#marshy gets asks

[marshmellowtea]

Proshippers literally pretend that POCD means you are a pedophile and want it what the fuck are you on about? Proshippers try to force pwOCD to engage in checking compulsions because they pretend it's pro-recovery.

normally this is the kind of ask that i would just quietly delete but i'm actually going to answer it rn because this is so absurd i have to laugh. no, bestie, the people pretending that people with pocd are pedophiles are YOU GUYS. that's all you! antis are the one who i have seen treating intrusive thoughts as secret desires. antis are the ones i've seen with "people with pocd dni" in their bios. and fucking antis are the ones who have made pocd so commonplace on this website in the first fucking place because of the way you try to look for proof people are predators in the most innocuous shit.

believe it or not, part of ocd recovery is accepting the thoughts you have and learning to deal with them in some way. y'all want people to feel ashamed of their intrusive thoughts forever to "prove" they're a good person and that's the exact opposite of healing. that's just making ocd worse. and, in speaking of learning to deal with them, one of the ways to DO that is to write fiction about said thoughts and make them less scary to you! that's part of the reason why i create and enjoy fucked up fictional content! it's a way of dealing with my intrusive thoughts that puts the power back in MY hands, and treating these fictional depictions meant as coping mechanisms as "proof" someone's a predator is not just stupid, it's also cruel, because you are actively trying to make someone's disorder worse.

i guess you missed this part of my original post, so i'll say it again here: when i was an anti, you fucking people had me so convinced i was doomed to sa a child because of 1) the fact i like dark fiction exploring topics such as csa, and 2) my intrusive thoughts themselves, that i thought i was going to have to commit suicide. my life was in danger because of you people. and i was a fucking teenager when this all was happening! i should not have had to deal with that, but because you made this environment so toxic and preyed on my already existing ocd, i did! i was miserable and i hated myself and i thought i was a predator in the making! that's a horrible way to live!

tldr; go fuck yourself anon lmao, you have no idea what you're talking about and the extensive damage people like you have done to people with ocd. fuck off <3

[sexynetra]

Ok, so i just had this dream Marcia and Anetra were dancing somewhere (like a competition or whatever). Since our girlie Anetra is still in recover, are you writing something like that in rawnsyf?

Well Neech is dance captain for the musical… 🤔 it’s undecided if the musical will actually come into the main story but the possibility is certainly open 😉

[6shooterz]

I was thinking about this awhile ago and I needed to let it out my system

I've been thinking nonstop of treating Sanji like a prince. Like, you had a conversation beforehand, you want to treat him just because, and it's just a day full of showering him the amount of love he gives you on a daily basis. Making him drinks, cooking him food, kissing his face, compliments, praise, flirts, soft gestures, hugs, an overload of love and affection. And he can't do shit bc he agreed to just, take it, accept the love, bc u want him to feel loved as much as you did, and can he refuse when you give him those eyes filled with adoration that you promise will he only for him?

BYE ❤

YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME HELLO????????????? MARSHIE????????????????

[marshiestars]

Hi :D

When you get this you have to list 5 books/book series you love. Then send this ask to last 5 persons from your notifications. Spread love.

Pride and Prejudice - last physical book I actually finished

besides that I can’t remember anything, especially ones that are part of a series besides maybe the hobbit + the lord of the rings trilogy

[rafeandonlyrafe]

w for wheezie

words: 1.5k

warnings: very wheezie heavy i stan her, established relationship, physical violence!, descriptions of blood, rafe vs pogues, cameron family drama

“what do you think?” you hold up two letters, each silver with diamonds encrusted in them. “w for wheezie or l for louisa?”

“umm…” wheezie looks at the charms, tapping her chin, eyes flicking back and forth between the two.”

“i would say both, but…” you shrug, leaving the decision up to her.

“i think w because everyone calls me wheezie.” she decides.

“perfect.” you smile, looking at the chain lengths next. you love spending time with wheezie, especially when its shopping days like today where you take her to the mall or whatever store she wants.

usually rafe would accompany you, always hanging back to allow you to gossip, even if it was about him and your relationship. he’d only appear when you headed to the cash register, supplying his credit card to pay for whatever clothes or accessories you got.

“we should stop by sephora next.” you say as the cashier rings up your jewelry, various bracelets and necklaces, along with a chain and ring you bought for rafe (or really he bought for himself as you hand the cashier his card, but at least you picked it out).

“i need a new foundation for the summer.” wheezie says. it makes you pout for a moment, thinking about how grown up she is. you’ve been friends with rafe since middle school and used to play barbies with wheezie and take her to the american girl doll store, and now you’re taking her to buy makeup and try on dresses for homecoming.

“maybe a tinted moisturizer.” you remark, walking with bags in your hand to sephora.

--

“i would call this a successful haul.” you giggle as you load up your car, having to put bags in the backseat as well once the trunk is full. you turn on a playlist of yours and wheezies favorite songs, having different playlists ready for whoever you’re with.

it’s practical to buy so much at one time since you made the almost two hour drive to norfolk to visit the mall, and probably won’t be back for a long time. you prefer staying in the outer banks to shop, but it’s not always possible with the limited number of stores.

“do you think you have time next week to take me to get my haircut?” wheezie asks, already looking a bit like a mini you, and you have no doubt she’ll ask for a similar haircut.

“of course, wheezie girl!” you nod before letting out a squeal when one of your favorite songs come on, you both belting out the words as you make your way back towards tanneyhill, driving through marshy swamplands, little towns and finally crossing over the bridge.

you pull up the driveway, surprised how eerily quiet it seems to be. usually rafe would be running out the door to make sure you didn’t carry anything in.

“stay in the car for a sec wheezie girl…” you have a strange feeling building, and you always trust your gut. you look back to make sure she doesn’t follow you as you walk into the house to hear muffled grunting.

“rafe?” you call out, your cautious footsteps turning into a run as you make your way further into the house until you see rafe being held up by john b, jjs arm pushing forward to punch him in the gut.

“stop it!” you shout, running in to push jj away, but the second rafe is out of john bs tight hold, he turns to attack them, bravely taking on both in a flair of fists.

“stop it, rafe!” you shout, pulling at his arm. he only pauses when he feels your gentle touch, but john b doesn’t quit, reaching out to hit rafe again, right in the nose as he instantly starts to bleed.

“sarah!” you scream, finally noticing her in the corner of the room, sat with a glazed look in her eye with her knees pulled up to her chest. “stop your freaking attacking dog boyfriend!” you step between the boys, all three of them panting heavily, rafes nose dripping blood down the front of his shirt.

“we are fucking rescuing her!” jj says, puffing his chest up.

“what?” you turn to look at sarah, waiting for an explanation.

“rafe tried to lock me in the house.” she finally says, seeming to shake out of whatever daze she’s in as she stands up. “he tried to stop me from seeing john b.”

“im just trying to do whats best for you, sarah.” rafe says, his voice sounding hoarse from the fight. “he’s a bad guy.”

“no he’s not!” sarah shouts, no doubt going to start in on tirade when you hold your hand up.

“sarah, go with john b. just…” you let out a deep sigh. “get out of here. be back by dark though.” you shoo her away. no way she’s going to actually listen to you and be back by sundown, but at least it gives you time to figure out what’s going on and tend to rafe.

you turn to watch them leave, frown appearing on your face when you see wheezie standing there, looking like a scared little girl you once knew.

“wheeze-” you call to her, but she runs up her stairs into her room, slamming her door loudly. a problem for later, you decide as you turn to rafe.

“come on, baby, lets get you cleaned up.” you say softly, trying to lessen the anger so visible on his features. you lead rafe into the kitchen, wetting a rag with warm water as you gently drag it over his face, feeling tears well up in your eye when you see his busted lip.

“how was shopping? did you have fun?” rafe asks, making you glare at him.

“don’t you dare try to change the topic, rafe cameron. what happened?” you sigh.

“john b and those pogues are fucking criminals. there’s someone who has been robbing houses, and i don’t doubt it’s those fucking-” rafe lets out an angry grunt when you press the washcloth against his cheek, a bruise already forming. “im just trying to protect my family.”

“sarah isn’t a kid anymore, you gotta let her protect herself.” you say softly. “besides, wheezie seeing you all beat up and bloodied isn’t-”

“it was only because it was two against one.” rafe counters.

“baby.” you shake your head. “you’re missing the point. you have no proof that they’re doing anything. trust sarah, alright? i’ll talk to her later.”

“what would we do without you.” rafe smiles, cringing slightly when it stretches his lip, but it doesn't stop him from pressing his mouth against yours, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“you deserve the cameron last name more than sarah does.” rafe says, holding you tight against him, feeling your hands shaking slightly. “gonna marry you one day.”

“alright, buddy.” you giggle, making rafe roll his eyes as you pull away. he loves to talk about your future together despite still being so young. you can’t say you haven’t spent time imagining it yourself. “im gonna go talk to wheeze.”

“okay.” rafe gives you another kiss before watching you walk away.

you walk softly up the stairs, tapping your knuckles against wheezies door before opening it up.

“hey, everyone is okay.” you say softly, seeing her sitting on her bed, phone in hand, no doubt scrolling to distract from anything she’s feeling.

“i’m fine.” wheezie shakes her head. she may look fine, but you can see the look in her eyes. she’s just as shaken as you are, if not more.

“it’s okay to not be, though.” you sit down on the bed next to her. “you saw your brother getting beat up, you’re allowed to not be okay with seeing that.”

“its just…” wheezie sighs. “sarah has been so different lately since she started hanging out with john b. she even lied to me the other day.”

“im sorry, wheezie girl.” you wrap her in a tight hug. “your sister loves you. she’s just a teenager, going through a rebellious phase of life. she doesn’t realize that her actions have consequences and can hurt the people she loves.”

“will you talk to her?” wheezie asks. “you always know what to say.”

“of course.” you nod, pulling away from the hug, forcing a smile on your face. “but hey, let’s go get our shopping bags.”

“okay.” wheezie manages a smile.

you walk downstairs to see rafe has already brought everything in from the car, placing it all throughout the front entrance.

you smile as wheezie instantly goes for the sephora bags as you wrap your arms around rafe, pressing your head against his chest.

“its all gonna be alright.” you tell him.

“as long as you’re with me, you’re right.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head, his eyes bulging when he sees the dress wheezie pulls out. 

“you are not wearing that-” he begins to argue, finger wagging just like his dad would.

“it’s not for me, its for y/n!” wheezie argues.

“oh.” rafe looks down at you, noting the blush spread across your cheeks. “well, you can wear that but only for me.”

“rafe!” you squeal while wheezie makes a grossed out face.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewsephrry

[missuswalker]

DUDE ALL OF UR WRITINGS ARE SO GOOD u literally make Stan sound like a loser AND HE IS!!!! AND I EAT IT UP ITS SO FUNNY AGAIAHJAHQIA THE JUMPSCARE TOO😭😭😭

Could I req hcs of Stan (the slimy. The STINK.) and Kyle (I feel like he always has a prominent forehead vein from all the rage he has in his body) separate with some mutual pining w a f!reader that’s suuuuuper flirty n zesty w her friends like saying some out of pocket goofy shit like barking n meowing or “I’m hard” or like “I need u carnally.” LOL but also gets easily flustered when flirted back with??? I will kiss the ground u walk upon btw (thank you sm I’m literally up at 3:37 giggling thinking of when u post a response to this)

i'm in love with you for this YOU GUYS THINK UP THE GOOD SHIT

stan and kyle with a flirty reader

✮ summary: stan and kyle crushing on a flirty reader (who gets flustered when flirted back with)

✮ warnings: sexual jokes LMAO

kyle broflovski

i can't imagine him getting all "omg i- i- i- i- 😱😱" over it

like thats not happening

his face will get red, yes

but he's not gonna get super flustered over it

he'll be like "🫥😧" and side eye the hell out of you

it's funny to him sometimes, but also, if he's already pissed off, it's just annoying

"damn, tryna take it to the temple? 😏" "y/n, shut the fuck up."

but that only encourages you to do it more

but it makes him think he's not special since you flirt with your friends, too

"bebe, you can be my baybay if you know what i mean 😏😏 just call me mommy 😁"

and then gets upset and hopes you come flirt with him

the first time he flirted back, it was like you shut down

"why ask for my number when you can just call me a good girl" "i bet you'd like that wouldn't you"

IT WOULD SIMPLY BE THAT, NOT EVEN THAT INTENSE

you'd almost start doing the butters foot kick thing like in the episode where he had to partner up with cartman

"what 😁 huh 🥰 say that again? 😊"

he'd think it was so funny

his rizz isn't bad either so it's even worse

would pull the "you don't have anything to say, huh"

he'd start calling you petnames to make it worse

"come sit over here, babe"

just shit like that

realizes he's the only one you get super flustered over, so he makes his move

after a couple more days of torturing you

his ego just expands

thinks he's the shit

pulls out the black tshirt

stan marsh

oh my god he literally is a loser

"hey stan-ley, wanna give me that stan-d?" "woah."

brags about it

"y/n said she'd gobble me up yesterday 😏" "dude, what the flip" "kenny, you just don't get it."

but when he's around you he says the stupidest shit

"looking good, marshy poo" "oh, thanks 😰😁"

when he flirts back, it's all mid

"nice shirt, stanley" "nice face, y/n"

but when it still flusters you, he's like "yeah, she likes me"

"would you be interested in going out with me 🤓"

and then would be all like "uhhh i mean, uh, would you, let's go on a date"

thought he ate the girls up

standing there like "😏"

"yeah, sure"

AND IS SHOCKED

pretends he's not shocked

"oh, sweet 🥱" "like this pussy" "😦"

a/n: i love this so much

not proofread because im lazy (sexy facial expression)

[mlmxreader]

Don't Be a Hero | Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Ghost

72 "Fuck... look at you"

74 "Stop biting your lip like that" ❞

: ̗̀➛ You and Ghost are inseparable in life, and perhaps even in death.

: ̗̀➛ suicide, death, blood and gore, general war, major character death/mcd

↳ @mockerycrow @vampiboi @seigwaidau

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You and Ghost had once been inseparable, always at each other's side and constantly with one another; even when you were dragged out to war, you had been right there with him to your left and you to his right. But war was never a time for pleasantries.

The tents were all huddled together and lined up, wrecked by the constant harsh winds and hardly any dryer as the rains hammered down constantly; the grounds had flooded, swampy and marshy as boots squelched loudly with every step.

The mud came up to your calves, staining your trousers dark brown and black, rendering them saggy and wet. You could never get warm, constantly shivering and shaking, hands raw and fingers stiff.

Across the muddy and bloody fields, you could always see the smoke of the enemy's camp; you could hear them singing and drinking and laughing. You often wondered what made them the enemy; they were flesh and blood, bone and phlegm as much as you were.

They laughed and they sang, they drank and they danced. They were pulled into the war for the same reason that you and Ghost were - propaganda, lies of glory, broken promises of being heroes. They were no different, you were no better. You sighed heavily as you turned to Ghost, pleading eyes as you frowned and shook your head.

"I'd love a fight," you started, "the men would love a fight. But we can't fight them."

"Why not?" Ghost asked gruffly, his voice low and quiet.

"Look at them," you pointed over to the other camp. "They're no different to us. We can't fight an enemy that's... not truly an enemy."

Ghost frowned as he nodded slowly, the image still burned into his mind.

Two hundred men slaughtered like sheep. Their bodies littered all around the courtyards, throats slashed and entrails pouring out. Eyes still open as they watched their sons die in front of them, knowing that nothing could be done.

Civilians. Horses. All were dead. The murderers had been from your side; it was not the work of the enemy and it never would be. They claimed that it was them, those poor men on the other side, but Ghost had seen it with his own eyes; the flag of his people raised high, triumphant and bragging about killing civilians.

Horses. Boys. It was disgusting, and Ghost had never been the same since. The prisoners that the so-called enemy had taken were always as well looked after as they could be within the conditions, and spoke well of their captors... the other side could not say the same.

You and Ghost always begged to be the guards of prisoners, but Price would never let you. Neither would Soap. Soap took pride in mocking and torturing them, laughing as they cried and begged to be left alone. Gaz was the only one who shared the same viewpoint as you and Ghost.

Gaz was the only decent one left on your side. Gaz was the only man left. Price and Soap were not men anymore, they were beasts. They treated their fellow man worse than animals, solely for the crime of being on the other side; Price and Soap were not men, they had denounced their humanity a long time ago.

You and Ghost were all but alone, with Gaz away on a scouting mission to see if he could find a more humane way of dealing with the enemy, you were all alone.

"Stop biting your lip like that," Ghost murmured, nudging you. "You'll cut it open. Give yourself an infection."

You didn't even realise you had been doing it, licking your lips and trying to ignore the sharp sting that seemed to ripple across your entire jaw. "We're not going to make it out alive... are we?"

He shook his head, solemn as he sighed. "No. But we can try to make it easier on them."

"Can we?" You whispered, looking at him with a sad expression.

He looked back at you, frowning. "We can try. It's not right that they should suffer. They're not... there's no enemy."

"No victory, either," you told him. "Only boys who lose their lives in the mud. Sons without fathers. Fathers without sons... brothers... we're all doomed to die."

"We were all sold the same fool's gold," Ghost pointed out, resting his hand on his pistol. "I don't want to fight anymore."

You laid your hand upon his, putting down your ammunition. "I don't, either."

"Fuck... look at you," he whispered, bringing his free hand to gently cup your jaw. "I'll see you on the other side, love."

You nodded, swallowing thickly as you loaded the pistol with two bullets. "On the other side."

Two shots. You fell by his side, and that was where you died; covered in mud and blood, days away from infected wounds. Clinging onto one another like children.

But perhaps it was better to die at your own hand, and save those poor boys across the field from the guilt of taking lives that they did not want to; perhaps it was better, easier on them. War was never fair, it would never be just and kind.

But at least the deaths of two soldiers would not lie upon those who did not wish to fight. It was easier that way. Without heroics.

[maaarshieee]

⎯⎯ ୨ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 ୧ ⎯⎯

➢ Il Dottore x Gɴ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➢ 1.9k ᴡᴏʀᴅs ┊ Hᴜʀᴛ/ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ

➢ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

a/n - this is dedicated for my boo (/p)! truthfully i was gonna make an analysis on kazuha next but i love my boo and dottore is kinda hot like that. anyways this is my iteration of him so it may to may be occ on the way i write him :) either way i hope you like this! titled "worshipper", have a good day/night! part 3 of marshie's oneshot/drabble after his character analysis :)

↬ cw: mentions of experimentation, injuries, blood (kinda graphic description of it too), torture (brief), slight obsessive behavior

It was a miscalculation on his part.

Dottore wasn't a stranger to failure. He encounters it more often than not, it's part of the process after all. To learn from your past mistakes to avoid further setbacks. Failure is imminent and a constant when it comes to experiments like these, especially with human bodies. They are weak, fragile; prone to break if not carefully used.

And yet...

"Shit..." You wheezed, clutching your sides as you curled up into a ball on the cool, metallic bed once he unstrapped you from it, groaning and writhing in unbearable pain. Blood spilled from your lips as you closed your eyes, biting on your bottom lip, hard, just to suppress the screams that threatened to escape your throat. Dottore's multiple segments all frantically moved in the laboratory, immediately trying to figure out what went wrong under Dottore's command, while he would check up on you, all by himself.

It was his fault that you got hurt anyways.

Dottore had always preferred the process of experimentation than the end result, taking joy from the way their face would scrunch up, tears prickling their eyes as they beg for mercy with such desperation. It sends shivers up his spine. The color of their spilled blood on the floor, the way they squirm, and much much more.

But when it comes to you...

"Lay down properly," Dottore commanded calmly, a frown evident on his lips. He carefully placed you down on a different bed, one with a mattress and pillows, and not a hard, cool surface. Dottore ought to get a better bed for your experimentations...

If you didn't know better, you would've assumed that he was displeased at his miscalculation and that he was dreading fixing whatever was broken within you with the look he wore on his face. Even with half of his face covered, one could easily tell he was in a bad mood.

Though, it was the opposite. From the brief moment, you could open your eyes, you catch glimpses of Dottore. He was gritting his teeth, hands hovering above your trembling form, hesitant to touch you after what he had done to you. "I... I can't ease the pain if you're curled up like that..."

His voice was barely above a whisper, a pitch higher, leaning down close to your face, to further observe your reactions. Even the faintest touch causes you to flinch and hiss in pain. He was careful to wipe off the blood with a clean piece of cloth that poured from your mouth and stained your shirt.

Dottore thought that blood has the prettiest colors.

But the sight of yours sinking into your own clothes and drying on your skin, made him feel...

He doesn't apologize. In fact, you don't remember when was the last time Dottore verbally apologized to you. He hasn't done anything that required him to ask for forgiveness, but he also never spoken those words to you ever since the both of you were expelled from the Akademiya. But he never needed to anyways.

His actions already speak out loud for him. From making sure you were comfortable, personally taking care of you, and not leaving you to his segments, and the frown on his lips, slightly quivering at the sight of you.

You needn't had to speak either to let him know you've forgiven him. Just by simply gripping onto Dottore's arm, he knew that you still trusted him. That whatever was happening to you, he'd solve it and make all the pain go away.

"Urk... I'm dyin'..." You whimper, eyes squeezed shut and gasping for air as blood began to drip down your nose. "Hurts so much..." Dottore just sighed, raking his gloved hands through your hair in hopes you'd ease up, and shushing you softly.

What was this... emotion... he was feeling again? The way his stomach drooped when you began tugging on the straps of the metal bed. What was it again? When his heart stuttered at the sight of blood suddenly erupting from your mouth? When his mouth felt dry when he saw the fear in your eyes?

Ah yes, it was guilt, wasn't it?

"You're not dying," He reassured you, though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more, pushing back the hairs that stuck on your forehead, "I'll make it up to you, so close your eyes and leave it up to me."

You've been bedridden for the past couple of days.

Recovering, but much slower than Dottore would've liked. Most of his projects have been put to a halt to focus on your well-being. If he wasn't able to, he'd make sure to assign many segments to care for you, much to his dismay.

This wasn't the first time you were hurt because of his experiments, but this one, in particular, had the worst outcome. He managed to figure it out in the end, of course. He worked tirelessly to take away all your pains, and even now, you still felt it.

But now you're back to your annoying self, taking advantage of his rare, caring nature towards you. You teased him for insisting on feeding you when you've already told him that you can eat on your own. You smirk at him for helping you walk around his lab if needed, though he'd force you to stay on your bed when you start experiencing pains again.

Deep down, Dottore really cares. So much so that he'd been ignoring his duties to the Fatui and putting his research aside just for you. You've always known this, despite his rudeness, apathetic attitude, and hot-headedness toward everyone. He even treats you differently than everyone else.

Writing on a clipboard, Dottore sat on a chair beside your bed. He had just finished checking your vitals and it was better than yesterday. He says that you'd be good as new in a few more days. While the recent experiment was an oversight, it somewhat improved you in some other ways.

Even though you like teasing Dottore and watching him get riled up, you do feel guilty for holding him back. The amount of time and care he puts into you is very endearing, seeing the occasional softer side of his, you can't help but feel like you're burdening him.

"The sooner I get better, the sooner you can get back to your research." You commented once, comfortably lying down on your bed and staring at the ceiling absentmindedly. You hear Dottore scoff from afar, putting away your medicine in a drawer. "Forget research, you kept whining about dying so I had to shut you up." His sharp remark made you chuckle, eyeing Dottore from across the room.

"Is it hard to admit that you just care about me so much, Dottie?" You teased, a shit-eating grin stretching your lips when you saw him crinkle his nose at the stupid nickname. "I saw you, you know? Stumbling around the lab looking for proper medicine."

Dottore could only shake his head, placing down the clipboard on a table and walking towards you, arms crossed. "I should've kept you on anesthetics, it was much more peaceful without your senseless yapping." That was an obvious lie, you snorted at his dishonesty, staring at him humorously.

"But of course, Childe totally didn't tell me that there was practically a storm in here whenever he managed to catch a quick glimpse of the lab. Said he's never seen so many stressed Dottores in his life." You murmur casually, smirking at the irritated doctor.

Dottore scowled at that, "How did that fiend manage to get in here?" Displeased at the fact he even got to speak to you. He'll never understand why you even get along with him. (Dottore is already there for you anyways, so why? It makes his blood boil.)

Smiling at him, you patted the space next to you. With little resistance, he sat down, close to you, and sighed. You immediately leaned against him, head on his shoulder and a hand holding his arm. If there was one thing that Dottore enjoyed; it was the closeness that you could only share with one another.

The smile you always wear on your face whenever he's close to you is always a cherry on top.

"Hey," You quietly called out to him, looking up at him and placing your chin on his shoulder. He hummed in acknowledgment, glancing at you. "If I become a god, what then?" You ask out of the blue. Dottore wanted to believe this is just one of your silly questions to test his patience, but the distant look in your eyes.

Dottore frowned at that, and you immediately defended yourself; "It's not like I want to back out with what we've already started." You began, laying your head back on his shoulder, and slid your hand down to his, picking on his gloves nervously. "Were too far deep in this, and I believe were not too far from accomplishing it... I just wonder what we'll do afterward."

He isn't much the type to think ahead of his plans. That just leads to useless overthinking. But he can't also blame you for it. After all, you agreed to be his test subject, and if he were to ever succeed, you'll become a god.

You honestly expected him to brush off that question without second thoughts and lecture you about overthinking thinking things, or say that it's a stupid question, but to your surprise, he was mulling it over, tilting his head.

"When you become a god," He emphasized, and you felt his glare behind his mask, "I'll make sure to guide you since if I leave you on your own, who knows what would happen to you?" He tried to sound annoyed, shaking his head.

You smirked, holding onto his arm tighter. "Haha, like a follower then?" You merely joked, not expecting much of a reaction from him. Perhaps a curse or a flick on your forehead. Instead, he hummed at that thought, further surprising you. "Wait, you're seriously—"

He could care less about the gods, Vision holders, and other people really, and the only thing that mattered to him other than his research was you. The one who stuck with him despite others deeming him a "monster". You treated him like how you treated everyone else. You were just like him if you continued to encourage his crude research. So he could never let you go, nor he could ever allow you to let go of him.

Perhaps his offer to make you into a god had ulterior motives. Selfish intentions. And perhaps you'd just laugh your head off once you find out.

Dottore took your hand on his, lacing his fingers with yours, and answered: "But of course, your first worshipper. I won't let anything get in the way of my god."

You were his only exception. Something to behold in the eyes of people. His creation, yes, but a creation that was worthy of his worship. His efforts. His heart.

You could only laugh at his response, the manic grin he'd grown to love grew, squeezing his hand. "Is this a lifelong proposal?"

Dottore sighed, "Think whatever you want to think," But he never denied it.

If you want to be tagged in future works, fill out this form to be added to my taglist!

Taglist: @iyagato

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

[blackkatmagic]

Any Sith x Jedi (or anyone really pair) where accidentally created a force bond and it's awkward.

if you leave the pair up to me i will pick the most random pool noodle my brain can conjure up, fair warning

“Can't you stop that?” Feral demands. His voice doesn’t crack. That would just be humiliating, and Savage and Maul are already going to be disappointed enough in him as it is.

“Stop what?” Feemor asks, startled, and turns to face him, which should help but doesn’t. The planet isn't outright swamp, but it’s marshy, humid, and he’s stripped down, Temple Guard uniform hanging loose around his waist, the robes beneath gaping and loose enough to show his chest.

Two days ago, Feral was trying to kill Feemor. Now he can't stop looking. If Maul finds out—

But Maul isn't going to find out. They're stuck together for now, but it won't be forever. It might not even be for long, if the temple in the distant mountains really has the cure.

There's a pause, which Feral only belatedly realizes he was supposed to fill, and then Feemor smiles. “Oh,” he says. “I mean, I can cover up, but we’ll have to take more breaks. I'm from a cold planet, not a place like Dathomir—”

Feral groans, flushing, and ducks his head. “No,” he says, which would be convincing except he knows Feemor can tell it’s a lie. “You're—you keep—everything you’re thinking is so bright, and it’s like looking at the sun all the time.”

Another pause, and Feemor laughs a little. “My good mood is making you exhausted?” he asks, delighted.

Feral pulls a face at him. “I'm a Sith,” he says. “I'm used to Maul, so being inside your brain is…different.”

“I suppose I'm probably different from Maul,” Feemor allows, which is the greatest understatement the galaxy has ever played witness to. When Feral gives him a look, he grins, faintly abashed but largely unrepentant, and offers Feral a hand. “You keep getting too far away, I think. That’s why it’s so loud. If you stay close, it should be fine.”

Feral eyes his hand, then his face, but sighs and slides his fingers into Feemor's, fighting down another flush. “What kind of connection gets stronger the further apart we are?” he mutters in vague complaint, but most of his attention is on Feemor's big hand, the way it curls around his own, callused fingers dragging over his skin. It makes him want to bristle, or maybe shiver. The whole world feels like static, and the only thing that matters is the way Feemor tugs him in close. Feral isn't small, even for a Zabrak, but—Feemor makes him feel that way, and it’s not entirely a bad thing.

Feemor flushes too, just a little. Just enough to make his freckles more obvious. “The kind where we’re supposed to get really close,” he says, determinedly cheerful. “But I think Maul would spontaneously generate from the soil and murder me if we even contemplated that solution to the bond.”

Feral rolls his eyes, falling into step beside Feemor as he keeps moving. “Maul is overprotective,” he says. “He does the same thing when he thinks that clone flirts with Savage.”

Feemor laughs, taking a long stride across a deep spot and turning to catch Feral when he jumps it. “Rex? He swore to me that Savage was flirting with him first.”

“Maul is under the impression that Savage still doesn’t know what sex is,” Feral says dryly, and only partially for the way it makes Feemor laugh again. He can feel it, the wash of warmth and light and heat, and—the Dark Side is useful. It’s stronger. He knows that. But—

Feemor makes him understand just how a moth feels in front of an open flame. All he wants is to press in close, bury himself in Feemor's light, wrap Feemor around him. Maybe over him, pressing him into the soft grass where the ground turns solid—

Feemor's breath catches, and he swallows hard. “That is supposed to make the bond more manageable,” he says, a little rough.

Feral closes his eyes, tries to contain a shiver. Maul will definitely kill him, he thinks. And—it’s the bond, partially. They both know that. They can't hurt each other, have to feel everything bouncing back and forth between them, amplified with every extra inch between their bodies. But he’d felt this way, or the start of it, when he was just facing Feemor across the battlefield, too.

“We still have a few hours of daylight left,” he says, faintly unsteady. “We should at least try to get to that ring of hills the locals mentioned. And then…”

Feemor's fingers curl tighter around his, and in Feral’s head, he’s a thing of light and soft warmth and temptation like Feral has never felt before.

“And then,” he agrees, soft, and pulls Feral onwards, so close there’s no air between them.

[arrowofcarnations]

Fic-O-Ween 2023 Day 1: First Frost

Happy fest, y’all! Here’s some Harvard-era FinnLo pining to ring in day one. Huge thank-yous to @lumosinlove for the Sweater Weather characters and universe and to @noots-fic-fests for organizing the fest!

Title: Love at First Fright Pairing: Finn O'Hara/Logan Tremblay Rating: G

“Trick or treat!”

Finn smiled at the ghost-witch-robot trio looking up at him and dropped three handfuls of candy into the plastic pumpkin pails they held up expectantly.

“Hey, nice costumes! Happy Halloween!”

The kids barely stood still long enough to say it back before they were taking off in the opposite direction of the frat house, eager to get back to their parents and hit up more treat stops around campus before dark. It was a good day for it; classic autumn in New England, from the crispness in the air to the red, brown and yellow leaves drifting down off the trees to cover the manicured grass in a vibrant seasonal blanket. Even the deep red of Harvard’s brick buildings seemed more beautiful in October, like they were meant to exist in a state of perpetual fall.

Throngs of local kids—and some of their parents—were all decked out in their Halloween best, while Finn and the rest of the OKN guys wore school-branded clothes while taking turns manning the candy-laden folding table outside the house between classes. (Finn wasn’t sure any of them owned a costume they could wear outside in broad daylight.) 

He laughed as Percy walked over, refill bag in hand, wearing the exact same gray sweatshirt with a crimson HARVARD across the chest as he was, the same black joggers—almost the same sneakers. “Fashion.”

Percy grinned back at him. “You know it, baby.” He turned the bag upside down, dumping the candy into any bowls that weren’t full and spilling some across the table as he went.

“Yo, you’re getting jolly ranchers all over the ground.”

“You’re a fuckin’ jolly rancher.”

“You’re a fuckin’ kit-kat.”

“You’re a—”

“Shut up, there’s kids,” Will warned, then passed some treats to a tiny ballerina with a kind smile and a compliment for her costume.

“Oh shit, my bad,” Percy said, and Finn snorted as Will cuffed him on the side of the head.

Finn unwrapped a watermelon jolly rancher and popped it into his mouth as he watched students and families pass by. Percy nudged him with an elbow, getting his attention. “Where’s Tremz? Thought you were surgically fused at this point.”

“Fu—” he cut off as Will leveled the captain stare at him. “Heck off. He’s in his medieval history class, he’ll be back soon.”

“Speak of the French-Canadian devil,” Percy shouted as Logan walked up the path to the house, backpack on his shoulders and snapback on his head—backwards, per usual. He looked good in the crimson Harvard Hockey hoodie he was wearing; Finn’s eyes caught the fraying at the cuffs and his stomach swooped as he realized it was his, that Logan must’ve swiped it this morning before heading out. 

“Bonjour,” Logan said, oblivious to the state of Finn’s internal organs.

“Bone-joor,” Percy replied before Finn could say it. “Very French of you. And shorts in October. Very Canadian of you.”

“We haven’t even had first frost yet.” Logan looked from Percy to Finn. “How much candy did you let him eat?”

“Too much,” Will answered for him. “Don’t you have class next, Marshy?”

After a complicated handshake with Finn that neared 15 seconds long, Percy grabbed his bag and took off at a slow jog. Finn wasn’t happy that he left, exactly, but he was happy that Logan walked around the table to take his spot right beside him.

“How’s that black plague treatin’ ya?” he asked as Logan slid his backpack off and under the table.

Logan’s eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Better than it’s treating medieval Europeans. But the reading is a little…”

He looked away—embarrassed, maybe, or frustrated. Finn knew he hated that English still tripped him up sometimes, though the amount he’d improved in just a few semesters was damn impressive. Finn kicked his shin lightly. “I got you. Would’ve flunked out last spring if it weren’t for you, so. Bring on the plagues.”

Logan kicked him back and sent him a grateful smile. And just because he couldn’t help it, Finn plucked at the sleeve of his hoodie. “Nice sweatshirt.”

“You left it on my chair,” Logan said, but Finn saw a little bit of color in his cheeks that he was pretty sure the afternoon chill didn’t put there.

It was a shoddy excuse, but so was Finn teasing him about it being “a little tight in the shoulders, Tremz, you gym beast” just so he could put a hand on one of those broad shoulders and squeeze. Logan was warm and so solid even through the layers; his hand lingered just a second too long before he let it fall away.

The next half hour passed quickly as trick-or-treaters came and went. The sun had just started to sink lower in the sky when a girl who couldn’t have been older than five or six walked up to the table, her guardian hanging back a ways. She had a hockey jersey on and was carrying her helmet, probably tired of wearing it around. 

She was closing in on Logan, who’d ended up on the opposite end of the long folding table as Finn at some point, when the big animatronic ghoul in front of the porch lurched and let out its tinny scream. The girl jumped, looking terrified, and tears filled her wide brown eyes.

“Oh,” Finn heard Logan say softly; his brow was knitted with concern as he walked quickly out from behind the table and crouched down in front of her. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to scare you.”

The girl didn’t say anything, just turned to look at her adult and then back at Logan. It seemed like she was trying not to run away.

Logan nodded at her jersey. “You play hockey?”

She nodded.

“Me too. All these guys are on my team. What’s your favorite position to play?”

That drew her out of her shell. “Goalie,” she said with a quiet confidence as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I see. You know what I know about goalies?” The girl shook her head, but clearly looked interested at whatever Logan was about to say. He leaned in like he was telling a secret, then said, “They’re the bravest ones. Also the craziest.”

Finn’s chest warmed at the way she laughed, at how Logan had gotten her from near-tears to happy and chatting in no time at all. He never got to see Logan with little kids; all their siblings were older. It was nice. It was sweet. It was doing things to Finn’s heart that he’d rather not think about.

In the end, the little girl—Harper, she told Logan as he filled her candy pail until it was overflowing, then filled her helmet, too—skipped away in a great mood. Logan was still smiling a little after they’d gone as Finn walked over to him.

“She was cute.”

Logan nodded. “Ouais.”

“You, too.” It was out of his mouth before he could shove it back in. Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “You were cute with her,” he explained—not that that really made it better.

But Logan looked pleased that he’d said so, even as he shrugged. “It’s not hard when they’re adorable. She said she’s a goalie.”

“Oh, so the skeleton thing should’ve been afraid of her.”

Logan laughed. “That’s kind of what I told her.”

Finn wanted to say so much. You’re cute all the time. You should only wear my hoodies. You’ll make a great dad someday. I want to share that someday with you.

Instead, he took Logan’s hat off and ruffled his hair. “Dinner?” he asked. “Burgers? Hog’s Head?”

Logan took his hat back and put it back on, but he wasn’t even pretending to be annoyed. “Ouais, let’s go now before they make us clean up.”

As they snuck off behind the house toward the pub, Finn took a handful of cherry jolly ranchers out of his pocket and put them in Logan’s. Logan laughed, then did the same for Finn with the watermelon ones. 

“Happy Halloween, Tremz.”

“Happy Halloween, Harzy.”

[marshmellowtea]

maybe let’s not interact with minors from a blog with “pro paraphilia” in the about …………..

girl what the hell are you on about

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 I

(ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔲𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫)

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I have decided to make ?Short? Story of this. This one was a little harder to do, scraped a few parts. This one’s a bit more tame?

TW // Stalking?

“What do you mean multiple been trying to get my IP Address?” I asked my protective agent, heart dropping in my chest.

“Yes-”

“What? When?” I interrupted, thoughts racing on the matter. I never had this happen before. I never had them band together like this. They have never gotten this close before.

“I don’t know ma’am.” The agent said, voice cutting out slightly through the phone. My mind trying to come up with ways to stop this…thing from happing.

It would have been a different situation if there was just one like the last time, but no. There was more than just one now. A group of them.

Just how many were there?

The thought of speaking face-to-face with them came up, but it wasn’t the safest option out there. Possibly one of the most dumbest ones ever instead with the many ways that could go.

“Just…keep them off of me the best you can, agent.” I simply said, clicking off my seatbelt and waiting for a reply from the agent before hanging up the phone. Sliding it into my pocket as I got out of the car.

Flipping my hood over my head, I locked my car with my keys as I walked away into the store hearing it beep.

“Welcome!” The cashier greeted, a big, friendly smile on their face. Brighting up my day just a little bit.

I nodded back at the familiar face of the young woman. She was always the bright, and inviting one, no matter how the day went unlike the grumpy manager. He was an hard one to get a read on, but I think he means well? Gives me the “mysterious protector” vibes.

Grabbing a small basket, I wasn’t planning on buying a cart full of food tonight. Too emotionally tired to do so. I’d figure I’ll just hire someone else to do it. Maybe pay them extra if I’m feeling generous.

Going down the canned aisle first. I grabbed a few jars of spaghetti sauces and placed them in my basket. Then went along and grabbed some Angel hair noddles. Thinking spaghetti sounded somewhat good tonight, fairly easy to make too.

Heading to the meat aisle, I didn’t expect an Astartes to be there looking at the meat like it challenged him.

His helmet almost touched the hanging sign above him. His armor was dirty, but a light blue base with a scale like design showed here and there with an silver insignia of an hydra on his pauldrons. The marshy smell of his ventures sticking to him.

If I remember correctly, this was an Alpha legion Astartes. An rarity to see as I heard most didn’t form bonds, or any at all. A thought I have felt remorseful on.

“Whoa there, big buddy.” I interrupted the hydra as he picked up a roll of meat. My own hand coming up stop him, as his helm moved swiftly to look down at me. A glowing hue of red optics staring. “You can’t just eat raw meat. Especially, unpurchased meat. It can make you sick. To us humans anyways.”

The hydra looked between me and the meat then tilted his helmet, questioning me silently that I found oddly cute.

“I mean, you can eat raw meat, but it isn’t preferred. Can result in a lot of health issues.” I continued, questioning myself if an Astartes could even eat raw meat.

The hydra rumbled in response, slowly putting the meat back down in the fridge.

“Do…do you need something to eat?” I asked, unsure if I should be feeding an Astartes. My hand returning to my side, an internal battle going through my mind. I couldn’t just leave him hungry for the rest of the night!

The hydra cooed, a rightful question to please the hydra. His body leaning over my form. Easily towering over mine as I barely stoped his helm from nuzzling the top of my hood.

“Hey now! You stink!” I laughed, the hydra rumbling lowly at the accusation. Lightly pushing against my own offending hand in attempt to get closer.

“Ew! Stop that! Let’s get you something to eat, yeah?” I desperately said, eager to breathe regular air than swamp water. How did this guy even get in this store smelling like an alligator?

The hydra gave me another rumble before leaning back up to his full height, pushing at me lightly to hurry me up with my shopping.

“Alright, Alright! I’m going! No need to be so demanding!” I huffed, lightly swatting at his gauntlets.

—

The marine rumbled proudly to himself, and their darling as she kept them well away from their goal, but someone had slipped. Their darling firewall had been taken down for a split second before it was up again. A small portion of information being collected.

The small information was rewarded with a small victory. The rest of the group coming closer to find out what had gotten their fellow marine so pumped. Becoming excited themselves when they noticed their progression.

Oh! How smart their darling was! Keeping them far away for so long!

Don’t worry darling! We’ll find you.

ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗 II

ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣: 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥: “𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗” 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙

[wereh0gz]

Corrupted - Oneshot (?)

Final Horizon's ending, but things go very, very wrong.

This au is driving me insane enough to get me back into writing fanfic after months of not writing. Might do more maybe idk.

Anyways. Woe corrupted au be upon ye.

Word count: 1697

The End looms over Ouranos island, its overwhelming presence crushing those below it. The Titan floats before it, beaten and powerless, yet kept up by its invisible puppet strings. A golden star glimmers defiantly, his piercing blue eyes staring death itself down.

"Sonic! It's now or never!" Eggman calls out, readying the rifle stolen from the Titan.

Sonic quickly flies into its giant barrel, focusing his power, ready to unleash it and end this nightmare once and for all.

"Sorry, Master King," Sonic says as he turns to face his enemy, "Looks like I'm going all-out after all."

He closes his eyes, tapping into the cyber-energy he kept locked away per the Koco's advice. It tingles in the tips of his fingers like electricity, spreading to his palms, up his arms, to the rest of his body. He shakes uncontrollably, power surging through his very veins, burning, corrupting.

No, wait, this isn't right. This isn't–

He yells out, pain consuming his entire being like a raging wildfire as his body spasms. Noise floods his ears, his mind racing, thoughts turning into static as he feels something snap.

The chains break.

The rifle fires.

Everything goes white.

-

Tails, Amy, Knuckles, Eggman, and Sage all watch with bated breath as a blue spark shoots out of the rifle, flying sporadically towards the entity looming overhead. The blue bullet pierces it, causing it to explode into thousands of fragments, raining pieces of heaven over the isles as the hellish red sky fades to a pleasant blue dawn, and the Titan falls dead onto the marshy battlefield.

The blue spark falls with the rest of the glimmering stars, crashing like a meteor, leaving a crater on the ground and burning the grass around him.

Now free of their corruption and back in physical forms, Amy, Tails, and Knuckles rush after their fallen friend, calling his name worriedly. They freeze at the crater's edge when their eyes land on Sonic, shaking as he slowly pushes himself up, eyes unfocused, growling and baring his teeth. His body is consumed by glowing cyan corruption shifting and flashing like pixels on a broken screen.

"Sonic?" Tails mutters, reaching out to him.

Sonic's head rises, his eyes darting from place to place before stopping at Tails, a black spiral staring deep into his very soul.

"Watch out!" Knuckles exclaimed, pushing Tails and Amy out of the way as Sonic lashes out, snarling and lunging at them.

Sonic knocks Knuckles down, pinning him to the ground.

"What the hell?! What's gotten into you?!" Knuckles kicks him off, sending him flying into a nearby tree. Sonic screams out in pain as he collides and falls to the ground.

"Tails, what's going on…?" Amy asked while summoning her Piko Piko Hammer.

"I-I don't know…" he stammered, "Maybe… maybe he couldn't handle all that power after all..."

Knuckles pushes himself up. "Whatever's happened to him, we gotta snap him out of it!"

Before they can do anything, however, Sonic disappears in a flash of blue, leaving a shockwave that knocks the three to the ground, and burnt grass in his wake. When they come to their senses, Sonic is nowhere to be seen, but explosions boom in the distance.

Eggman descends in his Eggmobile, followed by Sage floating next to him. There's a grim look on his face.

"Foolish hedgehog," he said, "he got in over his head and lost all control. Should've known not to take that kind of power lightly."

"This… out of my infinite calculations, this is the worst-case scenario." Sage shook her head. "He's been completely corrupted. If he's in this form for too long, he will–"

"No!" Tails interrupted, "I am not losing my brother to this!" He looks up to her, brows furrowed and a fire burning in his eyes. "Sage! You can track his movements, right?"

"Yes."

"You!" He looks to Eggman, who's scowling, "You're going to help us catch him!"

Eggman scoffs. "And what makes you think I'll help you?"

"Well, Sonic could come back at any moment, and, in this state, it's very likely he'll send you into orbit with zero hesitation the moment he sees you," Tails threatened, "plus, you're the only one with any tech on hand that could help us catch him. So either you help us get him under control, or he ends you along with us and the rest of the island."

"Tch– oh, fine!" Eggman grumbled, "I'll do it, but don't you dare think I'll ever help you again. This is the last time, got it?"

"Hmph." Tails glared at him, earning him a glare back.

Another explosion reverberates nearby, followed by Sonic screaming, catching everyone's attention.

"If my simulations are correct…" Sage began, "It should be possible to repurpose one of father's energy generators to siphon the Chaos and cyber energy out of him. But doing so comes at the risk of his life." Eggman seems to smile at that last sentence.

"Guys, I don't think we have much time left! H-how are we supposed to catch him like this?" Amy asked, gripping her hammer tightly.

Tails' heart drops, but he shakes his head. "It's worth a shot. It's not like we have any other options." Tails turns to Amy and Knuckles. "We're going to distract him while Eggman gets whatever he needs to catch him and bring him back to us. We don't have any time to waste, so let's go!"

Amy and Knuckles nod, and with that, the three set off after Sonic, following Sage's lead while Eggman goes in search for the necessary pieces to bring him down.

-

Noise. Too much. Hurts. It hurts. Head hurts. Burning. Too much noise. It hurts. It burns. It–

"You think you can escape the inevitable, mortal?"

…?

"Fool. Don't think you have bested me simply because you have destroyed my physical form. You cannot kill me, for I am infinite."

…!

"Your arrogance shall be your End."

-

Sonic's screams echo throughout Ouranos, he screams until his voice cracks and gives out. The pain, the burning, he can't take it. Can't think. His heart pounds in his chest as his form flickers red. He can't stop moving. He can't.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

"There!" Sage said, pointing at Sonic as the rest caught up to her. "He's becoming more unstable! We need to act quickly!"

"Got it, kid!" Knuckles responded, "We'll take it from here!"

Knuckles immediately goes in for a punch, but Sonic is quick to dodge and retaliate, lunging at him and biting at his arm. Knuckles cries out in pain as he tries to shove him off.

Amy swoops in and, with a well-timed swing of her hammer, knocks Sonic away.

"I hate to do this to you, Sonic, but it's the only way!" Amy exclaims, but it falls upon deaf ears.

Sonic growls and pounces, bashing into her and knocking her down. Her hammer slips from her hands and falls just out of reach.

Before he can attack, Tails shoots him down with his arm cannon, the electric shot stunning him for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sonic," he muttered, seeing how much pain his brother was in.

Eggman and Sage approach from behind Tails, with some kind of device attached to the Eggmobile. A claw stretched out from the bottom of the floating vehicle, snatching Sonic while he's stunned.

He squirms and kicks and yells out in a vain attempt to free himself from the claw's iron grip. The device begins to rumble, and…

Sonic screams as the device drains him of his energy. Electricity sparks around him, the Emeralds finally leaving his body, flying off in different directions. It rips into his very being, tearing the corruption away from his body and into the Eggmobile's engines. The vehicle trembles, becoming overloaded with power.

"Father! Get out!" Sage cries.

Eggman hastily leaps out of the vehicle, barely landing on his feet, just as its internal mechanisms begin to explode under the immense pressure. The claw releases Sonic, letting him fall limp onto the grass as it crashes mere yards away and combusts.

"Sonic!" Tails, Amy, and Knuckles cry out as they rush to his side.

As he lies motionless on the grass, the voices of the crowd of five fade into merely distant echoes, until the burning pain that seared his body subsides, and everything goes quiet.

-

…

…

…

… It's dark.

His body felt so… drained. And heavy.

What's that noise? … Voices?

"I don't know how much longer I can keep him stable, father…" a younger, worried voice says, strangely sounding like it's coming out of a speaker.

"Just a little bit longer, Sage. The inhibitors are almost done… There!" an older voice says.

"Great! Now get them on, quick! Before the cyber corruption gets any worse!" a high-pitched voice exclaimed.

A hand gently lifts his left wrist, and something clicks around it. Then his right. Then around his ankles. Whatever it is feels heavy, and cold. But, somehow, the rest of his body begins to feel lighter.

"It's working! Oh my gosh, it's really working!"

"Pfft, of course it is! Thanks to my- and Sage's- ingenious design! And no thanks to you."

… What are they talking about…?

His eyes inch open, bright, white light filtering through, blinding him. He groans, closing his eyes again and rubbing them. His head hurt.

"Sonic? Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Another new voice spoke up.

"C'mon man, you've been out for almost two days now. Get up, sleepyhead!" Yet another new voice, deeper and rougher.

He feels a large hand push him. He jolts.

Suddenly, he found himself on the other side of the room, looking at five strangers that stared back at him with confused and worried looks on their strangely familiar faces. A fox with two tails, a pink hedgehog, a red echidna, and two humans, a giant clad in red with a dignified mustache, and a child that didn't look quite real.

His quills bristled. He felt his chest tighten, his breathing quicken, his hands trembling.

The fox looked at him with terrified blue eyes. "Sonic…?"

He tilts his head, confused.

Who's… Sonic?

[charlidos]

"With Mr. Mortensen, Bloom "lost" himself in the New Zealand wilderness. 14 hours later they both returned to the LotR set bruised and thirsty and with a photo that's reputed to be the best ever taken of Orlando. If Mortensen would only release it."

In the myth of Viggo and Orlando's adventures in New Zealand and Middle Earth, this is my favourite legendary tale; two men getting lost and spending a night in a New Zealand rainforest, a "moonless night" 24 years ago. The leader of the pack taking the eager young pup on an adventure, Viggo the romantic renaissance man and Orlando's I'll-follow-you-on-any-adventure adoration. It is indeed the stuff of legends. And like all legends, the story changes over time.

So here's all we know, all we can guess and all we can blissfully imagine.

To begin with, the video interview is from 2004, and the info that Orlando was the "friend" accompaning him is from 2005. However, when Viggo told the same story back in 2003, he was alone, no friend mentioned.

"One time, I was in the rainforest near the west coast of the South Island. It was on a shooting break, one of those incredibly rare weekends where I actually had a Saturday off. So I just went down there for a day and a night to a place that I'd been to before. I wanted to get to the coast, so I headed into the woods, but it was a bit of a hike and it suddenly got dark. I hadn't brought a flashlight with me, which was a bit stupid, because I thought I knew the trail really well. But then I got lost. There was no moon and it was overcast, so it was just completely pitch black, especially as the vegetation was really dense and thorny. But I did have a camera with me, which had a flash, and a couple of rolls of film. So I used the flash to try and find my way out. For a second you could see everything around, so I was using the flash to try and find the trail. I kept thinking, 'It must be around here somewhere', but I never did find it. And then I ran out of film. At some point I was just getting really tired and ended up in a marshy area. I was falling down all the time, getting cut by thorns and I thought, 'This is stupid'. So, I found a piece of relatively high ground and lay down for a little while, until the moon came up. Luckily, when the moon arrived I managed to get my bearings and eventually I was able to figure out how to get back to where I started from. It was a huge relief, but when I showed up back on the set, I really alarmed everyone because it looked like I'd been through a grinder."

How come Orlando joined him on this trip into the wild? I can only speculate (it's what I'm here for, making an epic mountain of a molehill), but Orlando is famously very keen on adventure, so I'm sure he was eager to join. Moreover, he obviously worshipped the ground Viggo walked on (his "guardian angel" who has the skills to basically manage anything. Orlando probably thought "what could possibly go wrong?") and took any opportunity to follow his king. In other words, I don't think Orlando was hard pressed about coming along.

Why did Viggo ask Orlando then? Because he knew Orlando would say yes? Because he knew Orlando would appreciate it, more than the others? Because Orlando was the only other actor having a day off? Because Viggo felt a strong urge to share this beautiful and amazing place with him? Because of the chance to spend quality time with his sweet elf boy?

In Viggo's excellent plan for the hike, they'd be back soon, "in time for dinner". But instead they got lost. Maybe the prescence of the pretty elf prince distracted him? Or maybe he was being overly confident in his abilities, and perhaps wanting to show off a little? Even Viggo will want to impress people he likes, I'm sure.

Viggo brought his camera, photographer that he is. But he also brought an extra roll of film, suggesting he was planning to take a lot of pics. Maybe he wanted to photograph Orlando out in the woods; a beautiful elf in his natural element. But then he seems to quite quickly spend all the film on finding the way, running out before they were even remotely near home. Maybe he panicked a bit? Or maybe he really just wanted to get cool, impromptu photos for a book.

"When I developed the film, which was black and white, there were some really interesting images. The flash had lit up the ground, the foliage and these ferns which are typical of New Zealand. Some of them are almost like negatives because there was this fog and the flash was bouncing off them creating a really strange effect. It's quite unusual because there are these delicate ferns with their little tendrils and all the whiteness around them which makes them look like Japanese prints. I printed off four of them, which I've called Lost 1, 2, 3 and 4. You can see them on the internet."

(This is the first rendering of the tale, in 2002.)

The fact that Viggo apparently also took one - at least - photo of Orlando, suggests that Viggo either took some photos before getting lost, or he took photos of Orlando, furtively (or mistakenly?), while he was supposed to flash their way home. (But who is it who claims this photo is the best ever taken of Orlando? Orlando himself? Does he have it framed at home, as a treasured memory?)

As it got dark out with no moonlight, they started bumping into things, falling over and getting scratched by thorns and bruised by trees. They obviously didn't get seriously hurt, but maybe Viggo did start to worry for their safety. Like he said, he felt responsible for bringing Orlando out there, if he also got injured, it would have been disastrous. (Not sure if this rainforest also has dangerous animals and insects. Trampling on a deadly snake, walking into a poisonous spiderweb, getting prowled upon by a wild animal.)

The way Viggo tells it, the whole thing has an air of romantic adventure. Just picture them finding a piece of dry land for them to stay for a while. waiting for the moon and the stars to come out. (Or until the sun came up?) Imagine them lying on soft grass in a glade, talking softly, just waiting and enjoying each other's company.

Orlando can't have been used to being out in the wilderness, particularly in a foreign country, so Viggo was likely feeling protective. And I imagine Orlando keeping close to Viggo at all times, feeling safe as long as he could feel Viggo's warm body near. Trusting Viggo to keep them safe. If it was "pitch dark", how did they keep track of each other? I imagine Orlando grabbing hold of Viggo's hand, clutching it hard, his only anchor in a foreign, scary place. When they laid down in that glade, maybe they snuggled in close to each other to keep warm (since any night will most likely be a little cool). Maybe holding each other, for comfort and safety. Dirty, bruised, thirsty, completely lost and sharing a beautiful night together.

I can also see them finally seeing the first light of day, and being able to find their way back, hiking back to civilisation. Returning dishevled, exhausted yet very happy. I can see them, two crazy and adventurous nutters laughing about that night in the rainforest of NZ. And living to tell the wild tale, for years to come.

It's such a beautiful, romantic image. No matter what, I feel sure such an experience is one you keep with you for a long time. Bonding to the two together, forever. And creating a mythical legend to boot.

[taeloke]

I noticed you've been answering asks and I want to join in lol

I wanna know you're thoughts about Sixtus's magic and weapon. Ever since 141, lowkey driving me nuts. Cause his magic can't be Disaster but how come he has a weapon that is so similar to the Spirit Spears, and how did he get it?

Omg hi Winter!! Marshie?? Both names! I'm glad you're joining the askers!🥰

The ask right before yours was about the same weapon, but I didn't think about it as in-depth there. There's a lot to wonder about how Sixtus got Magliastira and how he controls it.

We know Chastiefol, Basquias, and Darrenheart are all Sacred Treasures made from the Sacred Tree in the Fairy Realm (according to Guila), each with ten unique forms that can only be changed by Disaster magic. We don't know for sure if there's an additional limit that only the Spear's respective Fairy King can control it too, but I personally believe that's the case. Think of it like a magic-based extension of a Fairy King's body and it makes sense imo.

There's also the other weapons we've seen Fairies wield, like regular spears and the sword Helbram had, but I'm pretty sure those were picked up from dead humans. Helbram's sword was definitely taken from Aldrich, at least, after he was killed for revenge. (EDIT: I was wrong about Helbram's sword. Oops!) However, it's still possible that their weapons were made in the Fairy Realm by various other plants there.

Sixtus could have inherited Disaster while not being chosen as the next Fairy King, or at least a weaker form of it. His magic could be a lot like Disaster but with a stronger limit for what it can be used on, such as not on animals or only on life in/from the Fairy Realm. I'm not confident in those examples, but they still help with explaining what I mean by limits. What I am confident about at least is the idea that Magliastira has less forms than a Sprit Spear. That idea just feels right to me.

Though we can only speculate right now, I think Sixtus's Spirit Sword was made through the same means as a Spirit Spear. In that way, he's recognized as a Fairy Prince with the ability to wield such a weapon by the Sacred Tree and King's power--whatever that ability may be--and so he was given one to aid in protecting the Fairy Clan. It's very possible that he's not the only one who had a Sacred Treasure made for him, too. Another one of the Kiane kids could have a Spirit Bow or Spirit Hammer that we've just never seen yet. But they also might not. We know Tioreh doesn't have anything like that thanks to Origins previews at least. And Nasiens's magic definitely isn't compatible with that kind of weapon. Unless he can emulate Disaster by being insanely particular with what poisons he summons and injects into a spirit weapon to make it change forms, though that's a crazy stretch.

[mcnotok]

okay so i live in a place where it's cold very like 80% of the year, including now and because it was really freakin cold today, it got me thinking about how the climates of undertale really work and that in turn got me thinking about how the bad sans gang™ would react to the cold.

so like first off, do monsters even react to the temperature changing. i mean undyne overheats in her armour when you enter hotland so presumably she does react to changes in her surrounding temperatures. but undyne isn't made entirely out of magic and bones and she likely is a little bit more human than other monsters since a really popular theory about her eye is that she got injected with determination.

but sans and papyrus are skeletons and live in snowdin and that place is constantly covered in snow. (side note: HOW THE FUCK IS THERE SNOW UNDER THE MOUNTAIN. like it could be magic but that's just weird especially considering the fact that waterfall which is right next to snowdin is a marshy grassland which if you know anything about that type of environment you know that snow doesn't really work, okay rant over back to the skeletons).

i've seen a few pieces of art and fanfiction that basically make it so the skeletons react to the cold like a human would; frostbite, hypothermia, ect... but thought is always like would they react that way. most versions of sans are wearing hoodies and shorts and slippers out in the cold and they seem just fine.

cross is wearing like sixty different layers but it's made pretty clear that his outfit is supposed to be a really embellished royal guard uniform so jury's out on him actually being hot underneath all the fluff.

my conclusion is that skeleton monsters are pretty resilient to the cold in general and that it takes a lot to get any of them uncomfortable when it comes to the weather.

so onto the headcanons.

i think that horror, killer, and dust would react to the cold in a similar way because they all lived in snowdin for most of their lives prior to getting hired/adopted into nightmares gang. i think all three of them would really enjoy the snow and the cold in general

horror would be a little more adverse to it because of the hole in his skull and getting water out of there seems kinda annoying to deal with. killer starts a snowball fight and immediately gets his ass handed to him by everyone else. dust just would sorta starfish into the snow and stay there for the whole day. he's like those huskies who just stay outside for as long as possible and when someone drags him back inside he's just laying on his back, covered in snow.

cross is interesting because he also technically grew up in snowdin but most of the universes that x-gaster put him into were on the surface and along with his fluffy coat and scarf i think he's less hyped about the cold. like with all the layers he'll be fine but if you take that from him and he's just outside with a turtleneck and shorts, he'll be shivering after like 15 minutes.

nightmare hates the cold. i've seen a few headcanons that involve his slime/sludge freezing and i think that's really fucking cool. nightmare would rather eat like (idk what nightmare doesn't like to eat but assume something icky) than go outside. if it's under like 35 degrees he's just going to stay inside. he also fucking hates the snow with a burning passion because if it melts on him it'll hurt (i'm actually not sure if the whole, nightmare is hurt by water thing is canon to dreamtale lore, but i think it's cool so i'm sticking with it)

anyways sorry for the long ask, but i got thinking a bit too hard and your blog is probably the thing that got me back into utmv

anyways i hope you have a lovely day!!

I hope this is how you pictured it :)

Ice/slushie consistency when cold nm my beloved