#hard-boiled monologue

[orpheuslookingback]

i want more stories that mix and match genres that are rarely ever paired up together. idk like. hard boiled detective character archetypes and storylines but in a high fantasy setting. full on political thriller but its also a musical. cyberpunk setting but with a rom com plot. like they dont even have to end up working. i just want to see someone try some really out there concepts out, yknow?

[bigification]

Jealousy Jealousy

Strong, loyal, dedicated. All words used by the boss to describe me, and every word seemed like a knife in the back of my roommate. I can hear it in the way he talks to me, ever since I joined the military all he ever seems to be is jealous. I've always been stronger and more dedicated than him, he's smarter but that doesn't even matter that much.

The walk back to our room is awkward. It is completely silent and I can almost see the steam coming out of his ears. I wanted so badly to be friends with him, but he makes it impossible. I've always worked out and kept my body in good shape, and apparently that's unforgivable to him.

We get back to our room and he immediately goes rummaging through his stuff. I pace back and forth, debating whether I should talk to him. It's hard living with him and I just want things to be civil between us.

"Hey man, I wanted to ta-" I'm interrupted when he quickly swings around and jabs something into my stomach. I look down and see a needle sticking into the side of my stomach. I feel frozen with fear, I can't talk, almost as if there is something stuck in my throat. I let out a groan as he pushes the end of the needle, injecting a green liquid into my body.

"I'm tired of being in your shadow, let's see how long you'll last after this." He monologues like some cartoon villain. What does he even mean by that, was that some kind of poison? Is he killing me just because the boss likes me more.

I stumble back against the wall, I feel weak but it hurts less than I thought it would. Although my stomach feels like it's boiling.

Am I dreaming... It feels more like a nightmare. But it must be a nightmare. I see a lump form under my shirt, and it seems to grow every time I blink. It can't be real, but it feels so real. The lump grows until it looks like I have a little belly. Do I have a belly? It's growing faster and faster until my shirt becomes untucked. It finally stops after growing into a sizable beer belly, making it impossible for me to see my feet. Maybe he gave me drugs, maybe this is just a bad trip. But it feels so real.

It doesn't end with the beer belly. Next my pecs start to swell. Something I worked so hard on is gone in seconds. I see them soften into a pair of man tits, growing until they press against my shirt. I always swore I would never let myself go like my father did, but I guess that's a lie. At least it took him until his thirties to get fat, I can't even make it to my late twenties without pigging out.

I still have no idea what's happening to me. It's getting harder and harder to think. I was thinking about... Something about pigging out. It must be because I love pigging out, that's how I got this belly.

As I'm trying to think, my body continues to grow. I hear the button on my pants pop off and feel the pressure release. I think my ass is growing, not that I mind. I feel my body being pushed further and further away from the wall as fat spilled into my ass.

Why does my crotch feel so tight? I could have sworn it didn't feel this tight a moment ago. I don't really care anyway, I can't even remember why I should care.

My pants strain against the fat filling my legs, I think I can even hear some rips tearing through them. My arms follow suit, softening up my defined muscles and fattening up my hands. Better off that way if you ask me, fatter hands means better belly rubs, and I like belly rubs.

I feel an itchiness engulf my body as a thick pelt of hair covers my skin. My arms, my legs, my chest, and most importantly my belly become a forest of sweaty hair.

My body finally relaxed and I let out a loud burp. Oh... I'm so hungry. I rub my belly trying to get any relief. It's all I can think of. Wasn't I stressed about something? What would I have been stressed about, maybe I was just hungry.

"How ya feeling big guy?" My roommate asks me.

"I'm so hungry." I cry out.

"Aren't you supposed to be on a diet?" He teases me.

"Why the fuck would I be on a diet. This is the mark of a true man!" I say as I slap my gut.

"Well I'm sure this box of donuts won't hurt your fitness assessment next week, and they won't eat themselves." He pulls out a dozen donuts. It feels like I lose control of my body as I instinctively ravage the donuts.

I lean back after finishing off the last donut and let out a loud burp. God I'm stuffed, but I want so much more. I rub my belly, trying to process the snack I just had, so I can make room for more.

"There's plenty more where that came from, big guy."

Credits to bulkgainer92 for the video and for inspiring this story.

[prisi]

I feel TOH fails a lot with the treatment that Belos and his lore receive towards the end. I think his arc will feel so much more complete if the show was allowed to show us that he suffered in the past and wasn't like "nah he is just pure evil and he has always been like that". I don't like how the show wants you to believe that Caleb did nothing wrong or reprehensible when there's obvious implications that he abandoned Philip to go with Evelyn, it will be so much more interesting that the show recognized that Caleb was naive and selfish in abandoning his brother (who only have him as family and support figure) to his own in the puritan era, and how that action of Caleb deeply damaged Philip emotionally and mentally (kinda like Luz abandoning Camila to live her fantasy in the Boiling Isles without thinking in the consequences but we are not talking about that right now, I love Luz btw don't get mad at me). And Philip, who probably entered the Isles with the sole intention to "save" his brother who at his eyes was bewitched and seduced by an evil witch to go with her, when he finally found his brother after many years and found out that Caleb actually loved Evelyn and DECIDED to leave him behind he totally lost his mind.

A confrontation escene between Philip and Caleb (it could be a flashback or something showed in Hollow Mind even) will be so interesting to watch, something like in the third season of Infinity Train when Simon confronts The Cat for abandoning him as a child, Caleb will try to justify himself at first saying that he is sorry, that he thought Philip was going to be okay on his own, that he didn't thought that he was going to miss him or something, making Philip more angry, sad and confused.

The situation will scale to the point that Philip, (who's original goal was to kill Evelyn to bring back Caleb in the Human Realm) now that he is angry, sad and out of his senses he tries to attack Caleb with the dagger he had in his hand which triggers the knife fight in which Caleb dies.

Philip, after realizing that he killed the only person he had in the world, he tries to justify himself in an internal monologue like: "oh well, I murdered you, but in doing so I freed your soul from the union with that sinful witch. That's what the witch hunting taught me, right? That's what YOU taught me, RIGHT?". Trying to shift the blame for what just happened onto Caleb but also letting us know and acknowledging that it was Caleb who introduced and instructed Philip in the witch hunt and did nothing to reverse it.

Coming to the end, when the fight ends and Belos and Luz are face to face, the scene would play out more or less as we see it in canon but at the moment in which the first drop of boiling rain falls on his hand and begins to see his body dissolve, he enters a mental breakdown in which he realizes that he wasted his entire life on a goal that made no sense, the witches weren't evil or a threat and he knew it, but he clung to his goal because he did not want to face the reality, he did not want to accept that he had killed his brother in vain nor did he want to accept that he had decided to abandon him, and he did not want to die knowing that he wasted 400 years suffering for something that was not worth it. At the end of his collapse he would crawl a little and see Hunter in the distance (because yes, Hunter should have been present in the end even a little), he would try to extend his hand in his direction but Hunter, noticing this, would close his eyes, look away and take a step back behind Eda and Raine. Philip experienced his brother's abandonment again but with the difference that this time it is merely his fault, because even if Caleb damaged Philip deeply with his abandonment, he is not responsable of the path Philip choosed to take.

Seeing and realizing all of this Belos would stop crawling and give up, lying on the ground, breathing hard as the boiling rain finally dissolves him and dies.

Or at least that is how I liked it to happen, let me know what you think.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

HI!

Child reader takes on the persona of a hardboiled detective to solve a mystery. Her fancy cake is missing, and her best friend is also missing.

-You couldn’t be happier! You just got home from school, you had no homework, and you got to eat your special edition anniversary cake from your favorite bakery that you got the day before with Buddha!

-You opened the fridge, seeing your cake waiting for you and pulled it out, beaming down at it before heading to your bedroom, where your stuffed highland cow, Bartleby, was waiting at the tea table, as you had set him before you left for school.

-The box was opened, and you were ready to dig in when you heard Eve, “Y/N~ will you come here please?” you paused, looking down at the delicious cake before you inhaled deeply and ran out, with hopes that you would be back shortly as you ran to Eve.

-Only ten minutes later you were hurrying back to your room, excitement filling every inch of you as the thought of eating your cake.

-Buddha, who had gotten his own, told you in passing how delicious it was, “I wish we could have gotten more than just the one each we were allowed.”

-You opened your door and instantly your elation turned to distraught, your cake was gone, as was Bartleby, with stuffing where he had been sitting.

-You fell to your knees, anguish filling you, tears welling in your eyes before you inhaled deeply once again, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, standing up, “I won’t cry, Private Eye Y/N is a hard-boiled private in-best-e-gator! And I’m going to solve this case!”

-Moments later you knocked on Jack’s door who answered it, “Hello there Y/N, what can I do for you?” you held out your hand to him, “Can I borrow one of your hats please?” he seemed surprised by your request, but he got you one, handing it to you and you ran off, “Thank you! I’ll bring it back later!”

-He was a bit confused, wondering what you were playing this time. He’s sure he would find out soon enough. Jack was almost back in his chair where he had been reading when another knock, this time more frantic, came to his door. And who he found standing here was even more surprising.

-Back in your room, you put a lollipop in your mouth, looking around the room after putting up pink and blue steamers, with ‘crime scene’, misspelled, across the door, as far up as you could reach, taping off the crime scene.

-You stood there, monologuing out loud, “It had only been a few minutes. Mama Eve needed my help reaching the button that fell under the couch, a button that only my little hands could reach. Nothing else seems to be out of place. Nothing stolen except for my cake, and with Bartleby missing, it’s not just a burglary, but a kidnapping as well! Time’s a ticking to solve this case.”

-Adam, who had been standing there since you started your monologue, was a bit confused, “Y/N, who are you talking to?”

-You turned, pointing at him, “I’m the one asking the questions pal!” he seemed surprised by your words as you paced around, continuing, “My cake has been stolen, and Bartleby is gone too, and based on this stuffing, he’s hurt, meaning whoever took him hurt him in the scuffle.”

-Adam left you to your game, making a mental note to tell the others to not let you watch any more old cop dramas for a while.

-Zeus was the next one to pass by, about ten minutes later, seeing you using tape to make a crude outline of where Bartleby would have fallen, after he got injured, as well as a ‘crime scene board’, crayon drawings of everyone pinned up on a board, “Y/N what are you doing?”

-You turned, pointing at the crime scene tape keeping him out, “I’m in-best-e-gating! Someone hurt and took Bartleby, and they took my special cake!” he just chuckled warmly, before nodding back down the hall, “I saw Buddha walking by a few minutes ago.”

-Your eyes went bright, looking excited before you composed yourself, “Thank you sir, you may go on your way!” before you crawled underneath your crime scene tape and ran off, looking for Buddha.

-You found him only moments later, lounging in his room, in his big chair, with Loki and Brunnhilde in the room as well, enjoying tea together, “Buddha! I’m coming for you!”

-He seemed surprised as you ran in, looking a bit odd, as you were wearing one of Jack’s hats and a lollipop in your mouth. Brunnhilde was quick to halt you, “Y/N don’t run with candy in your mouth. You’ll choke.” You skidded to a stop, offering her a sheepish apology before you turned back to Buddha, a glare on your eyes.

-You paced back and forth before him, “Buddha, you mentioned earlier that the special anniversary cake was delicious. So delicious that you wished that you could have gotten more than one! So delicious that you took my cake when I was helping Mama Eve!”

-You ended your statement, making your accusation, pointing at him. Their eyes were wide as Loki was trying not to laugh, seeing that you were acting like the cop you’ve been watching on TV, with the monologues and all.

-Buddha leaned back, looking amused, looking down as he moved his own lollipop in his mouth, “Oh-ho~ and do you have any proof of this accusation?”

-You faltered, only for a moment, before speaking back, “Zeus said he saw you down by my room a few minutes ago. Why would you need to be down by my room when your room is on the other side of the house? Just admit it that you stole my cake and return Bartleby to me!”

-Buddha let his façade drop, confusion appearing on his face, “Bartleby, your cow?” you nodded, your eyes locked on him, “You hurt Bartleby, I found his stuffing at the crime scene! You took care of him when you took my cake so there would be no witnesses!”

-Loki was turning red, his hands over his mouth as he was hunched over, his ribs hurting as he was trying not to laugh.

-Brunnhilde then spoke up, playing along with you, “I can vouch for Buddha, he came to help me carry something from my room to the living room. You probably saw it, it’s the large empty box from the new dresser I got.”

-You turned, monologuing out loud again, “The dame’s right. I did see that box; it was big and full of the stuffing that people put in boxes with dressers. There’s no way she could have carried that on her own with how wide it was, and her room is past mine.” Brunnhilde’s eye twitched, hearing you call her a dame, as Loki tipped over backwards in his chair, unable to keep his laughter at bay any longer, roaring with laughter.

-Buddha smiled softly, kneeling down before you as you hit a dead end, putting a hand on your shoulder, “I swear to you Y/N, I didn’t take your cake. Remember when we got our cakes yesterday, we pinkie promised to not each other’s cake.”

-You looked down at your pinkie finger, remembering that promise well, and pinkie promises are something that can never be broken, “Well if you don’t have Bartleby or my cake, who does?”

-Brunnhilde, wanting to have a talk to the others about not letting you watch any more cop shows, just sighed softly, “Trying starting back at the scene of the crime. Maybe there’s something you missed.”

-You nodded softly before you tipped your hat to them, “Thank you miss, and thank you gentlemen.” Before you ran out of the room. Loki and Buddha were laughing loudly as Brunnhilde seemed exasperated.

-You didn’t make it back to the crime scene, but only a few steps out of the room when something caught your eye, stuffing on the ground, Bartleby’s stuffing.

-You fell to your hands and knees, “This is bad! Bartleby needs medical attention before it’s too late! But where is he?!” you left the stuffing there, returning only minutes later with a piece of folded paper, marking it as another clue.

-Back at your board of suspects, you crossed out several of the pictures using a red crayon, as you went over everyone, marking off who wasn’t home and who had alibies, like Eve, as she was with you.

-Odin was walking by when he stopped, seeing you crossing out Thor’s face, as he wasn’t home, “What are you doing Y/N?”

-You didn’t turn to him, instead answering with another monologue, “My list of suspects was dwindling. Each one seems to have an alibi, either they’re not home, or they have someone else who can vouch for them. Even the usual suspects seem to have clean hands. What am I missing?!” as you said this, your little fist hit against your board, for extra drama.

-Odin wasn’t sure what he was watching, seeing you playing out one of your little games, but it seemed more serious as he heard a snicker, looking down to see Loki recording you, “Someone stole Y/N’s fancy cake and took Bartleby, and Y/N’s on the case!”

-Odin just rolled his eye softly, “Y/N needs to stop watching those cop shows.” Loki just cackled softly, finding it amusing.

-You went down to the kitchen, looking distraught as you crawled onto a barstool, or at least you tried to, and Loki lifted you up before ducking back behind the corner, “Ignore me~” as he continued to film you.

-Apollo, who was getting himself something to drink, looked over at you as you sighed sadly, “Give me a double pal, on the rocks.” Apollo paused, hearing your words, before he couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing you pretending to be the hard-boiled detective you were always watching on TV.

-He slid over an apple juice box to you before pretending to clean a glass, like he was working in a bar, “Rough case?” you had been sipping it, but when he spoke you inhaled it quickly before slamming the empty box down on the counter, “I thought I had my man, but my cake is still missing and Bartleby, poor Bartleby- he’s out there, hurt! And I can’t find any clues leading me to my best buddy.”

-Apollo glanced over at Loki, who was holding his free hand to his mouth, like he was in shock. The sun god gave you a small smile, trying to be sympathetic to you, while also going along with your game, “Have you ruled out all your suspects?”

-You looked up at him, “There’s a few still left, I can’t find Lu Bu- Brunnhilde told me he was here, and I haven’t seen Jack or Zeus since the beginning of the case.”

-He handed you another apple juice, for the road, “Am I still a suspect Y/N?” you looked up at him, turning away from him, being dramatic, “Until I find Bartleby and my cake, I ain’t trusting no one.”

-Apollo fought hard not to laugh, holding his hand to his mouth as he doubled over, even more so when he saw Loki basically in the same situation.

-You wandered back towards your room, trying to think of anything you should have missed as you froze, seeing more fluff on the ground before you, fluff that wasn’t there before, meaning, “Whoever’s got my buddy is on the move!”

-You ran back to the kitchen, having finished your apple juice, throwing the empty box away, before running back to your room, grabbing another ‘evidence card’, marking it as you looked around the area, looking for any more clues.

-When you couldn’t find anything else, you felt the tears welling in your, feeling frustrated that you couldn’t solve this case!

-Loki, remaining back, held a hand over his mouth, trying not to cry, seeing you looking so upset, but he knew that you would get your man, eventually.

-You made it back to your room, rubbing angry tears from your eyes, as you looked at your suspect board, seeing who was left, trying to narrow things down a bit more, muttering to yourself quietly.

-You then froze, thinking about your show, “Of course! It all makes sense now! My cake and Bartleby went missing while I was helping Mama Eve, there was only a small window for the crime to happen. Buddha couldn’t take it because he was helping Brunnhilde move the box, but the one who put me on Buddha’s trail in the first place was none other than…”

-You ran out and Loki ran after you, not wanting to be left on a cliff hanger as you made it to the culprit’s room. You kicked the door, to kick it open before you quickly fell to the ground, whining about how your foot hurt.

-You quickly stood back up and opened the door, just a bit before you kicked it open, “ZEUS!!” the god in question flinched, holding your cake box in his hands, having just taken the last bite of it as his eyes went wide, seeing that you had caught him.

-You glared hard, pointing at him, “You knew that I was looking forward to that cake! You wanted one for yourself, but you weren’t willing to stand in line yesterday with me and Buddha for one, as that was the only way to get one! When you saw my cake alone, while I was helping Mama Eve, you thought it was the perfect crime, it would be easy! And you would have gotten away with it, if you didn’t try to pin the blame on someone else!”

-Zeus looked at Loki, hearing your monologue, “I think we need to stop letting Y/N watch those cop shows.”

-Zeus went to run, easily dodging around your short legs and went to run out when he ran into a solid chest, slamming hard into Buddha, who grinned, holding Zeus up from under his arms, “Not so fast there Zeusy, you need to pay for your crimes!!”

-Moments later everyone was in the living room, Zeus was tied up, pouting that he had been caught, as everyone, who was at home, minus Jack and Lu Bu, came down, seeing that you had caught your man.

-Brunnhilde and Adam both scolded Zeus for stealing from you, while Odin was a bit impressed that you solved the case, as Loki showed them all the video he had taken, at least after you visited him, Brunnhilde, and Buddha, showing your critical thinking skills.

-You were very upset that you wouldn’t be able to eat your anniversary cake, holding the empty box before you inhaled deeply, glaring slightly, “You took my cake, which I can overlook, I can get other cakes. But you hurt Bartleby and he’s still missing, now return my best friend before I make you sleep with the fishes with cement shoes!!”

-Okay it was unanimous, you weren’t going to be allowed to watch your cop show for a while, as Apollo, Buddha, and Loki were dying of laughter.

-Zeus gave you a grin, thinking your words were amusing, “I don’t have your cow, Y/N. All I took was the cake. I may have knocked him over when I was trying to sneak in and out, but I didn’t take him.”

-Your face fell, hearing this as you fell to your hands and knees, looking lost, you were sure that Zeus took Bartleby, so there would be no suspects, hurting him to keep him silent.

-Tears quickly filled your eyes, “But if you don’t have him, who does?! He’s hurt, he’s losing stuffing and without medical attention I’m going to lose my buddy! He’s got a wife and kids, with another on the way!!”

-Many tried not to laugh, knowing it wasn’t that serious, but to you it was, but Loki had his own hand over his mouth, tears welling in his eyes, fully invested in the story. Before you heard footsteps and you turned, seeing Lu Bu and Jack there.

-Your eyes went wide, your heart in your ears, as you saw Bartleby in Lu Bu’s hands, his head in one, and his body in the other. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and many shouted your name as you fell back, fainting.

-Once you were awake, sobbing in Loki’s arms who was crying as well, Eve was stitching your friend up carefully, Lu Bu confessed, “I was passing by your room, and I saw your cow on the ground. I know you get upset when he’s on the ground, so I went to pick him up. I didn’t know my own strength and I accidentally ripped him.”

-Jack, who was holding the sewing kit, nodded softly, “He’s telling the truth Y/N, he came to my room with Bartleby, asking for my help to fix it. I tried my best, but we needed more supplies, so we snuck around, trying to get him fixed before you found out, but in the end, we still needed help.”

-You sniffled softly, holding onto one of Lu Bu’s hands, “It was an accident, so I forgive you.” He seemed happy with your forgiveness, hugging you close before you turned to Eve, “Give it to me straight Doc, how’s my buddy? Will he be okay? Will he ever be able to play the violin again?!”

-More laughter filled the room as Eve couldn’t help but grin over at you, playing along, “It was touch and go there for a while, but he’s going to be just fine.”

-You beamed at her, and as soon as she was finished, she handed you Bartleby, and you hugged him close, “I’m glad to have you back, partner. You get your rest; I’ll be able to handle a few cases on my own.”

-Adam’s hand came down to rest on the top of your head, “Yeah… about that Y/N. You’re not allowed to watch any more of that cop show for a while.”

-You whined, demanding to know the reason, not thinking what you had done was anything wrong, which caused more laughter.

-Eve took Bartleby from you, promising to put him to bed, as Buddha picked you up, holding Zeus’ credit card, “You and I have a date to the bakery, on Zeus’ dime of course.”

-Zeus was yelling, “Hey! You can’t take that!!” Odin clapped a hand down on the Greek god’s shoulder, “They can and will. You took Y/N’s cake, so you can buy some new ones, and for this crime, you’re on dish duty for the rest of the week.”

-Zeus tried to fight this, as he hated dish duty, but everyone was in agreeance as you left with Buddha, looking forward to some new desserts, your reward for solving the case.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

"how do you kiss hard?" - ike eveland 2023

mike…

i swear i’m trying to do my requests i swear i swear it’s just that i keep hearing livers say things and that’s what gets the neurons firing for some reason

this entire fic is a joke if you know you know. and brother there's a lot to know

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship(?), ike is in a pretentious mood but dw about it, it’s literally just a page of making out with ike lol

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Between two pages of his book, Ike snorts. His mouth curves up, barely visible between the paper, amusement before his expertise can kick in. When it does, his brows knit together while that pitying smile remains. 

A hand rubs along the back of his shoulder while you look over it. “Someone’s being pretentious.”

Ike stifles his laugh this time. It sounds like he’s sniffing. “Can you blame me? This author has such a good mystery plot going on, but they write so many romance clichés it’s not even funny.” He scoots closer to you on the couch and points out the words. “Look at that. How do you ‘kiss hard?’”

“What, you haven’t kissed hard before?” You joke.

“Hard no.”

“Naaah, you’ve definitely done it before.”

“Really, now.” The book collapses on itself with Ike’s thumb marking his page. As he slides a bookmark in, he reflects your coy energy right back at you. “Care to elaborate?”

“Well, sure.” You slide next to him on the couch. Feeling a monologue coming along, Ike sets the book aside to give you his undivided attention, if not a little pompous. “A light kiss would be like this.”

It’s over as soon as it starts. You brush Ike’s messy, blue-toned hair out of the way so you can peck him on the forehead. The print of your lip eases the quirk out of his eyebrow. 

He flashes a smile, still trying to keep that pompous air up. “I know what a light kiss is.”

“Great job, honey. Proud of you.” His hair falls back into place as your hand trails down his face. It oscillates between the jawline and the sweetened apple of his cheeks, sprouting blossoms as your thumb presses along his skin. “Now here’s what a hard kiss feels like.”

‘Whiplash’ would be an apt name for it. The peck—the light kiss—it was tender, and in a way, how you took to Ike next was tender as well, encompassing and boiling along, unable to hold yourself back from pouring over. Ike squeaks. A tiny whimper under your churning, lost in the steam. He runs raw under your lips as you gnaw and writhe under his skin. An uncontrollable heat sprouts from your mouth, the breath of a dragon, along trails of gasoline and wet lips that set him alight. 

He whimpers again. The pressure is almost too much to bear, but how you clutch onto his shirt draws him back to your warmth. The fabric curls under your grasp, threatening to wrinkle, tugging on his shirt and exposing where his neck connects to collar and chest. Ike bends apart when you take the base of his neck and reach for his jaw again, just as greedy for reciprocation as you are for that uncovered skin. It must taste delicious underneath your lips. You want to see him jolt at the pressure and the teeth marks under a bite, turning an angry, lovey red that begs for more before he does. 

But that’s a kiss for later, and this is a hard kiss now, and if it wasn’t obvious before this isn’t his first. He clings to you by your hips, the rise and fall of his fishnets distinct under his hands, growing rougher as the seconds go by. If the mesh leaves marks on his palms, then they would match the smattering against his lips. You attack fiendishly. There is no tact nor methodology. Only the urge to take him apart, and leave him clueless as you meld along his circuits. Quick bites and glazed tongues pry him open with embers weaved between. 

Even with your warning the hard kiss took him by surprise, and now he recovers. What were once whimpers are now hidden moans between the open-mouthed kiss, but if you could hear them between the ruffling fabric and craving hands, that’s lost to you. It’s the lingering vibration deep in his throat instead that drives you to take him in further. You line his mouth with nips and prods, guiding him to lace his tongue through the corners, a needle to fabric stitched tight. 

Thready hands drag out from the curve of your hips and soak in the shelf along the small of your back. The tangle of limbs knit closer, then meet, then tumble out along the cushions of the couch. It doesn’t interrupt even as you readjust over him, sewing your body on top while he lays pinned underneath you, fluffy hair like a halo on the cushions of the couch with shivers down his spine and a slithering, satisfied sigh that shakes as he keeps you connected to his lips. 

Your shirt hem brushes along Ike’s knuckles as he squirms, slotting himself against you, stroking and savoring skin on skin. The rest of the shirt runs between his fingers as they splay out on your back. They crawl upward even as Ike’s eyes are sewn shut, committing each inch of skin and spine to memory while you’re all he can sense.

With your touch spread across him, Ike looks like ruin. You let go, but the collar of his shirt remains lopsided, and the way his collarbone connects to rounded shoulders steals your breath away. His hair is even messier than usual now that your fingers tousle through it.

Your tongue nurses over what syrupy pain you left behind. His lips are rubied under your glistening care. You bring him back to health with a thumb rubbing along his ear and the rest of your hand combing through ashy brown hair, candy on your tongue so addictive one hit couldn’t possibly be enough.

The seams come apart. Blearily, Ike’s eyes open; two strikes of green and gold shine under long, half-lidded lashes. With your mouths still pressed against each other, he’s so close you can see the subtle streaks of color in his eyes. The traces of disbelief and delight unrestrained.

In a final move, you purse your lips for one last taste. There’s a tiny smack in the air as your mouth separates from his.

Moving away is like swimming underwater. You push yourself up and get a good look at Ike as you come down, still pinned down with your arms on either side of his shoulders. His clothes are disheveled. 

The air is thick, not with tension, but rather the weight of the hard kiss. You can still feel your chest rise and small pants from Ike as the both of you regain your breath. “Get it now?” You ask. 

“Reader,” he says, out of breath but firm. “You know we’ve done this before.”

A smirk spreads across your face. “So I jogged your memory?”

“It never needed jogging in the first place.” He’s been pink this entire time, but now it seems like he’s shying away after all the heated kisses. He buries his head into a cushion that muffles his voice. “You know it was a style issue, right?”

“Hm?”

“It’s not like I didn’t know. It was just worded awkwardly in the book.”

The dots slowly connect. “The book. So…”

“‘Kissed really hard’,” Ike quotes. He laughs, and his uneven breaths make him sound all the more spellbound. “The author could’ve used so many better descriptors and settled on ‘kissed really hard’. That’s such a weak move.”

“Yeah.” 

“Passionate, sensual, helpless.” He ticks off as he raises his head. He kisses your neck, neither light nor hard. Something new to explore. “Debauched.”

“Uh-huh…” Your mind goes blank. There’s no reason for him to kiss you like this. It’s all on his own terms, because he wants to, and being the center of his attention now just because has you going woozy. You may have bitten off more than you can chew.

“Poor guy. Doesn’t have a clue on what we have.” Another pulse along your neck. Ike thumbs along your nape, a soothing gesture under short kisses growing rougher. He quotes the rest of the passage he showed you. “'Amy kissed Sonic so hard that he was thinking “Let's have sex” but he didn't say it because the teacher would show up by the time they started to have sex in History class. Sonic kissed back really hard and it was sexy to everyone.' I mean, seriously? His gay balls are the least of his problems.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi ✧. ┊lol sonic high school reference

[sleepy-gee]

mascara - vampire!gerard/human!reader┊ao3

Going out with a vampire wasn't easy. Especially because of their short tempers. (OR: vamp!gee accidentally hurts human!reader)

*minor tw for blood and nongraphic violence / read here on tumblr or on ao3 (link above ^^)

Time trickled slower than the blood that pooled from your cheek. Going out with a vampire wasn't easy. Especially because of their short tempers. They were feral, creatures born of pure primal rage and lust. Even the best, most caring had trouble controlling it. It's like dangling steak in front of a dog- You can tell them to sit and stay, praise and pet them however you want, but tease them long enough and they will snap. Especially when hungry.

You told him to hunt. Go and drain someone. You even offered yourself. But he said no. What kind of lover would he be if he drank from you? Accidentally turned you? Had too much? You didn't like the idea of him biting anyone, but you'd sacrifice yourself if necessary. Love is weird.

This, of course, led to the inevitable and routine fight. How he's dangerous, you knew what you were signing up for and should've run when you had the chance. The self pitying monologue that you've heard one too many times. And then came your routine response- How much you cared and how you were just worried about him. What kind of lover would you be if you left him, especially at a time like this? A pretty shitty one.

His bloodlust driven rage had reached a boiling point that night. He backed off, warning you that it wasn't safe. But when did you ever listen? You placed a gentle hand on his cold shoulder, trying to reassure him. Instinct took over and in a flash he had whipped around, sharp nails raking your cheek. Immediately, you fell back, cupping your wounded face with a look of horror. All rage he felt dissolved the moment he saw how scared you were. How scared you were of him. 

"H-Hey.. Hey, wait.." Gerard moved forward, equaling out the distance between the both of you. He placed a cold hand over your own, prying your blood slick fingers away to get a look at the damage he had done. If he could've cried, he would've. "I'm.. I'm so sorry. Oh, God.."

He bit his lip, letting go of your hand and allowing you to cup your injury again. "I'm.. I'm gonna fix this, okay? You're gonna be okay-"

"Gerard-"

"No, you're gonna be okay-"

"Gerard-"

"Don't." He snapped.

You flinched. Fuck. He placed his hand over yours again, cradling your bleeding cheek with all the love he could muster. "Just.. Don't. Let me. Please..?" After a moment of semi-panic and consideration, you nodded. "Good.." He clasped your free hand with his own, and pulled you towards the bathroom of your shared apartment, setting you on the counter.

He dug through the cabinets, frantically muttering "I can fix this" to himself as he located the first aid kit, and unzipped it. Human first aid wasn't something he had to consider or tend to in a long while, so it took him quite a bit to gather his thoughts. He turned back towards you, replacing the bloody hand on your cheek with a rag soaked in warm water. You could see his pupils dilate as he looked over the wound, trying so hard not to pounce. Part of you was ready to surrender. His charms had gotten past your defenses.

Once the bleeding had slowed down considerably, he set the rag aside and moved on to cleaning it with a bit of hand soap and water. You didn't know what hurt worse- How bad the wound stung, or how painful it was to watch him try and recover from his mistake. His fingers were shaking, eyebrows knitted together in desperate concentration. If he had a pulse, it'd be skyrocketing.

He bandaged the wound shortly after, a solemn look on his face. How could he have hurt you? The one thing he swore to never do? He was supposed to protect you, goddamnit-

Gerard opened his mouth, ready to let a million and one apologies slip from his stone cold lips.

You cut him off before he could even begin, voice breaking. "Don't."

[theres-a-body-here]

(male reader please!)

thinking about godfrey fucking the poor little tarnished warrior who thought that he could best him in combat :)

he’s been quite alone in the lands-between for a while now.. without the touch of another.. might as well take you to be his hunky concubine/body pillow :)

Godfrey x Male!reader

You probably should've put more levels into Vigor.

Maybe even Mind.

But nope. You put a majority of your runes into leveling intelligence.

And now you're pinned underneath the First Elden Lord. You glance to the right of you. Your Carian Regal Scepter lies just out of reach. You wonder if maybe you should've listened to Nepheli and gone with the max strength build. Damn. Maybe you could respec after you die. it's only been about 24 times you've been slain by this massive beast of a man. Hell, you've onl- and he's staring at you.

Actually.....you realize he's been staring at you the entire time you've been internally monologuing. Gods, he's large.

You try to squirm a bit. Yep. Completely trapped. You begin to wonder why he hasn't killed you yet.

As Godfrey's face loomed closer to yours, you could feel his hot breath on your skin. A shiver ran down your spine as he moved in toward your neck.

"What...What are you doing?" you stammered out, trying to squirm away from him.

Godfrey let out a deep chuckle. "Don't be afraid, Tarnished," he growled. "I simply haven't been with another for so long..."

With that, he pressed his lips against your neck and began to kiss and bite at the sensitive flesh there. Despite yourself, a moan of pleasure escaped from your lips.

You continued to struggle weakly against Godfrey, but his grip on you was too strong. He chuckled lightly as he felt you squirming beneath him.

"Relax yourself," he murmured into your ear. "I won't hurt you.....unless you wish for me to."

With that, Godfrey leaned in and began kissing and biting at your neck again. You could feel yourself growing more and more aroused with each passing moment, despite the fact that this was all so unexpected.

His lips found a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and he began to suck eagerly at the flesh there. Before long, he had left a bright red hickey on your skin -- one that would likely take days to fade away.

"Gods..." you breathed out, unable to resist any longer.

As Godfrey continued to lavish attention on your neck, you found yourself growing increasingly lightheaded. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine and making your blood boil with desire. You let out another moan.

"You sound like a lovesick maiden," he teased as he nipped at your collarbone. "Perhaps you would be better suited to being my consort rather than the new Elden Lord."

He chuckled darkly as he moved back down to your neck once more, tracing his tongue along the sensitive flesh there. You let out a moan of pleasure that was louder than before as sensations rippled through you.

"Such sweet music," Godfrey murmured against your skin. "I could listen to it all day."

"Mmmm...please," you choke out, unable to keep yourself from begging for more.

Godfrey let out a low growl as he continued biting and kissing at your neck. His hands roamed over your body, pulling at the straps of your armor and exposing more skin for him to attack. You hear some of the armor's strings ripping apart.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured against your skin. "I knew it...you were made for this."

You could feel yourself growing even more aroused at his words. It was true -- everything about Godfrey seemed to be designed to arouse you.

"I..." you began breathlessly, unsure of what else to say in the face of such overwhelming pleasure.

It wasn't before he tore away all of your clothing. You hiss as your hard cock is exposed to the cold air.

Godfrey's eyes roamed hungrily over your naked body as he chuckled darkly, taking in every inch of skin that was now on display. You felt incredibly vulnerable and exposed under his gaze, which seemed to strip you down to nothing more than the rawest essence of yourself.

"You're such a skinny and weak boy," he teased, tracing his fingertips lightly over your skin. "How do you expect to be able to handle everything that comes with being the new Elden Lord?"

Your cheeks burned red with embarrassment as Godfrey continued to taunt you. It was true -- compared to him, you were nothing but a weakling.

"I...I don't know," you stammered out weakly.

Godfrey let out a low growl as he leaned in closer, pressing his body against yours until you could feel the heat emanating off him like an inferno.

"Well, we'll just have to see if I can toughen you up then won't we?" He purred lowly into your ear.

You shuddered involuntarily at the sensation before letting out another moan.

Godfrey then backs off of you, you took a deep breath and braced yourself for what was to come. You could feel his gaze on your naked body as he began to work on removing his own loincloth and groin coverings.

"There's a good boy," he growled deeply in his throat. "You're not going anywhere, are you?"

Your face burned bright red at the suggestion that you might flee. To be honest, you weren't entirely certain whether or not that was what you wanted to do -- but for now, at least, there was no denying the overwhelming attraction that pulled you inexorably towards him.

"N-no," you stammered out weakly.

Godfrey let out a low chuckle as he finished undressing himself completely. His massive member sprang free from its confines and stood proud between his legs like some kind of wild beast leashed and ready to pounce upon its prey.

Out of nowhere, Godfrey pulled you towards him, it all happened so quickly that your mind barely had a chance to keep up. Before you knew it, you were astride him, with his massive manhood pressing against your skin as he lay under you.

He chuckled darkly as he looked up at you and saw the confusion written plainly on your face.

"Don't look so surprised," he growled in response to the expression on your face. "I'll let you be on top...this time."

You could see a small smirk spreading across his lips as he spoke those words -- clearly enjoying the idea of throwing a bone to someone whom he viewed as being decidedly beneath him.

His words made your cheeks burn bright red as you felt the unmistakable sensation of your cock rubbing against his bare chest. You groaned softly under your breath as pleasure rippled through you at the thought of there being "another time".

Godfrey let out another low laugh before reaching up to grab hold of your hips firmly, guiding them back and forth over his slick chest while making sure that it was getting stimulated in every possible way.

You whimpered as your cock rutted against him. Godfrey seems to like the sounds you make as he lets out a hum of approval.

As you kept rutting against Godfrey's chest, grinding your erect manhood over his skin with an intensity you had never felt before. You're lost in pleasure as he keeps touching you everywhere.

Suddenly something else came into play. You feel the hot and hard length of Godfrey's monstrous cock sliding between your ass cheeks, brushing against your puckered hole and making a low groaning noise grow louder in your throat. His hands tightened on your hips as he bucked up into you again and again, each thrust sending shivers down your spine.

You couldn't help but feel nervous as you felt the tip of Godfrey's massive cock pressing against your tight little asshole. You knew that this was going to hurt -- after all, he was so big compared to you, and you were still a virgin back there.

"Please…please be gentle," you begged in a soft voice, sounding more shy and vulnerable than ever before.

Godfrey let out another deep chuckle at your words before responding with a grin on his face. "I'll think about it," he growled darkly, clearly enjoying the power dynamic between the two of you.

As he began to push himself inside of you slowly and steadily though one thing became clear: He had no intention of being gentle at all.

Pain ripped through your body as Godfrey pushed into you inch by agonizing inch. Tears sprung to your eyes as wave after wave of excruciating agony washed over you, making it impossible for anything else beyond sheer raw pain take place.

Godfrey let out low grunts of pleasure as he powered his way deeper inside of your tightening ass cheeks. His grip on your hips tightened even further until it felt like they might snap under the pressure from his powerful fingers alone.

"You can handle more than that tarnished," he growled harshly as sweat dripped down onto both of their bodies from the effort.

You had barely even had a chance to brace yourself before Godfrey suddenly slammed his massive cock into you all the way with an almost brutal force. The pain was intense and overwhelming, causing you to cry out in agony as your entire body convulsed with the shock of it.

You tried to move up but he held your hips down, forcing you to take it as he chuckled darkly in pleasure at your expense. You were completely helpless beneath him, submitting to his every whim without any choice or say in the matter.

"That's it, good boy," he growled harshly into your ear as sweat dripped from both of their bodies. "Just lay there and take it like I know you can."

The pain was excruciating, but somehow you managed to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You tried to focus on anything else beyond the fiery ache that seemed to consume every fiber of your being.

Godfrey continued to thrust upwards into you, each powerful stroke sending new waves of agony rippling through your body. You could feel the sweat dripping from your body onto his chest as he pounded into you again and again.

You whimpered and moaned pathetically above him, unable to do anything except straddle him there and take it as he teased you with words that cut straight to the bone.

"I thought you wanted to become Elden Lord," he sneered in a raspy voice, clearly enjoying every moment of your torment. "Is this all it takes to break a weakling like yourself?"

You felt embarrassed by the words spilling from his lips but were powerless to do anything other than take it all as he ravaged your body with wild abandon. Every part of you tingled with pleasure that mingled with pain in ways that left you shaking uncontrollably.

As Godfrey continued to pound into you, you were surprised when he suddenly pulled you down onto his chest and began to fuck you even faster than before. Despite the insults and brutality that had gone before, it seemed as though he was claiming ownership over your body -- something that left you feeling both confused and aroused in equal measure.

"That's right," he growled darkly in pleasure beneath his breath. "You're mine now...all of you. I did say you'd do better as my consort."

You whimpered pitifully at Godfrey's words, your mind racing as you tried to keep up with the onslaught of sensations coursing through your body. The thought of being this massive man's consort made your cock throb as it rutted against his chest.

Without warning, Godfrey began to pump your stiff member in time with each deep thrust into your tender holes, sending waves of pleasure rippling down through every nerve ending in your body. You gasped for breath as pleasure and pain merged together into one overwhelming force that threatened to consume you completely.

"Fuck...I'm so close," Godfrey groaned in pleasure as sweat dripped down both of your bodies. "Can't hold back much longer..."

"That's it," Godfrey growled darkly as sweat dripped from his face onto the ground. "Let yourself go...submit to me completely."

His hand on your cock got faster, synched perfectly with the pace of his own thrusts. Pleasure coiled tightly inside you like a snake about to strike.

You were barely able to catch your breath as he bucked harder, plunging himself deep inside your body in one final push that sent shivers cascading through every nerve ending in your body.

Finally, with a low guttural moan, Godfrey exploded inside you -- coating your walls with his warm seed while making sure that every inch of himself was buried deep within your tight little hole.

You let out a low guttural moan at the feeling of the former first Elden Lord breeding you. Hot spurts exploded from the tip of your cock and onto his chest as wave after wave of pure ecstasy pulsed through every part of your being, leaving you spent and exhausted but ultimately satisfied beyond belief.

Godfrey lays on his back breathing heavily. You thought it might be a good time to make your escape, but before you can form a plan Godfrey wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you in close.

You open your mouth to demand he lets go but you hear him start to snore softly against your ear. A sense of relief washes over you, but then quickly transforms into embarrassment as you realize that his cock is still inside of your sore little hole.

You whimper pitifully at the feeling of him filling every inch of your tender walls, unable to do anything except lay there caged within his powerful frame. You have no choice but to remain there against Godfrey's sleeping form, staring at his chiseled features and muscular body as his snores reverberate throughout your own exhausted frame. He was pretty sexy when he wasn't brutalizing you, you admit to yourself begrudgingly.

You let out a long sigh.

"I hope Marika likes sharing"

[nekrosdolly]

isolation

you and your beloved albert talk it out after an argument.

cw; baking, arguments, slight spousal neglect, albert is emotionally inept and always wants to be right, minor injury, albert wesker doesn't enjoy sweet things, reader likes to bake, reader is pissed off for most, if not all, of this, hurt/minor comfort, mentions of divorce, minor gaslighting, empathy discovery like WHOAAA, soft re4 wesker, .

pet names; darling, dearest (reader receives)

a/n; i really don't like this one if i'm honest but i need to force myself to write to keep my creativity going :/

you're upset. you and albert had a fight before he left for work and in typical albert fashion, he's ignoring the problem, which is how much time he spends at the lab. you know he loves you, so why do you seem like an afterthought most of the time?

now, you've been with him long enough to know that by the end of the day, when he's done at the lab, he'll try to sweet-talk his way out of really talking about the issue. it's annoying, truthfully. nothing gets resolved unless it's bothering him, too, and most of the time, it doesn't. 

you're baking your frustration out as he's just coming home. given that he's boiled you down to just a stay-at-home partner, you have nothing to do but do housework, and thus, nobody to talk to but yourself. when you're buried within your conscience like you have been, your emotions fester. 

like normal, he walks through the front door, takes his shoes off as well as his outercoat and sets them aside before scouting for you. 

"darling?" he calls out, first checking your bedroom and then the living room, before finally coming across you in the kitchen. he smiles softly at you as he approaches, his cold arms wrapping around your waist from behind. he presses a kiss to your neck as usual.

"i missed you today, dearest," he murmurs, watching as you brush eggwash onto the pastry you're baking. you'll be the only one to eat what you're making, given that your husband can't handle sweets the way you can. 

"yeah." you're unenthusiastic. you're still mad. he's pissing you off even more just by touching you and acting like nothing's wrong. he doesn't like your tone but brushes it off and gives you another peck. he senses your irritation and gives you a little squeeze.

"come now, darling, don't be so sour. " he sighs, resting his chin atop your head. you don't respond. instead, you turn to face him with the brush containing eggwash in your right hand tucked behind your back. using your left, you cup his face and lean in to kiss him, wearing a faux smile. he smiles softly, thinking you'd come around already.

he should've known better. he realizes that the moment the very sloppy and wet brush makes contact with his cheek, then right over his mouth. frozen, he stares at you. the eggwash is cold and wet and very unpleasantly viscous on his face.

"why did you do that?" he asks after rebooting his brain, blinking owlishly at you. he's yet to wipe his face off. the yellow-tinted liquid slowly dribbles down his face and gets into his mouth when he speaks.

you shrug and return to your pastries. all you really need to do is let them bake. albert walks to the sink and washes his face off of the eggwash, also spitting to get the flavor out. he dries his face off on his sleeve and keeps his distance as you put the tray of chocolate croissants in the oven and set a timer. 

it's not that he doesn't know what he's done wrong, it's more of how he's to address the situation. you typically let it go, which was his goal, but you're still upset. as if that was hard to tell by any means. you leave the kitchen, and thus abandoning him with his inner monologue. he notes the dishes in the sink from your baking escapade and decides there's nothing better to do than clean them while sorting his thoughts out.

he nicks himself on the knife you used for the dough once or twice because he's deep in thought. a human thing for him to do, but that's what you bring out in him- humanity. if he didn't love you, you'd be dead or a test subject. he sighs softly, dabs the blood off his hands with a paper towel nearby, and decides to finish the dishes later, even though the sink nearly full irritates him greatly. 

he instead decides to seek you out. if you're this mad, he should at least try to resolve the issue, right? finding you isn't difficult, you didn't go very far so you could check up on your croissants. you'd hate to mess them up.

he slides on the couch beside you with as much silence as he can manage, his phone out and in his hand to pretend like he's checking his messages (looking through his contacts), his arm along the back of the couch. he's quite literally just a space away but you're wired, like a caged animal, and he's not pushing his luck. every now and then, he looks over at you.

"what is it?" you ask, not sparing him a glance. you stare straight ahead at the wall across from you. 

"you're upset." he sets his phone aside.

"right." 

"why-"

you ache to slam your head against the wall as you cut him off. "if you've forgotten our argument this morning, then im afraid that's your own fault."

"right. okay." he runs his thumb over his lower lip in habit. it's very obvious to him (and likely anyone else) that you're tired of his shit. thoroughly fed up. you've been together nearly two years and nothing's changed, has it?

no. 

you turn your head to look at him. "is that all you have to say? genuinely? just "okay"?"

"what would you like me to say?" he furrows his eyebrows

you scoff. he can't be serious. "maybe that you're sorry? would that be so difficult for you? to admit that you're wrong for once?"

he's silent this time, calculating his response to have the best outcome. the last thing he wants is a divorce. he slips his glasses off and sets them aside, his free hand running through his hair

"im sorry," he starts, and you feel a little bit of reprieve, "that you feel that way."

not the best apology you've ever heard. definitely some room for improvement.

"what else are you sorry for?" you prompt, crossing your arms over your chest. he shifts in his seat, his elbows on his knees. 

"... i suppose i'm sorry for keeping you so couped up in here. i know how it feels and yet, despite that, i've done it anyway." his hand finds your knee and gently squeezes. his cheeks are red and you've succeeded in making him somewhat ashamed for being mean to you.

your hand on top of his, you give him a soft smile. "i accept your apology. you're forgiven." 

he nods, but his blush doesn't leave. it's like he's discovering empathy for the first time... 

instead of saying anything else, he scoots close to you and drapes himself over you. a soft chuckle escapes you as he remains quiet and unable to look at you. he drips neediness, the want for your love, as he feels bad for making you feel bad.

you give it to him, of course. it's not like you to deny him too much. gentle, warm fingers running through slightly stiff, gelled platinum hair. he doesn't care that you're messing it up, just that you're home and you're okay now. you're not mad at him anymore, you're not going to leave him because he's arrogant and mean.

"im a mean guy, aren't i?" he mumbles, still unable to meet your eyes.

"yes, you are. like a wet cat, honey." the slight smile in your voice is too audible and while he knows you're teasing him, he feels bad. he nods and kisses your temple.

"but i love you. you're my wet cat." a half-smile forms on his lips, which you turn your head to kiss.

"i love you as well."

[hibiscusel]

it’s upsetting to me that despite setting up each league member to have a specific and beautiful depiction of the ignorances of hero society in their own way, the story never really considers their words at all in making change for the betterment of said society. these are my thoughts regarding the conclusion of the villains, by each character…

shigaraki’s entire character boils down to the fundamental message of society, both heroes and civilians, ignoring the downtrodden who are in dire need of saving, just because it’s inconvenient for them. shigaraki represents those downtrodden people - the neglected children, the poor, the desperate. he represents that criminals are made, not born. yet, despite the beautiful set up we had with his entire being paralleling izuku’s, his monologue during his fight with endeavour, and him deliberately stating he needs to be a hero for the villains, this is just thrown to the side in the end. izuku didn’t save anything when it came to shigaraki even though he vowed to do so when nana shimura asked him if he had the ability to kill her grandson. he said he wouldn’t, but that’s what happened in the end, isn’t it? was the crying child within him who dreamed of being a hero not enough to communicate his humanity to the heroes? in the end he was just a small boy, remaining neglected by the people who were meant to hold his hands and save him. he didn’t even get to reconnect with the other league members - his dear family, in the end. kurogiri had said, his friends were waiting for him.

toga represented the rejection of people with unconventional quirks and how she’s punished for just being who she is. she can’t help who she is. in the bnha society, since her quirk isn’t glamorous or conventional, she is looked down upon and immediately labelled inherently evil for acting upon her desires. nobody in her previous life tried to understand her, not even her parents, as they resorted to counselling in hopes of suppressing her over helping her. and yes, ochako did understand her in the end which can somewhat serve as closure for toga because her love was returned, it’s still unfortunate that only ochako will understand her and nobody else. society will go on judging people with said unconventional quirks without hesitation, not taking the time to understand how hard it is to be shunned over something out of your control.

speaking of the view of differing quirks, it brings us now to spinner and his mini-arc of fighting for the visibility and acceptance of heteromorphs. we literally see the existence of cult groups in the story that are against the existence of heteromorphs in society because of their appearance. my complaints are mainly directed at horikoshi for fumbling the concept of discrimination and fighting for the liberation of the oppressed, especially since it directly reflects concepts of racism, colourism, and alienation in real life. although, i would be lying to say it isn’t a somewhat realistic depiction of how fighting for rights is widely frowned upon. in order to make change come about, society must be disrupted. that is exactly what spinner did in the end, and was met with shoji and koda telling him he must sit and wait peacefully for change to come about - which we all know does nothing in the long run. it’s so upsetting to me that spinner, the one who is undoubtedly the closest to shigaraki within the league, had the outcome he did. he had so much compassion for his cause in bringing about stain’s will, and it just hurts seeing his moment watered down to his nomufication and demonization of the heteromorph revolution.

then of course, is dabi. his entire drive was to prove how terrible of a person endeavor is, and how contradictory it is that someone like him saves people for a living. dabi is an embodiment of all of endeavor’s sins, coming back to put him in his place. however, in dabi’s conclusion with all his family members being there when he nearly combusted, endeavor’s words of atonement (i’m using this word very lightly because what really did he atone for anyways) will never be heard by the greater society. all the civilians will understand is that endeavor brought down his estranged villain son. people will most likely move on from the fact that he abused his family in order to focus on his ‘bringing down’ of dabi (which honestly was all on shoto’s part) and ultimately saving the day. people will not take dabi’s existence as a catalyst for critical thought into who exactly they call heroes and question the integrity of heroes - what are the kind of people that save them.

speaking of questioning the integrity of heroes, this leads into stain. i don’t have too much to say about him but i think it was stupid to just have afo kill him. he wasn’t a villain, he was a vigilante. i think it was such a waste of his character to just have him show up in the story, get jailed, and then have one interaction with all might. i feel he could’ve done so much more with communicating his cause to society, and in reaching regular civilians rather than sparking a flame in the hearts of some villains such as spinner. what a shame. what a waste.

also, i want to mention twice. i loved twice so much, he definitely stuck with me. i thought the concept of “all it takes is one bad day” was such a perfect thing to include for a villain character. his entire life was changed for the worse over a motorcycle accident when he was a teenager. though living in his loneliness which was ultimately destroying him, he had met the league. the members of the league, especially toga, served not as a stepping stone to use and swing his life around in that way, but simply as friends. a family, that he found a place in despite everything else that had gone wrong for him. he had this one thing going for him, and he was abruptly torn away from it with the touch of a feather. he wasn’t even asking for much, he had just found his people - his place in the society that rejected him over a very human mistake, where he could live as himself. and to top it all off because apparently that wasn’t bad enough, shigaraki doesn’t even know he died - and if he did, there was nothing shown for it. another fumble by horikoshi.

tldr; what pains me the most in all of this, is that not only are all the league’s reasons for fighting wholly overlooked by the heroes, but none of what they stood for is going to be considered in the end for reconstructing a just society. their words, their pains, and their dreams are all going to be brushed aside in preference for society simply celebrating their deaths and incarceration. because in the end, all the humanity within themselves that they bared to the world in their fight is going to amount to nothing to people who just wanted them gone. nobody is there to mourn them.

and it hurts so bad.

[gayofthefae]

[shorter version of this basically if you want, also linked at the end if you want to read it as well]

Here's the thing though: Will didn't directly quote El and he never claimed to.

No matter if she said the heart line or not, to his claim, everything was more described as something he observed in her, the "different" section even being informed by his own experiences for him to be able to identify even within the idea of his lie. He didn't say "here's a whole monologue......end quote, -El". He said, "she asked me to make this and this is what it means, now here is my positive opinion and insight into the situation to bring you comfort".

No matter whether she told Will all that or not, at the end of the day, to us and more importantly to, Mike. It WAS Will talking. You passing along information is still you talking.

And, oh, doesn't it hurt. And, oh, doesn't it make you fall SO hard...the way that, yes, he's telling you your girlfriend loves you, but only he would say it that way.

Will is saying that El loves Mike but he's saying it in such a Will way. He's waxing poetry about how EL loves Mike but Mike is sitting there in aw and pain just going "I love a good poet".

Will thinks Mike is in love with the type of person to need him. But he is in love with the type of person to make him feel needed. No matter how you spin it, that's Will. Will made him feel needed by telling him about El, but WILL still made him feel needed because Will is the type of person to think of saying that. Even within the truth, only Will would come up with telling him that and make the choice to pass that information along and phrase it exactly the way he needed to hear, because you can phrase validating information in a way that makes it not work.

There's the Cyrano "Mike doesn't love El he loves the person who gave him the painting" argument. But there's also the self-aware "Mike doesn't love the person who needs him, he loves the person who knew to say it". which is something he would know now.

It doesn't matter if he believes him or not because it isn't about the information. This season is about Mike falling for Will as he supports and validates him through his struggles. Before it was a few lines at a time, but here, it's grown to the point of Will responding to his self deprecation with a full speech, all just to make him feel better.

It isn't about the content. Mike is teetering over the edge every time Will forgives him, every time Will validates and supports him as he talks about the same relationship they fought about days ago, because that's just the type of person Will is. It's the concept. So this moment, the moment when Will hears Mike insulting himself and pulls out every stop he has in his book to convince him out of it, is what finally makes him take the final plunge and fall.

And maybe one of the stops he pulled out was the fact that El told him how much she loved Mike. It doesn't matter if it's the truth. Nothing matters but that Will was the one who did it.

El had the painting made as a sweet, romantic gift because she missed him, but that's more in line with the flowers he gave her. Will was the one who knew how to use it. He IS in love with the person who gave it to him and NOT the person who had it made, because the person who gave it to him is the one who made it mean so much more.

When I look at this face, I see "you did this for me".

Will lied, Will told the truth, El made the painting, Will made the painting, who needs Mike? It's all much simpler than that. It boils down to all things that Mike already knows: He was sad. Will immediately and passionately did everything in his power to make him feel better, validating him and continued to talk until he ensured that Mike felt like enough. Because that's the type of person Will is.

Mike is already in love with Will and he knows it, regardless of him lying, because he never cared about the lie in the first place. He is in love with the fact that Will told him. And he is goddamn far gone because Will is sitting there telling him "El is in love with you" and he is sitting there thinking "You are so kind for telling me that, this is why I'm in love with you".

I just realized. It's just show vs tell again. El told Will (supposedly). Will showed Mike.

[noahmullariii]

a much too whiny rant about fic icks

I die a little every time pup, cub or Prongslet comes up in a wolfstar raising Harry (together or separately) fic. especially cub - it makes literally no sense????? are you sure it's Remus John Lupin I'm reading about??? it's his evil doppelganger, I'm telling you. I'm not even sure I could stomach that word ironically.

Prongslet is fine in moderation, I guess, but only as an inside joke, only coming from Sirius and only when Harry's a smol bean. but when it's Prisoner of Azkaban compliant I wanna claw my eyes out.

it's even worse when those terms are used not just in dialogue but in Remus or Sirius' internal monologue as if pup and cub are Harry's freaking pronouns or something. my cub, my pup, cub did this, pup did that... just call him boy or kid or his name for god's sake. I once saw sprog pop up and was delighted cuz at least it's actually british slang.

and don't get me started on Hadrian(us) James Orion Potter-Black (which is just... why the fuck would James give his son the name of his best mate's horrible father AND the last name of his horrible family?? and why would Lily agree to that?) who's simultaneously Lord Potter, Black, Peverell and Slytherin (and, sure, I have a visceral reaction to aristocracy wank in general but even ignoring that - the last 3 literally make no sense since "Lord Black" is Sirius until his death; and both Peverell and Slytherin lines bled into other families ages ago. so being a Potter automatically means you're descended from Peverells as well as being a Gaunt - from Slytherin. and the last of those is Tom Riddle Jr. but that wouldn't make any Potters "Lord Peverell"s or any Gaunts/Riddle "Lord Slytherin"s. those last names are dead. smh).

but, uh, this tangent technically has nothing to do with my initial complaints, it's just that at some point I started thinking of this naming stuff in tandem with nonsensical nicknames as they began appearing in fics together. which is a double homicide, truly.

and look, I definitely understand the desire to make Harry's original name something else cuz it fits nicely with POC Potters headcanon and Dursleys being racist dicks about it, but... Hadrian? I mean, it's not really a big deal when the fic mentions it being his full name but both narration and characters still refer to him as Harry for short - that makes total sense. however when after the name reveal Hadrian replaces Harry completely, it feels super weird and uncanny, making it hard to identify Harry's character in the story altogether.

although I guess you should all knock me off my high horse for being the biggest hypocrite ever, cuz I myself have a headcanon for Harry's name, even if it's less elaborate than Hadrian. also less Roman? that's another thing I don't get - if you want to create a better connection between Harry and his roots, why choose a name of a Roman emperor for a desi kid? since he's usually explicitly desi in all the Hadrian fics. so it's not that I have a problem with renaming him, per se, I just don't understand the choice of Hadrian.

for example, I recently read a fic where he was Pakistani and his name was originally Hami, which is a very nice idea, actually, and makes total sense for such headcanon. mine is Hari btw (हरि in Sanskrit), since I headcanon Potters as Indian, but I didn't come up with that name myself - just saw it somewhere a couple years ago and fell in love. I think it's actually a pretty popular hc now? anyway, it's closer to Harry than any other name I've seen and has so many beautiful meanings that resonate with what I think James and Lily felt towards their son. so yeah, I'm one to talk, boo me.

now, I probably should shut up since this rant has been entirely too negative already, but while I'm on the topic of icky names/nicknames I should circle back to wolfstar cuz gods know I'll never be brave enough to talk about this particular pet peeve in its own post.

Siri, Remu and Remy make my blood boil. Siri could be kinda cute when it's a silly childhood nickname from Regulus, but if any marauder or Lily calls Sirius that - immediate death. Si and Re are a teensy bit better in moderation and if used ironically, but still stab me in the chest. a couple times for good measure. the only somewhat acceptable short form of any of their two names for me is Rem, albeit with a stretch and only because it's an actual version of the name Remus in Catalan and Russian. I know I'm being way too dramatic about this (just like with all of my previous points) but I just don't understand the need to shorten their names. at all. they're only 3 and 2 syllables long and so mystical on their own that any shortening just makes them simultaneously more nonsensical and less remarkable.

both characters literally have established quirky nicknames in canon that you can play with and even shorten to Pads and Moons if you want. Sirius is not a digital assistant and Remus is not the main character from Ratatouille. stop this madness.

plus James is right there. his name has a ridiculous amount of diminutives - Jamie, Jimmy, Jim, Jam, Jem, Jay and even Jimbo if you're into that. why strip Remus and Sirius' magical names of their charm if you can have fun with common names? but I digress.

at the end of the day, my pet peeves are mine only and I should live with them in fragile peace. this post is a personal rant first and foremost and if you disagree, I'm genuinely happy that you enjoy the things I can't. fandom is a playground and we can all find some fun in different corners. I'd also like to point out that I'm not trying to take a jab at fic writers who use any of the aforementioned terms, names or diminutives. I'm only one person, so if I stop reading your work because of my petty biases, it's only my loss and not your problem. hundreds of other fans will enjoy it instead. so keep doing what you love and writing those characters however you want, it's your right!

so yeah, writers and readers - don't take it personally and have your fun! don't listen to me being mean! I'm just making my fandom experience way too convoluted for my own good.

[youngroyals-hc]

The meeting between Simon, Wille, Linda, Jan Olof and Minou finished 5 minutes ago, and Wille all but yanked Simon out of the room towards his bedroom. Gone was the quiet easiness from when they had been in there just hours before; now Wille was furious, face tight and hands clenched into fists. He closes the door hard, not quite slamming it but getting close, immediately walking towards the window then pacing back to his bed. Simon hovers by the door, watching his boyfriend stalk around the room cautiously. Eventually Wille looks up at Simon and wilts, stopping in his tracks and letting his shoulders fall away from his ears. Simon walks over to him, gently taking his wrists and unfurling his fingers, lacing them with his and pulling them between their chests.

"Sorry, Simon. I know I shouldn't get so mad but, fucking hell they piss me off so much. How can they ask so much of you! Of your mama! They're just doing this to mess with-"

"Wille," Simon says steadily.

The prince quickly looks up to his lover's gaze, and once again he melts, meek and sheepish from letting his anger boil up again.

"I knew this would be difficult, and that they would ask things that I really didn't want to do. But Wille, you have to understand that I know all that and I still choose to love you. You can't change who you are, just as much as I can't change who I am. And I choose you, all of you. Not just Wille, but also Kronprins Wilhelm, because I love you, and I know that you hate being who you are and what they expect from you. If you didn't, I wouldn't love you. So, yeah, they're being shitty and stubborn. But we can be stubborn right back. They don't even know how annoying I can be when I put my mind to it."

Wille just stares right into Simon's soul as he monologues, in that intense way that makes many people uncomfortable but that Simon absolutely loves. He stays quiet for a while, before a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

"What is it my love?" Simon asks gently.

"You sure can be annoying when you want to be, so I guess I believe you," Wille chuckles and Simon smacks his shoulder.

"I say all this, and that's all you can respond with!"

Wille cracks into laughter and pulls Simon into his chest, kissing his head where it buries into his neck.

"You know I'm only teasing Simmeeeee."

"You better be," Simon grumbled into his skin.

Wille pulls back, tilting his boyfriend's chin upwards and placing a searing kiss on his pouting lips.

"I will choose you always, Simon. Whatever I can do to make it easier for you to keep choosing me, I will make it happen. I'll fire every annoying aide in this palace if I have to. I'm not going to fuck up and lose you again, and I'm not going to ask you to do anything to change who you are," Wille says, lips only centimetres away from Simon's.

Now it was Simon's turn to melt, hands curling into his boyfriend's hair to pull him back to his lips.

"Jag älskar dig, Simon," Wille whispers against his lips, and Simon knows then that no matter what, they would be okay.

[ratatatastic]

no taking late digs at bobby which means scrum time! and ofc the only way to engage a scrum in style is with a booty bump

no matthew trying to fight two guys will never get old also erod ALSO trying to engage two guys really adds to the hilarity considering this man cant fight for shit so really we've got two flailing deadweights here which is why forsy comes to the rescue to neutralise the threat

also mika (not a fighter) going to pick erod and immediately gets pulled away by benny is something i could not make up even if i tried

there is something sooooo about chris picking off ekky from trouba and the ensuing scuffles the happens like what kinda slumber party slapfest am i watching rn (remember this, this will be important not even 20 seconds after this in the next fo where ekky bumps chris after a false jump and chris wacks ekky on the shins so hard he falters we love when tensions boil over)

you know if i was a bad fighter i too would try to seduce my opponent by holding on to them until they looked at me properly so i could smile at them and charm them with my goofy charisma fully well knowing they tried to assassinate me not even 2 days ago because the sweetest revenge is not the one where i punch them in the face but the one where i made them smile because i might actually be a likeable person to them and there is nothing worse than considering a foe even remotely likeable

or so i believe is erods monologue or whatever just a guess

new york rangers @ florida panthers game 4 | 5.28.24

[wolfstarhaven]

Do you want to read something that makes you forget you’re reading? Something so lyrical it makes you catch your breath? Here you are then! This is my appreciation post for some bloody talented writers in the Wolfstar fandom!❤️‍🔥

NB: This is my personal list. And holy moly have I spent a lot of time making this list, but there’s no way I can fit all writers I love in one list. There are so many other incredible writers out there! Furthermore, this list does not intend to bring light to lesser-known writers. I know that this list contains quite a few pretty well-known writers within this fandom, but that’s how it is—please don’t come at me! This is simply a list of writers that I, personally, love. Capiche?

accioromulus

(@accioromulus) accioromulus is an old favourite of mine; I can’t even imagine me being in this fandom if it weren’t for them. Writer of my two favourite fics: Hard to find, and Impossible Things. Their writing is just so soft. So beautiful. So all-consuming. I want to live in their writing and never leave!

“Sirius?” Says Remus, quiet. His fingers curl ever-so-slightly into the hair at the back of Sirius’s neck, and Sirius shivers. “What are you doing?”

The pale sunlight is creeping across the kitchen, lazy and gentle, but every inch of Sirius is on fire. Remus’s lips are parted, his chest rising and falling, and Sirius thinks about Remus’s skin under his mouth.

“I don’t know,” Sirius admits, voice ragged. “I don’t know.”

Montparnasse

(@montpahrnah) The god of the wolfstar fandom. This is probably no news for you, but of course they had to be included in this list! Their prose is like a literary orgasm. My favourite fic of theirs is Elucidation Practice, but everything they’ve written is beautiful. To give a taste:

They’re a natural disaster of hands and mouths and hips all the way to Sirius’s bedroom, clumsy pathfinders tearing ineffectually at clothes and shoving each other into walls, Remus’s fingers drumming up Sirius’s ribs like counting the bricks in Diagon Alley, 1-2-3, 3-2-1, taking altogether a very long time about getting anywhere

Aeridi0nis

(@aeridi0nis), writer of fics such as in lieu of beaujolais, station to station, and for your pleasure—all of which are wonderful! Their writing is clever, witty, and beautiful. Ridi has a magical way of writing inner monologues that always has me laughing! They also have a way of making me cry…

“But the answer is this: the answer is that Remus still (still – that precious little word) keeps his toothbrush with Sirius’. His mugs are still in their sink, half-drained and bitter and material, and all of it is still theirs: this place, this mess. Remus is still here. Still, still, still.“

MizDiz

MizDiz made me believe in magic, in Everything's Connected—more than the Harry Potter books ever did. (I’m actually not even really kidding. I finished it reeaallly late one night, and pretty much convinced myself that magic exists, that everything’s connected). Their writing is just that: magical.

“ All of it,” he says, turning his gaze out across the grounds. “Everything in the world—in the Universe—it’s all energy. We’re nothing but energy, and sometimes I can...feel it? I can feel it, almost like a vibration thrumming through my body, and in those moments I can’t see borders anymore. I no longer see objects, I just see pure vitality. And it’s when everything is as one that I can do anything I want.”

Orestesfasting

(@newsom) Another classic writer, having written the masterpieces Light in August, and Born under Punches. Their writing is so incredibly soft, like a summer breeze, like a tender touch. Orestefasting is a gift to this fandom.

The truth is that he’s kept this love on the back burner of his heart for so many years that he’s grown accustomed to the smell and can sometimes almost ignore it completely. He likes to think he’s made peace with the fact that he’ll never know what it tastes like. Still there are times when the pot boils over and it’s like he can feel it physically, the bubbling in his chest, cooking his insides and threatening to surge up his esophagus and out his mouth, scalding everything within its reach

Templeg

The softness. The sweet angst. And sometimes a touch of comedy. Brilliant! Brilliant! Brilliant! Writer of the wonderful: Our Blood, Still Young. Masterpiece!

‘Look’, says Sirius, ‘it isn’t as if- It’s not like this has never happened before, historically. Between, you know, mates. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean anything. When I was thirteen I rubbed one off on my bedpost.’ Remus chokes. ‘It doesn’t mean I have feelings for the bedpost. It doesn’t mean I ever had feelings for the bedpost, plus, you know, splinters-’

            ‘OK, STOP’, yelps Remus. ‘Am I a bedpost in this scenario?’

wholesome_gay

( @moonynpadfootforever ), wholesome_gay has given so much to this fandom, in the most beautiful ways. My personal favourite of theirs is the beasts of wanting, but they have written other fics that are incredible as well. Their prose is quite simple, and it goes straight into your heart. Oh, I just love them.

He could see his own breath, and Sirius’s: ephemeral clouds that dissipated before having the chance to touch.

Sirius tucked the cigarette away in his jacket and tapped his fingers on the leg of his jeans. 

“You know I’d do anything for you, right, Moony?”

Sreka

(@smodernlife), Oh, my beloved Sreka. Master of AUs, characterisations, and just. everything. (such as: Au Pif).

And anyways, just because Sirius was engaging and gorgeous and funny and seemed genuinely interested in what Remus had to say, he was still getting married . Remus had a business to run and didn’t have time to do little favors for any pretty boy who batted his eyelashes at him. 

He inhaled deeply, looked into Sirus’s beautiful, earnest, gray eyes and answered.

“Yeah, absolutely.” 

Wanderingburrundia

(@wanderingbandurria) V always manages to amaze me, especially with their incredible AUs. Nobody does AUs quite like them - it really is like stepping in to another world! (e.g. The Delegate)

He knew that nothing he could say would convince Remo, so he just kissed him firmly, and let Remo cradle his face between his hands, firmly, and undo him completely.

It already tasted like his heart breaking, and yet - even though he wanted to cry, to scream, to beg - all he could do was hang onto Remo’s body and breathe close to his neck, wishing for something, anything, that told him how to keep Remo by his side.

eyra

(@eyra) I loooved the writing in Hollow Places, and I don’t think I’ve ever smiled as much as I did while reading Beneath a Big Blue Sky. And of course, who wouldn’t sell their soul for A Brief History of Dragons? So naturally Eyra needs to be on this list. Their writing is spectacular! Whenever I read their fics I instantly want to move to Yorkshire. Right. Now.

“Your its mum now, Sirius," Remus says quietly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a soft smile. "Don't let it down."

And for some reason, at that, Sirius feels his throat grow a little tight. The lamb squirms a little in his arms, apparently trying to clamber higher on Sirius's chest to then - and drawing a chuckle from Remus - nose noisily at his hair hanging loose around his shoulders. Sirius smiles, shrugging his shoulder as the lamb's nose tickles at the side of his neck, still sniffing away and taking fine strands of hair between its gummy little lips.

Xylodemon

(@xylodemon) Writer of many wonderful wolfstar fics! I mean, just the sheer number of fics they’ve written for this fandom - it’s unbelievable! And you can always count on quality writing—and be prepared to laugh! It takes some skill to write something so funny! From Truthful:

It wasn't that Remus didn't trust James, it was just that Remus didn't trust James at all. His furry little problem was safe, but the way James' mind worked, everything else would be fair game. Including his inconvenient and growing-worse-by-the-day crush on Sirius. How James had ferreted it out, Remus would never know, but he supposed James wouldn't be bloody James if he hadn't.

dykesiriusblack

( @dykesiriusblack ) Laura is a lyrical mastermind. Every damn time they have me completely mind blown with their writing. I’m sorry I don’t know enough about literature to explain exactly what it is, but it’s definitely something; their prose is like a psychedelic drug, a fever dream—in the best way possible!

Eg. Illicit affairs

Remus was breaking apart at the seams, spilling bloody on the floor everything that Sirius wove himself into – in the lines of his palm, his stomach acid, his marrow, the infinitesimal space between joints. He was everywhere; he was in him. Remus could peel back his skin, dig into the muscle, the gristle of himself, to excavate Sirius like a tiny, piercing glass shard, but he would never get close.

Lunchbucket

(@quoththethestral) I don't understand how lunchbucket does it, there's just something about their writing that's so incredible. It's soft, but also with some kind of edge to it? Also, their fics are always so clever, and often feel kind of grown up in some way. (e.g. Petty (With a Prior), and the BEAUTIFUL Liebestraum)

Remus, in the throes of it, wondered why a word had never been created for the particular feeling — he was so out of his element, lost in some sort of space where he was surrounded by nothing but Sirius, and Sirius’ hands, and Sirius’ voice — terrified but satisfied indescribably, freed but held, these contrasting feelings fighting against each other all at the same time to create a sense of freefall unlike anything he had ever felt before.

aryastark_valarmorghulis

(@aryastark-valarmorghulis), An exceptional writer. There's no questioning that. I’m so so weak for: when we finally kiss goodnight.

Remus blinks, his ears ringing like a spell missed him by a whisker, his heart leaping somewhere between his chest and throat. “Or something,” he repeats, his stunned mind still not grasping the enormity of what Sirius just said but there’s no possibility to read anything different into his words. The clumsiest, truest, sweetest confession just fell into his hands and it’s so precious, Remus is afraid that translating the dizzy love into words could break it.

WrappedUp

(@wolfstarting) Yet another classic wolfstar writer! Always a safe choice if you want some quality writing! My favourites of theirs: Lock it down, and Just what the doctor ordered.

It feels mature. It feels right. It feels fucking wretched. It’s the first time he’s ever been aware of the feelings of another mattering to him at least as much, if not more than, his own.

moonymoment

( @blurryayse ). moonymoment really manages to swing from writing really good quality fluff and silliness (such as in lessen my load and Operation: Toebeans) to writing prose so poetic and lyrical it hurts (such as in ‘tis the damn season).

He’s a forest fire, a hurricane, an avalanche, he’s–

He’s all of these things, but primarily, he is Remus’s. For the night, he is Remus’s.

He’s Remus’s, wrists under his hands, skin in his mouth and between his teeth, every sound that falls out of his mouth like a trickle of sticky chardonnay following a sharp jawline, he’s all of these things. He’s a billion things. He’s a billion noises. He’s a sacrifice to be made.

drowsyanddazed

( @drowsyanddazed ) It was earlier this year that I stumbled upon my dear drowsyanddazed—and from the very first word I was hooked. All her stories are so very very lovely; she’s such a pro at capturing the feeling of (not really) unrequited love: the pining, the jealousy, and the sheer stupidity of our favourite boys. If this is something you like, you should read all of her fics right now!! (e.g losing my mind, thinking about you, and this desperate in love)

The black kohl along his water line is smudged, black flecks of it dusting his cheekbone. His hair is still flying everywhere, whipping across his face. He’s a mess. He’s the blurred edges of a photograph. He’s a heartbeat and stinging lungs. He’s the rattling behind Remus’ ribcage. And Sirius grins at him, tongue between teeth —illecebrous and tantalising and all things beautiful and dangerous— and all the air rushes out of Remus’ lungs in one fell swoop. He’s lightheaded and dizzy and burning.

Here you have ‘em! Now go enjoy!

xx Elliot🌸

[solarsleepless]

hello all

basically, i'm going to be watching bsc episodes and listing down the autistic traits i see in kristy. i may have a bonus part for the other girls but i'm mainly going to be focusing on kristy as she is my favourite.

without further ado, let's do this

Episode 1

right off the bat we get the line "I was doing the most talking, as per usual." autistic people have a tendency to dominate conversations or to "monologue"

also, mary anne is kristy's only friend at the very beginning. most autistic people find it challenging to make any new friends, both due to any communicative issues and because they don't want to change up their routine. kristy is clearly just fine with having only mary anne as a friend, which is shown in later episodes

"it was boiling in there, like surface of venus levels hot and he just kept droning on and on" autistic people are wayyy more prone to sensory issues than most other people, and that can include temperature, especially if they start sweating, which for many people causes sensory distress. autistic people also find it hard to concentrate for a myriad of possible reasons, including filtering out information our brains deem 'irrelevant' even if they're not

"If he was such a genius, why didn't he say all people?" autistic people tend to have a strong sense of justice and a black and white view of things, having very clear ideas of what is right and wrong in their head. yes, kristy's a feminist, but her willingness to correct him without a care for manners reads as autistic to me

"except apparently, i raised my voice, and didn't raise my hand." manners, even well remembered ones like raising your hand, can sometimes be forgotten by autistic people if it's something they're passionate about: in this case, kristy's need for correction and fairness overrode that

"[the boys in the back are] wiping sweat on each other, but somehow, i'm the disruptive one" autism in AFABs is often seen as being rude or disruptive despite them often just being passionate about the subject. also, sensory issues again?

"claudia and mary anne and i used to hang out all the time. but that was before claudia decided she was more into boys and clothes than us." another example of how kristy has had very few people in life she considers friends and has stuck with them for most of her life. also, possible rejection sensitive dysphoria made kristy see it as bigger than it actually is, because they seem to be fine when they interact, like nothing happened

in the next scene, we see kristy helping david michael with a puzzle. puzzles are often enjoyed by autistic people due to being structured, logical, visual and with a clear end, all of which are treasured aspects of things for autistic people.

stimming!!! lots of stimming. when explaining her new concept which she has clearly quickly hyperfixated on, we see her pacing and fidgeting with her hands as well as gesturing. also, having a strong moral code and wanting to put in effort for kids to be happy

she seems pretty startled when stacey appears, and is a little upset when it's obvious claudia has told her about the club idea: autistic people find it hard to find their footing after their expectations of how something would go are thrown off, but kristy's new hyperfixation overrules this change of plans

even though her need to infodump and talk about this new idea made her not lose her cool, she's visibly still unsure when stacey suggests things. even afterwards, she tries to... "villainize" feels to strong a word, but tries to make reasons for why she disliked her even though it's obvious she was just taken off guard

"maybe new people weren't an invading force to be repelled at all costs" here we get to see how much kristy detests change—even when it's beneficial, she'd rather stick with one or two friends. pay special attention to the wording: "at all costs". kristy will always try and evade change

another sign of her intolerance for change is how much she just dislikes watson, even though he seems like a nice guy. she doesn't want to accept that he is going to a fixture in their lives because it will mean that her family will change a lot, at least in her view (though i will say she has a lot of abandonment issues and trauma from her dad leaving her which shifts her perception on any guy her mom dates)

also from here on out i think we can see a clear hyperfixation on business and law, judging by her attitude and comments later on about the club

this whole dinner scene just feels very autistic to me: she takes what her mother says about "feeling okay about it" very literally and bulldozes any attempt of conversation. she is not okay about the idea of her mother marrying watson and she doesn't understand the social cue of her being more gentle about it. she genuinely doesn't understand why her mom would ask about it if she, in kristy's perspective, was not going to listen to her, when kristy is the one not listening to her over a misunderstanding.

this might be more of a me thing, but kristy trying to send her mom an email to apologize just feels really autistic to me, as it resonates hard with me and what i've done in the past. i used to leave messages in google translate for my parents to apologize. idk but its worth looking at

"i'm bossy, get used to it" shows that not only is she fairly controlling, but she's also aware of this fact. i couldn't find much research on this, but many autistic people are bossy or controlling so they know what to expect and so that things go exactly to plan.

kristy's lack of tact and sense with the phone. just. that.

claudia remarks that she's starting to remember why she stopped hanging out with kristy so much—because she's controlling and "bossy". this is partially due to feeling like everything that happened with her dad was out of her control and so it intensified the shittier he became, combined with that, autistic people can tend to come off as too much. also, rejection sensitive dysphoria—stares off into the distance and doesn't talk.

autistic people tend to be very trusting of others, taking lots of what they say at face value, and struggling to comprehend why someone would lie to them. despite only knowing stacey for a short amount of time and not even completely liking her, she's devastated when it turns out stacey was lying to them.

"this whole situation has spiralled out of my control, and that's a feeling i really, really hate." same points that have been made above—absolute control over what happens when they're involved is a big thing for autistics so they know completely what's going on. add on her trauma about her absent father, and it makes sense why she acts the way she does.

more about the trust!! she trusts stacey to not only know about her hyperfixation but also to be directly involved in it—that's a really big deal for us autistics!! it means we Trust you!!

more hammering in about kristy's control issues. i'm glad i've only seen One (1) fic demonizing her for it but at the same time that's one too many

kristy being just. so blunt. i love her. "you're controlling my THOUGHTS now?" "yes." a lot of autistic people don't see any reason to not be honest most of the time.

is just. dead serious about the "i should resign before i'm impeached".

more bluntness!! "when mary anne gets scared at something you think is silly, do you make fun of her and call her a baby?" "yeah, sometimes." "oh. but you're still her best friend, right?" "yes." but also, bluntness isn't always a bad thing. kristy just casually throws in the "i love you" because she thinks it at that moment and means it, so she sees no reason not to say it because it's true.

more finding it easier to say stuff like "thank you" over text than in person, just like the "i'm sorry" earlier

additional notes:

mary anne is autistic too!! we see her stimming, though, stroking the end of her braid during her convo abt the club with stacey, kristy and claudia. also her just letting kristy speak a lot feels autistic but idk how to explain it. also, she's good with visual organization, such as keeping things orderly in a google docs and writing minutes. i feel like she'd rather her do it than anyone else, that way she can help the club and make it easier for her to concentrate on the club itself. also, stacey and even claudia, her childhood best friend, both remark that she doesn't speak a lot. she definitely isn't nonverbal, but she absolutely lets people talk over hers and seems to find it more comfortable to not speak, at least early on. i could only find stuff for nonspeaking and nonverbal autistics, but i've had several periods where it wasn't uncomfortable to speak, but i was much more comfortable not speaking, which i think might be the case for mary anne, though it could be a mark of her simply not knowing what to add.

claudia CLEARLY has adhd!! she doodles and fidgets a lot, and many adhders turn out to be artists due to their creativity and excess energy that they expel via doodling. she draws on her shoes, and the teacher remarks that she "wouldn't want another failed quiz on your average", indicating her struggle with school, which we see even more of in the coming episodes, and people with adhd tend to have poor academic perfomance, mainly for their struggle with executive dysfunction skills.

claudia also spells "prety grate" instead of "pretty great" in her email to kristy. judging by this and later scenes in the series, it's possible she has dyslexia and/or dyscalculia, which has been reported to more or less have a 25% comorbidity with adhd

janine is also pretty obviously autistic-coded; her room is very dimly lit, she hardly ever leaves it, has flat affect, doesn't pick up much on claudia's social cues, has a special interest in computer and tech and whatnot, has a very extensive vocabulary, and butts in on conversations with her advice without asking before leaving after they get what she's saying

and that's it for episode 1 !!!! tell me what you think, and i'll see you all with part 2 very soon :)

[nicnavarrocage]

I've worked on a few rough storyboards for an animated adaptation of Problem Sleuth. I don't know how this is gonna turn out by the end, but I hope it'll be good.

And yes, the titular character will do some hard-boiled inner monologue. IF I CAN DO IT RIGHT.