me until the gap between us was non existant. He slowly, hesitantly, lifted his hand until he cupped my cheek.

"I don't like the thought of you upset because of me" he muttered, his voice low.

My heart completely stopped, my breath caught in my throat, was this happening? how was this happening? i swear this guy was like my mortal enemy not even 5 minutes ago. so many revelations were bieng made today...

I decided to be bold, why not? fuck it, i've got nothing to loose at this point.

I leaned in so our noses just grazed eachother, looking at him, really genuinely looking at him. his soft blue eyes that seemed to peer into my soul. Not pierce through it, like some weird blue eyed fuckers i knew, but looked. gently, tenderly, as if he was looking at everything i ever had been, or would be. like i was something beautiful, something to be treaured.

It made me want to sob at the thought. god, how disgustingly sweet.

"make up for it then" i whispered, the tension so thick i could cut it with a knife.

I'd planned on being the one to make the forst move, but apparently, that was all that Lars needed.

He kissed me. His soft lips pressed against mine, sotfly, tenderly, tentatively.

I could feel the anxiety radiating off of him, so i quickly reciprocated. More eagerly than i owuldve liked- but oh well.

I could feel his hand resting on my waist, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. It all felt so tender, so raw, not at all how i thought it would be.

I felt like a teenager again, and couldnt resist letting out a small giggle, making Lars pull away. He looked confused again, making me laugh once again.

"What?" he aksed, a sort of amused smile on his face.

"Nothing- sorry. Nothing at all. Just thinking of how fuming mums gonna be when i tell her ive got a posho for a boyfriend"

"I am NOT posh!"

"you are a littleee"

"I AM NO- wait- boyfriend?"

"oh shit didnt mean to say that bi-"

he cut me off with another kiss, this one much more confident.

It felt like a million fireworks were going off in my head, oh I could definetly get used to this feeling. This war, sweet, happy feeling. My senses were flooded with everything Lars. His taste, his smell, his touch.

I felt like I was learning to live again.

[misc-obeyme]

i've been.. sick.. auhrgh. (its a simple cold but my body can'teven),, if you still take tiny drabble requests can I request Barb helping mc when they got a cold.. just tooth rotting fluff.. (if you dont/aren't comfortable thats fine :0b)

Oh noooo I hope you're feeling better!! Being sick is the worst...

And I am still doing drabbles, yes! So I may have written a little more than what I consider drabble length but uh... well I can't help myself when it comes to Barb, so.

Anyway, here's a bunch of fluff!

You were sick. You knew it and even though you were trying to hide it, you were sure everybody else knew it, too. You kept your sneezes as quiet as possible, burying your face in your elbow to muffle their sound. You refused to sniffle unless you absolutely had to. And you went into the bathroom to blow your nose in private. You tried everything you could to suppress the shivers that ran through your aching body, even while you kept wiping the sweat off of your forehead.

All day at RAD, you felt like despite the obvious signs, you were doing a decent job of powering through it. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything.

Until you got home, that is.

You were surprised to find Barbatos already in your room.

He smiled at you, but there was a sternness behind it, too. "MC. You are in no condition to continue pushing yourself the way you have been. I have changed your bedsheets and washed your favorite pair of pajamas. Now I must insist that you get changed and get into bed so you can rest."

You frowned and folded your arms. "I don't need to get into bed, I'm fine," you said.

Barbatos walked over to you, removed his glove carefully, and put his hand on your forehead. You shivered a little, partly because you knew he would feel your fever and partly because his touch awakened a burst of butterflies in your stomach.

Barbatos let his hand descend to cup your cheek. "You cannot hide the evidence of your illness from me," he said. His voice was soft, the firmness of moments ago melting away into indulgence. "I know you feel that it is minor, but you will recover quicker if you rest now. If you will allow me to, I will take care of you until you are well again."

The tinge of heat that rose up in your cheeks wasn't something you could blame on your fever. You nodded.

When you were in your pajamas and snug beneath the covers, Barbatos brought you a tray of soup and tea. He sat beside your bed while you ate. On your bedside table he had already placed a supply of tissues and water.

"This is delicious," you said when you were halfway through the soup.

"It is a recipe of my own design," Barbatos said. "It incorporates all of the best nutrients a human would need to fight off a cold. The tea is also a special blend of Devildom herbs. They are safe for human consumption, of course, but they contain just enough magical properties to boost your immune system and speed your recovery."

You smiled at him. It was just like him to be so meticulous in what he served you.

"Isn't it a bad idea for you to be this close to me?" you asked. "What if I'm contagious? I don't want you to get sick, too."

"You needn't worry about me, MC," Barbatos said. "I am not capable of contracting an illness of this nature."

You didn't have the clarity of mind to question that statement further.

When you had finished eating, Barbatos cleared away the tray, then positioned himself back in his chair.

"Are you really just going to sit there all night?" you asked.

"I wish to be here should you need me," he said.

You sighed. You were feeling sleepy. The warmth of the food made you heavy and the softness of your mattress caused your body to relax. Your senses were dulled by the fever still running through you. Your eyelids were slowly descending, but you kept them open. You reached out a hand toward Barbatos and murmured his name.

Barbatos knew what you wanted without you needing to say it. You were still sitting up in bed and after removing his shoes, Barbatos sat beside you. Instead of laying back on your pillows, you rested your head on his chest. His arms enclosed you and your breathing synced with his. You fell asleep listening to the beating of his heart.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[greentrickster]

Starting a new thread for the Great God Airplane AU (on the usual grounds (ie the original thread was getting Long)), because I've got more to say about it, because I'm me.

Was thinking about how having access to his god!memories would potentially effect Shang Qinghua, and I'm a little surprised to find that I don't think it'd make much difference, at least in this AU. I think the main, most noticeable change would honestly be that he's a lot calmer afterwards. The surprising part is that this isn't because he's not afraid of getting hurt or because he's got OP god powers or anything now, but simply because of how long he's been doing all this.

Like, one of the key features of Airplane's lives seems to be that he's always kinda hanging on by his fingernails when it comes to surviving, keeping up, managing to get by. He's busy busy busy all the time, and as a result of this he's not really aware of how impressive any of the stuff he does really is, because he's never had the time to really sit back and internalize it.

But that's what he finally got when he arrived in this world as a newly divine being with a perfect memory of both everything he'd written and his original outline, and only the instructions 'create it the way you wanted it to be.'

And he did.

He spent years upon decades upon centuries slowly, carefully crafting his world from the ground up, putting as much or as little thought into every single piece as he wanted to, no rush, no deadline, no obligations to anyone or anything but himself. The ability to lose himself in the pleasure of creation, consequence-free, the time to step back and take in everything he's made so far. Anything he needs, anything he wants, he can have, he can make, from snacks to assistants to handle the details he doesn't want to do but which the world needs in order to function, and in order to hold the story he wants it to tell.

And with all that time and experience came the gradual, quiet gaining of confidence. Because he's been doing all this for such a long time that not only the ability but the knowledge of having that ability has sunk deep into his bones. The ability to look at a task and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's capable of doing it and more.

Shang Qinghua still flusters and laughs and complains and grumbles and thirsts (oh how he thirsts), but instead of a basis of fear that he'll be overwhelmed and crushed beneath the demand, it's on a basis of 'if push comes to shove, he's up to the job.'

It takes him a little bit to notice this change in himself and, once he does, I think he goes and cries a little bit. Because his human memories are the predominant ones at the moment, so it's a strange, shocky sort of relief to suddenly realize that "Oh. I really am good enough. I've always been good enough. I don't have to be afraid that I'm not anymore."

In contrast, I think the thing he has the most fun with is that now, if one of his martial siblings is being a pain about budgets or something, he can go, "You know what, maybe I should just go back to Heaven and let you deal with all this! I could be eating celestial melon seeds right now while writing wildly self-indulgent danmei between organizing my files, but instead I'm down here, dealing with the fact that you can't manage a simple monthly budget! Because, you know, one of these things sounds a whole lot more fun than the other-!!!"

And then his martial siblings get to go, "You know what, on second thought I was being unreasonable, maybe I should see if there's something else I could do to fix this problem instead of just trying to make you fix it..."