#i guess i never considered the logistics of it?

[bluberimufim]

I just discovered that there's a biblical figure named Seth who has absolutely nothing to do with the Seth that I named my protagonist, Seth, after

[akira-seeya]

four swords collab cafe...................

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

Fentons family's guide Section on being an evil assistant to a supervillain

_________________________________________

Fentons family's guide to being an evil assistant to a supervillain

Guide by Jazmin Fenton in case of employment with a supervillain.

Being an evil assistant or henchmen is surprisingly a very stable source of an income stream all things considered.

You just need to find a boss. A as in singular it's very important, who is pathetic and or stupid enough to constantly have their large scale plan failing even without the hero's Involvement.

And while their large scale plan for taking over the world with a weapon of mass destruction could be feasible if only they didn't think to actually use it. Using it to threaten the world leaders for sway is the correct way. It is the most unused method the one being used most is the method of actually using the weapon of mass destruction for mass destruction.

You as the evil assistant then have the responsibility to make sure that the villain doesn't/ can't use said device to destroy the world. The heroes can help. Later then take the blame for the failure absolving you of involvement.

Being a good evil assistant is babysitting the evil boss.

_________________________________pg 9___

"Oh man never thought I'd actually need to use the 'Fenton guide' Jazz made me." Danny mumbled quietly and heaved a sigh of relief when he had found it among his hastily packed together bag.

Jazz had been the one making both of their emergency bags when she had told him about the guide. He hadn't appreciated it then now he truly did now with everything going on.

God he missed Jazz so much. He wanted to see her so badly he wanted to hold her hand like when they were kids. He really wanted her hand to squeeze his back in reassurance that everything was going to be fine.

Danny tried holding back his sobs at the thought. He couldn't stop the mist in his eyes or his hands shaking holding the little booklet.

But he wanted her safe and far away from everything even more. He wanted his friends to be safe with his sister. It didn't matter if he had to be far away working getting those crystals every way he could think of. His friends and sister needed money to keep them safe, hidden and taken care of. They needed that money and crystals and if Danny had to choose between his morals and fright he would always choose his true family. Morals be damned.

• • •

He hadn't expected the costume to be so good in quality. That had surprised him the most the second being how easy it would be getting a job with villains. Turns out working as an "meta" henchmen who knew everything from fighting to logistics and machinery was a rarity in this dimension. Who would have guessed it with all the metas and enhanced humans going about? And omg they even have aliens in this dimension!

Getting the money for the crystals had been going surprisingly smoothly. Everything had been going so smoothly that of course it had to be ruined! The villain Danny was working for had gotten noticed and promptly got beat. Which meant he didn't have an employer anymore at least until a breakout was orchestrated. So no more job until then.

And Danny had finally managed his way to the middle hierarchy in that organization! Now he would need to go looking for evil henchmen positions again! It wasn't even a good season to go looking for openings in other organizations.

Damn it that bat furry in Gotham and his flock of birds. Don't they get how hard it is for a henchmen to find descant work!?

Maybe he should go with the duo villain and assistant type next time.

Thank you so much for reading I hope it was enjoyed!

Danny in the lair after having saved his villain boss from Batman after said villain had their scheme blown up in their face. Danny knew the plan would fail miserably but at this point he didn't care. He stopped trying to help when it came to schemes ages ago.

+Some art

Idk if I've posted this idea before but I've had this thing bouncing around in my head for a while.

[yanderenightmare]

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged. 

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts. 

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.” 

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

[hard-core-super-star]

for your love, i'll do whatever you want... [K.Bishop]

pairing: alpha!kate bishop x omega!reader

summary: omega heats are incredibly unbearable, thankfully kate knows just what to do to make you feel better.

warnings: shameless smut -> minors, you're not allowed [omegaverse au {written by someone who has very minimal understanding of the logistics and makes everything up on the spot}; omega in heat = needy alpha kate; fingering {R receiving}; so much praise; technically pet play but only if you squint {kate does call R puppy more than few times}; finger-sucking {i couldn't resist}]

wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: i have no explanation for this, i just...think she's neat. i read literally one omegaverse au fic and now i have brainrot. clearly, the only solution was to pass it on to all of you. i've never written anything like this before so uh...be warned, i guess. once again, this is about the closest i'll get to doing kinktober but this variant of kate [along with vampire!kate] might be sticking around, we'll see. also, believe it or not i did some world-building but tried not to include too much and just focused on the filth. you're welcome, i guess?

* * * * * * *

The sound of the bedroom door opening makes your tired eyes snap open. You blink the drowsiness away long enough to recognize Kate’s frame as she slips into the room. Her steps are slow, almost bordering on hesitant, but the mere sound of her boots on the floor makes your heart race.

The archer had been gone for what felt like months. In reality, she was only gone for four days. Not even a full week had passed without her and yet you’ve been desperate for her return since the moment she walked out the door. 

You assumed it was only due to the strong bond, and slight dependence, that had started to form since the brunette brought you to her apartment a few months ago. She’d rescued you from a cruel living situation and shown you kindness you never even thought was possible.

Especially from such a dominant alpha. 

But Kate’s nothing like all the alpha’s you’re used to. She’s all soft chuckles, understanding looks, and feather-light touches. The literal definition of care lies in the depths of her pale blue eyes. 

It’s truly no surprise, then, that you fell for her instantly. 

And it’s even less of a surprise that being without her triggered an avalanche of feelings that resulted in your heat. A heat you were forced to endure on your own with no gentle touches or whispered praise.

Until now.

“y/n.” She makes an effort to keep her voice quiet despite her obvious concern. “How’re you holding up?”

The answer to that is crystal clear considering you’ve made no attempt at getting up and rushing toward her like you usually do. You want nothing more than that but your entire body aches in ways you’re not used to feeling, at least not on this scale. Your skin burns with pure warmth yet your body shakes as if you’ve spent the past few hours out in the cold.

You’re barely able to lift your head, the faintest of whimpers slipping out. Your lack of a response is all she needs to approach you and the comfortable nest you’ve made in the corner of her bedroom.

Your nose picks up on her scent immediately and the lower part of your body wastes even less time in reacting. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate to feel her touch on every part of your overheated skin.

“Uh oh, I know what that look means,” she jokes as she sits in front of you. 

Your grumble of discontent is wiped away the second she reaches for you. She easily picks you up, letting out a slightly playful grunt, before maneuvering you onto her lap.

“Kate,” you mumble.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m right here.” 

Her hand gently grasps the back of your head, guiding you forward until you’re able to seek refuge from the overwhelming sensations rushing through your entire being. Her scent drives your body wild but it’s also the only thing capable of calming you down so you bury your face into her neck without hesitation.

“Baby…” Her tone makes you shiver and you subconsciously shift closer to her. “I’d like to hear your voice.”

You know what her request actually is, you’ve heard it countless times since she started the hard work of putting your broken pieces back together. Your hands grasp the front of her shirt and you fidget with the fabric until you find the words you’re searching for. 

“I missed you.”

You don’t see the smile that graces her lips but you hear the slow exhale of relief she lets out. The fact that you’re speaking to her is a good sign, one that reassures her enough to finally start touching you.

“I missed you too,” she admits as her hands begin to wander. “I thought about you every day I was gone.”

She keeps one arm wrapped securely around your waist but lets her free hand caress you in all the right ways designed to soothe you while simultaneously driving you insane with need. Just because she’s the kindest alpha you’ve ever met doesn’t mean she’s not a massive tease when she wants to be.

“Katie,” you practically whine. 

Your reaction brings a chuckle out of the brunette that only serves to intensify the ache between your legs. You’re both acutely aware of the amount of slick that’s dripping down your thighs by now but while you’re on the edge of desperation, Kate’s having the time of her life. 

She always loves knowing how much you need her, how much you crave her, and today is no exception. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” The pads of her fingers ghost along your chest, barely grazing against the side of your breasts. “Do you need something, pup?”

Hearing that one word out of her lips shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. Although, that could easily be said about any and every single thing Kate does. 

All you can do for a few seconds is whimper and press yourself closer to her, your hips shifting every which way in search of some friction. Friction she easily denies by shifting her lower half away from you which means you’re forced to pull yourself together and ask for what you want.

“Mhm, need you.”

Kate rewards your obedience by finally letting her fingers play with your hardened nipples. Her touch is soft even while she tugs on them just enough to draw out another needy little sound from you. “You have no idea how adorable you sound right now. You’re just a pretty omega in need of her alpha, aren’t you, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer her but instead of words, a sharp moan leaves your lips as her mouth meets your shoulder. She trails a line of kisses along your warm skin, allowing you to bask in the comfort that underlies such an intense moment.

She’s had her fun and now her full attention goes toward making you feel better the only way she can right now.

Her hand starts its descent once she’s satisfied with the amount of skin her kisses have covered. She moves slowly despite the obvious wetness that’s started to drip onto her jeans. She’s not trying to tease you anymore, though. Her touch is reassuring, a silent promise she won’t hurt you like all the ones who came before her. 

The noise you let out once her hand cups your aching cunt borders on pathetic but there’s no time to feel embarrassed. There’s no time for anything except grinding down against her fingers while they stroke your swollen clit.

“Good girl,” she murmurs in between soft kisses. You can tell she’s barely holding back the urge to pierce your shoulder with her teeth. “Fuck, you’re so wet, baby. Is this all for me?”

Her question is meant to be rhetorical but you don’t dare risk it, already too far gone to be able to deal with more teasing. “Yes…just for you.”

Kate’s fingers stutter in their movements. She wasn’t expecting a response, much less one that makes her possessive, and borderline primal, instincts flare up. The change in her scent throws you off, especially when the words that escape her are almost as needy as your own.

“You’re so good for me…so fucking pretty like this. God, you’re driving me crazy, puppy.”  

The emphasis on the word is enough to make you cry out in pleasure but then she sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you swear the world stops moving for a few ecstasy-filled seconds. 

Kate doesn’t mind that you stop rocking against her, she’s much too eager to show you she’s the only one capable of making you feel this heavenly while doing such sinful things to your body.  

She’s also already obsessed with the way you’re clenching around her fingers and it shows in the non-stop groans coming out of her.

Groans that push you closer to the edge.

“You’re taking my fingers so well.” She’s panting into your shoulder but you can’t blame her for it since you’re in a much more desperate state, panting and groaning against her neck. “So tight but so needy for more, isn’t that right, pup?”   

“Yes-” Kate slips another finger inside you before you can get too far. “Fuck! Please!”

You don’t know if it’s your words or the sound of the tears that are gathering in the corners of her eyes but she instantly turns back to that gentle alpha you know so well. The one who puts your needs above her own without missing a single beat.

“I know, I know. Just relax, let me take care of you.” 

Her fingers thrust inside of you at a rapid pace but she’s careful not to get too rough with you. She shifts a little, kissing her way across the top of your shoulder and to the side of your neck.

You’ve never felt closer to her than you do right now and the feeling is somehow more overwhelming than your pleasure. 

Kate’s thumb starts drawing circles on your throbbing clit and you almost fall apart instantly. She knows. Of course she knows because she’s spent hours getting to know every part of what makes you who you are. Including your painful past. 

She lets you bask in the feeling of holding back until your cries of pleasure border on discomfort. “It’s okay, puppy,” she mumbles while nuzzling your neck. “You don’t have to wait, you can cum for me. Show me you’re mine.”

There’s no way for you to last any longer once she says that. 

Your mouth drops open into a long moan as Kate coaxes your orgasm out of you. You’re sensitive and desperate and yet the thing that causes you to truly give in to your release is the care she puts into everything she’s doing. 

She’s giving you everything you want because she knows it’s the only thing that’ll make you feel better. The only thing that'll take away the discomfort of your heat and the anxiety that still thrums through your veins from being with her.

Your entire body shakes and shudders from the strength of your orgasm, Kate’s fingers slowly fucking you through it until you fully collapse against her. 

“Good girl.” She plants a kiss on your neck before pulling her fingers out of you. 

You whine the second she leaves your cunt empty but you’re too worn out by everything that’s happened to beg for another orgasm. Instead, you accept the fingers she presses against your lips, opening your mouth without a second thought and moaning at the taste of the wetness that covers the digits.

“There you go, just like that, pup.”

You’re far too exhausted to reply so you settle on sucking her fingers while she whispers soft praise into the space between you.

After days of yearning for the alpha’s touch, your body finally feels soothed. Relaxed to the point of comfortable sleepiness, not the awful stress-filled exhaustion you were forced to deal with on your own.

You’re finally safe in the arms of someone who genuinely loves you for who and what you are.

“Does my sweet omega want a nap?” 

Her soft tone makes you smile around her fingers. You let out a muffled sound of contentment and Kate merely chuckles in response at how eager your sucking is despite your obvious fatigue.

“Okay, sweetheart. Just close your eyes, I’ll be right here to take care of you when you wake up, alright?”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind that she’ll be true to her word.

So, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths that fill your entire being with the smell of her. You belong completely to Kate and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[youwouldntdownloadapizza]

The Gates of Jackson | Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter 1

masterlist | ao3 | follow @youwouldntdownloadapizza and turn on notifications for updates

You showed up at the gates of Jackson with hands covered in blood and no memory of how you got there. That was two years ago. Since then, you've become Maria's right-hand woman and the person in charge of Jackson's logistical backend. Patrol schedules, inventory—all your purview. When a patrol gone wrong forces you to get to know Joel, memories of your past begin resurfacing—along with their consequences.

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pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors DNI

word count: 1.6k

tags: no use of y/n, eventual smut, no beta we die like sarah, jackson era, other additional tags to be added, slow burn, ellie needs a hug, joel lives, good parent joel, reader-insert, reader insert, forced proximity, only one bed trope, nightmares, childbirth, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, soft joel, cuddling & snuggling, fluff, masturbation, pining, joel falls first, possibly demisexual reader (tbd), ptsd, ptsd flashbacks, panic attacks, amnesia

chapter warnings: childbirth (mentioned)

Chapter 1

The first time you met Joel, he stank like shit. Literally, he smelled like he had rolled in it. You issued him soap, and sent him on his way. That was a loss to Jackson’s ledgers you were more than willing to take.

The second time, he smelled better. Unremarkable mostly, more of a neutral scent tinged with man smell around the edges. Nothing to write home about. Still, you issued him deodorant. Couldn’t take any chances.

He requested bullets, a basic first aid kit, and warm clothing. With Maria’s approval, you made the relevant deductions and issued the items at hand. You even sprung for wool socks. With a winter like this, he could use all the help he could get.

“You’re headed south, right?” you asked him as he packed a worn duffel bag.

“Colorado,” he replied. You waited, but that’s all he gave you. Guess he didn’t feel like elaborating.

“What about the girl, she need anything?”

He considered the offer, then asked, “You got any pens, pencils or anything? Notebooks? She likes to keep track of things, take notes. Draw, mostly,” he trailed off, scrubbing a hand over his face, “And we’re almost out of paper.”

You smiled at that. A girl after your own heart . “I’ll see what I can scrounge up.”

* * *

You asked Tommy about him, once the two of them were gone. He didn’t have much to say.

“Barely talked to the girl. Probably know about as much about her as you do. Joel��� Well, Joel’s an enigma.”

You rolled your eyes at that. “Come on, Tommy. I’m asking for the basics, not his social security number.”

Tommy sighed. “He’s brash, he’s protective, he’s opinionated… I don’t know what much else to tell you. He’s just Joel. One of those people you gotta get to know just by knowing ‘em, I guess.”

You blinked twice. “Supremely helpful, Tommy.”

* * *

The next time you met Joel, he smelled better but looked worse. You only half-remembered his eyes, but something in them last time had been warmer. The ones you saw now were… dead, almost. Like something within them had been destroyed. Whether he’d been the one to do the destroying or it had been done to him remained to be seen.

You’d seen him and the girl with Tommy and Maria in the dining hall that first time they’d come to town, wolfing down chili like they’d just discovered, well, chili. They ate slower now, both of them, not like they weren’t in a rush but like their heads were elsewhere. The girl seemed to stare into nowhere—not all the time, but it was distinct when she did it.

Joel didn’t zone out. No, if anything he was zoned in . On that poor girl who had been so full of life just months ago, now hollowed out like far too many others. You’d see about filling her back up later. But for now, he was the one that perplexed you. Why was he so focused on her? What had happened out there? Part of you never wanted to find out, but part of you really, really did.

Regardless, she needed new shoes. So you joined them. The man stopped mid-chew, looking up at you with trepidation.

“Hi,” you smiled, “glad you two made it back in one piece.”

“Me too,” he replied, turning his attention back to his cud. You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a joke or not. You turned your attention to the girl.

“You’re Ellie, right? I’m Doe. Or that’s what most folks around here call me, anyway.”

“Doe?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Like a deer?”

“A female deer,” you winked back at her. She stared at you blankly. 

“It’s a song,” Joel muttered to her softly, “from before.”

“Oh,” Ellie nodded. The silence dragged, but thankfully you came prepared.

“Cobbler?” you offered bowls to each of them. It was fresh from the oven, still steaming and smelling of cinnamon.

“Yes, please!” Ellie yanked the bigger bowl towards herself, broccoli forgotten. She got a few bites in before Joel intervened, pulling the sugar aside and reinstating the vegetables. The girl frowned at that, but his pointed look said not to bother arguing. So she didn’t.

“Don’t worry, it’ll still be hot in a minute.” You tucked into your own cobbler, savoring the warm sweetness as it glided across your tongue. Even in Jackson, it was a delicacy. But it was spring, and the cherries were here. And you’d accounted for everything.

“Did you want something?” Joel asked, finishing his own plate and reaching for the cobbler.

“Ellie needs new shoes.”

“We’ve got it handled,” he said.

“Do you, though? You haven’t got much to trade with, and we’ve got plenty in inventory. That’s kind of what it’s there for. Why suffer blisters when communism’s got your back?”

“Can I?” Ellie’s face lit up. You liked seeing her eyes like that: brighter. They belonged that way.

Joel swallowed his cobbler, mulling over the idea. “After lunch,” he agreed, nodding to the eager teen. “Finish your cobbler first.”

* * *

Ellie’s new light-up sneakers lit the way as you exited the storeroom through your office. Joel had insisted on a sensible pair as well, but you couldn’t deny the kid a little whimsy.

“Maria give you your patrol schedule yet?” you asked him, nodding to the well-worn chalkboard in the corner. Routes on the left, days and times up top. Names filled in the boxes in between, a testament to your logistical wizardry.

“Not yet,” he said, crossing to examine it. “Guess she doesn’t need to, now.”

“I’ve got you paired up with Tommy. Seemed easiest, to get you started. You’ll be headed up to the lodge, it’s a pretty standard route. Get the occasional runner, but it’s wildlife more than anything.”

He nodded, heading toward where Ellie was already scampering out the door.

“See you Tuesday, I suppose. Guessing you’re the one to check-in with?” he asked.

You smiled at his correct assumption. 

“Sure am.”

* * *

You didn’t know Joel well enough to make assumptions about his punctuality, but Tommy was never late. Even you were late from time to time, often getting swept up in tasks and losing track of things. But the man was annoyingly punctual. According to Maria, that’s part of why she fell for him.

Tommy was late today.

You crossed to the large observation window lining one wall of your office. It gave you a clear view of the front gates and surrounding guard stations, but there was no sign of Tommy anywhere. Or Joel, for that matter.

A knock on your door interrupted your analysis. It was Eugene. The grizzled old man acted anything but, a smile breaking out across his face at the sight of you.

“Hey, Doe! How’s things?” He asked.

“Fine. I’m looking for Tommy, actually–”

“Didn’t you hear?” He interrupted, “Maria’s gone into labor. He’s with her at the clinic.”

Your stomach dropped. Here you were preparing to chew Tommy out for his tardiness when the whole time he’d been busy becoming a father. A very valid excuse.

“And Joel?” you asked. “They were supposed to patrol together this afternoon, lodge route.”

“Not sure. He wasn’t with them. Listen, I gotta go grab the baby blanket I made and drop it off, but you and I need to have a drink one of these days. I worry your hair’s gonna start falling out in clumps if you don’t take a break eventually.”

“Yeah, but then what would you do, patrol out to the dam with Jesse? There’s a reason I don’t pair you two up anymore.”

“Because you don’t like blackberries?” he chided.

You frowned, “No, because you spent so long harvesting them your 8 hour patrol took 12. I was this close to sending out a search party. A little planning prevents a lot of headaches, Eugene.”

He turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder to get the last word. “You know what else is good for headaches? Whiskey.”

You sent Eugene on his way with instructions to give Maria your best. You’d visit her when the baby was here. For now, you had a community to protect. 

With Tommy out of commission and Joel MIA, you’d have to find someone else to help you cover this patrol route. Dina was always a solid partner, if she was around. Devon the bartender could generally be counted on to have your back. Eugene would be ideal, but you didn’t want to make him work a double.

You headed to the stables to see who you could find. Upon entering, the warmth of the building and company of the animals soothed your unease, if only slightly. 

You found your horse’s stall, the gray spotted mare whinnying at your arrival.

“Hey, Bailey,” you smiled, offering her a slightly bruised apple. She took it gratefully, big brown eyes closing in enjoyment.

“She’s beautiful,” a voice said from behind you, making you jump.

“Sorry,” the voice stepped into the light, “It’s just me.”

“Joel,” you took a deep breath in an attempt to slow your racing heartbeat.

“Sorry I’m late–” 

You cut him off with a raised hand, looking him in the eye. 

“You’re not with your brother,” you finally said, more of a statement than a question.

“You’re not with your best friend,” he replied, offering no further details.

You sighed, debating arguing with him about it before deciding the subject was better left untouched. You had your reasons for staying away from childbirth. If Joel had his own, he was entitled to that. You weren’t going to press him on it, so long as he didn’t press you.

“Come on,” you said, swinging your leg over Bailey’s back and settling into the saddle, “We’re making up for lost time.”

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[buckets-and-trees]

Peering In My Hollow Core

Fandom: MCU Title: Peering In My Hollow Core Characters/Pairings: Nomad!Steve x Morally Grey!Female Reader Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Even the best laid plans can go up in flames. You're both wrong, and yet also more right for each other than you know.

Content Warnings: explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT due to sex pollen, masturbation, rough fucking/vaginal sex, unprotected sex/ejaculation

Logistical Notes: I claimed prompt 13 for @lunarbuck's Star-Crossed Lovers Soulmate AU challenge and also knocking off I1 "masturbation" for @the-slumberparty's August/September Bingo challenge. And because you know I can't resist... it's also using one of the prompts (first bolded line) for @witchywithwhiskey's Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon! And it's answering an ask I got from one very mischievous @stargazingfangirl18 that's been on my mind for the last two weeks.

Additional Notes: @biteofcherry and @vonalyn let me suss out how this evolved, so thank you for enduring my brainstorming! Eva also gave a line of dialogue inspiration that I found too delicious not to snatch up, and so that's bolded for acknowledgement as well (near the end). Title from Scars by Basement Jaxx.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“What’s your grand plan here, Doc?” The golden-haired, bearded hulk of a man, America’s golden boy now a rogue in the shadows is pacing before you. “Are you even a doctor?”

His tone is biting, angry, and you don’t hold it against him.

He did fall right into your trap.

“You’re a smart boy, you can guess.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“I think it will bruise your ego more if I spell it out for you.”

“You should have thought of my rage before you put yourself in this situation, Doc,” he all but growls, still prowling back and forth across the living room floor. “What’s your exit strategy here?”

“You’re getting more volatile and heated, that’s good. That’s what I need.”

“Do you think this is a fucking game? You’re on dangerous ground.”

Your lips curl up slightly, but you try not to smirk. “I dangled myself in front of you. Good Captain America couldn’t resist trying to liberate the poor scientist who got wrongfully entangled with the remnants of HYDRA. You never even stopped to consider that I was dangling myself out in the wind to get you here like this, and you’ve read enough about HYDRA, you know what I gave you.”

“But why?” he barks.

“No one can beat you for strength. You’re driven, resourceful, able to evade an attack. Your weakness is caring,” you pause because he stops his pacing, he looks ready to spring, but doesn’t yet. His eyes haven’t left you for even a moment since he realized it’s you he needed to worry about, not save. “I need your DNA, blood samples, bodily fluid, and I can’t trap you with anything, but I banked on the one physical vulnerability even a super soldier isn’t immune from: a compound they initially developed as something called a sex pollen. In fact, I think you know they tested it on a super soldier, don’t you?”

He slams his fist on the table between you two, and it splits from his actions.

You shouldn’t have provoked him with that. It wouldn’t yield the results you were trying to manipulate him into.

“Easy, Nomad,” you raise your hands cautiously to ease the tension just slightly. “That’s what they call you now – Nomad is the moniker now that you can’t be Captain America out there to the world anymore.” He flexes his fists, another angry reflex, but one you know speaks to a slight de-escalation, self-regulation. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t agree with everything HYDRA has done.”

He lets out a bitter laugh.

“I don’t,” you insist.

“If you’re not in with them, you’ve made a deal with a devil you’ve vastly underestimated.”

“They’re a means to an end.”

“How can you be so foolish to think that?”

“No one will fund my research at the rate and without regulatory oversight the way they do. They’re desperate to have more of you but under their thumb, especially since you’re at the root of them losing their prize assassin.”

“You’re not stupid, so why are you giving them what they want?”

You lift your chin defiantly.

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Oh god. You can’t tell me… Really? You think you’re gonna keep your research and development from them in the end?”

“Look at what I’ve done so far,” you gesture. “You’ve evaded every attempt they’ve made to get you, you’re evading all the countries who are supposed to enforce the accords and hand you over, and yet I have you trapped here.”

“Why do you care about a super soldier serum?” he asks.

You shrug. “I’m interested in a serum, but I don’t need super soldiers. The list of your medical ailments before you were injected, and then you’re instantly cured of everything? Do you know how many people need even a drop of what cured you?”

“And you think I’d be opposed to that?”

You scoffed, “Yeah, easily. Once the research exists, it will get applied for things it was never intended to be used for, up to and including developing super soldiers for HYDRA and people who pretend they’re better than HYDRA.”

“So, who has made you this desperate?”

“You don’t get to know that.”

He scoffs now. “You don’t get to set the terms here if you intend to get what you want.”

“Don’t I? You’re uncomfortable. You’ve been uncomfortable for a while. It’s going to get worse, but I adapted the formula for what I gave you in that drink of water. All you have to do is ejaculate, and the toxin will abate from your system.”

“How thoughtful of you,” he deadpans.

Then his demeanor changes. He sniffs, and his eyes finally stray from you.

“You said this house is reinforced in its lockdown to keep me in until you initiate and secure your extraction with the HYDRA team?”

“Yes,” you answer slowly, trying to follow his line of sight and decipher what he’s looking at.

“I think you’re going to need to adjust your plans and priorities and do it quickly.”

You open your mouth to ask why, but then your mind quickly makes the leap. “They modified my ventilation system.”

“HYDRA has refused to be eliminated for decades. They can wait for a purebred super soldier and think they can get one in your womb today.”

The heat of humiliation floods your body. How could you have been so foolish not to account for a maneuver like this. They had clearly approved of your strategy too easily.

“Soon you won’t be able to think about anything more than my cock in your cunt, so you better start thinking of how you’re going to get yourself out of this, Doc, because Nomad is not who everyone knew Captain America to be, and I’m certainly not inclined to assist you in any way now. Been doing fine evading capture as you yourself asserted, I can probably figure out my own exit strategy here and fight off the sex pollen until I make it out. But for someone without any biological enhancements… I’m not optimistic over your odds. I read everything on HYDRA. This stuff was nasty when they first developed it, but you can bet they will have reverse engineered whatever you did to the formula to make it even worse.”

As if on cue, you start to feel the physical effects of whatever nearly imperceptible airborne toxin – imperceptible to you, but apparently not to enhanced individuals. Heat flares again in your body, but this time it is a pulsating sexual need.

You close your eyes to try and keep your breath steady and even, but after another moment, you whimper and draw your hands to your stomach as the poisonous desire pulses more strongly, the tremor of need undeniable.

Your eyes burst open again, seeking out the male across the room from you.

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, no. I’m not giving you anything you want. If you’re as brilliant as you think you are, you don’t need me to get out of your unfortunate predicament.”

Your body is yearning for him, but you know he’s serious.

You also know he’s right; you need to think fast.

You’re coherent enough to get both of you out of the lockdown state of the house now – because HYDRA was clearly going to come for both of your – you had a failsafe to get out in case there was some loss of electrical power. But could you get away in this state?

And you know if you get out, you’ll never get the DNA you need from Steve Rogers – you’ll never be close enough to or even see him again. You know that in your bones.

Over the next hour, at different points during the feverish state that overtakes you, you can sometimes hear the super soldier nearby, doing things around your home, undoubtedly trying to apply his own ingenuity.

He might be successful.

It hardly matters.

Now you’re in the shower, under a stream of cold water, trying both to alleviate the unbearable heat your body has peaked to and to hide the sound of your sobs as best you can. You’ve stripped down to a nearly naked state. You ripped off your shirt and pants in your room, left them on the floor, your panties are on the tiled floor outside the shower, but you couldn’t spare your hands to remove your bra. At first you were almost experiencing a sliver of relief with one hand between your legs, paying every attention to your excessively slick folds and throbbing clit, thrusting your fingers in and out of your cunt as well, but it was a false grasp at hope.

You don’t know when you slid down the tiled wall of the wet glass tomb where you think you may die, curled in on yourself, one hand still trying pointlessly to trigger the orgasm that will flush the desperate physical pain from your body, surely it must come.

You don’t know how long he’s been standing in the doorway of the bathroom before you try to shift pathetically, your eyes open, and you see him slowly stroking his hard cock, watching you. You shut your eyes again, in agony wondering how he can possibly seem so collected. Why isn’t he pumping his fist in a frenzy? You couldn’t stroke your clit fast enough, and now you can’t bear to touch it, but the heel of your hand can’t help bumping it as you try to fuck yourself on your fingers.

Then a rush of air blasts over your body.

You open your eyes weakly to see Steve reach to shut off the water, before he bends down and without a word grabs your limp body from the floor, drapes you over his arm, where you hand limply, bent in half, and he hauls you back to your room, and throws you on the bed.

You continue to cry and stroke yourself while you hear him unzip and unfasten, your body a trembling heap, facing away from him as he’s undressing.

“I’m going to fuck you, and then you’re going to let me out before HYDRA comes for both of us. You’re fucking clever and I can’t get out of here without you.”

You whimper when you feel his weight on the bed behind you.

He forces you into a kneeling position, but he doesn’t care that you can’t even prop yourself up, head and shoulders slumped down on the mattress, ass in the air. His left hand grips your hip, and he groans as he guides the head of his cock up and down the slit of your dripping cunt before he finally slides in. It’s deliberate, sliding down to the base, his hips pushing into yours. The way he invades and stretches you is painful, and yet you need it, keening at the fullness.

You do catch that his breathing hitches.

He needs this, too.

You’ll give it to him if he’ll just put your body out of its misery.

After a moment of slowly rutting against you, only shifting his girth inside of you a bit, teasing, perhaps warning, you whine, “move, please, more.”

“More than you bargained for,” he growls, then pulls back, and then thrusts back into you, adopting a brutal pace, both hands anchored at your hips now, slamming you back and forth roughly.

He pulls a first orgasm from your body quickly, but the second comes not long after when he reaches around to pinch and roll your clit between his fingers, still using your pussy for chasing his pleasure.

A third, and you’ve gone from whimpers and keens to crying out and a fresh wave of tears. This is rough and you’re over stimulated, and he knows. He leans over your back to smirk against your neck.

“Please,” you cry. You don’t know if you’re begging for more or for less because your body is screaming in exhaustion, but the fire is still tormenting your veins.

Because you haven’t been filled.

The smirk turns to a sneer against your neck, and Steve snarls, "You wanted it. You staged it. So, you're going to take it and keep fucking taking it until I'm done with your pathetic fragile body."

He’s pressing into places you’ve never felt before, and you cry out more, face pressed into the sheets. He pushes back up and pulls his cock out of you. His fingers work the clasp of your bra, and he pulls it off while he flips you over so you’re on your back. You can’t even open your eyes, but you feel him looming above you, kneeling between your splayed out thighs.

But then you feel something shift. He mutters a curse and is suddenly still.

You open your eyes and look up at him, but he’s looking at your chest. His hand moves up to trace his fingers over a scar near your collarbone. You look and see the same scar evident on his chest.

You reach up and your fingers quest along his bicep, and they do find a scar there, very faint but long, matching one you’ve had nearly your entire life.

Your eyes lock on each other now, and the acknowledgement there between you is terrifying.

There are more scars, but you don’t need to continue to confirm what you know.

You’re soulmates.

You’ve betrayed him before you even knew.

You’re still beholden to the drive of the sex pollen, boneless and exhausted, but this revelation drives with adrenaline through the haze, too hard to deny. It gives you enough to say, “We can’t deal with this now if we want to get out of here with a chance to escape HYDRA, fuck me and end this.”

He does, but he can’t look at you. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, and spears you with his cock. The fucking is rough, and you take it. It’s punishing penance and painful pleasure. You cling to him as he thrusts you over the cliff of ecstasy again, coming with you finally, and his spend pumps hotly into you. The physical relief from the torture is blessedly immediate. His hand ghosts over your lower abdomen where he’s just planted his seed. With his eyes closed, he touches his forehead to yours, then pushes roughly away and rolls off of you.

“Get up, get dressed, pack light,” he says, stone cold. “Between us we might get out of this dangerous trap. That’s all we need for now.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[robobrainrot]

Apparently I never posted my Beloved Minicon;

Barbiegirl

Barbiegirl (she/her) is vain and fun. Think of the stereotype of a 2000s era popular girl. Her life in plastic IS fantastic! She's a teen queen. Shes that girl. She's everything.

She could also be considered a botbot I guess. I KNOW thats not the same as a minicon but I made this character like 2 years ago so don't get too caught up in the logistics. I picture her standing at around 1ft tall, but I guess she could be anywhere between 8inches to 2ft tall.

BG is quickly becoming a fan favorite on Art-fight. So I was reminded that I should probably share her with Tumblr aswell~ 💖

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂 - chapter 2: fight fire with fire.

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - eddie refuses to give you space, not that he really can considering you're sharing a room now. it's having some strange effects on you.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 4.1k

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - brief wet dream aka sexual dream, references to sex/sexuality, mentions of past infidelity/bad relationship, use of "spaz" (not hatefully)

His hands were all over you, holding you tight, exploring your skin as his lips tasted every inch of your neck.  You couldn’t help but arch your back, begging him to pull you just a little closer.

“Are you ready for me?” he purred into your ear, and you nodded quickly.

“I need you— please, I want you inside me,” you begged, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

He was pressed up against you, ready to spear you on his cock and make you his, and you were almost crying you were so desperate for it.  “Say my name,” he demanded.

“Eddie…”

Startled awake by the cacophonous beeping of your alarm, you were torn from your dream and sat up with a jolt— of course, with the top bunk just above, you banged your head against a wooden slat and groaned as you grabbed your throbbing skull.

Eddie’s head appeared, hanging upside down over the railing as his hair flopped forward towards the carpet.  “What’s happenin’, hot stuff?” he smiled at you.

You rolled your eyes as you slammed your free hand on the snooze button; back to reality, and it was quite literally a rude awakening.  Dreams had that way of disappearing the moment you woke up— all you could remember was that it was pleasant, sensual, something that made your cheeks warm just to try to recall.  Whatever it was, it was gone now.  “Thank you for not trying to do the accent,” you frowned when you understood the reference he was making, though you made a face when you thought about it for a second.  “Wait— you’ve seen Sixteen Candles?”

“Yeah, I love that movie,” he announced.

“Didn’t seem like your kind of thing,” you shrugged.

He sighed a little as he pulled his head back up, and a moment later, he was jumping down the ladder.  "Guess you don't know me as well as you thought," he explained.

Your eyes lingered for just a second on the muscles of his back as he stood facing away from you, stretching his arms and standing on his tiptoes.  He started to move his head, and you worried he would look back and catch you, so you quickly turned to face the wall and pulled your blanket up higher by your ear.

“C’mon, isn’t it time for you to get up for school?” he prompted.

“I don’t have to leave this early,” you denied.  

“You do if I’m giving you a ride,” he explained.

Oh, shit; it made sense, logistically, since you didn’t have a car— but it wasn’t going to be very much fun.  Nope: it wasn’t fun when he was honking the horn outside while you tried to rush getting dressed, it wasn’t fun when he started backing out before you’d even shut your door, it wasn’t fun when he shot you a glare as you rolled your eyes and reached to turn down the blaring metal music.

“I’m barely gonna make it in time now!” he scolded you, turning the dial back up— thankfully, not as loud as it was before.

“You’re never on time for school,” you reminded him, pulling down the shade from the ceiling so you could use the mirror inside and finish your makeup.  You applied your lip gloss first, careful not to draw outside the lines while he drove somewhat recklessly.

“I live closer now than I did before, this is my chance to start being early,” he explained.  “But now I’ve gotta go out of the way to take you to college or whatever.”

“Hey, you’re not paying rent,” you reminded him, popping your lips together as you screwed the lipgloss lid back on, “if this is what my mom is making you do to earn your keep, that’s a pretty sweet deal.”

“Fair enough,” he offered with one hand raised— the other still on the wheel, thank god.

You adjusted the mirror slightly to look at your eyes, uncapping your mascara and taking a glance at the road ahead to make sure there were no turns coming to mess up your work.

“What classes do you have today?” he asked.

“Just core stuff,” you explained, “nothing actually related to what I do.  Calculus is first, and then Western Literat—”

You were cut off when Eddie’s van hit a pothole, jerking your whole hand and making you gasp.  You tightened your lips together, looking at Eddie with a deathly glare.

He cackled as he caught a glimpse of the massive black smear under your eyebrow.   “I’m gonna fucking kill you,” you informed him plainly.

“Nah, that’ll come right off,” he insisted, licking his thumb and reaching out towards your face.

“Ew, ew!” you grimaced, leaning a way.  “Are you crazy?!  I’m not letting you touch my eye with your spit!”

“My mouth’s clean!” he promised.

“I can handle this myself, thanks,” you rolled your eyes, turning back to the mirror and trying to wipe the smudge away.  Of course, it only smeared more, until your whole eyelid was one big black mess.  You sighed in defeat, until it gave you an idea.

“What are you so worried about, anyway?” Eddie wondered.  “You don’t need that stuff.”

“Huh?” you asked, only half paying attention as you smeared some mascara off the brush onto your other eyelid, using your finger to spread it around.

“You don’t need to wear makeup,” he stated plainly, “you’re already pretty.”

“Well, thanks,” you offered quickly, “but that’s not really how it works.  You have to look professional and everything for college— women are supposed to wear makeup or it’s not professional.”

“That’s bullshit,” Eddie frowned, “you shouldn’t have to wear makeup for your job unless you’re a model or a party clown or… Gene Simmons.”

You snorted, admiring your work in the mirror… not perfect, but good enough.  “Well, I get the feeling this look isn’t going to be especially professional, actually.”

He turned to look at you, eyes going wide at the sight.  “What… what did you do?”

“Eh, went for a kind of punk thing, I guess,” you shrugged, getting one last look at your black eye makeup before flipping the shade back up.  

“Oh, well, uh—” he cleared his throat— “it looks good.”

He cleared his throat again, and you smirked proudly.  “You’re not… into it, are you?” you pressed.

“N-no— what?” he stammered, reaching back to scratch the nape of his neck under all that hair.  “I mean, it’s a good look for you, you know, kinda— not what I expected, I guess.”

“It’s all uhhh you’re pretty you don’t need makeup uhhhhh,” you parodied in a deep and unflattering voice, “until I get mascara all over my eyes and now you’re totally digging me.”

“You wish,” he scoffed, “like I said, you’re not my type.”

The song on the radio ended and a commercial for shampoo came on— clearly a product needed for all of Eddie’s fellow headbangers.  “I hate commercials,” you groaned, “can we turn the radio off?”

“Sure, I’ll even let you pick the music— open the glove,” he offered.  When you did, a slew of tapes and other trash spilled out: folded receipts, a half-empty pack of cigarettes, and to your not-quite-surprise, some suspicious blue foil squares with a ring indented in them.  You laughed as you picked one up off the floor.

"Condoms and cigarettes— and look, they're both extra slims," you announced.

"Shut up," he groaned.

“Ribbed for her pleasure,” you noticed, giving him a sarcastically proud smile.  “Wow.  And they said chivalry is dead!”

“You’re just jealous ‘cause you’re not gettin’ any,” he decided.

“And you are?” you pressed.

“Yeah!  That’s what the condoms are for, genius!” he widened his eyes.  “What did you think I was doing with them, making balloon animals?”

“Well, let’s see—” you started to shuffle through the ones on the floor, and the ones left in the box.  “Three on the ground, two in the glove— that’s five.”

“Wow, that high school diploma’s really paying off,” he frowned.

“You bought a six pack, you used one, and you saved the rest for a rainy day that never came,” you imagined, tilting your head.  “Aw.  Keep dreamin’, loverboy.”

“Okay, first of all, Loverboy sucks,” he announced as you chuckled and rolled your eyes.  “I mean, Heaven in Your Eyes?  What even was that?”

You didn’t openly agree with him, because you were trying to argue, but yeah— Loverboy was so overrated.  That was probably the first time you ever agreed with Eddie Munson.

“Secondly, it was a twelve pack,” he informed you.

Swallowing thickly, you glanced out the window.  He was making the last turn for your junior college already— you were so ready to get out of this old piece of shit and away from him right now.  “Hey, you can just drop me off here,” you offered as you drove past the big brick sign outside the front building.

“You sure?  I could take you closer— what building’s your first class in?” he pressed.

“Here is fine,” you insisted.  “I’ll take the bus home, okay?  My last class is pretty late—”

“Woah, hey,” he laughed, “the closest bus stop is, like, a mile from your house.”

“You think I can’t walk a mile?”

“Not in those,” he pointed at your shiny Mary Janes.

“At least they’re flats!” you defended.

The van slowed to a stop at the place you’d told him.  “I’ll be here at 5:30— that’s when your class gets out, right?”

“Don’t you have Hellfire tonight?” you tilted your head.

“Aw, you remembered,” he smiled.  “Yeah, we used to be Mondays… we’re Tuesdays now.”

“Oh,” you nodded, opening the passenger door.  “Okay, see you at 5:30, then.”

You hopped out onto the grass by the pavement, and he waved as you swung the door shut behind you.

For some reason, you had a hard time focusing in your first class after that— not that you were ever fascinated by derivatives or anything.  You kept thinking about those condoms that had fallen out of Eddie’s glovebox… 

What kind of girl would hook up with Eddie?  Not just as in, like, what self-respecting human woman would sleep with Eddie Munson— what would she look like, what would she talk like?  Is she into him because he’s in a band, or is she just the first woman you’d ever heard of who’s into Dungeon Masters?

(You hated that you even knew that was what they were called, but you remembered a lot of the terminology from the spines of the books Eddie had added to your shelves.  A Dungeon Master’s Guide, The Book of Marvelous Magic and Creature Catalogue didn’t quite fit in with your photography books and classic literature…)

Regardless, you didn’t want to imagine what kind of women Eddie might be using up those ribbed condoms with.  You didn’t want to, and yet, you were.

You nodded as you chewed the bite of sausage in your mouth, giving Wayne a thumbs up.  “Glad you like it,” he smiled at you, sitting down at the head of the table.  You dropped your eyes down to your plate, to the mashed potatoes your mom had made and the sausages Wayne had cooked on the grill; you didn’t like him sitting there at dinner time.  You really had nothing against Wayne, except for his role in bringing Eddie into your life.  Wayne was somewhat quiet, generally polite (though no one would accuse him of being especially classy), and apparently, he could cook— as long as it was something appropriately simple, like sausages on the grill.

But you still didn’t like him sitting there.  It brought back too many memories of when someone else used to sit there; all these years, and you still felt like you’d just gotten used to that chair being empty.

You were too focused on ignoring everything going on that you didn’t even really notice the awkward silence; there wasn’t silence in this house that much anymore, and you were surprised that it wasn’t Eddie who interrupted it.  Of course, his mouth was full of food… that was probably the only way to shut him up.

“How was school today, honey?” your mom offered to break the pause.

“Well—” you began.

“It was—” Eddie started at the same time, and you looked at each other.

“She meant me,” you assured.  

“Both of you,” your mom decided.  

“It’s—” you started over.

“I—” Eddie began again, and you lightly banged your fist on the table.  “You first,” he offered.

“No, please,” you gestured to him, “tell us about how you skipped class to get stoned.”

Your mom frowned at you and Wayne sighed.  

“Make any big sales today?” you prompted him with a smile.

“Sales?” your mom tilted her head.

“U-uh, Hellfire bake sale!” he blurted out.  “Yeah, we’re raising money for… animals…”

“Oh, that’s nice,” your mom smiled, returning her attention to her plate which freed Eddie to shoot you his best attempt at an intimidating glare.  You raised your eyebrows at him in return, a reminder that if you told your mom too much about his… entrepreneurial endeavors… that she would likely kick him out or at least make him stop.  

The honest truth, something you hadn’t even admitted to yourself properly yet, was that you would never actually tell your mom that Eddie was a drug dealer.  Maybe it was because you were afraid of shattering this strange illusion she seemed to have of him— of a polite, humorous young man that paid her little compliments when he could— even though that very misinterpretation of his character drove you insane.  Or, maybe it was because you knew that learning about Eddie’s real career would likely drive a wedge between your mom and Wayne; Wayne seemed intentionally ignorant to the drugs as much as your mother was genuinely unaware of it, and maybe being forced to confront the risk of all this would be too much for them.

“My day was fine,” you finally offered.  “I, um, have a test on Monday, but… should be easy.  How was work?”

You were asking Wayne, you were looking right at him, but he seemed surprised.  “Me?” he wondered.

You nodded.  “Yeah…” 

He cleared his throat and set his fork down, as if that were a much more serious question than it was.  “It was good,” he decided.  “Everyone’s been working hard… there’s a higher production demand, so there’s gonna be a lot of overtime this week.”

“Aw,” your mom cooed sadly, resting her hand on Wayne’s.  “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, honey,” he smiled at her.  “But, it’ll be worth the extra money.  Got a wedding to save up for, don’t we?”

Eddie hummed before swallowing the food in his mouth.  “Do you guys know what you wanna do for it yet?  Got a date picked or anything?”

“We’re still deciding,” your mom explained with a cautiously-excited smile.  “We’d like to have it sometime this summer, maybe— something small, of course, very casual…”

“Sounds nice,” Eddie smiled back.

“You could have it in the park,” you suggested, “you know that one place off the walking trail, with the big trees that look kind of like an archway?  I always thought that would be a nice place to get married.”

Eddie snorted, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.  “You’ve thought about that?”

“Yeah, so?” you shrugged, looking back at your plate as you pushed your food around the white ceramic.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he realized, “you’re so one of those girls who has their whole wedding planned in advance.  Picked out your dress and everything?”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes.

“Did you plan it all while you were dating Gary Thompson?” he asked with a coy grin.

You cleared your throat and pushed your plate away.  “I’m full, can I be excused?”

“Honey…” your mom sighed.

“What?” Eddie asked with a hint of defensiveness.

“Can I go?” you asked again.

“You’ve hardly eaten anything,” Wayne pointed out.

“I’m not hungry!” you snapped, pushing out your chair and getting up.

“Is it what I said?” Eddie assumed instantly.  “Hey, I’m sorry!  I was just kidding!”

You were already walking down the hall to your room, and you heard your mom beginning to explain quietly to Eddie:  “Gary was…” she trailed off.  “Things ended badly there.  He was—”

“Mom!” you snapped.  It was none of his business; but she was probably going to tell him anyway, and you weren’t going to try to stop her.  You stormed into your room and shut the door behind you.  

The most devastating thing was that for a second, you expected to see your room the way it used to be: your bed with the white frame and purple quilt, your posters, your stuff.  But instead you saw the bunk beds, the godforsaken bunk beds, his guitar, his posters, his records…

You jumped onto your mattress and shoved your face into the pillow to scream.  Yes, the tantrum was a little inappropriate for your age, but you were only acting like a kid because you felt like one— because you were being treated like one!  You’d lost control over your own life, Eddie was inescapable.  He was everywhere, reminding you of things you’d tried to forget, bothering you when you just wanted peace and quiet.

Okay, maybe things had been a lot less lonely since he got here.  But then he had to go and say that, bring up Gary fucking Thompson like it was a joke…

You heard the door open, and you curled yourself up on top of the bed.  Just when you expected your mom to sit down on the mattress beside you and ask you to come back to the table, you heard Eddie’s voice instead.  “Hey… you okay?” he asked quietly.

“Go away.”

He sighed and you heard his wallet chain jingling a bit as he ignored your instructions and stepped closer.  “Listen, I had no idea about Gary.  I was just trying to be funny.”

“You’re not funny,” you added quickly, and he laughed a little.

“Yeah, I’m not,” he agreed, and you felt the mattress sink as he sat by your feet.  “I never really knew what happened there, I just knew you guys were going out all of junior and senior year— and, I mean, I figured out that you aren’t anymore since I never saw him around and you never mentioned it, but… I figured it was just one of those things that happens and then, you know, ends.”

You sighed.  “Well, it didn’t just end.  I’m sure my mom told you.”

“I mean, she said it was a sore spot for you, but that’s it,” he replied, and you turned over onto your back.  He was looking at your face, but you were staring up at the slats under Eddie’s mattress above you.

“Things were never great with him,” you admitted, “I mean, I think they seemed fine to me back then because I didn’t know any better.  But he was cheating on me… basically the entire time.”

“Oh— fuck, seriously?” Eddie choked.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know,” you laughed sadly, “essentially everyone did but me.  One of those ‘open secrets’, I guess.  Honestly, how did you even remember his name?  He graduated two years ago.”

“Uh, well,” Eddie cleared his throat, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.  “I dunno— I just remembered…”

“Did you ever talk to him?”

“No,” he laughed, “hell no, he seemed like a douche.”

“You remember every douche from the Class of ‘84?” you smiled.

“That would require remembering basically everyone, so, no,” he tilted his head on the last word for emphasis.

“So why him?” you wondered with your eyebrows knitted.

“Doesn’t matter,” he coughed, “anyways— I’m sorry that he treated you like that.  Honestly, I wondered what you saw in him.”

“Bull,” you rolled your eyes, sitting up on the bed slightly, “you didn’t notice me at all.  You barely knew I existed, except when I was taking your club’s yearbook pictures.”

He smiled a little, looking away.  “Yeah, you’re right,” he shrugged. 

“And the feeling was mutual,” you nodded.

“What feeling?”

“Indifference,” you offered.  “A lack of feeling.”

“I think you thought I was annoying,” he decided.

“I was trying to be nice,” you frowned, “but, yes, in the few moments I took the time to think about you at all, I thought you were annoying.”

“And now?”

“And now I’m forced to constantly think about how annoying you are,” you replied.

He smiled.  “Good.  That’s the goal.”

You’d been banging on the door to no avail, groaning loudly, but he either couldn’t hear you from inside the shower or didn’t care.

“Eddie!” you shouted at the bathroom door, but your voice broke since it was the first thing you’d said since waking up.  “Eddie, hurry up!” you repeated.

Checking the time again, you knew you were cutting it way too close to get ready for your first class.  You slammed your fist on the door again, baring your teeth to no one.

"Eddie, I need to brush my teeth!" you demanded.

His voice was distant, but clear, from inside the room.  "Then come in!"

You sighed, but gave in and swung open the door.  The humid air was a little uncomfortable, but you rushed to the sink to start brushing your teeth so you could be done before he got out.  But of course, the second you put a glob of toothpaste on the brush and stuck it in your mouth, he turned the water off.

You heard him sigh, and then saw the towel be pulled down from over the rod and out of sight.  Looking at your hazy reflection in the mirror, you fought the urge to hum a tune: you usually did while you brushed your teeth, for entertainment but also to make sure you brushed long enough, but now you were afraid Eddie would hear and mock your tastes.

The shower curtain slid aside with a metallic sound, and you refused to look at him as he stepped out.  You refused to look as he walked behind you to the other sink.  You only saw him when he wiped the steam off his side of the mirror.

A towel slung low on his hips, there were still some drops of water dripping off of his hair and onto his shoulders, rolling down his back and chest.  He had more tattoos than you thought: his chest, his clavicle, his hip, and his side all had ink, and that's to say nothing of his arms.  There was cursive writing on his ribs, and you refused to stare long enough to see what it said, but your first assumption was that it was a name; and, for some reason, you felt strange imagining him getting a girlfriend's name tattooed.  It was a romantic— if horribly stupid— idea, and you wondered what kind of girl would be so amazing to compel him to do something like that.  You'd never known him to have any girlfriends in high school… you realized that you preferred it that way, inexplicably.

His hair wasn't nearly as flat and stringy as you figured it would be— not that you'd thought about this before.  But the point is, his mane had kept most of its curl, though it was certainly longer when wet. It was darker, too, almost totally black instead of that dusty chestnut brown you were more familiar with.

His body was toned, tanned, and decorated here and there with patches of dark hair.  And he was still wearing that chain around his neck.  Why was that the cherry on top of the proverbial eye candy sundae?  Why were you a little clammy on the palms— from far more than just the damp post-shower air— just from looking at him?

He was so not your type.  In any way.  Too grungy, too hairy, too… Eddie.  He was a weirdo!  He was your brother, kind of.  Not enough to keep you from ogling, apparently… but enough that you shouldn't be!  Maybe it was just because this was the cleanest you'd seen him that you saw him with new eyes.

That was when you suddenly remembered the dream you’d had last night.  As the images flashed in your mind— his hands running over your skin, his hair dangling by your face as he hovered over you, his body on yours— you gasped and choked on the toothpaste in your mouth.

The sound made him look over at you in the mirror, and you quickly bent down and coughed the foamy substance into the sink.

“You’re such a spaz,” he groaned quietly, putting his own toothbrush in his mouth.

And that was the second time ever that you agreed with Eddie Munson.

//

series taglist: @eddieswifu @kittyplier95 @gamorxa @riffcrusader @draarnaak @gsoyj @eveybitch @takemetoneverland420 @witchofthenorthstar @astro-cub @resident-gay-bitch @missrensolo

[wingsdippedingold]

The purpose of the mating bond (TL;DR at the bottom)

I was thinking about the mating bond (and consequently how much I hate it) and I started wondering about it's purpose. Apologies: This is barely organized rambling.

Our current explanations are: to create the most powerful offspring, and that the mates are perfect equals. We know its not romance since there are examples of unhappy mates so I'm ignoring that.

Rhysand suspected he was Feyre's mate while she was still human, aka before she was a high fae, and they were still mated after she was. This means that the bond doesn't care about physical bodies, which would play a part in powerful children since fae are just supposed to be so much better than humans in EVERY WAY. Therefore it had nothing do with offspring, but knowing SJM Nyx is gonna be even more powerful as an adult because her favs need to be worshipped like gods.

If the purpose was to create the most powerful offspring that wouldn't even work logistically? The two most powerful beings being mated would work, but everyone after that, not so much. Its kinda weird to explain so imagine 4 fae, their power ranking aligning with their number. 1 & 2 are mated because as the most powerful, their children would then also be the most powerful. With Rhys logic, 3 & 4 would be mated. But 3 & 4 child would be much less powerful than a 1 & 3 child, so that mate bond wouldn't produce the most powerful offspring. Of course the mother could just go by pairing the next most powerful people, but we've seen examples where even then that's not what happens. Of course unique combinations of genes could lead to powerful kids without the need of powerful parents, but considering Rhysand's high lord father was mated with an average Illyrian mother, that doesn't always seem to be the case.

Okay so power aside, the other explanation is that the two mates are two equal halves. Sure? I guess? But that seems to be a product of being mated rather than the reason. Rhysand's parents had huge power imbalances and their personalities didn't mesh. Sure, you could be equal without compatible personalities but power and livelihood? I find it hard to believe.

The mating bond is so inconvenient for it to be a reasonable way of getting any offspring produced in the first place. Rhysand and Cassian were both mated to people from the human world, of course those humans came to the fae world so their mating bond lines up with fate. BUT. They went 500 years without a mate just to end up with 20 yr old women as mates? Same thing with Rhysand's parents. A 900 YEAR OLD MAN AND A 19 YEAR OLD WOMAN. WHAT THE FUCK. High fae rarely leave their courts too, and considering everyone supposedly has a mate, most of their mates would be in other courts, whom they'll never meet. The fate argument that works for Feysand and Cassian fails here, because a mating bond being found is so incredibly rare (except for the fact all three archeron sisters found theirs) that it has nothing to do with fate and circumstance.

Nessian. I hate it with my entire heart. Their ENTIRE romance plot was Cassian domesticating Nesta. He consistently abused and ridiculed her, but Oh! They're mates! So it's out of love! Get out. Pack your 50 shades of domestic violence and get out. That man bitch laughed at her as she fell down the stairs, locked her in a house, insulted and made fun of her regularly, and lusted after her emaciated body while she was clearly struggling. He does not give a fuck about Nesta. They were happy at the end! SO WHAT. That doesn't change the way he acted. She kept pushing away his advances and he didn't not care. The same goes for Feysand but I've already discussed them enough.

Considering all of this, I have come to a conclusion!

SJM used the mating bond as an excuse to not have to write compelling romances that actually make sense and instead a fast track to poor fairy porn and her kinks.

[marshymeds]

Intentionally Pathetic?

Description: Shang Qinghua falls asleep at his desk and Mobei Jun carries him to his room. Eepy fluff; (also posted on ao3 @marshymeds)

Nothing could have prepared Shang Qinghua for the workload that awaited him after being reinstated as An Ding Peak Lord. He had never considered himself particularly gifted in logistics or civil affairs, but he could write well enough and he had played the role to the satisfaction of the System. How could he have guessed that everyone else that would fill his place during his tenure as a fugitive was worse at finances and organization than a three year old child?

And what was worse; Mobei Jun had been particularly rude to him after the whole ‘saving him from falling to his death’ thing. Each day had borne an entirely new cadre of tortures. Shang Qinghua wasn’t sure he could take much more. He certainly wouldn’t be saving anyone out of the goodness of his own heart again anytime soon—was this the thanks he got? Complete disrespect even from his favorite OCs.

He sighed deeply and thumped his forehead down onto his arm, exasperated. Nomatter how long he wrote, the stacks of paperwork on the desk never seemed to get shorter. He envied whatever Cucumber-bro was doing at the moment. Probably off fishing with Bing-ge, living the highlife in a quaint lakeside cottage, eating a nice meal with no worries in sight…

Shang Qinghua’s eyes felt heavy as he pulled his head up once more, staring down at the blurry calligraphy on the page before him. He could really go for a warm bowl of ramen about now.

Mobei Jun used no courtesies when entering the room. He simply opened the door abruptly, stepping inside without regard for the inhabitant as he had always done. “I require your assistance.”

Silence.

When the usual startled exclamation didn’t come, Mobei Jun cocked an eyebrow at the figure hunched over the desk on the opposite end of the room. Maybe he’d been too quiet.

“I require your assistance,” he repeated. “Come.”

Still more silence.

He stepped over, annoyance flickering across his face. Was he ignoring him? The man had been incensed that morning, going on about how “no one respects their elders anymore” and “is there no one on An Ding Peak that knows how to properly file taxes??”, only bolstered by the usual round of beatings throughout their daily interactions, but Mobei Jun hadn’t expected the mood to carry over. It never had. He had certainly never willfully ignored him before.

“Qinghua,” he said flatly as he stood next to him now, his tone betraying a cold indifference as well as annoyance. It was entirely intentional.

But he paused as he stared down at him.

Shang Qinghua’s eyes were tightly closed, his cheek pressed firmly against the sheet of paper on which he had been writing. His hand still loosely gripped a brush. The writing was sloppy and trailed off towards the end, resulting in several blotchy stains of ink across the bottom half of the page.

Over the past several years, Mobei Jun had long since learned that Shang Qinghua slept like the dead. There was no use in shaking his shoulder—nothing short of whacking him upside the head would rouse him if he were truly asleep. Thus, there was no harm in leaning closer to look at him.

The peak lord’s mouth was parted slightly, a smudge of ink on his cheek from where he had apparently rested his face down onto fresh calligraphy. His breaths were slow and quiet. Peaceful. Definitely asleep.

Mobei Jun had to wonder if this was intentional. He couldn’t help but think back to that conversation several years ago, as he often did, and consider that Shang Qinghua was putting himself in a position on purpose. To appear vulnerable and weak. To be pathetic.

As Mobei Jun stared down at Shang Qinghua his fingers curled and his chest felt tight. He had to admit it worked.

He pulled his eyes away and stood up again, glancing back at the door. The matter wasn’t important enough to wake him. He would just come back in the morning.

He began to step away and quickly wavered. When had he ever cared whether something was important enough to warrant dragging Qinghua from his sleep?

With that startling thought in mind, Mobei Jun could no longer step out of the room. He quickly turned back to the man at the desk, chest still tight, and weighed the frustration over in his mind. This wasn’t worth it.

Mobei Jun reached down to him, but instead of smacking him, shouting or otherwise violently rousing him from his sleep, he found himself carefully lifting Shang Qinghua from his seat at the desk and into his arms. As he lifted his face a much larger smear of ink was revealed across his left cheek.

The tightness spread from Mobei Jun’s chest and up into his throat. He didn’t understand what sort of illness had managed to overtake him, but it was uncomfortable and he didn’t want any part of it. He didn’t understand how Luo Binghe dealt with this. His half-mortal side must have given him some sort of immunity. In any case, asking him about this was a nonstarter.

Mobei Jun still found himself reaching a hand down to brush at the ink with his thumb. Shang Qinghua’s skin was warm, and under the young demon lord’s icy fingers he flinched away, his face scrunching up slightly in his sleep. The warmth from his face made his fingers tingle and burn slightly, urging his chest to tighten further.

For a brief moment Mobei Jun considered dropping Shang Qinghua to the floor, but he gritted his teeth and shook his dark sleeve over his hand, using the cuff of his robe to gently rub at the mark on his cheek. The ink smudged around but ultimately didn’t budge.

Shang Qinghua really was warm. Mobei Jun could feel the heat through his sleeves as he stood next to the desk, still holding him in his arms. His heart beat faster.

Bed. Right, a bed. Forget the ink. What was he, a maid? He was the heir to the Mobei clan, not Shang Qinghua’s mother. He could bring him to bed, but he needn’t wash his face for him.

The halls were empty even at this time of night. Disciples had no reason to venture into their peak lord’s quarters even if they stayed up late into the night doing paperwork. It occurred to Mobei Jun that he rarely saw anyone visit the An Ding Peak Lord on anything but official business.

He glanced at the man in his arms, but Shang Qinghua had nestled himself comfortably into the demon’s arms, his face pressed into his robes, still entirely unconscious. Pathetic.

Mobei kicked the bedroom door open unceremoniously.

It was here that Mobei Jun ran into a problem. He often took the peak lord’s bed, but he had just brought Shang Qinghua from his study to bring him to bed. Where was he going to put him if he himself would take the bed?

The birds outside were the first indications that morning had come. Shang Qinghua kept his eyes closed, indulging in the quiet birdsong as long as he could before he would inevitably have to rise and begin the day. Although he felt a bit chilly, he could feel a warm ray of sun on his cheek peeking in from the window. When he finally opened his eyes he blinked lightly, momentarily blinded by that thin ray.

He froze.

The face not two inches from his own was sharp and defined, and dreadfully familiar.

Shang Qinghua nearly fell backwards off the bed in an attempt to get away. Had he crawled into bed with Mobei Jun in his sleep? He hadn’t done that in several years now.

Just as his feet touched the floor the demon stirred, eyes cracking open to stare at him blearily in the dim morning light. If he only raised his hand to lightly rub his eye he might look like a child.

Already so early and Shang Qinghua had done something wrong. Mobei Jun had never reacted well to having his sleep space invaded. Maybe he hadn’t noticed?

“M-my king, I ah…uh…H-how did you sleep?”

“Mn.” he grunted, brushing dark strands of raven black hair from his forehead.

Shang Qinghua stood there in tense silence as Mobei Jun sat up slowly, looking somewhat the image of a cat rising from a long nap, stretching and pulling the blankets away from his legs.

“You fell asleep working.”

Shang Qinghua loosened, glad to know that he hadn’t suddenly developed a gap in his memory. But the implications quickly made him tense again, sneaking an awkward glance back at his companion.

Mobei Jun’s eyes narrowed. “What?” he asked flatly.

“Did…you bring me to bed…?”

The look emanating from the demon heir’s was enough to freeze any man’s heart.

“O-of course not,” Shang Qinghua said quickly, answering his own question. “I’m sorry my king, I wasn’t thinking,”

Mobei Jun’s expression softened at that, then hardened, then softened again. The array of colors glinting in his eyes made Shang Qinghua wary.

“Is…there something wrong?”

There was silence for a moment.

Mobei Jun turned away. “You…kick in your sleep.”

________

[weebsinstash]

You know, I'm trying to keep the posts relatively like, content related, but just to post another personal Hazbin theory of mine

It's probably not true but I just have this really sinking suspicion that Heaven is altering the memories of everyone in there, and I know this is kind of a wild reach, but my biggest reason for thinking that is.... how would anyone in Heaven be truly happy if they know they have relatives or friends that are in Hell. Like straight up, unless Molly died first and her death drove Angel to his overdose and thus she isn't aware he's dead, I don't see how Molly could be happy in Heaven? Because you're either in Heaven not knowing when your sibling is coming, or you know they're NEVER coming AND they're suffering in Hell.

Like i know we barely saw her but she just looks way too happy for someone who knows her brother isn't in Heaven with her, and we know that they were super close, which leads me to ask: does she even remember that she HAS a brother? Does she not know he's dead? Is she cool with him being in Hell? Do they just lie to her and say he's coming and she's just like "oh ok! :D" in the meantime?

Just, from a logistical standpoint, I think they're either altering the minds of the souls in Heaven, or they're only letting in really specific, easily manipulated or inherently self centered types of people. To be blunt the line in the Welcome To Heaven song about 'everyone is hot' is already a major red flag, and Saint Peter also mentions the best and the brightest referring to intelligence. What does being considered attractive and smart have to do with being a good person? Why is being filled with beautiful talented people a statement piece about Heaven? It feels very uh... intentionally cultivated rather than a natural process. Once Sera let it slip that the executions are literally just out of paranoia that Hell MIGHT rebel, it became pretty clear that Heaven is just like, CRAZY power tripping. We still haven't even had anyone MENTION God and I find it extremely suspicious that God himself themself whatever was not at a meeting discussing the future of heaven and hell unless God wasn't aware or is intentionally a scumbag

Either way, we get our season finale Thursday, and it'll probably be over a year or two before we see season 2, so... guess we can all scream and potentially cry about it together in a few days :)

[ultra-raging-ghost]

TIME FOR TUBBOS CUCURUCHO QUESTIONS

What is your biggest accomplishment on the island?

"probably my daughter"

2. What is your favorite memory on the island?

"Probably meeting my daughter for the first time"

3. have you ever felt like the protagonist of the story, if yes when? if no, why?

"Uhhh probably never protagonist? Maybe antagonist? No, idk? Neither of them i guess?"

4. if there is something in your story that must stay that is important what is it or what would it be

"Sunny? Probs? I guess?"

5. If you were to be recognized for something you did would it be something good or bad?

"Ive been told i have a pretty immaculate hole"

6. Would you be more motivated into completing something with a premium to be recieved at the end?

"yeah"

7. if there was a future out of the island, who would you take with you?

"I dont know if i want to leave at this point, probably sunny"

8. If you won a huge nomination what message would you give your supporters?

"Depends on what it is, if its for fattest ass ill tell em to fuck off but if its for best create machines ill say thx guys"

9. What advice would you give others to continue pursuing goals, what would be the first step?

"If you want it enough dont quit, but if you dont then quit while youre ahead"

10. before you go, our team was informed you submitted a job application for a high-ranking position

"Yes, i felt like i would be useful, im a good tool you can use me"

11. What help would you be to our superiors?

"I have a pretty good understanding of your economy system, i could hep fix it or provide aid with machines."

12. what is the ability that you are most proud of

"I have a lot of pride in the amount of logistics issues i solve with create and critical thinking of how i can conceptualize machines before i build them, i also have deep mod knowledge"

Cucurucho told him to sit there and wait while his responses are considered, and TPd richas to tubbo and said to pass the time with a friend!!!

[bbgliker-teehee]

If nobody told me I would have personally never guessed that some of the characters in HH's heaven were meant to be of other ethnicities

Because most of them, as far as we were told/shown, have always been angels... And angels don't work in the same logistic as humans : They don't have those concepts because they never existed as humans, they were never born and never had a life outside of Heaven and have led pretty much a spiritual existence (Which honestly should have given the show as much freedom as it wanted for the designs). You could give them a more human design but that design is a pure reflection on which human they'd be interacting with. This piece of lore is part of my religion as a Muslim and from the discussions I've had with Christian friends, it's the same thing in their lore too and HH uses it a lot

And the rest of Heaven's cast, the part that's been confirmed to be humans who became angels like Adam and St Pete, the ones who could have been used for representation.... Look the same in their design? Even if they shouldn't ??

Like Adam is the First Human, made from clay. Some translations for his name are literally "son of red earth". You could have him look like any or every shade of clay imaginable. Go crazy with that. Put decorative patterns on him. Make him look almost rocky as a side effect of how he came to be. Give him many layers representing how clay evolved in its usage for all that is pottery. Infinite possibilities. So why. Why is his design so boring. Why is he white like sheet of paper. Not even white like fire clay which is used to make fire bricks that withstand furnace fires (goes with the theme of him going to Hell for the exterminations). Is Adam made from sawdust in HH's lore ??

St Pete was a follower of Jesus Christ and born in the Middle East. Not even his paintings from many centuries after his death look anywhere close to what HH gave us. The bare minimum would have been for him to be dressed like the people from his time period, hairstyle included

Every single shot where representation could have been legitimately considered and would have worked were missed by a mile by HH's writers and artistic production

These ideas are so cool!!!!

And yeah...if you couldn't tell, Vivianne thinks doing actual research for her characters is gross and cringe....SOOOOOO yeah.

[pkmn-smashorpass]

Hope this isn't too long I wrote as I thought of it I'm tempted to take 🐖 for an emoji anon

Fucking Spoink is a logistical problem we can't solve without the knowing the intricacies of Spoink biology and considering the standard Nintendo has set for their lore I'd say we might never see that.

First, we'd have to know the absolute basics of Poké Reproduction, which is impossible to do while keeping an E rating. Secondly, and more importantly, we'd have to know what exactly about bouncing pumps blood in a Spoink's body. Sure, the PokéDex says it's the shock and to be fair Spoink does jump fairly high, reaching up to Professor Oak's chest. But Spoink stops for a second to attack the professor in his Lectures segment from the Diamond and Pearl anime and does so twice. Once to bounce into his chin and another to watch how far he goes.

From that we can infer that Spoink is an organic paint can and shaker but that still begs the question of the involvement of the coil. On what level is this coil needed to generate shock for biological function? If a Spoink were to somehow lose this coil, are there implants available that use say, hammers that can keep a rhythm going and how does evolution treat them? If such surgery isn't covered by Pokémon Centers then who can afford these treatments? To get back on topic, Spoink with a vigorous enough partner might not need to bounce at all and may be able to use these moments to rest. Though if this idea now asks if Spoink can survive mating with another Spoink or if bouncing is at all taxing in the first place. I assume there might be dialogue hidden in a PMD game could give a definitive answer but without wanting to put in more than two seconds of effort for this long-winded ask, I believe the latter simply because relying on other Pokémon just to sit down for a few minutes isn't a sound way of propagating a species.

Anyway, dissertation over. Tl;dr you know the clussy onahole? There's probably a similarly perverted gag gift in universe that squeals instead of honking and the clamperl pearl is a bubble that collects everything for easy cleaning.

Sources: Bulbapedia, JickNonsense Pokémon Sun Spoink solo playthrough (timestamps 0:17 and 0:49)

Footnote: If I had to guess an exact Mystery Dungeon game I'd say Explorers of Sky due to it combining parts of Time and Darkness. Also, I've been getting notifications from Pokémon Go and I don't know how to tell them what I've been doing for the past hour instead of answering their raid invites since they follow me on here. (PoGo got me out of the house during covid and now it's a habit, don't judge me.)

This is the kinda shit that keeps me running this blog. Overly in depth analysis of the possibility of smashing Pokémon.

[liesmyth]

Okay but when John says "all of them" in response to "how many babies died" I think like, there's also some tragedy in the fact he's probably not lying at all. Like, obviously everyone died when the bombs went off, but what about the resurrection? I think it's like, extremely possible that John just didn't really bring back anyone other than adults. We're shown that even with his godlike powers there are limits, and Harrow especially I think gives a hint children might be one of them. He seems more in awe about what Harrow's parents did than anything, he talks about how he tried doing it and failed, and I think he feels some regret about his abilities.

We're only given a small idea of what life is like after resurrection, but from what we understand it's a lot of learning and a lot of weirdness. Additionally like, kids and babies have weirdness. They have parts of their brains that need to change levels depending on the lifespan, they have hormones that need to start more and stop more as they get older. They have bones that are soft bones that merge together and bones that form. We also know small scale is where God has some trouble, like being able to stop tumors but not blood cancer

I think it's really likely that John didn't attempt to resurrect kids, or was unable. He didn't want to put newly resurrected people in caretaker positions, he didn't want to risk messing up or causing problems. I think it's likely that later on he even tried, and just outright failed and has some guilt over it

My personal head canon is that he might have even tried to create a kid for himself in the past. The way he specifically calls out what Harrow's parents did as something he knows the logistics of tells me he's probably thought of it. My like, theory is that while he was killing planets and stuff he at one point attempted to try and use the bloom to create a kid for him and Alecto or to resurrect kids, and just had no idea how to make it work SO yeah TLDR: I think God talking about how all the babies died has actually some guilt on John's part, and ties into his guilt he angrily refuses to release himself from. Both that he's potentially unable to resurrect kids, but also that he was potentially unable to make a kid of his own like Harrow's parents did

THIS FUCKED ME UP. THANK YOu.

Ok. Listen. I actually never considered "he couldn't bring back children" before (or "he tried and went horribly wrong") but this is a 10/10 chef kiss heartbreaking headcanon. Terrible. All of them. Wow

Also. I lowkey think that John's bone crown is made of baby fingers specifically for a purpose, and IMO it's as a reminder to himself. I know this is somewhat #controversial, but I really don't read the baby bone crown as an Evil Symbol of Evil — House culture seem very much to be pro carrying around bits of your dead. I think it'd be a very John thing to make a symbol of office out of the dead children of humanity, and then interpret it as a memento to himself that there can be no forgiveness, as long as I have breath in my body etc, instead of a reminder that he shouldn't fucking nuke a planet. Anyway, I think the bone crown is, like, 40% a way to show respect to the dead and 60% because he thought it looked cool.

(Doylistically, the bone crown absoluely exists because Taz thought it looked cool)

Anyway. Before seeing this ask, my personal interpretation of John's familiarity with the details of what Harrow's parents did is that he understands the mechanics because resurrecting humanity + necromancy involved using some of that death energy, and possibly souls as fuel, to introduce necromancy to humanity. I'm not married to this theory because IMO if John had been able to pick and choose who was to be resurrected as an adept, we wouldn't have ended up with quite the same necro/cav pairings, but I'm not married to this guess either... it's just a whole bunch of guessing. Now this sad headcanon rerooted my brain so I'm again Considering Things