#its 2am when i posted it so deal with it

[cherry-treelane]

everytime i watch shameless I get hit with a jolt of sickness and remember how frank and monica stole fionas life from her and she'll never get it back because it never existed because she was a sister first her whole life (from the age of 4) and everything else second and its always just so casual in the show and normal and rarely touched upon but it's not normal at all and it's tragic

[playingonedchess]

how is it that i can feel nostalgic about the time i was sitting on the pavement under an overpass in a foreign country crying because something didnt go my way and gave me a bit of a largish bill but clearly really cause there must be something wrong with me

[seraphicsentences]

all mine (pt.2)

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.1: you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

please click here!

tags: sub!abby, dom!reader, experienced!reader, mentions of owen, tbh trauma from owen, strap-on sex, cunnilingus, 69ing, dry humping, grinding, nonexplicit masturbation, lowkey voyeurism+exhibitionism ish? there’s plot i swear.

A/N: im well aware that i apologize in every post i make and that its redundant, but im still sorry that i took forever to write.

so. some of this may sound a little familiar from the first part, but it’s simply just drawing parallels between abby’s and your stances on one another.

this gets gradually worse and worse. i think the quality started landsliding once i reached the smut. enjoy!

it’s been near ‘round a week later, and abby’s avoiding you like the fucking devil. in fact— by the way she’s been acting, you think she might even believe so. she’s never felt so inexplicably thrown off. clickers, bloaters… couple of well-aimed shots and they’re no deal. but you? the ghost of your touches haunt her day and night. she’s like a woman possessed. and she’s insatiable.

her once weekly visits to the chapel have become daily: hour-long stays spent on her knees, prayers whispered hastily under her breath, eyes darting to paranoically try to catch potential eavesdroppers.

even owen, the air-headed asshole, has been left victim, or perhaps victor, to the effects of your actions. in a desperate attempt to ease her whirling mind, or rather, to ease the painful throbbing between her thighs, abby’s seemed to have turned to her boyfriend as a last ditch effort.

abby’s newfound flood of arousal, pooling and pleading, only to be met by owen’s two incher every night have had his ego blowing up fucking obnoxiously.

“god, abby, you’re fuckin’ desperate for my dick lately,” he’d gloat, hilariously blind to his girlfriend’s infidelity.

unfortunately for abby, her pathetic resorts have done nothing to quiet the moaning mess of guilt-filled memories. if anything, they’ve done quite the opposite.

she’s been left to the mercy of her palm, heel of it digging into her clit while she’s beside the sleeping figure of owen, straining every massive muscle in her body to give her that orgasm she so badly needs.

it’s to no avail, though. stuck gasping and tearing up against a pillow, her poor pussy crying for some semblance of relief. and what’s left is a week-long edged abby anderson, ms. “top soldier”, who’s back to shooting no better than a freshly new recruit.

what’s up with that, hm?

~

2am now, in the isolated west dormitory’s showers, and abby’s at it again. her body starving for your touch; your sinful, corrupting, addictive touch, and she’s failing to appease her needs once more.

“mmph- fuck, ah-please,” abby begs into her forearm, groaning as two thick fingers plunge deep into her sopping hole, thrusting in and out messily.

it’s exhausting to fuck the way you do. even with her arms the impressive size they are, it’s impossibly demanding to reach every nerve you had reached, filthy sounds echoing along the tile walls, taunting her.

abby knows what’s coming, or really, the lack of it.

skin pink from the heat of the water, she abandons her effort, shutting the stream off with a squeak and ventures the locker room to get dressed for the night.

her mind wanders to you— that’s all it ever seems to do as of recently, and she thinks about how she almost misses your antics. she can’t place her finger on what it is exactly about you that makes her chase every teasing interaction so masochistically.

maybe it’s your lopsided smile that lures her in, or that glint in your eye she gets caught up in. or maybe it’s just that she knows she shouldn’t want you, and it’s so deliciously wrong, and that’s why she’s got to have you.

towel flung over her shoulder, abby makes her way out, only to stop in her tracks when she hears the loud slam of a locker door.

what the fuck? wasn’t the bathroom empty when she last checked??

cheeks burning at the mistaking of her privacy, she swivels the corner, furious to see who the fuck else is using the west dorm showers at this hour. of all the hours.

and, well, abby’s frozen in place when she’s met with the sight of a mystery someone’s bare back. but oh, how she recognizes you, you and your wet hair, slinging droplets down your smooth skin, trailing lower and lower and-

you cough, breaking her trance. baby blue eyes dart up, caught, as you slide your tank on, smirking.

“hey, anderson.”

that just about does it for her. abby slams an open locker door shut, almost sprinting out of the room.

and really, there’s no choice but for you to follow her, practically hunting her down as she sharply turns down random hallways, clearly attempting to outrun you. abby makes a wrong turn soon enough, and you honestly think you might burst out into laughter because of the funny way fate seems to string the two of you together.

the blonde’s backed herself into a corner, and it just so happens to be your residential corner. you can’t help but wonder if she already knew where your room was located.

“scared, anderson?” slips out of your mouth, and it feels significant, reminiscent of the week before. you stare her down, wet strands clinging to her skin to match yours, and it’s like the two of you know what’s to come with your words. the inevitable.

you’re not sure which one of you moves first, rubber band of tension snapping as your lips collide in a catastrophic sort of way. you’re scrambling to blindly dial your dorm code in and tugging abby by her shirt in a tangle of limbs and saliva.

“i’ll play nice,” you pant, “even after that disappearing stunt you pulled last week.”

abby laughs, whispering, “whoops,” under her breath before pulling you in for another dizzying kiss, tongue eagerly curling into your mouth like she’s been waiting years for a taste.

you wrap your fingers around her hair with a tug, and the low groan that escapes from the back of abby’s throat has you repeating the motion again and again as you veer her backwards to fall atop your bed. you follow, straddling her, not wanting to spend a second apart from the fucking drug that her mouth is.

your hips grind down on their own, burning and desperate for stimulation. abby, in return, wraps a strong hand around your throat, pulling you even deeper into a sloppy kiss to swallow your moans as she pushes her hips up to meet yours.

“fuck,” you gasp, clit catching against the seam of your shorts with every roll.

abby’s mind has gone blurry with arousal, drunk off the satisfaction of finally getting what her body’s begged for. every pretty noise that slips out of your mouth sends pulses of pleasure straight through her bundle of nerves, and every touch of skin has her feeling set ablaze.

but as always, she needs more.

she maneuvers you easily under her big frame, your head tipping back in a soft whine as she latches herself onto your throat, biting and soothing your skin over.

she’s lodged a leg in between your own, mimicking your position as she wildly bucks her hips down onto you. “please,” she breathes out, tears welling in her eyes with how foreign this feeling is. she can’t bring herself to care about how needy she’s acting, because to starve, is to take anything.

“just like that, baby, you’re soaking my thigh,” you coo, continuing to dry hump her leg like she’s nothing but a toy to you. the whimper she lets out at the name you call her is downright criminal, and the way her movements pick up have you groaning it out again. “c’mon baby, make a mess of yourself for me,” you grab her meaty hips, grinding her harder down against you.

“gonna-“ she gasps into your neck, before shuddering against you as she cums with a cry, muscular thighs holding you so desperately tight in place. you almost scream, caught in the iron grip she has your body in, stopped so close to your own finish. you dig your nails into the flesh of abby’s hips, hearing her moan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and echo the sound yourself as the burning in your core starts up again.

“just let me, for a minute- i need you- just stay here, shit,” you ramble, gripping her hair for leverage while you fuck yourself faster against her thigh.

every twitch of a muscle beneath your soaked pussy has you reeling, unable to wrap your mind around what a massive fucking crime it is, for another woman not to have experienced the absolute blessing it is to have abby anderson’s defined-ass thigh to grind on.

you glance down at abby, and the fucked-out expression she has on, all watery doe-eyed as she peers up at you, mesmerized, has you throbbing enough to match your heart rate.

curse after curse flies out of your mouth as she attaches her mouth to your neck again, biting down as you let go of that coil tugging on your navel.

abby’s no sooner clambering atop you, diving in to taste your sounds as she scoops you onto her lap, practically growling, “fuckin’ get over here,” under her breath.

as your vision returns, she attacks your mouth with a sloppy kiss, colliding teeth, and you’re unbearably hungry for more.

“let me- i’m gonna taste you,” you breath out, shoving abby’s back down with a push.

she falls back with a soft thud, eyes not leaving you once. “please, fuck- taste me, have me,” abby affirms, scrambling to tug her shorts off.

the massive soaked patch at the center her boxers have your eyes rolling into your skull. “shit, anderson,” you run a finger over her clothed slit, giggling as she jerks her hips up.

“shut up,” she rasps, her words harsh, but the small smile on her face says otherwise.

you grin up at her, “didn’t say anything,” before licking a fat stripe up her covered pussy.

her response is immediate, hands fisting into your hair to pull your mouth closer, actions the epitome of more, more, more.

you flatten your tongue, licking, and meshing her arousal with your saliva to entirely soak her boxers wet. you wrap your lips around where you guess to be her clit, based off the place her legs tremble when your tongue reaches it, and suck hard.

“there,” abby whines out, back flying off the mattress, and you’re so very desperate to see what other fun reactions she has in store for you, you grab at her waistband to unveil her pretty dripping pussy.

up close, face to face, you get to really admire the work of art she is. the divets of muscle adorning her thighs frame her pussy almost in a greek-goddess sort of way. light brownish-blonde curls of hair that reach out to your mouth, trying to pull you in closer. she’s beautiful. you’re in complete control of her right now, and holding the reins of such an unreal being has you groaning into her slick eagerly, hands holding her spread wide open while you feast.

you’re dipping your tongue into her sopping mess, teasing and thrusting, feeling her gummy walls flutter around every brush of the muscle. you dart a thumb up to circle her puffy clit, red, from her earlier actions, and the way abby’s legs kick up— almost hitting you in the face, has you giggling again into her pussy. the vibrations of your laugh make abby squeal, thighs clamping around your head, and then she’s tugging at your hair, chanting, “stopstopstopstop,” and you, of course, oblige immediately.

your face comes up covered in her wetness, arousal dripping from your chin as you lick your lips in an halfhearted attempt to clean yourself up. “sorry, sorry, i- did you want me to stop?” you ramble, concerned that you might’ve gone a little too far this time, getting yourself involved with a taken straight girl.

abby’s face flushes a deep red, even darker than it had been from your actions, as she catches her breath and looks away. “no, i- can you, uhm.”

you catch on to her hesitation, newer to sex thats more than just, well, dick. you rub her calves soothingly, “use your words, baby, you got it.”

she visibly gulps, thighs pressing tight around your body, “can i?” she asks, almost sulkily as her hands move to tug at your shorts.

“oh-!” slips out of your mouth, surprised, “yeah, yeah you can.”

she lets out a soft okay, tugging harder now, slipping her calloused fingers under your waistband as well so as to drag both down together. abby’s groans, low and heady, at the sight of your glistening pussy, practically dripping down your thighs from just getting her off. “this too,” she murmurs, sliding your tank off before you can blink.

she’s pulling you in closer, as if she’s in a trance, as she wraps her lips hesitantly around one of your perked nipples. the high-pitched sigh you let out is more than enough encouragement for her to continue, warm tongue flicking at it as she sucks around your breast. “is this okay?” she pulls away to whisper, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she looks up at you, eyes wide.

“fuck- yes, just,” you push her head back in, her lips abiding immediately as they gently pull at your nipple, teeth grazing the most sensitive parts of your chest as you arch your back into it, quiet moans ringing in her air.

all of a sudden you’re being turned around, confused, until your hips are being lifted up towards abby’s stuck-out tongue and you’re shaking with your face pressed to her thigh while she experimentally kitten-licks around your hole, unknowingly teasing you.

her nose brushes ever-so-slightly over your pulsing clit as her tongue passes just over your dripping mess, and it has you crying out, “there, please- right there, please,” breath hot over her own throbbing pussy.

her hips jerk up at the sensation, and you take the hint— latching your lips around her own clit and stuffing two fingers easily into her hole, moaning at the feeling of her squeezing tight around you.

it’s no wonder abby’s the top soldier of wlf. for a girl who’s only ever been with the most lacking, vanilla man ever, she picks up fast. each action of yours is borderline self-serving, with the way abby’s mimicking every move not even a moment after, so adorably eager to please.

abby had this insistent need to pull every pretty sound from you, whether she got it through grazing her teeth against your clit, or curling a thick finger against your g-spot, she was determined to hear it— to the point where you thought she might’ve even needed it. and it’s what made sex with her so intoxicating.

she wasn’t like any of the other girls you typically hooked up with, and that’s not to say the girls you usually got with were bad to fuck… they just weren’t as invested in your pleasure as you were with theirs. and as the type to get off on giving rather than receiving, this was especially new. you’ve never been with someone like you. and god, does it take the cake.

abby’s really coming to terms with all the ways she can use her especially large everythings to make you feel good, murmuring into your pussy, “‘m fuckin’ splitting you open with my fingers, pretty,” as she pushes in a third finger to your sopping hole, relishing in the squelch that comes with the thrust.

your thighs shake around her head, stimulated beyond compare as you continue your ministrations on abby’s pussy, humming mhms into it to encourage more of her bolder ventures.

“mm-fuck, can feel you choking my fingers. you gonna cum, hm?” she mumbles cockily, the high from your reactions sending her mind into a frenzy.

“shit, please, need it so bad,” you croak out, taking only mere seconds apart from tonguing down her puffy clit.

“ah- god, me too, pretty. cum on my tongue,” she says, and the fucking vulgarity of it, so downright shocking to hear from ms. straight christian prude over here, has you riding your orgasm out, trembling heat overtaking your body like a california wildfire. matched moans come from beneath you, as abby’s hips fuck up against your mouth, legs flexing deliciously as the two of you reach your peaks together, the world slowing.

you slide your body off of hers, turning around to be met with a sight to behold. your cum, all over abby’s mouth, shining on the tip of her nose, remnants leaked onto her chin— and you have not a doubt you look the same mess. you yank her into a sloppy kiss, fluids mixing in your mouths in the most animalistic nature.

“i’m not done with you,” you say, eyebrows scrunched as you take in her fucked-out expression.

“i know,” she whispers, “give me more,” she breathes out.

abby slips out of her tank, finally, using the cloth to gently wipe your face and hers, action a bit too intimate for what you guys have, but neither of you decide to call out on it.

“you gonna let me fuck you?” you ask quietly, running a hand over her chest softly, enamored, as abby shivers from your words.

“please fuck me,” she whimpers, tone all pouty and petulant as she watches your hand trace ambiguous shapes over her skin.

“so polite,” you tease lightly, pulling her in for a brief kiss before reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your favorite strap, just the one for the special girl in front of you.

8 inches, hot pink, with a slight curve to it, but most importantly, never been used on anyone other than yourself, by yourself.

“it’s so-“ she stutters nervously, thighs rubbing together in anticipation as you secure the toy onto your hips.

“pretty?” you finish, unable to help your laugh as she looks at you, so clearly not thinking of your response.

“yeah,” she shrugs, “suppose it is.”

it’s quiet in the room as you finish latching the silicone dick onto yourself, the two of you settling into the weight of your impulse-fueled actions.

you gently pull open her closed legs, settling yourself between them as you tease her entrance with the tip of the toy, covering it with her cum. you then spit down onto it, twisting your hand around to coat, and hear abby ask, “what’re you doing?”

you continue to prep the toy with easy motions, committed by memory, “i know you’re soaked, anderson, but it’s still a dick you’re taking, baby.”

“i just mean- i, you know,”

you hum, “owen doesn’t put in the effort, huh? and i bet you’re not even a quarter as wet for him as you are for me,” scoffing.

“don’t-“

“it’s the truth though, isn’t it?”

“…yeah.”

“that’s what i thought.”

you thumb her clit in circles, using her slick as lube to rub over it smoothly, relishing in the way abby’s head falls back and her hips jolt up. “that’s it, ease up for me,” you murmur.

you prod again at her entrance with the toy, sliding the tip in slightly as she hisses, “‘m sti-still sensitive.”

“and you’re gonna take it like the fuckin’ slut you are, anderson, aren’t you?” you tsk, pushing a couple inches more into her.

“shit- yes, yes ma’am,” she whimpers out, legs threatening to close from the new stretch.

“because even after all that time in the shower, nothing can fill you like i do,” you finish, thrusting the full length of you into her tight pussy, abby nodding repeatedly as her back arches up.

her moans pick up alongside your hips, voice breaking with every thrust as you push into that one sensitive spot deep inside with obvious expertise.

“so, s-so go-od,” she cries, hands gripping into the bedsheets as she searches for some tie back to reality.

you smirk satisfactorily, fast pace fueled by the sight of abby’s open mouth, drool spilling out the sides as her voice grows hoarse from constant use. you fuck her hard, strength channeled from the anger you bore against her homophobic attitudes, and jealousy you garnered towards owen and his idiotic male self.

you lock your eyes with abby, sweat dripping down your face as you zero down on her, slamming into her pussy with no reprieve. “no more owen,” you say, each word punctuated by another deep thrust.

“this is so wrong, this is so fucked,” abby rambles, nervous eyes darting around the room so as to avoid your gaze. her eyebrows are tugged together, head shaking no: but no to argue your words, or no to agree with them?

“has something so wrong ever felt so good?” you pant out, “tell me baby.”

“i can’t, i can’t, i can’t,” she repeats, torn between what felt right in her head, and what felt so right in her heart. “turn me over,” she babbled, not wanting to head-on face the fucking sin-filled act she was committing.

“you tried running, baby. and how’d that work for you?” you ask, fed up. “you’re still back here, a fucking mess, and all for me.”

“what’s it gonna take for you to face the fact that you’re getting fucked by a girl, and it’s so much better than anything you’ve ever experienced?”

abby’s eyes scrunch tight, trying to tune you out, but her moans still wrench out from the back of her throat, guttural and unstoppable.

you slide out finally, earning you a soft whine of disagreement, toy dripping with her slick with the tip pressed against her folds. “look at me, abby.”

and fuck. she’s never taken notice to the fact that you’ve never said her name before—but god does it sound so pretty coming out of your mouth. and god is it enough to make her wrestle her eyelids open and stare you dead in the eyes, blue clashing with the darkness you reeked in.

“say that again,” she whispers, look full of pleading. 4 letters, 2 syllables, but it has her core tensing and her heart racing a mile.

“tell me you’re mine, abby,” you breath, and she almost finishes right there and then.

“i’m yours,” she says, a single tear breaking free from her right eye, baptizing her skin, absolving her of guilt.

“good,” you choke out, bottoming entirely into her as she releases a cry. your movements quicken, ravenous, chasing the sweet whines that fill the room.

abby’s tits bounce with each thrust, and you reach down to give her sensitive nipples a pinch, making her reach an all time new height of pleasure. her chest heaves, curses slur, as she squirms under your touch, nearing an unbearably overstimulated state.

“feels- gonna cum,” she moans, barely holding on.

“cum for me,” you demand, needing to see her fall apart now more than ever as you pound into her harder, fingers rubbing harsh circles into her clit.

“s-shit,” she gasps, throwing her head back as her walls tighten around the toy, “‘m- fuck, god- fuck! ‘m cumming!”

loud squelching noises overtake the room, complete with the sight of abby writhing beneath you as spurts of her juices drench your moving cock.

her chest heaves, mouth open in a silent scream as she comes down from her high, squirming with overstimulation.

you can see the moment her brain clicks, panic in her eyes clear as her skin turns pasty white.

“i’m so sorry i didn’t mean to do that i don’t know how-“

“abby.”

“-that happened ive never done that before, like who-“

“abby.”

“-fucking pisses on someone like that i’m so sorry ill clean it-“

“ABBY.”

her eyes shoot up to meet yours, frame cowering as she mumbles a quiet apology again, so obviously uneducated in the realm of half-decent orgasms.

“you squirted, abby, you didn’t piss on me for christ’s sake. it was hot. now don’t worry about it, i’m very honored,” you chide lightly, cradling abby’s heated face in your hand.

you stand up, grabbing a clean towel and wetting it with warm water from your kettle. striding over, you spread abby’s legs lightly, running the towel gently over her worked-out center, breath hitching, hips jerking with your touch.

“why are you- you don’t have to-“ abby stutters, grabbing your wrist.

you pause, confused. “abby, i’m not a fucking dick, contrary to belief,” you scoff.

she doesn’t let go. “no that’s not what i- i didn’t mean it like that, it’s just, you know.” she waits for you to look up at her, before looking away. “you don’t have to fuss over me.”

a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “you mean owen doesn’t-? yeah, who am i kidding, of fucking course he doesn’t ‘do aftercare,’ god, what a dick!” you groan, facepalming.

“abby, baby, this is fucking normal. owen just sucks,” you smirk, her cheeks flushing at your words. “let me take care of you,” you continue more softly, nudging her grip off as you drag the towel over her sternum next, cleaning off any remnants left from the two of you.

abby’s quiet now, eyes following your every movement, curious almost, a bit hesitant— as if she’s not sure what to do with herself in the meanwhile. she’s stiff to the touch, frame shrunken now due to the sheer vulnerability of it all. bare as the day she was born, and touched like she’s never done wrong a minute in her life.

she doesn’t know how to feel about it. wisps of hair tickle her nose, and so she scratches it, pushing her hair away, tugging it behind her ears. and you’re right there on it, wordlessly turning her around as you begin to comb through her hair loosely, pulling it into a simple braid. the same hairstyle she displays everyday, always done by her own hand: tight, knot-free, and burning into her scalp. a reminder to remain true to her virtues, live by strict rules, and not stray from the lord’s path.

but the way you braid is so different. you’re careful to tie in the tickling wisps, but not harsh. effective, but not pushing. with owen she feels like an accessory, but you make her feel like someone worth worshipping. and so, the only burning she feels is not on her scalp, but behind her eyes.

you do notice the subtle tremble in abby’s shoulders, droplets trickling down her cheeks as you weave her hair through, but you make no comment on it. certainly not with the way your own hands fumble her golden strands, fingers shaking into the knots. you tie the end of it up.

“i should go,” abby whispers, standing to grab her scattered clothes.

you remain seated, mouth opening and closing like a fish, as your lips struggle to wrap around the words your heart is singing out for.

you settle on one.

“stay,” you blurt, louder than you intended, the word ringing in the tense air.

abby freezes, hand outstretched towards her tossed shirt. her head edged just the slightest bit towards you, like subconsciously, she was waiting for you to say something.

“just- stay,” you whisper this time, more unsure. waiting for the rejection you know is to come. and while your brain is screaming for you to let her go, your eyes are hooked onto abby’s figure— searching intently for the smallest signal of her response.

you see her breath catch in her throat.

“okay,” she whispers back, and her head turns just enough for your gazes to lock, matched desperation surging.

she’s drawn back to the bed like a magnet pulled to its twin, the mattress dipping as she settles in the space beside you.

and abby feels the heat of your drilling stare, one she refuses to return. she has no more fire left in her, not for you, just contemplation. a longing for more, an urge to savor, an ache to feel.

so abby faces the door, and you face her back, waiting for the day she’ll turn around.

so what did we think guys?!?? this was 4.7k words. crazy.

ok. so notice the tear coming from her right eye during that whole end part of the sex. note that it came from her RIGHT eye. scientifically speaking, that’s a tear of joy. BOOOOOOM MIC DROP.

i, unfortunately, shot for the stars and tried to make this deeper. hard to do that when you’re not in touch with your emotions. so now you guys are stuck being confused. good luck!

anyways. the final scene is supposed to represent where they metaphorically stand in their relationship. reader is trying to bond with abby, or at least making an effort to, hence her facing abby. abby can’t come to terms with all this, but she’s trying! she’s not fully accepted the homosexual part of herself though, the side that comes out with reader, so she’s facing the door. FACING IT, not leaving through it. ;)

also, yes, owen goes in dry. it’s canon. do not come at me.

taglist:

@pricefieldsuperiority @heartlexs @graviewaviee @liaphrodite @k1ngpin42 @deadbolted @be3flow3r @mrsabbyanderson

@rob1nbuckl3ys @vivispace @bookpagecandlescent

@thelosstvalkyrie for photo creds ty baby <3

[lieutnt]

i promised i would post this so enjoy a half-baked fic/drabble i sent to alec at 2am

john price x werewolf!male reader cw: piss kink (just a little), possessiveness

Werewolf!Reader joining the 141, and with you comes a guidebook about having a werewolf on the team. It’s given to Price and he decides to read through it, most of it obvious stuff that he could have guessed but something sticks out to him, a section that reads ‘As the bond between a Werewolf and its pack mates (the soldiers it serves with) grows, some have shown a tendency to become possessive over their territory and those within it.’ It has Price slightly concerned, and since he’s inexperienced with dealing with werewolves he calls you into his office to discuss it.

He asks you to clarify what this ‘possessiveness’ can mean - for your territory and your pack mates. Before you can stop yourself you make a joke, “I’m not gonna be pissing anywhere other than the toilet if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Price is confused at first until you explain the joke about werewolves marking their territory and warning other werewolves away. It makes something flutter through Price and he dismisses you, except the thought of others like you being able to smell your claim on him has his pants growing tighter, thighs squeezing together and suddenly he’s finding it hard to sit still.

Cut to however long of working together and the relationship between you is way passed soldier and commanding officer - not only is Price yours, you are his. Every so often the thought of what he read in that guidebook floats through his mind, especially when on certain days you’re attached to his hip but he never acts on it, not until one day another team with a werewolf is temporarily staying on base. Full preparations are made, keeping you and the other werewolf apart as much as possible to try and prevent any unnecessary tension, the 141 is very clearly your pack and Price doesn't want the headache if something happens. 

Price still has a duty as Captain to interact with the other team, and when he comes back to his room (that you’ve practically moved into), you’re instantly on him, huffing at his scent and pulling away in disgust when you catch whiffs of the other werewolf on him.

You rectify that quickly, stripping him of his clothes and scenting yourself on his body, fucking him until he’s sure his insides are moulded to you. When you carry him to the shower and his brain is still rebooting the question slips out, Price asking if marking your territory is true. You don’t give an immediate answer, Price finally turning to you to see the way your eyes are focused on him, and just by your breathing he can tell you’re interested. 

As the water switches on Price hides his face in your chest and mumbles how he wouldn’t mind if you marked him like that. His face burns with embarrassment as he waits for your answer, mind running wild with thoughts on if he’s pushed too far when your grip on him tightens and you press him against you, mouth dropping to his ear to tell him to get on his knees.

He does, looking up at you as if he was praying at an altar as you grip your cock and aim towards his kneeling body, nothing happening for a few seconds until he feels the warm stream hitting his chest and trickling down to between his thighs. Despite how eagerly you fucked him earlier his cock makes a valiant effort to harden again, and by the time you’re finished you’re both hard again. You fuck him multiple more times in the shower, being able to smell yourself so clearly on Price sending you haywire.

The next day you manage to catch the moment the other werewolf attempts to approach Price and stumbles over his feet, quickly turning around and walking away. Price stands confused for a few seconds until his cheeks and the tips of his ears start to turn pink as he realises what just happened.

[a-whispering-echo]

Ballet Killer - Shank

is this a bad time to post probably, its 2am here rn lmao

i know ive been off recently, not posting much and i dont know when that will change cus im really depressed and dealing with that 'losing interest' thingie, but i dont want to stop, so im pushing it in little increments

SO! weve met Sugarplum, meet Shank! though, of course, we can just call him Killer, lmao - once again, feel free to ask about him or the others <3

[samkerrworshipper]

the call up

leah williamson x reader

please keep sending requests in i need some fuel!

angst, panic attacks, pain, mentions of abuse of power, mentions of abuse, a short 4000 words im posting this at 2am so sorry for any typos or little things i might have missed x

my heart breaks for the espwnt as they navigate their current situation and i’ve been thinking a lot about it so here’s this little fic ❤️

blurb: you got the news notification, not a text, not a call, a fucking new notification that had broken your heart into a million different pieces

———————————————————————

I was consciously ignoring the sound of furious knocking against the bathroom door, but not on purpose. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I’d felt that way ever since I’d gotten the news notification and then the follow up text from Alexia asking if I was okay. No I wasn’t okay, but I’d told her I was fine anyway. It was a blur to me what had happened after that, I’d thrown my phone at a wall, knowing that my phone was probably 30 seconds off of lighting up furiously with more notifications. How could they do this to us? How could they do it to me? After that I’d stumbled my way into my ensuite, finding it hard to see properly with the tears that were crowding my eyes. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think beyond the thought of how this was actually happening.

I’d staggered my way into the shower, cranking the water to its highest point and sitting myself down on the floor. I was bawling my eyes out but I couldn’t really feel it, all I felt was numbness, overwhelmingly numb. The shower water was boiling hot but the searing liquid felt perfect against my skin, it did wonders to comfort the iciness inside of me. It also drowned out the neverending sound of me sobbing furiously into my own skin. I was still wearing my clothes, still dressed in the same t-shirt and shorts that I’d been wearing when I’d gotten the notification. I was scratching furiously at my legs, seeking out the relief that the mixture of pain and burning gave me.

How was this the world that we were living in? How was it that in the current world that we lived in I didn’t even have a basic human right? I was a sobbing, trembling mess just thinking about it all.

How was I supposed to go there and pretend that everything was fine, that I didn’t want to claw my throat out just at the thought of being in the presence of some of those people. It was insanity, pure insanity. I was a fucking world champion, one of the best players in the world and yet here I was, back to square one. What was the point in us even signing a treaty if they were just going to flat out ignore it anyways. It made me sick to my stomach, in what world was this okay, in what world was this how we lived?

Leah would probably hate me, hate me for being ungrateful for the opportunity, hate me for not taking a chance to play when she couldn’t. I was being fucking childish, it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, shouldn’t have been that upsetting. I was being given the opportunity to play the sport I loved for my country, so why did everything about it feel so wrong? Why couldn’t I find a part of my heart that was happy that I’d been called up, happy about the prospect of playing for my country. I should have been happy, should have been excited, should have been bewildered that they were asking for me to come back even after I’d told the press about all the abuse, it was a miracle really. My heart went out to Mapi, my best friend who I knew would be absolutely devastated that she’d been called up, she’d rejected a call-up to the world cup because of her views and now that was invalidated, everything she’d stood for was going out the window, much like the rest of us.

It was the knocking that brought me out of my spiral, it was non-stop, loud and furious.

“Y/n, I’m coming in sweetheart.”

It was Leah’s voice, both so gentle and stern at the same time. I didn’t take my head out of my knees as I heard the door to our ensuite open, I must have forgotten to lock it in the flurry of emotions that had gotten me to the shower floor. I heard Leah step cautiously into the room, probably taking in her surroundings and the state I was in. Then I heard the door to the shower opening and I couldn’t help but pull my head out of the spot in between my legs to look at her. She looked flustered, her hair and clothes dishevelled and nothing like what they’d looked like when she’d left this morning to take our dogs on a walk and meet up with Keira for coffee.

“Oh darling.”

I knew I probably looked like a mess, mascara smudged all over my red eyes. She reached out to comfort me but immediately recoiled when her skin made contact with the water, letting out a string of profanities towards the water,

“Fuck, you’re burning yourself,” She said, her eyes flashing with fear as she reached towards the temperature dial, immediately turning it down to a more luke warm temperature.

“No, I need to feel clean,” I reached up to turn the water controls back to my previous temperature btu Leah’s hand stopped me, her hands gently gathering my own in hers.

“You are clean y/n,” Her voice was a mere whisper, her voice hoarse as she hurriedly slipped off her shirt and shorts before climbing into the shower with me, just left in her sports bra and boxer shorts.

“Dirty,” I choked out, flinching away from her as she snaked an arm around my body.

“You are not dirty y/n/n,” her voice was stern, she was speaking to me with the intention to get past my internalised barriers that were trying to block her out, trying to block out her attempts to convince me that my self deprecating thoughts were wrong.

As soon as she noticed my hands falling down to my legs to continue scratching at them to get some release she put a stop to it, her own hands intertwining with mine and bringing them to her chest.

“I know there are a lot of twisted thoughts going through your head right now sweetheart, I know that this whole situation is so fucked up, beyond it being okay but I’m here for you.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like every breath that I was taking in was lacking in oxygen and everything I needed to be able to fucking breathe.

“How can they do this? How can they make us do this?”

Leah just shook her head at me, because we both knew she didn’t have an answer, that as much as I leaned on her to give me an answer for everything she just couldn’t in this situation.

“I don’t know.”

Her words were rocky, splotchy, it reflected everything that I was feeling in that moment.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m being ungrateful, I mean you can’t even play and I’m sitting her complaining about the fact I’m being given the opportunity to play,”

“You aren’t being given an opportunity, you are being forced to play. You are allowed to be annoyed about that, it’s not being ungrateful. We live in a world where as women we are supposed to be grateful about every single fucking opportunity we are given but this isn’t a opportunity my love, it’s fucking abuse, especially after what those men did to you.”

I shivered at Leah’s words, just thinking about everything that I’d given to that team just to be fucking abused and assaulted, it had taken so much therapy for me to acknowledge that it had been abuse, that it hadn’t been deserved, that I deserved better.

“I can’t go back, I can’t do it,” Leah nodded at me, pressing her lips to my forehead under the spray of the shower and nodding against my skin.

“That’s okay, we’ll sort it out, I’ll call Ale and we’ll figure it out. If you don’t want to go you don’t have to, we can't risk your mental health for fucking soccer.”

“They’ll take my licence, they’ll fine me, I’ll never be allowed back, they’ll find a way to invalidate my passport and I’ll never get to see my family again,”

“That’s a bridge we can cross, we’ll figure it out, what matters most is that you are okay.”

I didn’t feel okay, I felt like I was tearing at the seams, like seeing that news notification pop up on my screen as I’d been catching up on the most recent episode of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills was probably the worst moment of my life.

“You do feel safe, y/n?”

I shook my head, burying deep into Leah’s neck, trying to get as far away from the world as I could.

“I love you y/n, I will never stop loving you, no matter what happens, you are stuck with me, so even if thats hard to believe I need you to know that, I need you to think about that. Let’s get you out of the shower, yeah?”

She was right, I didn’t believe her. I kept my cheek pressed into her neck as she lifted me up off of the floor and out of the shower, stripping off my layers and wrapping me in a towel, I refused to face her though, refused to look into those eyes.

“Can I carry you?” Her voice was so hesitant and before I could gather my thoughts, the ones that told me to push Leah away I found myself nodding.

She engulfed me in her arms so quickly it was as if she knew I was on the cusp of changing my mind, I still hadn’t stopped crying, my sobs had just quietened down into numb, soundless tears that somehow burned my cheeks as they dripped down my skin. My chest pressed against her own as she lifted me up and walked us into our room, our bedroom. I squeezed my eyes, trying my hardest to ignore how perfect it felt in that moment to be pressed against her, to be in her arms, how perfect it felt to be held by her.

She gently placed me down on our bed and I tried my hardest not to whimper at the loss of contact, she dashed off into our wardrobe, stumbling around in there for a few seconds before returning with a fresh matching bra and boxer set on herself and a sports bra and pair of boxer shorts for me. I didn’t even flinch as she pulled the items of clothing over my body, just went limp in her arms. Once she was done dressing me she climbed onto the bed beside me.

“Can I hold you?”

I nodded at her with tears in my eyes and she’d immediately wrapped both of her arms around me. She rested herself against the head of the bed and brought me into her lap so my back was pressed against her chest, it was the skin to skin contact that made me start to sob unapologetically and furiously. Leah was quick to tighten her grip on me and start to rock me back and forth in her arms.

“I’m so sorry this is happening to you sweetheart, I’ll do anything I can to fix it.”

Leah was a problem solver, furiously dedicated to helping out anyone that she could. In this instance though I couldn’t find anything that she could actually help with, what was there for her to do? No one could do anything, any effort, any attempt to try and make a change, for Jenni, for us all, was over.

“How am I supposed to go there and act all happy and grateful when all I want to do is tell them all fuck you, fuck you for doing this to me, fuck you for condoning the abuse for years, fuck you for covering it all up.”

My words came out in hiccups between the sobs, Leah waited for a few minutes before answering me, it got to the point where I was worried she wasn’t going to answer me at all.

“If you don’t want to stay and play you won’t have to, it’s against your rights and the FIFA code says so, fuck there bullshit law that says you have to go. We’ll talk with our lawyers, talk with Ale and Mapi and we’ll find a solution. If they make you play then you can sit on the field, you can fake an injury, get yourself red carded. We’ll find a solution, we’ll work it out.”

Everything Leah said made sense but it also didn’t, how was I supposed to go there, how was I supposed to walk in a building and try and reason with people I was terrified of, people that I now needed anti anxiety medication for, people that had given me years of trauma and PTSD.

It was then that we were both shaken by a furious banging from our front door, my mind went to the worst place possible. What if it was reporters, or people from fifa, or people from the Spanish federation? What if they’d come to take me, what if they were already here to take my licence or take me to jail?”

Leah sensed my distress and slid herself out from behind me.

“I’ll go take a look, stay here, it’ll be fine.”

Even her voice was unsure, like she didn’t even know if it was actually okay. She darted out of our room, I heard her thudding down the stairs and then making it to our front door. I heard her open it, which indicated to me it had to be someone we knew because if it was someone she didn’t want to see she would have looked through the peephole and left them. I heard the hushed voices of two people, maybe? Then the furiously fast footsteps of an amount of people I couldn’t make out. Within a few second though all was revealed to me as Alexia, Mapi, Lucy and Keira bursted into my room, Leah chasing after them. One look at them all had me sobbing again. Alexia and Mapi were quick to jump onto the bed beside me, I noticed the the tear tracks that were painting Mapi’s face as well and the red rims around her eyes. Mapi was my best friend in the entire world, we’d played with each other since we were kids. Alexia was like my older sister, she’d taken me under my wing as soon as I’d joined Barca as a rookie and she’d treated me like her own ever since. The two women meant more to me than anybody else, bar Leah and I knew that they both knew how much this would be tearing me up.

“How can they do this to us? After everything they’ve done?”

“Lo se mi amor, lo siento mucho.” (I know my love, I’m so sorry)

Ale’s voice didn’t do much to comfort me, if anything her familiar words that were spoken in our mother tongue just made it all pour out of me more.

The two english women in the room were lead out by Leah, the three of them sensing that this was a moment that us Spaniards needed to have on our own.

“No puedo hacerlo Ale lo siento pero no puedo hacerlo.” (I can’t do it Ale, I’m so sorry but I can’t do it.)

“It’s okay Mi amor, I understand. We are going to sort it out for you and Mapi, we’ll figure it out, you don’t have to be there if you don’t want to, they can’t force you.”

“Can’t they?”

It was the first time Mapi had gotten a word into the conversation and Alexia’s eyes immediately met hers in a glare, she was trying to stop me from working myself up even further and Mapi’s words weren’t helping.

“No they can’t María, we’ll work it out, I’ll sort it out for my girls, I’ll keep you protected, te prometo que.” (I promise you)

“You can’t make that promise, you didn’t protect us last time.”

The tension between the two was thickening and it was making me feel even smaller.

“I can try my hardest, last time it was different and you know it, this time we have an audience, we have people that we can trust to help us, we don’t have to be scared anymore, I am going to protect you, lo juro.”

I pressed myself further into Ale’s arms, finding solace and comfort in the older woman's arms.

“I’m scared, Ale.”

I felt Ale’s head nod against my own from its position balancing on top of mine, her head burrowing into my semi wet hair that Leah had partly dried with a towel.

“I know pequeño, you have every right to be scared, but I’ll keep you safe and if you want to go home after we negotiate with them then you can, no one is going to make you play.”

I nodded into Ale’s body, searching for Mapi’s hand and when I found it tangling it in my own, finding warmth and steadiness in her hand.

I could feel my body relaxing into Ale’s, the emotions of the last hour starting to hit me and affect my energy level.

“Go to sleep, cariño, rest, you need it.”

I’d nodded sleepily into Alexia’s body and let myself relax fully against her, letting all of the stress, fear and anxieties leave my body as the feeling of sleep started to overcome my senses.

When I woke up it was no longer light outside. I shot up in bed, realising I was alone and immediately clutching at my chest as I felt the anxiety overcome my body, I’d been deserted, because of my stupid fears about being called up, I deserved it, I was so weak, so stupid, so fucking unworthy of love and attention. It all came crashing down on me, like a massive wave, all of the feelings crashing down on top of me in an overwhelming cascade. I was gasping for air, frantically clawing the sheets of the bed off of my body, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, overheated and sweaty. I’d left a cold sweat patch on our bed sheets but it didn’t really bother me, I was so hot and it was so hard to breathe and I just couldn’t think.

The next thing I knew Leah was walking into our room with a cup of tea that she’d almost immediately dropped when her eyes had met mine, forgetting the cup and liquid and jumping directly onto the bed, her mind immediately reeling.

“Y/n/n, you're having a panic attack, I need you to breathe for me, how we’ve practised, you’re going to be okay, take some deep breaths for me.”

I’d gulped and nodded at Leah, we had practised it quite a bit, it didn’t make it any easier when this happened but it did reassure me that I knew how to do it.

Her hand had almost immediately found its way to my hunched over back, rubbing circles into the muscles along my back as I struggled to take in any oxygen.

“You’ve got it my love, deep breaths, in and out, it’s going to be okay, I’m right here.”

Leah’s voice was so soft, so comforting, like it was made of cotton and teddy bear fur.

“I thought I was alone and I-I thought you’d left me.”

My voice was so unsteady, so unlike me.

“I’m never leaving you honey, not if I can help it, I’m here for you, always by your side.”

She solidified her statement by pressing a gentle kiss to the side of my temple, I relaxed my scrunched up face against her mouth, trying to enjoy the feeling of it as much as possible.

“Good girl, keep taking those deep breaths for me, you're doing so well mi amor.”

Leah knew very little Spanish, I’d tried my hardest to teach her some, especially when she’d stayed with me in Barca but it just never stuck, she didn’t practise enough for it to stick, not that I minded, my mum was english so I’d spoken both since I was a child, my English was just as good as my Spanish so it wasn’t hard for me to converse with my partner.

Leah’s voice kept rubbing against my back, helping to guide me back down to earth from the panic induced cloud that I’d sent myself to. When I did finally come back down I started to take in my surroundings, the damp sheet below me, Leah’s breath against my neck, our dog and cat sitting on the edge of our bed, cuddled up together asleep.

“Hey angel, you back with me?”

Her voice was so gentle, so patient. Leah’s hand found its way to my face, brushing the loose brunette strands from my face and pushing them behind my ear. I felt shameful, I couldn’t handle looking into those eyes, those eyes that held a world's worth of care in them, the eyes that I knew could break me down into tears on their own accord.

“M’ sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

Her reassurance was what I needed, I craved that reassurance, craved her approval.

“I just want this all to go away, I just want to be able to me be, just live how I want to.”

Leah pushed herself back against our pillows and pulled me with her, wrapping her arms around me and bringing me to her chest, her lips fell to my forehead out of habit, it was one of her favourite things to do, I loved the connection.

“You can be you, you are allowed to be upset about this, there is nothing wrong about being angry about what is happening to you.”

I let my head find a nook in Leah’s body and relax into it properly, finding so much peace in her.

“I just want this to all be over, better yet, never have happened.”

“Fair enough, you’ve dealt with enough bullshit to last you the rest of your life, you are allowed to be angry about that, anything you feel is valid, your life has been turned upside down by a bunch of old white men who don’t care about anybody besides themselves and it sucks, it sucks that most of the men in power across our world are the same and that we can’t really do anything to change that. I’m here for you though, so is Ale and Mapi and everyone else that cares about you. It sucks, but that's what we have and maybe it’s enough, maybe it’s all we really need.”

I nodded along with Leah’s words, she was so wise, so smart considering her age. It was one of the things I admired her so much for, how she knew so much but was also prepared to educate herself on something that she wasn’t sure about. She was always wanting to be better, to learn more, it was jarring for me when I’d met her, having come from a very traditional family and set of views.

“Go back to sleep my love, we’ll work this all out in the morning, I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

She’d rolled her eyes at me but nodded regardlessly, knowing that if she didn’t my anxieties would creep up and I’d probably send myself into another fit.

“I pinky swear.”

[mukuharakazui]

i feel like ive just gotten baited into sending one of those "WAIT, KIRBY HAS DEEP LORE!?" asks but please tell me about the magolor christian themes

HELLO. ok it is 2am so i will do the best i can. if this answer is utterly incoherent, blame that.

magolor's whole christian thing has been around since his concept art, which ensured that his design had notable yellow highlights as a nod to the color used to represent judas in classical christian art. (his ears were also originally going to be horns, so there could be some devil stuff there if you squint.)

this doesn't mean much if you only look at return to dreamland 2011. it's simply a clever, blink-and-you'll-miss-it piece of his character design that ties with the fact that he betrays kirby. some fans also found this funny regarding his symbolic link to apples, which he uses as bombs or. uh. microtransaction materials. lol.

however, once return to dreamland deluxe came out in 2023, the game dropped a MASSIVE bomb of their own by providing us with a new, post-game epilogue for magolor. spoilers ahead, obviously. via the epilogue, magolor's link to apples is explored in-depth by putting him through trials where he must collect 5 fruit (apple) fragments, which a game screen implies parallel the fact that magolor tricked kirby into collecting the 5 parts of the lor starcutter. that's essentially his "penance" process.

when magolor finished rebuilding the apple, which is known as the "ethereal alter" in english and the very unsubtle "room of eden" in japanese. the master crown that magolor had betrayed kirby for and stolen from its place on halcandra became a massive gem apple tree final boss. however, the tree itself is not listed as the boss--instead he is fighting the master crown itself.

he ultimately destroys the master crown, which had taken the form of the "forbidden fruit" that had tempted magolor into hurting people, including those he had come to genuinely deem friends, for the sake of obtaining personal power. the gem apple being constructed in the "room of eden" is enough on its own to build a base for a christian theme, but magolor's arc of redeption through either 1. trial and repentance (main gamemode with magolor epilogue; self-imposed; successful) 2. outside aid (extra mode + true arena; extended by kirby; failed) is what allows the christian imagery to shine.

however, his christian imagery chronologically extends past the return to dreamland deluxe epilogue, as that same epilogue confirmed that "microtransagolor" (the green magolor from kirby clash deluxe) is the same magolor from return to dreamland. he nurtures the gem apple seed which he obtained after defeating the master crown in that game. clash deluxe also introduces us to a weekly "magolor day," which, you guessed it, is on sunday, with the first of them occuring on an easter.

the major reason why i connect magolor to christianity in particular rather than all abrahamic religions is the judas connection, the easter sunday thing, and the process through which he repents or "must atone for his misdeeds." while genesis isn't exclusive to christianity, the specific actions which magolor takes along his path of betrayal and redeption mirror make more sense to me as a christian moral tale rather than judaic or islamic for some reason. not sure why, i'd have to unpack that elsewhere.

this isn't to say that kirby is indoctrinating children into christianity or whatever ofc. considering the whole hyness and mage sisters deal in star allies, the connection between kirby and religion as a whole isn't always a positive one. nintendo also tends to avoid real life religions and references to them as a whole in their games likely to avoid controversy and to make their games accessible and understandable to a worldwide audience with a wide variety of cultural backgrounds. that last point is WHY i find it super crazy that magolor has an obviously and intentionally christian narrative.

(also, for the books, i'm not catholic. but i think 4 years of catholic school and a catholic grandmother gives me juuuust enough background/authority on the topic to relate it to kirby)

[quotidian-oblivion]

Wouldst THou be okay with questions???

What’s your favourite thing to do at 2am (follow up question, fic recs??????)

Love

'Course! I has puts blanket permission it on le pinned post.

Read/write fics. Unquestionably. And eat junk food (like ferrero rochers *cough cough*). If i was alone in the house at 2 am, i would probably be singing out as loud as i could.

But *sigh* I end up doing schoolwork half the time. The other half I'm laying in my bed, and sleep-deprived me takes over and magically produces a fic and its outline leaving daytime-me to write it out and expand on it.

Fic recs... hmmm... Lemme go visit my bookmarks and link the links here.

Okay, so Repletion by sardnoic-sprite is rlly good. Actually lol, im providing analyzations + some minor info and ideas on the 2.0 version of the fic to sprite rn. In this one, Uncle Edward does exist and is a certified asshole and abuser. He tries to control Tim and keep him away from the Bats and threatens to hurt Tim real bad if the Bats try to contact him.

Zugzwang by sardonic sprite is rlly good too! Very hurty. Much angst. Ra's captures the batfam and challenges Tim to a game of chess. Each move is dangerous. A small mistake puts any of the Bats at risk. And Tim has to predict which batfam member will get hurt depending on which chess piece he moves.

And the whole series of Celebrity Batwaynes by sardonic-sprite is rlly good too! It had me cracking up so much. But ofc there's angst there too, but mostly crack and i adore this series with my life. It's about the Gotham vigilantes, some rogues, and the Waynes doing internet challenges like Buzzfeed quizzes and other stuff too.

My Mummy Has Tattoos by I_is_a_fangirl_yee is v v angsty. And yes, im being prejudiced rn but what im not being prejudiced abt is the fact that i screamed out loud in class while beta-ing this fic.

Now, The Dream Of Flight by A_Canceled_Stamp is an excellent fic I will never stop yakking about. The plot is literally just Tim falling off a building. But the writing? The emotions captured within the writing, the pure act of storytelling through actions described by text is something out-of-the-world.

I adore Instead Of All The Colors I Saw by SilverSkiesAtMidnight. It deals with Tim dealing with the aftermath of Titans Tower and his relationship with Jason and oof- the angsty dialogue is PEAK.

All of Vamillepudding's works. Well, at least the Batman ones, those are the only ones i've read. But they are all. Just. So. Good. The writing and oh- the ideas especially. Definitely some of the greatest Tim joins the batfam early fics to ever have existed.

Living Dead Boy by Terranphuem. *SCREAMS*. This fic. Let me tell you, this fic. It reached into my heart, grabbed it and teared it out then bandaged it and put it back in again. It's about Tim encountering Jason from when he just rose from the grave. And Jason's catatonic and everything and Tim helps him all by himself (with special help a little later) to make him "good enough" to return back to Bruce. SUCH A GOOD READ ISTG.

untitled titan's tower fic #89268439 by Ashynarr. It's, as the title says, a TT fic, but in this one, Jason finds Tim's old fanfiction account and tortures him by rereading some stuff from there to Tim XD Doesnt get the attention it deserves imo.

come back home please by PurpleHeartsOne. Gosh, the writing in this one... it is Up There with the Greats. I love how the emotions is captured so well here and also how smoothly the progression of chapters goes! The character development and- oh! The character reveal! Ahhhhh! Please do mind, it is still incomplete 8/10 chapters rn.

sipping the piping hot tea by BlueTee. In this one, Tim sips tea and destroys Jason instead of Titans Tower happening. Gosh, i loved the nonverbal reactions so much 😂

Conference Room 2B by motelyfam. It's part of a series, but it's so good, it deserves its own special appearance. Big bro Jason Todd! And theater kid Jason Todd! They're both in here!!

of crime lords and literature by adelfie. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! The writing! The fucking- *slams table* THE WRITING!! It's a TT AU where Tim asks help from Jason for English h.w. There's more obviously, but that's where the plot starts. It is. so good.

don't drop the baby (i'm the baby) by Ms_Trickster. I will never ever ever shut up about this. I read this twice and both times I teared up. Both times. This fic means a lot to me on a personal level. Basically, Tim accidentally time-travels and meets a baby version of himself.

Late Night encounters by paperxcrowns. Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh! I adore this fic! Not only is the writing especially good, but the story line, the slow and smooth and excellent progression of events and character! Ahhhh! It's about Tim meeting Jason accidentally at a cafe and him somehow accidentally helping Tim with his homework and becoming friends.

just be there by TaraLaurel is so so good. I wrote a fic inspired by it (it's Shiver btw, the title of the inspired fic). Heck, I love all the batfam fics written by them (I haven't read the other fandom fics). This one is touch-starved tim drake and who doesn't love touch-starved tim drake! But more particularly, the writing. The fucking- writing. I'm like, the person who reads fanfics, but the ones with good fucking writing become my favorite cuz then i can kinda read it again and learn from it yk? It's like, looking up to people. And I look up to this author. How they describe emotions through nonverbal actions and verbal actions and subtle actions but also the inner monologue as well. Love it all.

Lastly, I've been saving this for the end. Rebel Without A Clause by DangerBeckett. This fic covers topics like classism and has Deep Stuff in it which is so so fun to read! I started commenting from the third chapter. Then by the fifth chapter, my two-sentence comments turned to two-page comments. As did with so many other commenters. I love the author and their writing. It is truly top tier. I love the character development going on too and the retrospection of topics and events through fiction and fandom. Truly excellent. Honestly. I can go on and on. And I have! It's about Tim meeting the batfam through galas and slowly getting adopted by them. It's in-progress still.

Those were too many fics probably lol. But I kept going through my bookmarks like "Oh! I forgot about that one! It was so fun". Happy reading! Thanks for the ask! ^^

[oinonsana]

so hear me out right (and this is by no means a smart blog post thing, im just rambling at 2am)

a lot of combat heavy ttrpgs (D&D4e, PF2e, ICON, Lancer, Panic! At The Dojo) rely a lot on keywording and mechanical definitions to create this interlocking (and hopefully well-oiled) combat engine that rewards good tactical choices and forward thinking. 4e needs you to know that Ranged Attacks Provoke Opportunity Attacks, and so you need to move away first to avoid that (often by spending their Move action to Shift). this goes for other games as well. ICON needs you to know that if an Ability does not have the "Attack" tag then its explicitly not an attack, even if it deals damage. This is important because some classes and abilities benefit from not attacking, such as the Demon Slayer

the far end of this is PF2e, where almost everything is Keyworded. Classes, Races, even Feats have keywords, and some keywords have Keywords in them. this is not bad design in my opinion: mastery of this keywording can create for some really cool effects (and you can feasibly design something very BotW which also depends on a lot of interactions between elements).

now consider that so much of tactics trpgs (that is, Traditional/Tabletop Role-Playing Games) rely on so much of that interaction to create fulfilling scenarios. most of the time this is because tactics rpgs also depend on build-crafting. there are a lot of tactics trpgs that don't really care about build crafting or has less of a focus on it to focus instead on the grid combat: games like Rune, Valiant Quest, maybe even Blood Neon, so im explicitly talking about the variety of tactics trpgs that are build-centered: basically anything that comes from the vein of Fourth Edition Dungeons and Dragons

one of my favorite parts about TTRPGs is that you can play them based off of the fiction. writing Gubat Banwa, I understand that sometimes you have to create that fiction, especially if its not one thats well-represented. the created fiction or genre is the blueprint from which the play-fiction arises during the game: that's the fire-like collective imagination that arises from play.

There's a design and play philosophy (common among OSR, PbtA, and FitD) known as Fiction-First. This means that you follow what happens in the fiction first before the mechanics or anything else. Not to preserve the integrity of a "narrative" but rather, to preserve the integrity of the fiction.

What would a Fiction-First Tactics TRPG look like? This is something I tried to set out to do with Gubat Banwa. I haven't really succeeded, as of 1e.3.

so i've been thinking lately. What if a game was Fiction-First? It would work similarly to the Keywording of PF2e, but more open-ended in its interpretation.

Look at the Panabas from PF2e (a weapon present in SEAsia! From the Malay Archipelago all the way to the Philippine Archipelago). It has the Forceful (your second attack on your turn gains +X (X = damage dice, third up gets +2X.), Sweep (+1 to attack if youve alr targeted a separate character), and Two-Hand d10 (roll a d10 when you wield with both hands) tags.

I'm not going to be translating these one for one, but let's use the fiction-first style of writing and mechanics i'm concocting:

Panabas. A heavy blade. Using this, you strike with Bravery. The forward-curving blade can chop through tree, bone, and bramble.

Heavy Blade is a weapon type, so this is classic keywording. The text afterwards is also keywording: striking with Bravery means you roll your Bravery stat when making attacks with it. All well and good: there's always going to be some classical keywording in there as necessity (its this entanglement of mechanic and fiction that's made me love PbtA anyway).

The later text is more important, because say then I made an enemy like:

Walking Tree. A tree that uproots itself, and whistles to kill victims. Made of wood, so they lose 1 Stamina when they suffer chopping attacks. If they're struck by flame, they start burning. [Insert other combat-important stats here].

Now the fact that the panabas can chop through trees interacts with the description of the walking tree being vulnerable to chopping attacks.

Now these really aren't too different from the concept of keywording (really they're in the same concept park), the different thing is two things:

You can now apply that chopping quality to anything in the fiction. Find some brambles on your way, maybe even brambles as hindering terrain? Then spend a Beat to attack it to remove it! That's fiction first after all

It's easier to understand just at first glance with just natural language.

The important part here is natural language. In Play, a lot of the time, my players love picking up on little things about lore-bites of the items and techniques they have and seeing how that can apply to the fiction. So this is more of that: weapons, items, techniques, armor all become things that establish fiction. When two fictions interact, a new fiction arises!

Burning: A status effect. While you're burning, lose 1 Stamina when you start your Break. You lose burning when you're doused by water or you take time to remove it. Improvise: (A basic action). Do anything that does not inherently harm, as long as it makes sense in the fiction, and doesn't take more than 4 seconds to do (Beats take up 4 seconds). You can use this to stop drop and roll to get rid of Burning. Deep Water. -1 Elevation. Water reaches up to your shoulders. Moving into deep water costs +1 Speed.

Of course there's still going to be mechanical descriptions there, we're not going for FKR full just fiction thing. We're just blending fiction into the game part. Even PbtA still has stats and rolling and mechanics to further support their fiction.

I wanted to write this so that techniques and other widgets can be written with fictional wording in mind, and that wording would affect how its used in tactical grid combat. A technique that says: "You are surrounded by a barrier of tornado-force winds. Any attack from outside your adjacency is swept away, unless it cannot be buffeted by winds." Becomes a mechanical thing: perhaps a spell of concentrated curses pierces through this, but not arrows or weak fireballs?

The Arbiter

The last piece of the puzzle will almost always be: who arbitrates the fiction? There almost always needs to be a final word. For GuBa, this is the Umalagad, not so impartial arbiter. For Solo Play, this is still the Umalagad, but as the oracle: they ask a question, ie, "Would this area of effect attack be buffeted by the wind barrier if the origin point starts from outside?" and they would roll a d10. On a 6+, the answer is no, the target would not be buffeted because the flames overwhelm. On a 5-, the answer would be yes, it is buffeted because the target is not the brunt of the attack. And the final answer becomes the ruling for the rest of that scene.

Last last thing is this particular rule that sets things down that I might put into Gubat Banwa:

The Law of Phenomenon Pay close attention to the words that you have. These words will decide whether your blade can chop down a tree, or your abaka weave blunts edged strikes, but susceptible to piercing spears. These words will decide whether your dazzling spell can daze opponents, or if the opponent you fight ignores it due to them not depending on their senses to fight. The words establish the fiction. The fiction is the world in which your characters live: follow it always.

[lynxthewolf1]

Wrote this at like 2am yesterday and I’m feeling sappy so screw it I’m gonna be sappy for a second. This probably gonna be a lot of me repeating myself I tried my best to make this coherent but this post is long and it’s almost 2am again

I don’t think it’s fully processed that fables story is over but when it does hit im gonna be sad but until and after then Im so thankful for being able to meet the people I have through Fable Smp. If any friends/moots I’ve met though fable sees this y’all are so cool and I’m so glad I got to met you. If someone told me when I started watching fable I would be as active in the community as I am even tho I’m a lurker who occasionally appears to ramble about my thoughts and feel so at home here I would’ve thought ur lying and honestly teared up at the thought a community like that could exist. Now I can sit here teary eyed knowing I found that place and people I can talk 2 who get the emotional pain that is fable smp. Also they’re all just neat and fun to hang out with and talk to.

I was in a really dark place when I found fable and ended up gravitating a lot to certain characters I related to a lot at the time Caspian and c!Athena mainly. Seeing there stories progress and the characters get through what they have gave me the confidence to deal with my own personal stuff and situation. I remember watching my first stream it was ether S1 Halloween or a bit after that seeing it the whole way through has been such an incredible and emotional experiences of trying not to cry and rooting so hard for these characters to have one nice thing. Through this community I found a the safe space and in a sense that I gave up looking for. Thank you to the cast for giving me and so many others a safe space and comfort series and characters that we can watch to get through the hard times and representing not just minorities but struggles that aren’t shown often and the different ways it effects people.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to describe the feeling of Rae and Caspian show not telling the fact they’re Demi and going “they’re like me! It’s not just a me thing there’s a name for it??” And feeling so seen. After being called weird and broken for what I found out was because I’m demiromantic aroace was such a moment I remember being so excited because for once I didn’t feel broken. It felt like if a fictional character I relate to is Demi then why should I care what other people think of how I feel about people. Whisper duo was my wake up call to my own situation with my “friends” that I needed at the time and overall this series showed me how much family isnt blood it’s the family you make and I found a home in this community as a lurker who sometimes appears to ramble on Tumblr and go back to the void.I wanted to feel seen and fable did that through its characters.

Thank you to the cast for making a series and community that so many people can enjoy and characters who feel like call outs even tho anytime I relate to a character in any way I take 1d6 physic damage (/j) and a safe space for people who was looking for it or found it by accident and now we’re in the rabbit hole. I don’t plan on leaving this fandom I’m gonna continue to rewatch fable and just cry about it. For prob not the finale time my counsler and friends will be hearing about how much fable Smp has changed my life for the better /pos.

[floofymeow]

FujiTowa AgeRe Oneshot

Based upon a one-off post from @towapet abt fujitowa age regression (its actually wild how far of a rabbit hole I went into thinking about agere bc of this).

In like a 2am haze I woke up randomly and couldn't go back to sleep so I wrote a cute little Fujieda x Towa short........... at least I'm pretty happy with it..!!! here's to the tumblr void to commemorate <3

1k words, age regression fujieda + towa, sfw, fluff!

Fujieda shoved down the intense wave of fuzziness breaching boundaries of his mind. The day was a long one—and his clients were particularly difficult. There was no one to tell him “good work”, only suspicious glares and doubtful scoffs.

This was fine. Fujieda didn’t mind. He chose this line of work, and at this point in his life, it was the ideal outcome—the necessary kind of occupation that he was obligated to fulfill. His movements felt sluggish as he turned the car off and stepped into his condo.

The Friday was over. It was a particularly rough week. Three out of five nights of late overtime had been sludged through. Words melted down his throat as he glanced over to a languid Towa, who spoke a simple greeting while setting out the plates for dinner.

Towa.

Watching him, another stronger wave of weightlessness rushed through him—and Fujieda frowned, though he didn’t force it to stop. The last time he did, he was left with a severe weekend migraine and a bad attitude, according to Towa.

Fujieda’s fuzzy mind began to regain clarity somewhat, but all that remained was an absent-minded desire to lounge on the couch and continue playing where he left off on the console. The exhaustion of the last month seemed to drift far away from him, as the thought of playing games grew stronger. It was a good thing he had all weekend.

A decided satisfaction spread through his chest as he nodded to himself and began to quickly eat—faster and sloppier, as if he had a million things to do other than eat.

Towa watched on curiously.

“Fujieda?”

Fujieda frowned, disliking the sound of his last name. It sounded impersonal. As if Towa were a stranger. He really didn’t like that.

“Fujieda sounds weird. Can’t you just call me Ryo?”

The low, yet curtly juvenile tone brought a softened light to Towa’s expression. His lips thinned into a smile, “Sure. Ryo, any plans this weekend?”

Ryo didn’t answer until he polished plate off. He shoved away from the table and dropped his dishes in the sink carelessly.

“Just games this weekend. I…that’s fine right? You’re not gonna be mad?”

“Nope. Sounds good to me.”

“Cool,” Ryo nodded with an awkward pause.

He diverted his eyes from Towa’s smile. It was too pretty—he didn’t know how to react whenever he saw it. It made his heart pound. He tensed as Towa stretched his slender arm up, fingers outstretched—

And rubbed Ryo’s head back and forth with a gentle touch. A wave of comfort washed over Ryo, loosening his shoulders. He always tried to hide his thoughts from Towa. He didn’t want Towa to know he thought that about him. It’d be weird.

Except that…

He glanced up, watching Towa wash dishes. Towa hadn’t done anything to… be weirded out or anything. Besides, they both regressed all the time. It wasn’t a big deal. Towa never cared either—in fact, Ryo always thought the smiles he got were better than when he was an adult.

“Towa…”

“What is it?”

“What do you…plan to do?”

“Paint. Maybe turn on a show to watch. Why?”

Ryo mussed through his own hair, hand fidgeting with his nape.

“Join me? In the same room. I’ll be sitting on the couch.”

“Sounds good. I’ll bring my things over.”

And just like Towa said, he brought his stand over and began to paint—Ryo wasn’t sure what it was. He forgot to ask, distracted the moment he begun playing games.

His mind buzzed with a simple contentment as he progressed the story quest, hacking down enemies and tapping through high-energy dialogue. Only when he couldn’t feel his legs would he stand up, stretch, and grab a glass of water.

That was when he finally realized Towa was still standing nearby in his painting apron, concentrating on his canvas. His eyes shone with an intense focus, one that Ryo didn’t want to interrupt. The outlines of children’s items began to form—toy trains, coloring crayons, and the little stuffed rabbit that now belonged to him.

Ryo watched for a few more seconds, then returned to his own game silently. He loved that he didn’t have to explain himself. That there was just the soft hum of battle music and decent voice acting, as well as the rustle of Towa’s apron and his brushed scraping the canvas. Nothing overwhelmingly abrasive. No one to tell him what to do. Just him and Towa coexisting in the same space.

He zoned out playing games, losing track of minute to hour. Just as he defeated a difficult area’s boss, two fingers hesitantly tugged on his sleeve, and a heavy weight slumped against him. Ryo looked over, and Towa's yawning softened features rubbed against his shoulder.

“Ryo,” he whispered with a childish drawl. He tugged on Ryo’s shoulder again, as if expectant.

Ryo wasn’t bothered at all. He paused the game and brought his arms around Towa. Towa giggled softly in his arms. Ryo indulged in the wispy, contented noises, before spoke up.

“Where’s your friend?”

Towa’s eyes widened. He wiggled out of Ryo’s grasp and tottered to the other room. Ryo moved his gaze back to the screen and hit resume. His fingers hit the console buttons in subconscious order, passing through a decently challenging parkour section.

The clumsy steps alerted Ryo that Towa had returned. And without a word, Ryo scooted over and raised his arms higher, eyes not leaving the screen. Towa carefully nestled himself within, this time, the worn out rabbit plush snugly in his lap. Ryo lowered his arm. Towa put his elbow atop Ryo’s, the movement of him rubbing the somewhat matted fur of the bunny relayed through Towa’s movements.

His head leaned back against Ryo’s chest—and after a few minutes of squirming, he finally settled into the perfect position. Their eyes watched the video game screen, bodies stuck together. Like pieces of a puzzle.

Pieces that, at one point, did not fit into their own story—but now slot perfectly into each other’s.

One younger, one slightly older.

Both perfectly content.

[icypenguin]

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ To be in your arms

hellooo! sorry that i haven’t post for a long time since i last posted hehe… i’ll try to post on weekends! but anyway, enjoy this fanfic! this takes place in modern au and hurt/comfort

it was late. it was almost 2am. you were waiting for your darling kazuha to get back from work. delivered messages could be seen on your phone screen. you haven’t got any messages from kazuha since he went to work.

you were beyond worried at this point. he keeps coming home late. he said it’s just because he has so many works to do. but can’t he atleast spare some seconds to message you that he’ll come home late?

questions filled your mind. “what if he’s cheating on me?”, “what if he’s on someone’s house?”, “what if he’s leaving me?”. but knowing kazuha for many, many years, he won’t possibly do that.

just as you were thinking, the door handle made a sound and it opened the door. revealing a tired kazuha. “kazuha where have you been!? i’ve been worried sick about you! why didn’t you check my messages!?” you rushed to hug kazuha but he pushed back. you were hurt, but you tried to understand what he’s feeling.

“y/n please, i’m tired. everyone is tired and don’t expect me to have all my time for you.. you know i need to do something else right?” he asked with a cold tone.

“well- you couldn’t just leave me hanging around! can’t you atleast spare a minute!? i called you multiple times! and still no answer! you know what time it is kaz!? its past 2am now! what in the world were you doing!?” you couldn’t hold your patience anymore. your tone was a lot higher than usual. you were worried sick for him.

“i told you i was at work y/n. please, i don’t want to talk about anything right now. just let me sleep.” he rushed to go to your shared bedroom, basically ignoring you.

“oh kazuha! answer me! you always say that everytime i tried to talk to you about this! you know i can’t just live like this, right!?”

some minutes passed and your argument went heated. you both were shouting at eachother, not noticing the hurtful words you’ve told eachother. you never seen kazuha like this before. you didn't even feel a sense familiarity at him, you could barely notice that it’s him.

“oh well if you’re so mad at me, maybe i should have just leave you waiting for me. I SHOULDN’T HAVE COME BACK!” he shouted at your face, you were in disbelief when he said that. he’s not kazuha.

tears were at the edge of your eyes. your breath was shaky and you feel like crying. you tried your best to stay strong in front of him. “i-i’m sorry…” you quickly leave the living room and head towards the bathroom, where you could cry quietly.

kazuha, who has just noticed what he said, regretted everything. “w-wait y/n! i-i didn’t mean to-“ he tried walking to you but a part of h8m told him to leave you alone. so he stopped doing whatever he was doing. his brain could only repeat the hurtful words he said to you.

your mission to cry in the bathroom was a success. you ignored kazuha who’s waiting for you in front of the door. “y/n please just come out.. i could hear you sniffling…” you could tell in his tone, he regretted everything he said. his tone was soft and sweet, but you couldn’t forget about the hurtful words and cold tone he was using before.

you didn’t want to deal with anything else. but you just feel like you need comfort from someone, and that someone is kazuha. well, what can you say? he’s been doing this for weeks. ofcourse you missed his touch.

after some more minutes and by kazuha waiting patiently, you finally got out of the bathroom. but when you look at him, tears immediately flew out of your eyes. “hey, hey, shhh i’m here… please don’t worry.. i-i didn’t mean what i said..” he oulled you into a hug and wipe the tears thats falling right on your cheek.

you melt in his embrace as cried on his chest. he could feel his shirt having a wet patch but he did not worry about anything besides you. “i-i’m sorry im a burden!” you cried once more.

“shhh.. you’re not a burden y/n.. infact, you’re the opposite… you’re a motivation for me.. i-i know i hurt you with the words i said.. but i promise you, i was just stressed. those words, they meant nothing at all. please forgive me, my love..” he looked right into your eyes while holding your cheek. you could see in his eyes, he’s really telling the truth.

“i-i was working hard so… so we could go to tokyo… just like you wanted..” hearing this made your heart flutter. your eyes turned from teary to sparkly. all of this was just a misunderstanding.

“i- oh kazuha… you’re too much for me.. but… i can’t help but always think about the words you said.. a-and someone better than me being with you.. m-maybe- i… maybe you should-“ before you could finish that sentence, kazuha pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“oh love, don’t ever say that.. you’re the best for me. we’re made for eachother. and- please don’t ever think about it again. don’t ever think about something like that. i’m sorry i said those hurtful words to you.. but i promise, i didn’t mean any of those! i love you till the end, death can’t even do us apart…” hearing that makes your heart flutter even more. you knew kazuha could be the only one who can melt your heart.

“i’m truly sorry.. please forgive me?” kazuha begged you with a soft tone. even his eyes were pleading you to forgive him.

you chuckle and replied “okay i forgive you kazu.. just on one condition…” he looked at you with curiosity and hummed a curious tone.

“don’t come home so late again and cuddle me before bed for 5 months!” you asked excitedly.

“i would love to do that for you love” he kissed your cheek, then nose, then forhead. “and promise me you won’t think of something bad about us again, okay?”

“okay kazu. i love you” you replied and he kissed your lips. you both melt into the kiss, eyes closed with your lips moving in sync.

in the end, that night (or morning) ended up with kazuha being the big spoon as you were sleeping on his chest.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

thankyou for reading! this is my first time making hurt/comfort so sorry if theres alot of mistakes hehe.. but i hope you enjoyed this! advices are accepted, thankyou!

[alaskashigh]

hi coyotl :D

got any hyper-specific caliyork headcanons?

wave wave :)

if you were to strap a c4 to my back and let it explode i would COMBUST with caliyork headcanons.

i hope this is what you mean by hyper-specific

they bite. like all of the time. its their love language and you can TRY ripping this out of my cold dead hands I DARE YOU. the first time that they showed up to a meeting with bites all over each other everyone was concerned as hell and thought they had been attacked. they mainly bite each other because they both struggle with emotions (california has too many emotions at once and doesn’t know how to deal with it so physical affection ex: biting is what helps him get those feelings across. new york struggles with not feeling emotions much and has found that biting/other physical affection even if he isn’t used to it helps him make sure that california knows he loves him.)

they are both insomniacs because of their cities and because they both can’t sit still for the life of them.

california, even though he’s taller than new york (my headcanon), will often steal his shirts and sweaters, sometimes without even realizing it. they have left clothes in each others rooms so many times to the point where they’ll find someone’s sock or pants underneath their bed or in their closet hung up. no one really questions it when they see one of them wearing the others shirt or beanie anymore.

“Cal is that my shirt?”

“Huh- oh uh idk, it was in my closet lol”

both of them love to skateboard and will snatch one of them up at any chance and drag them outside to go skateboarding. after meetings, in the middle of the day, 2am at night- gov has walked out of his office at 6 in the morning (we all know he doesnt sleep) to see the two sitting in the living room drinking icees with their skateboards propped up next to them while watching tv. he has caught the two of them sneaking out at night and has tried to stop them so many times to the point that he doesnt even care anymore, as long as they come back before 8am.

they are almost always around each other and it is rare when they aren’t. you’ll find them snuggled up on the couch, sitting next to each other during dinner, sticking close to one another while out and about, literally just walking down the statehouse hallways together- if ones somewhere the other is either right next to them or a few feet behind.

when new york has to go to his/other states for business stuff he’ll buy california souvenirs and things that reminds him of him because he knows that california loves collecting little things like that. california does the same for him when he’s gone.

i have so many more but i just realized how long this was getting so- my dms are open if you want to talk about it more with me there. i’ll probably make another post about them filled with more headcanons because i’m actually so in love with them lmao

[bleachbleachbleach]

B3 can I just say that the machinations of your mind fascinate me so…can you pls elaborate what you mean by 1970s aerospace corruption schemes reminding you of hitshina? cuz I’m out here trying to Google it at 10 pm out of pure academic curiosity. Thanks for sharing ur thoughts with us tho!! Love how ur able to connect things in bleach with stuff I wouldn’t have thought of otherwise like genuinely <3

It's true, this blog will see Bleach in absolutely anything. It’s not even willful; everything can and WILL be Bleach. We were watching the first Fast and Furious movie last night, and ended up talking about Bleach (i.e. the sexual renaissance Hisagi experienced on first sight of Lance’s snakeprint pants).

But for the 1970s aerospace corruption schemes, I was thinking about HitsuHina first and the 1970s aerospace corruption schemes came up as a result, rather than me independently reading about 1970s aerospace corruption schemes and applying them to HitsuHina. I feel like the connection here is probably of the “…needed to be there to make sense of this…” variety, but I have also been VIBRATING INTENSELY OUT OF ENTHUSIASM FOR ALL OF THIS since yesterday, so I’ll do my best to explain my thought process!

I’ll begin by saying that I don’t think Hinamori cares about 1970s aerospace corruption schemes, nor do I think she’d be able to come up with a reason why she should, if anyone asked her. As far as she’s concerned, she is going to visit her grandmother in Junrinan to bring news of her having made 5th Division Vice Captain! And she’s taking Hitsugaya with her, which will make this the first time they have gone back to visit together.

But first Hinamori has to do her job, because part of becoming a Vice Captain is waking up at 2AM on your day off to see if you have any messages that say “we were able to handle it, actually, you don’t need to come help!” and not finding any, and so going out to deal with that before your long travel day begins.

Okay, what IS her job, though. Why does her squad need her at 2AM?

And I was like, well, I don’t want her to have to trek out to Rukongai, because that seems logistically complicated. So I decided that in this time period, the 5th has oriented itself toward the Living World! Because Aizen is supervising field studies regarding the nature of souls’ perceptions of the afterlife and how many require konsou vs. not! (Or at least, that’s his interest on paper. He has some ~other personal investments~ as well, carrying over from his presence at the Trauma Field Trip.)

So the thing Hinamori needs to deal with this morning is that a soul was recently ferried from the Living World into Soul Society and, owing to the nature of its death, is FEROCIOUSLY clutching its memories and beliefs. It is not taking its number and filtering obediently into Rukongai like it should, and the last five hours of Hinamori’s poor subordinates’ shift have been failing to convince this soul do just… do that. Now it’s her turn, because she’s the Vice Captain and this is what you do.

What is the soul clinging so hard to, then?

Or, to back up: When do I think Hinamori might’ve become the 5th VC? Byakuya and Ichimaru become captains sometime post-1960s, which leaves Ichimaru’s previous post open for some amount of time. I want this story to be before Isshin’s disappearance, which is some point around 1980. So I was like, okay, let’s say 1970s, then. Again, not that such a date means a whole lot to Hinamori, but it means a lot to me in terms of set dressing.

So I decided, in the Living World, it is 1976, and this soul died trying to visit justice upon another, whom he believed had betrayed their shared ultranationalist beliefs and incited national shame (via 1970s aerospace corruption schemes).

I decided that in Soul Society, there is an additional level of protocols for souls such as these, where their life purpose becomes so entwined with the nature of their death, so as to result in statistically more complications on the afterlife end (and, often, a higher chance of developing spiritual power). These protocols come up even more particularly when a soul’s life purpose specifically taps into identities and ideologies bigger than one person, one soul—where the visions/desires operate at the level of the (ultra)national/societal, and manifest in a death so ideologically fraught that the symbolic weight of it cannot be left behind, even in the afterlife. (This soul became a kamikaze and flew a plane into his betrayer-comrade’s house.)

--This is not something Hinamori yet has conscious awareness of, but to be dedicated to purpose in this way makes for the kind of shinigami the Gotei would like to have, if also the kind of shinigami Aizen has variable respect for.

The only parts of this situation that matter to Hinamori are the parts that help her ease this soul into his afterlife, and convince him to take his ticket and keep walking.

Then she’s on her way to Junrinan, and her weekend in the countryside with her grandmother and Hitsugaya. But the ghosts that follow her, whether she is aware of them are not, are about the ideological commitments of vice-captaincy in the Gotei; the ever-changing nature of human souls as their world changes; A I Z E N, always; and the rapid emergence of one’s identity, either in periods of dramatic economic/cultural growth or in similar periods when one’s professional growth is entangled with one’s spiritual/shikai growth (increases in talent beget promotions beget situations that inspire further evolutions). In my headcanon, Tobiume expresses as a carrion phoenix, aka condor!Tobiume.

Hinamori and Hitsugaya talk about the nature of flight, which it turns out Hitsugaya knows something about, too.

Most of that is dramaturgy, rather than things that I’m expecting to make an explicit appearance in Hinamori’s Pleasant Vacation Weekend, but THAT is how I decided yesterday that 1970s aerospace corruption schemes were “so HitsuHina.” I am very excited about it!!

[lyman-garfiel]

Tell me your oc lore pls 🥺

WAUGHHHHHHHH i have never properly written anything down, my poor partner put a channel in their server where i rant, to uh explain lyman he's some sort of weird lizard-horse hybrid thing?? [its a species that exists in his universe ] , he has a FUCKED up life that when i get to posting lymantria's despair [webcomic i'm concidering making if art block doesn't GET me again.] will be detailed there as lyman's life and experinces mirror mine and my personal traumas, you however asked for oc lore and not...evreything wrong with me so!! at some point in his youth he meets jewel who is a parasite, and uhh [given lyman's world is just beastars but i let bugs exist] her species faces a lot of discrimination ehaeh!! eventually the two move in together and lyman.....lets jewel kill him it is a fucked up scene i'd have to write at some point due to lyman's growing suicidal ideation and jewel's nature as a parasite. lyman does NOT die however and is shoved into his peacekeeper job and this is the 2nd version of lyman the uh,, fnc oc who's in some weird homoerotic relationship with scarab lyman, vent-sona who gets killed by jewel is his own version..guy?? since lyman has dissasociative ammnesia and does not recall his mortal life outside of weird wasp related nighmares,

these are ,,,,, lyman and mortal lyman [who's nickname is ruby and if i ..ever refer to him as ruby i mean pre-peacekeeper pre-death lyman] so ,,,,,, this is the part of lyman's story ive covered the most, its almost like 2am for me so i might skip over things , the #lymanlore tag is where i regularly post his content and story so check there!! but yeah he gets put in the therapist job, hates it..meets scarab, uhh realizes he has a weird thing for bug people now [this has to do with jewel] and starts to clear scarab's tracks for him, eventually slowburning into a romantic relationship and fufilling the reason i even made lyman in th first place,,, to kiss that beetle. his story then follows the events of fnc execpt he's just..there in the background likley dissasociating , and him and scrabs have a falling out which is best detailed in this fucking discord infodump

evreyone say thank you pixi for giving me a place to host my ill thoughts. so while scarab is stuck in gay baby jail lyman has to fill in for his auditor role..expeshally since he's not doing well after the falling out with his partner.. so he runs off to the world he recalls being from and runs into jewel again, they rekindle their friendship despite lyman hardly remembering shit about her [aside from the reacurring and increasingly vivid nightmares he'd been having] , and since jewel's living situation sucks because ,,,,,paracite speciesism lyman just..plucks her up and lets her live in his tavern [he's lonley and stupid..] whenever the fuck scrabs finally returns from gay baby jail he just has to deal with jewel's new presence and lyman is trying to make sure both the bugs he has a strong emotional attachment to play niceys and i throw them in a sims save because i think they're funny.......heres a shitty ship chart i drew up one night

i,,,,,,suck at explaining things heres a bunch of stupid discord screenshots of useless info i scrawled in the sacred server

this is,,,,,the most ive ever posted about these stupid fucking gay people so enjoy?!? edit becase i forgot a crucial infodump

[storiesofsvu]

Okay, im gonna preface this by saying that i normally post these directly after watching, so the chaos no context makes a little bit more sense but i was way too tired to deal with uploading after the ep last night... reading it back.... i DID enjoy the episode and did think it was a good one! props to director Aisha. i just think that *between* the eps this season, they keep flitting back and fourth between the style of how they're executing adding in new unsubs/connections to gold star/whatever and my brain can't follow it sometimes (esp at 2 in the morning when i'm getting tired lol).

Alright, considering I normally stay up til the crack of dawn something about making me stay up til 2am for these eps makes me exhausted. I blame the heat. Here we go!

I know that the format of the show is to keep us connected with individual ep unsubs, but none of us CARE. Either make us fully invested in the gold star/north star shit, OR make it the back seat story arc while these new unsubs are suddenly the bau’s focus like they did in the last season!!!

…unless that was morse code and is connected..

BUT STILL!

Make it make sense and be connected to the viewer before starting the scene

I don’t give a fuck about these guys…. Give me the people im waiting for

If you want me to care about eps that are stylized like cm s 1-15 then you have to make them ALL that way, you can’t pick and choose. Make me focus on gold star/elias/Jade from the last couple eps or nothing. You cant switch styles halfway through the season… no matter how intriguing that COULD be im automatically uninterested because its not the same style

Is tyler getting paid for this shit? Or is he just like.. hanging out and having fun?

LLOOLLL not Emily profiling tylers handwriting

PLEASE give us more and ALL dr tara lewis, she’s already been unappreciated as a character, but as a DOCTOR, please, she so smrt. Give us all if it

AS IF that many boxes contain EVERYTHING for four years!

Dad!rossi: I forbid you

Em: fuck you dad imma do it anyway

LOOOLL “ive never been forbidden before…” THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT SOMEONE SAYS BEFORE THEY DEFY ORDERS. I WOULD KNOW

Ok.. NOW this unsub storyline has caught my attention but I am confused lol. Seems very heartbreaking either way

God Emily is so fucking gorgeous

Jfc how smart is tyler?? Imma need to do a deep dive on this…

Man voit is a better fucking profiler than half the team, if he wasn’t…. ya know… a serial killer.. LOL

HHAHAHAHA omg tyler

Yess! Another VVERY NATURAL FUCK! I don’t care what anyone says, the more natural swears are the ones that I love the most!

Garcia’s so fucking hot…

Hotch “left the unit a few years ago” bruh that was at least a decade

LOL JILL IS ME

NOT FELICITY HUFFMAN OPENING WITH A FUCK

JFC. SHES SO HOT its giving elizabeth Mitchell

Looooolllll fucking rossi…

Jj and luke work super well together and I love it

Loooll Emily throwing tyler in last minute just like she planned and jill calling her on it RIGHT AWAY LOL

NOT THE GUILT TRIP LOL

“not even Jason was this manipulative”

WTF??? This some supernatural/insane shit. Is the wife even alive anymore?? Is he hallucinating that?

Aaand jj and luke have figured it out and this shit is fire

They got this girl locked up like joe from you

Jesus CHRIST this took a twist and I love it but AGAIN, I would love it so much more If it was the primary focus of the ep

Ooooo CALLED IT

God that’s heartbreaking

How THE FUCK DOES SICARIOUS STILL HAVE ACCES TO HIS NETWORK IN JAIL??

OMG Jill instantly hugging Penelope makes me SO WARM

Uuggghhh jill being dragged back into this is not fucking fair.. like… she left.. Jason DEFINTELY left.. that poor queen

JESUS that cut to rossi was straight out of a horror film where he WAS THE KILLER jfc