#star unasks

[actuallyitsstar]

CHARACTER ASK GAME

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell + 21, 24 and 25?

✨ send me a number and a character! ✨

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

i actually already answered this question here, so i will give an honorary mention for this ask, in addition: i am a big fan of the whole tgm-mav-lowkey-being-the-daggers'-friends'-cool-dad trope. like. the idea that they get to know him after the mission and he's obviously taken a genuine interest in all of them and their wellbeing so they all just...stay in touch. the idea that the call and check up on him when they know rooster is deployed, that they start to leave a few extra things at mav's place because he usually hosts their squad movie nights and it's just easier to crash there sometimes, that they realize he doesn't have many people to spend the holidays with now outside of obviously bradley, and they all come together and drag him to a surprise christmas party with them before they go on their own leave for their respective family christmases. that's their emotional support old navy captain and if u wanna mess w him u gotta get thru 11 daggers and 1 son first so good luck!!!

that being said, tho, it can go too far i think, if we're not careful. barring a couple specific circumstances (jake and whatever fucked up childhood/non-existent parental relationships he has had comes to mind) the daggers all have families of their own, and entire lives before meeting mav. i don't think he's like. their DAD per se. he's their friends' cooler than expected dad ('your dad is an ace? that's so cool! i wonder if he has any stories to tell us! he once flipped off a mig while inverted? THATS SO COOL') that they can become friends with and look out for too, and i KNOW he'll be looking out for them. if they need anything he's right there, because that is within his nature. but for the most part, they're all adults who have friendships, and not like. Extra Children. if you know what i mean. except for jake idk i think he needs a role model or something but i guess that makes mav a secret third thing to him idk

24. what other character from another fandom reminds you of them?

oof that is tough!! i think that on most levels, mav is very different from the characters in other fandoms that i have imprinted on the most, so i'm not going to be able to do a 1:1 comparison here. but believe it or not the very first character that came to mind for me is ezra standish from the magnificent seven tv series, and it's not an exact match but i'm just going to provide my presentation on the matter (i am specifically comparing tg86 mav with ezra bc i have no one to compare tgm mav with lol):

horrible quality images (yes i did make these gifs but theyre very old so lets not talk about it lol) bc this is an obscure 1990s b-budget tv show shot on vhs probably. but this guy right here is either the second or third youngest member of his found family group (the seven ~lawmen~ a local circuit judge hires to manage an old west territory because it's so dangerous the sheriff and deputy he'd previously appointed ran out on the job). he's very accomplished at what he does, for his age, and has had way too many shitty life experiences and is much too world-weary already. everyone who works with him comes into it with a preconceived notion of how he's going to be. and how could they not? it isn't that the other six guys are short-sighted in assuming, exactly. ezra is direct about who he is and what he stands for, downright in your face about it, actually. you expect him to be kind of an arrogant asshole, and he tells you he's gonna be one. and then, for a while anyway, he kind of is.

loner type, doesn't need anyone, he's going to do everything his way because he knows best, needlessly theatrical about it in the process. they expect him to run out on them during their battle, and he does.... kind of. but he also comes through for them in a critical moment when he's needed most and they least expect him to do it, single-handedly taking out multiple enemies to save their lives. immediately, he adopted into the group, essentially, but ezra doesn't know enough about really having friends to recognize that it's happening until much later. additionally, his entire life and livelihood is overshadowed by his mother (who can be seen sitting in the bg of the larger gif), who is still very much alive, in his case, but whose actions and words define him, whether he wants them to or not. he had a shitty childhood bouncing between a hundred strangers' and distant family members' homes alike and is just overflowing with abandonment issues, and he expects the other six to give up on him at the drop of a hat, but they never do.

25. what was your first impression of this character? how about now?

the very first time i ever saw top gun was before tgm was ever a thing. i remember my favorite character being goose (isnt he always tho <3) and thinking mav was kind of a bland action hero guy with a story arc i did not understand at all or care about. i was like fifteen, tho, and hadn't seen hardly any movies or tv shows at the time because i had a kind of weird sheltered from media sort of childhood, so i don't think i had rly learned HOW to watch and interpret media and characters yet, tbh. when the sequel was coming out i rewatched top gun with my partner in preparation bc my parents were making me watch the new one, and they had never seen it. i was like oh !!! he's smol and traumatized. i bet there's fic about him and that blonde guy. i should look that up later. and then we watched tgm and that was it for me. i was like never mind him and that blonde guy i need to know if hIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS SON TURNS OUT OK......MY HEART..... and that was that lol. my dna has not been the same since <3

[a-ko-ge]

Gepard if hyv made him physical type

[elen-aranel]

I wish we could express our love for one series or generation of Star Trek without having to dunk on others.

Trek has been produced over a span of almost seventy years. Trek has been produced in multiple different formats. This means that every show has a different story to tell, and for me that means there’s a lot I really love, and a lot that really isn’t for me.

I’m not saying that any show is above criticism, because it isn’t and I have criticised trek on here lots of times in the past. But if you’re recommending your favourites, maybe just focus on them and not the others?

[wolveria]

Is the ask game still on? If so what about 9,10,13?

Ask games are always on! I'm going to go with the SW fandom because of your icon :))

9. worst part of canon

Not enough clones. Need more angst. No one talks about Fives. Need more post-Order 66 Jedi stories. Someone talk about Fives.

Ahsoka killing off hot Inquisitors after they've only been on screen 2.5 seconds. Please, Ahsoka, we need to be fed.

10. worst part of fanon

The fandom lol or 90% of it. It's an incredibly hostile, intolerant, sanitized, purity-driven garbage fire. You have to find the few kind folks that exist, and ignore the rest.

13. worst blorboficiation

You are not going easy on me LOL I've already talked about Fox and how folks see him as a Palpatine-killing, good-boy hero. I want to see him as a cold, ruthless, boot-licking Imperialist soldier. Maybe he eventually realizes the truth about the Empire, and it breaks him. That's a much more interesting story to me. I like that Fox.

Aside from that, the worst blorboficiation I've seen was almost canon. After learning more about the unfinished Boba bounty hunter arc, I'm actually glad they never completed it. Boba is a furious, vengeful child, who was being trained by his father to be a hired killer. After watching his father die, he would be even worse. We saw that when he literally tried to blow up Windu.

But in the unfinished arc, they tried to turn him into the people's hero because Bane was mean to a few randos? Weak. Foolish. Him changing and growing as an older man after suffering in the Sarlacc pit and being taken in by the Tuskens, that makes sense. Kid Boba suddenly changing his tune, does not.

Ask Game

[ossidae-passeridae]

8!!!

Hi Anon this was actually the first question I got asked today but I wanted to think about it Extensively so I saved it for last, thank you for waiting <3 I've been noodling with it for the last uhhhhhh few hours!

Question from here

8. There should be more of this type of fic/art…

Well, in the footsteps of @tideswept, if you wanted a preview of my WIPs you just needed to ask :3

A Hagiography (demanded by the Senate) of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn. Objections that this is against the Jedi religion have been overruled, as per the Chancellor's Office.

CNC obikin, in which Anakin is a brat, and Obi-Wan is kind of an asshole, but Anakin is really into that.

TMA crossover part 2: Electric Qui-Gon

Mandos-are-vampires AU part 2, this time with more worldbuilding ft kabuki, even more ways to use blood in cookery, and a Tense Conversation In A Public Place

Body horror WIP focused around Fox, for once not caused by Sidious in any way!

Two more obikin fics, one of which is the lobotomy fic I've been talking about for approximately forever, and the other is a secret :3c

On the whole though, I'd love to see from others: more niche kinks lovingly rendered, more playing with canon in fun and interesting ways, deconstruction of tropes (I'm a sucker for that specific flavour of worldbuilding), body horror (P L E A S E I'm starving to death over here), and vampires. Dude I love vampires, I love the intimacy and the sensuality and the pain and the pleasure and the horror and just *clenches fist*. I read Dracula as a child and Bram Stoker rewrote my brain chemistry from beyond the grave.

(All opinions expressed above are solely those of pass e. ridae and do not express the views or opinions of any affiliates or associates, passerine or otherwise)

[aquelondungeonmaster]

falls down the stairs and dies pride flag

[i-dont-know-how-but-i-got-here]

Listing to one (1) hozier song on repeat rn.

[heliiacus]

★ touch starved armin that sits a little too close to people, but not close enough to touch arm to arm

★ touch starved armin whose gaze lingers, from time to time, upon the touches his friends receive

★ touch starved armin who sleeps hugging a pillow, or a big plush toy he's had since childhood (it's a rabbit)

★ touch starved armin who rubs his thumb on his own arm when he tries to soothe himself, or across his own jaw

★ touch starved armin who wants to ask to sit closer or to hold your hand, as one friend to another friend, but does not dare for fear of being too much; he knows you are liberal with touch, that you hug and hold friends eagerly, but you two have not been friends for long - months, sure, long ones at that, but you are not eren, and you are not mikasa, and he simply does not dare

★ touch starved armin who nearly cries in public when you take his hand in his one sun-wrought day; who blinks his tears away and holds onto you tightly, fingers wrapped around your palm

★ touch starved armin who looks pained when he has to let go, though he does his best to hide it; cheeks tight and eyes tense to show you a smile that must exude nothing else but ease

★ touch starved armin who is far too translucent to you, far too obvious with the way he leans into the touch when you sit close enough to have your arm brush against his, whose eyes linger when you hug someone else within the group

★ touch starved armin who seems brittle to you, in his own unique way; you ask not why he hesitates this much, why he only seems at ease with few people, or why he lingers on the precipice far more eagerly than he were to ask someone to step closer

★ touch starved armin who clings to your hand when you decide to offer it again

★ touch starved armin whose palm is tight around your fingers, and yet so pleasantly warm

★ touch starved armin who looks at you with stars brimming upon his eyes when you tell him he could hold your hand whenever he wishes it; when you tell him, earnestly, that you mean it - that you don't want him to be shy around you

★ touch starved armin who looks up at you, eyes tinged in fear and a plea, each time he tugs at your sleeve gently; asking for your hand whenever the two of you (or the group of you) meet

★ touch starved armin who smiles quietly, and secretly, and contently each time you agree; turned away from you, fingers twined with yours - but you see it. you always do

★ touch starved armin who opens up little, and slow, and tentative; fingers playing with yours as you'd sit in the afternoon sun, watching his eyes flit flightily between you and all the corners of the room

★ touch starved armin who prefers to linger within hugs, but who never says a word about it

★ touch starved armin who admits to you, in no uncertain terms, that he feels an outsider in his own life; it is dark around you two, and the late spring crickets are chirping, and the cold bites at your skin with the sun not within your sight - and you listen, heart chipping, as he tells you he feels left out, and behind, and too sensitive for his own good

★ touch starved armin who tells you, in no uncertain terms, that he feels weak and incapable; undeserving of the closeness you offer others

★ touch starved armin who finds that if he were to allow it, he holds onto touch not with a gentle hold, but with claws, dull and untrained; who holds onto your shirt and back and neck as he cries into your hold, uninvited and unasked for and not needed but coveted, ardently and desperately

★ touch starved armin who gets the lecture of his lifetime; not just from you, who spends hours wiping the small tears upon the skin of his cheeks, but from his friends, too

★ touch starved armin who learns the difficulty of honesty; who learns the difficulty of blooming, slow and delicate, beneath the warm light of his friends peering down upon him, protective in this new, unknown to him way

★ touch starved armin who learns to ask

★ touch starved armin who greets his friends with hugs

★ touch starved armin who has his head scratched for the first time, and who promptly bursts into tears right after (nobody laughs, but he never lives it down)

★ touch starved armin who smiles brighter, jovial in ways that speak to you of something free and unbridled in his heart

★ touch starved armin who gains a reputation for a thief of hands during walks, and of pillows during sleepovers; and of hearts, too, in your case - though you don't say that part out loud

★ armin, with a love language of touch, who learns that to be loved is to see others, and to love is to see yourself

divider by cafekitsune

tag list: @arlerts-angel @sukunascrustyfinger @levistealeaf @nilaaaas @supersupper @dilfkentolover @arminarlertssword @bel-https @layla240 @katestrophes @er3nscottonpicker @siiyoko @ryoiii @lemontrees-things I wasn't sure if those who asked to be put on the list on the traverse post also meant armin fics in general - if you'd like to be taken off the general tag list, please let me know !! <333

reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Sarcasm's DPxDC rec list

{I have no else to blame but myself for how long this could have been. I don't discriminate between ships in the fandom. If I'm curious, I'll read it, but I do have a particular love for Hardcover if you haven't somehow guessed. }

Main Masterlist Regent Series Mundane Macabre

[Hardcover/Anger Management ship]

I’m Picking You Up by Clouds

Unfortunately, the Bad Guys Are Human by aggiepuff (With sequel, "Welcome to the Neighborhood" in the same series)

Premeditation by Chromatographic (With its WIP sequel, "The Mercy of the Fallen")

The Wonderous Beauty of the Statuesque Scarlet by Elizabehta_Beilschmidt Unwanted Farewells by TheStarfishAlien (Not sure if this should be in this category or in general)

When All Other Lights Go Out by suzukiblu

Slap-A-Soulmate by Bewitched_Forest

Blood On the Crown by SkylarkSky (WIP)

[Demon Twins/Damian and Danny are Twins] Phantom Assassin by Kanereader765 (WIP) (An incredible view on an assassin trained Phantom who escaped the league)

Cain and Abel Wept by Katlover98 The Fenton Twins by AceFace98 (Twist on the usual demon twin formula) Twin Stars by CrescentCyan

The Bat Trap by Threee (One of the best works I have ever had the pleasure of reading in this fandom. Still reread it every now and then because I love it so much.)

[General Recs]

Ghosts In Gotham by Sivan5733 (Technically two out of the 5 works contain Hardcover content, the fifth work is the longest and its a great series.)

Robin's Egg by Calix (WIP) (Hilarious)

TWINcognito mode by nerdpoe (Double the unasked for gremlin.)

let the mourners come by PorcelanaRota (RIP twitter)

I’m King Boo by TourettesDog

Ghostly Delivery by WeirdNCrazy

The Misadventures of Cosplay Man by Shynnohwen

Midnight Blues and Late Night Tunes by halfagone

Hatred at First Sight by Sagoberattare

If I had a nickel… by bongo_balderdash

Somebody’s Gonna Love You by DisillusionedDanny

Danny Fenton, Hero Helper Extraordinaire by aryelee

You Look Like You’ve Seen A Ghost by ShootingFromAfar

You’re Gonna Be Sooo Haunted by ReverseNecromancer (WIP)

Death In the Hometown by Bad_Wolf_CDS (WIP)

Who Hurt My Baby? By OneDayITooWillChallengeGod (WIP)

Raising Phantom by Imp_y (WIP)

Blood Sons by Katlover98

Bask In Our Cosmic Insignificance by DisillusionedDanny

A King’s Prerogative by SugarPhantom

[Dead Tired]

Still Into You by DisillusionedDanny

The Rebirth of Tim Drake by Bewitched_Forest (WIP)

Family Introductions by Half-dead Ham

[Dead Silent]

Full Time Hero, Full Time Disaster by halfagone

[Dead On Main]

Lightning In A Bottle by DisillusionedDanny (WIP)

Like Betta Fish Do by PaperPuffin (WIP)

Empty Graves by Binaberries (WIP)

I Killed The Who? By Petite_Phthora (WIP)

[lady-lostmind]

The Wall

Love is: Letting yourself be loved.

a @steddielovemonth prompt Thank you @oh-stars for betaing this!

WC: 1490 | CW: very brief smut | Rating: E

ao3 link or under the cut

Steve has always had trouble believing people really care about him. He spent a lot of time alone growing up. A lot of holidays with nannies when his parents went off on vacation. A lot of birthdays on his own. He never really had actual friends. Even in high school. He just had…followers. He had people who liked what he could give them. A big empty house and a lot of guilt money from his parents. Of course he was popular. That didn’t mean people actually liked him. That they gave a shit about him. 

He thought he finally found that in Nancy. That he finally knew what it was like to have someone care. That really loved him. 

Bullshit.

One word. That’s all it took. Alone again. 

It’s taken a lot of time to let himself believe the people in his life now want to be there. Robin has helped. Having someone he can count on to be there whenever he needs her. Learning that love can come in different forms. That even though Steve misread things in the beginning, she stayed. That she chooses to spend all her spare time with him. That she wants to work the same shitty job together so they can spend even more time together. She’s the first person he’s let the wall slip down for. That he lets really see him. Isn’t afraid she’ll drop him if he lets her get to know him. 

Steve wants to let that wall down for Eddie. He knows he’s going to lose him if he doesn’t. Knows he’s not being fair to him. But it’s hard. And Steve is scared.

They’ve been together for almost a year now. Steve loves him. He loves him more than anything. He wants to scream it from the rooftops. To stare into his big brown eyes and whisper it over and over. To show him in every touch of their skin. He loves him so fucking much. But he hasn’t said it. Actually…he hasn’t said it back. 

It’s been months since Eddie first murmured those words against his lips. At first, Steve had written it off. Eddie was buried to hilt in his ass at the time. Hurtling closer and closer to the edge. He thought he didn’t mean it. That he just got…caught up in the throws of passion. But then he’d said it again. 

They were laying in Steve’s bed, wrapped around each other, close to dozing off, Eddie’s hand trailing softly along his side. “I love you, Steve Harrington.” 

It was quiet. A whisper, really. And Steve had panicked. Screwed his eyes shut and pretended to be asleep. That he hadn’t really heard. He felt Eddie settle in against his back, slipping off to sleep himself, and Steve laid there, heart hammering in his chest and mind whirling. Because if Eddie started talking like that– Steve would start to believe him. And then Eddie would inevitably get tired of him. Would stop thinking the clinginess was cute. Would realize how dull he is. Eddie would move on. He’d leave Steve behind for bigger and better things. And Steve would be crushed. He wouldn’t survive this one. 

So, when that little crack started forming in Steve’s wall, the moment he heard those words slip from Eddie’s mouth, he tried to patch it. Build it higher. Stronger. Because if it came crumbling down, Steve would come down with it. 

He never mentioned it to Eddie. He ignored the way Eddie’s eyes would linger on him when they fell quiet. The tension growing more and more the longer they sat in silence. He knew Eddie wanted to ask. Or maybe wanted him to ask. Or he was waiting for a response. An answer to the unasked question that comes along with those words. Do you love me too? And Steve does. Of course he does. But if he says it, the wall will come down. 

It’s been months. Eddie hasn’t said it again. Steve doesn’t know if he’s accepted that maybe Steve just didn’t hear him. That he really was asleep, or if Eddie has taken his silence as his answer. That Steve hasn’t brought it up…or said it back, because he doesn’t feel the same. Maybe Eddie’s busy building walls of his own. Because there’s been a shift. 

It’s subtle. They still see each other almost everyday. Eddie still flashes him that million watt smile when he walks through the door. They still fall into bed with each other. But there’s less and less soft kisses. Eddie’s hands don’t linger long after they finish. He still nods when Steve asks if he’ll stay. Still wraps his arms around him when they fall asleep. But in the morning, he’s gone. Doesn’t linger for morning breath make-out sessions and wandering hands. 

Steve knows he’s pulling away. Slowly. Like it’s killing him to do so. Like he’s fighting against his need to stay. But he knows if he doesn’t fix this soon, he’ll lose him for good. 

–

Steve taps his fingers on the steering wheel, hitting the horn again as Robin stumbles out the front door, shoes in her hands, and runs over to the car, slamming the door shut as she flops into the passenger seat. “I was still brushing my teeth when you pulled up, dingus. You’re like twenty minutes early!”

Steve doesn’t even pull away from the curb. She’s right. They have plenty of time before their shift. He turns in his seat to face her. “Eddie said he loves me.” 

Robin drops her shoes in her lap, mouth popping open a little in shock. “When?” 

Steve sighs. “Three months ago.” 

Robin’s mouth drops even further and she smacks his arm. “Why didn’t you tell–” 

Steve watches Robin’s face fall. Sees the pity glaze over her eyes. “Oh, dingus. You didn’t say it back?” 

Steve shakes his head. “The first time was– well. Let’s just say I wasn’t going to hold him to it the first time–”

Robin’s face scrunches in disgust.

Steve rolls his eyes and ignores her. “But after. We were falling asleep. He said it again and I–” He winces. “I pretended I didn’t hear. That I was sleeping.”

Robin’s mouth pops open again and she swats his arm. “What did you do that for!?” 

Steve rubs his stinging arm and flails his hands around. “I don’t know! I just–couldn’t say it! And now things are weird. Like he knows I heard him. I just– I don’t know Robs. I don’t know if I can do this again.” 

Robin sighs and leans forward, grabbing his face and making him look at her. “Listen to me, Steve Harrington.” She shakes his head a little in her hands. “That boy loves you. I knew that long before you told me all this. It’s obvious.” A little smile tugs at her mouth. “And Eddie is not Nancy Wheeler.”

Steve winces, tries to drop his eyes but Robin pulls his attention back to her with another little shake. “No– Listen to me.” She stares into his eyes until he sighs and nods. “I know you have trouble believing people love you. But take it from me, someone who absolutely does. Someone who knows exactly how lucky they are to have you in their life. Eddie loves you. And if you just let him, he’s not going anywhere.” 

Steve sucks in a ragged breath, fighting the tears threatening to spill over. “He’s pulling away. I can feel it.” 

Robin shakes her head. “Because you’re pushing him, babe.” 

–

Steve drops Robin off at work apologizing over her insistence that it’s fine, she’ll cover for him, and he should go now. “Steve. Go get your idiot. I’ll be fine.” 

He feels like he’s going to puke. Can’t believe he almost let this slip through his fingers. Hopes it isn’t too late. That he didn’t fuck this up. That he didn’t ruin everything because he was scared. Is scared, as he feels that crack forming again. His carefully crafted wall starting to come down. 

He pulls up in front of Eddie’s and hurries to the door, knocking quickly before he loses his nerve, shifting on his feet as he waits for–

Eddie pulls open the door, his brows scrunching in confusion. “Hey, I thought you had to wor–”

“I love you.” Steve just blurts it out. Knows if he hesitated at all he would chicken out. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he freezes in the doorway. Steve hovers on the porch, heart pounding in his chest, his palms get sweaty as what feels like an eternity passes before Eddie seems to come to himself, a wide grin spreading on his face. He reaches out and tugs Steve inside by the collar of his shirt, slamming the door behind him and pressing him against it in a fierce kiss. 

Eddie chuckles against his lips and shakes his head. “I knew you heard me, you little shit.”

[tangibletechnomancy]

Doing It Wrong On Purpose: Episode 1 - The Un-Ship

Today's experiment: What happens if I prompt for something, and then negative prompt all the main keywords, plus various synonyms and related words?

The answer: Some gloriously weird stuff.

For example, let's look at a negative cat:

Positive prompt: A cat on a windowsill during a storm

Negative prompt: Cat, feline, felidae, kitty, kitten, animal, pet, windowsill, window, glass, pane, house, storm, rain, water, lightning, thunder, clouds, torrent, downpour, snow, blizzard, wind, windy

Interesting! Let's get a little more fantasy with it and try for an anti-deer:

Positive prompt: A deer in a peaceful flowery meadow, crystals, midnight, fantasy, colorful

Negative prompt: Deer, cervidae, animal, elk, moose, stag, doe, fawn, reindeer, antelope, cervid, antlers, flowers, night, dark, trees, foliage, bloom, stars, night, tranquil, fantastic, vibrant, cool, magic, blue, moon, sky, crystal, stone, statue, topiary, floral, blossom

Between these two experiments, including a few dozen other generations that remain unposted, one thing I can say for sure is that for living subjects, it's a great way to get the kind of anatomical wonk that older models are (in)famous for - and it makes sense why, the model is trying to make something that looks like a certain subject...but once it starts to look too much like it, well, shit, we told it NOT to do that! Break something up! Given that I love that kind of wonk, I think I've found a useful tool for myself.

One more living subject, and let's get even more abstract with our direction here:

Positive prompt: mind horse

Negative prompt: horse, equine, colt, filly, mare, stallion, bronco, pony, mind, brain, thought, essence, psyche, intelligence, consciousness, imagination, dream, soul, visualization, intellect, wit, cognizance

Now let's try something that isn't alive. One thing I love AI for is surreal settings and landscapes - lets try one now!

Positive prompt: A magic palace garden made of crystal and gold

Negative prompt: Palace, magic, crystal, gold, fantasy, castle, estate, stronghold, temple, garden, flowers, plants, blossoms, bloom, blooms, trees, grass, stems, foliage, leaves, greenery, branches, bush, bushes, hedge, hedges, metal, luxury, stone, glass, brass, rose, polished, jewel, prism, courtyard

I then tried to see if, learning from the animal subjects, I could make it more likely to return one of my favorite "mistakes" - making it impossible to discern the point where a water area ends and a sky area begins. I wasn't immediately successful, but I came up with some results I found pleasing regardless-

Positive prompt: Secret hideout in a cave behind a waterfall in the foggy forest on a floating sky island in fluffy clouds

Negative prompt: hideout, camp, campsite, home, abode, house, dwelling, rest, shelter, waterfall, water, cave, grotto, forest, woods, woodland, trees, fountain, cascade, pond, stream, lake, river, brook, puddle, creek, pool, beach, ocean, sea, cloud, clouds, sky, cumulus, cirrus, nimbus, fog, storm, rain, sunshower, falls

It seems that with landscapes it's got a much clearer and more specific "idea" of what a [SUBJECT] without [SUBJECT] looks like; it's more inclined to invent very specific, very consistent unasked for related elements. With the animals, I was tweaking the weight on the positive prompt to avoid getting straightforwardly just what I had positive (and negative) prompted, but with landscapes, I just get... almost something else entirely.

So how about inanimate objects? Let's try a ship, perhaps?

Positive prompt: A huge sailing ship with brilliant prismatic crystal sails on a stormy, turbulent sea of sunset clouds

Negative prompt: ship, boat, sailboat, sailing ship, pirate ship, galleon, ketch, schooner, sloop, cutter, sail, sea, ocean, storm, wind, rain, water, waves, cloudy, clouds, fog, sunset, dusk, dawn, sunrise, twilight, evening

...okay, I'm in love with the un-ship. It truly does manage to consistently give me results that look like, yet entirely unlike, a ship. It is everything I love about AI as a medium. More than that, it is my friend.

At lower positive prompt weights, they only get even more beautifully chaotic.

I want to live on one of these (in an alternate universe where they're geometrically possible and structurally sound, that is).

Failing that, I will be featuring them a lot from now on.

All images generated using Simple Stable, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

[actuallyitsstar]

blorbo bingo for ethan, ilsa, benji, alanna, brandt :3 (do as many as you like, that’s a lot 😭 but i couldn’t just pick one)

✨ send me a blorbo and i'll see if i get a bingo! ✨

*cracks knuckles* be careful what u wish for bc i did in fact do all of them <3 <3 tysm for the ask bby!!!!!

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Stars

Yandere! Platonic! Justice League x Isakai! Reader

Based of the Justice League Animated Series and Justice League Unlimited (loosely).

Trigger Warnings: betrayal, gaslighting, manipulation the use of telepathy to erase a memory, general yandere behaviors, and Batman’s famed paranoia and mental issues. Bittersweet ending, but not for reader lmao

When there’s an alert about a flux in dimensional energy, they are all wary, aware. Batman monitors the area obsessively, cameras and audio devices and sensors on in an attempt to ease the very real concern they all felt.

And then you practically appear, at the Daily Planet. Your clothes had been ragged, been worn, and you had been clutching your bag tightly, like at any second someone would come and take it away from you.

When Clark saw you, he had felt terrible for you, and he had come over with a kolache from the break room and an apple juice from the vending machines. He hadn’t expected you to take them.

But you do.

And when you look at him, seeing his face for the first time, Clark sees your eyes widen. Hears the way your heart picks up, sees the way your muscles loosen and relax. You’re looking at him like he had hung the stars and moon, like he was your idol, with the sort of wonder and awe reserved for Superman.

And he knew that you knew.

For a moment, he had panicked. How could you possibly have known? He had never met you, never seen you, and he knew that Bruce would have told him if he even so much suspected that Clark’s identity had been compromised.

But then you had taken the kolache and you had smiled at him, bright and trusting and warm, and Clark knew without a doubt that he could trust you with his identity. Knew that you trusted him, wholly and completely.

“Thank you.” You had smiled, and he remembers smiling gently at you. Something about you had been disarming, although maybe it had been the way you had relaxed in his presence, fully confident that if anything were to happen, he would protect you.

“It’s not a problem. Do you need anything else?”

The question “Do you need help?” had went unasked, but it had hung in the air between the two of you, and he could see the way you had sighed, nodding.

“Yeah. Would it be alright if.. we talked in private?”

Clark had nodded, guided you to his office. It was one of the most secure rooms available at the time, Bruce had set it up for him early on, and when he had closed the door, your entire body had screamed nervousness and anxiety but you had explained everything anyways.

When you finish explaining, showed him the evidence of what you could, your hands shaking and nervous, he had smiled at you, gentle and reassuring and placed a warm hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll get you home. Promise.”

——————

The reveal that you knew their identities went over strangely. Bruce had suspected, of course, and you had told him outright, not bothering to hide your knowledge from him or even attempt to. His remark that you were oddly forthcoming about that information had been met with a huff and a smile.

“You’re Batman.” You had almost laughed it out, like the idea that he wouldn’t be able to figure you out was hilarious. “You would’ve realized anyways.”

He had felt a surge of.. not quite pride. That hadn’t been the words for it. It was a strange mix of pride and caution. You had said it like you knew him. He supposes in a way you did.

When he tells you that there may be no way for you to return home, that it may be an impossibility, but that he would ensure you would be taken care of, you had smiled at him, accepting his words as truth. Accepting that he would do everything in his power to return you to your home dimension, accepting that it may simply be beyond what he could do.

A part of him wished the stories had been a bit more accurate. It would have felt like like a betrayal to you, to the trust you had placed in him and the League so eagerly, without reserve.

The more pragmatic part had been glad that the stories had painted him the way they had. A selfless defender of a broken city, a protector of children, someone to be depended on and trusted. He couldn’t see it, not really, but in your world he was fiction and fiction was always prettier than reality, always less grim.

Because if he was the person you believed him to be, you would not be staying at the Watchtower. You would be somewhere, tucked away and hidden, far away from the villains of their world, not so very close to all of them, in the line of fire.

But he cannot stand the thought of you so far from them, from the people who would protect if the secret of your origins was revealed. There would be no one to save you, if Luthor or the Joker or Ra’s Al Ghul were to discover that you had such sensitive information. You would be there one day and ripped from them the next.

He gives you a phone, and you are so very grateful you don’t think to check it for any tampering. He spends hours upon hours going through your texts, your emails, ensuring anyone you had contact with met his standards. Anyone who did not was quickly dealt with, in some way or another. He didn’t threaten them, that would be traced back to him too easily and you would not understand, not fully, but they would suddenly lose your contact or be locked out of an email. You rarely left the Watchtower anyways, and he trusted his fellow Justice League members to be able to determine if you were with someone trustworthy or not.

Even as he works to get you home, there is always the question of if he were to simple.. stop. If he were to allow you to remain here, with them. If he could keep you safe and close and protected.

He had eventually abandoned his efforts getting you home.

Not because he had felt it was impossible, but because they had been too close.

————

Things come to a head when you are laughing alongside Barry bright and bubbly and warm. You are sitting and talking and laughing, and no matter how much Barry wishes it wasn’t true, sometimes his mouth ran faster than his thoughts and he had smiled and laughed, telling you that he was glad you were happier now.

And maybe something in his tone had tipped you off. Maybe you had seen the way Batman was softer around you, the way Wonder Woman gave you fond looks. Maybe you had seen the reluctance to discuss your home dimension. Maybe Clark, the terrible liar he was, had accidentally clued you in a few times.

But your smile had slipped away and your eyes had filled with something, clouds hiding the stars Barry was used to seeing, and he had felt his heart drop.

You hadn’t accused them.

You hadn’t said anything.

You had simply stood and walked away, and he hadn’t even been mad at Bruce for the way the man had chewed him out for hours afterwards.

He tries making it up to you, distracting you. He brings you treats, small hidden things for you to nibble on because Bruce was too strict about your diet, and tells you jokes. He gets Hal to help him convince Bruce to take you to an amusement park, but you show no interest in going even though you had been so excited not a month before. He drags you out of the room as often as he can, taking you to Central City, showing you his favorite places.

Anything to make that clouded, lost expression go away. Anything to ease the guilt that bubbles in his stomach, anything to get rid of the knowledge that this would all stop being so complicated if they just sent you home.

Eventually, he stops dragging you out of your room.

He marches up to where they all meet, the viewing port in the Watchtower, and the sight of so many stars makes him almost sick.

“We have to do something.” He announces. “They’re barely eating, and I couldn’t even get them excited about Power Rangers! They love Power Rangers!”

The announcement had been met with varying agreement. According to Bruce you had barely been earrings. Diana had said that you were listless while you trained, something you had developed a passion for. Clark said that he heard you crying, sometimes, and his voice had been so pained and so hurt that Barry had winces, his chest aching.

J’onn had said that your thoughts had turned dark, and Barry sees the way Bruce’s posture shifts.

“I already know what you’re about to say. Don’t even think about it.” He had immediately argued, the words coming fast in what could be panic or anger. Barry loved Bruce, he really did, but sometimes the man was willing to go to lengths none of them would even consider.

“I haven’t even said anything.” That was all Batman, there, not Bruce, and Hal jumped to Barry’s defense.

“We all know you were thinking it, Bats. You were gonna ask J’onn to alter their memories.” Hal hadn’t sound.. disapproving of the idea, and Barry had thrown him an angry glare.

“It’s an option.”

“It’s not. For one, I doubt J’onn would even agree, and for two, it’s wrong, and you know it!” Barry had shot back, irritated on your behalf.

“And what we’ve been doing now hasn’t been?”

Bruce’s words are brutal, making Barry flinch. Making Clark cringe to, and Hal avert his eyes.

“All of us, not just me, have lied to them. Monitored them. Mislead them. We may have been doing it for their own benefit, but that doesn’t change that in the standard sense, our actions are morally reprehensible. Having J’onn alter their memories will spare them a lot of pain, and he has already agreed to do so, if there’s a majority vote in favor of it.”

“You all discussed this, didn’t you? While I was out with them.” He accused, and Bruce had nodded.

“Yes. Hal, myself, and J’onn already agreed. Clark and Diana disagree. You’re the deciding vote.”

Barry had felt the pit of his stomach drop at the thought. That was such a horrible responsibility, whether to take away your pain or leave it there because it was yours.

And then he thinks of the clouds in front of the stars in your eyes and the way you looked numb when you stares into space, and he sighs.

“It’s safe?”

“As safe as it can be. With me monitoring them, there will be no issues.” J’onn had assured, and maybe Barry had been thinking too much with his heart and not his head.

“Fine. Fine, just.. I don’t want to be there. I don’t want to see that.”

J’onn had nodded. Barry had left, not wanting to see Clark and Diana’s disappointment, not wanting to see Bruce’s relief.

————

When J’onn alters your memory, the stars in your eyes come back. You laugh with Hal and Barry, go to your lessons, go shopping with Bruce, work with Clark on the projects scattered around the apartment. You trust them, just as much as you had before, and even though you believe you can’t go home anymore, there’s an almost tangible supernova of hope around you, a determination to live in their world and grow and be better.

Too many of them decide they don’t regret it. And when J’onn takes you aside sometimes, ensuring that the false memories held, too many of them felt a surge of relief.

[dooberific]

❝𝘖𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘍𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦❞

pre release wriothesley x afab!reader

genre: nsfw (dacryphilia, creampie, idk how to finish tagging this hehe)

wc: 2.7k

summary: Despite his imposing stature, your lover is the softest and most genuine man you know. His regular praises make it seem like you hung the very stars in the sky, so why his sudden withdrawl?

There was just something different about the flowers of Fontaine. Maybe it had something to do with the land, moist plains sweeping up into sharp mountain peaks that passed a gentle breeze over the winding waterways below. The easy smell of rain, the babbling streams that fed into raging waterfalls that drenched all below in a fine mist. 

They seemed to grow a little differently, proud and tall like the Rainbow roses dotting the hillsides, their very own fine bonnets adorning their heads as their brilliant appearances dazzled passing strangers.

Perhaps that was why the simplicity of the Marcotte slipped under so many eyes, winding through life with a silent elegance and glowing smile so heartfelt and utterly kind that even the most icy of hearts would tremble under the warmth of her gaze. She would never be a rose, nor would she ever entertain the thought of it, laughing away the idea with great mirth dancing in her eyes and a grin lingering on her lips well after the encounter. 

You may never be a rose, but your simplistic and nostalgic charms had catalyzed such a violent reaction that he was sure you had hung the very sun in the sky, elevating its position as a kindness for your own radiance far out shone the largest star in the Teyvat sky. 

But if you were the Marcotte, so delicate and pure, then what was he? Surely he was nothing but a weed in the garden of the gods, a wicked thing who rose from the dirt to strangle the life out of the pretty and soft things around. There was a trail of battered roses in his wake, resentful that the weed had never blossomed into something worthwhile as they had dreamed, that it had spent their precious time, basked in their light, and then left them to wither away in anger. 

But the Marcotte was wild and resilient, your unbreakable and hearty spirit more than strong enough to carry your own burdens with grace and dignity even before you had unfurled your brilliant petals. 

Pure and wild chased by the impure and plotting.

You should resent him for his wickedness, his impudence to dare stand under the same sun as you. He couldn’t help himself, he was little more than a moth drawn to a flame, a weed that kept creeping back into the garden. How long had he waited, chasing fleeting images and the feeling a hand could never hope to emulate, before your own interests had become so entranced that you allowed him closer? 

He would swear it was all unintentional from the beginning, that it had all started as a draw to your magnetic personality. Fleeting kisses of parting after he walked you home at night giving way to deeper intentions as he cornered you against the door and indulged you a little more intimately. The wet slide of his tongue into your mouth, the firmness of his hands trailing down your sides and toying with the hem of your shirt. The little whines from your lips as your fingers carded through his hair, a sting in your calves from standing on your toes as his chapped lips ravaged your neck, your body pressed flush to his own. 

It was such a natural progression until it suddenly wasn’t. Kisses left broken as he hastily departed, a harsh flush creeping to his ears as he apologized and took his leave. The onset of his behavior had left your head spinning with questions. Had you done something wrong? He never acted strangely about you until those last and most private moments together, maybe his interest was waning? If you had grown boring you would understand, it wasn’t like your job or life were particularly riveting—

Too many unasked questions, and too much sleep lost. You were not so shy or proud to confront an issue head on, and while Wriothesley loved that trait of your personality he loved it a little less when it was weaponized against him as you stood at his door, a finger pressed to his lips and a stern yet wary look in your eyes as you shushed his questions and gave him a piece of your own mind.

He really was nothing short of a weed, too cowardly to have confronted the issue before it had become a problem. He was a liar, unable to hold your burning gaze as he forced some half-assed excuse past his lips. He certainly could not tell you that his hasty departures had been the product of your evening rendezvouses which simply stoked the fire that the all consuming thoughts of you kept burning in his veins, of the perverse feeling stirred by the lovesick look in your eyes that was increasingly hard to resist. There would be no kindness in those pretty eyes should you know that he could barely touch you now without getting hard, that a moment too long basking in your presence would surely have him cumming in his pants with the same choked gasp that he so poorly suppressed as he jerked himself off later fantasizing your pretty cunt wrapped around him. 

There was no question of want, he needed you. He needed to defile you with every dirty thought that ever dizzied his head, to have you fucked dumb on his cock and begging for more because you knew he couldn’t resist. What a shitty lover he felt like, having let you think you had ever done a thing wrong when it was just his own self disgust that he couldn’t keep it together that was wedging you apart. 

Maybe just once he could show you, and if you hated him for it he could beg for your forgiveness. Just this once he would kiss you like always, whispers of reassurance passing between you that there was nothing wrong with you, you were perfect. Just this once would he not fight the onslaught of debauched feelings that flooded him the moment you sighed against his lips, parting your own at the gentle tease of his tongue. He would kiss you deeply and with no regrets or holds, making your head spin from the lack of oxygen as the feeling of his warm hands settling on your body as he pressed you against the wall. He wouldn’t make some shitty excuse to leave when he felt his pants tighten, nor would he apologize for the moment he grinded his hips deeply against your own in search of that heavenly bit of friction only you could provide. 

He swallowed your surprised gasp, hell bent on smothering you with every ounce of his affection with sloppy kisses and a tangle of tongue. One hand settled at the nape of your neck anchoring you to him as the other hooked under your thigh, drawing it up to rest at his hip as he pressed deeper between your legs and you whimpered at the roll of his hips against the apex of your thighs. 

He broke away from your lips, his forehead pressed flush to your own. Your cheeks were tinged pink, eyes dazed as your lip quivered from the greedy breaths you sucked in. His voice was deeper, huskier and tainted with lust.

“I want you.” 

Your own voice was shaky as you replied.

“Then you may have me.”

Your sheer stockings and well pressed skirts were hardly more than heaps of fabric on his floor, pearl buttons of your blouse scattered if not clinging to mere threads. A blind stumble through the house had left a trail of what was easiest to remove. Had it not been for his insistence to do right by you and take you in his bed he was assured he would have bent you over the nearest surface and had his way with you. 

He swore deeply to any archon that would listen that he would be the most devout follower should they let him remember your disheveled look in the clearest of details, from the smear of your lipstick and the swollen lips he had indulged himself in to the sweeping curves of your body that he had marred with his teeth which now burned the angry red of ruptured capillaries. His kisses were smothering as his hands explored every inch of newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of chills from his cold fingers. He was a gentleman even in the most dirty of moments, all ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ as he waited for you confirmation as if he was still hesitant to think it anymore than a vivid dream to unclip your bra and lathe his tongue over the delicate flesh beneath, to drag his fingers over the soaked fabric of your panties and press his thumb harshly against that little bud of flesh that made your hips jerk in his grasp.

He was sure the sinful noise that parted your lips the moment he pressed your panties aside and flattened his tongue against your weeping cunt had been permanently seared into his brain right alongside the taste of you. The clamp of your pretty thighs against the side of his head only encouraged his efforts, calloused hands easily prying you open as he tongue teased past your lips and his nose pressed against your clit. Your shaky cries that it was too much fell on deaf ears, your fingers fisting into his hair to pull him off a stark contrast to the way your pretty hips grinded against his face begging for more. 

He wasn’t so heartless to stop when he knew what was best for you. It wasn’t like you knew, and the flush on your cheeks as you had so softly admitted to him your intact virginity had him questioning if you had ever pleasured yourself at all. It was his duty now to show you what needed, to strip you of every ounce of purity, to fuck you so good you would never consider another man to be capable. 

You could taste yourself on his lips, a bitter combination lost quickly on your mind as he dragged your panties down and pressed his calloused fingers into your cunt. His fingers felt thick and rough as he gave a few experimental pumps into your wet heat before burying them to the knuckle and curling them into your walls, relishing the heady cry that escaped your body as your hips canted into his palm.

“Fuck, baby, so fucking tight.” He groaned into your lips, his fingers scissoring you open as he set a brutal pace to loosen you up, the rough pad of his thumb circling and teasing your clit as the wet sound of your cunt met his ears. 

“Wrio, please I-,” You choked out, arms wrapping around his neck as the wave of molten lust that clogged your veins and made your stomach twist so delightfully became unbearable. 

“I’ve got you baby.” 

His words, low and reassuring in your ear, were the last straw as he fingerfucked you into an orgasm. Your whole body buzzed as you cried out sharply, your face buried into his neck as you came on his fingers, thighs clamped desperately around his hand as your entire body quivered. 

Your dearest lover Wriothesley felt safe and warm as he settled over your boneless body, gentle kisses pressing away the tears that had streaked down your cheeks from a pleasure never before indulged in. Any notion of vulnerability or embarrassment had been stripped away, replaced by the simple thought that his fingers seemed to intertwine so perfectly with your own just as his body seemed to slot so perfectly between your legs, as if he were some piece of a puzzle you hadn’t realized you were missing.

It was that sense of utter completion that overwhelmed you as his cockhead teased your entrance, the sense of the intrusion so much you forgot to breathe as your body trembled. You could feel every engorged vein, every ridge that bullied deeper into your cunt with the slow roll of his hips, how heavily he was pressed inside you. 

He hissed at the feeling, how tightly you still wrapped around him. His grip on your hips was bruising, a vain attempt to ground himself in the moment of the realization of his most hedonistic desires and the simple truth that you were so much fucking better than he could have ever dreamed. 

He fucked you deep and slow, reveling in the little sounds you made only for his ears, the gentle begging of his name in a tone reserved just for him. An exchange of sloppy kisses left your head spinning, his cock nestled deep in your womb, every slow thrust teasing that spongy spot inside that made your walls tighten and your legs quiver.

He was so kind, even as he felt that last of his composure slipping with the breathy whisper pressed to his ear that he could have his way with you. It had to be that look of glowing adoration in your eyes as you stared up at him, body rocking gently with each thrust as he made love to you, but he could be good for you just this once.

Just this once to press a kiss to the inside of your knee as he practically folded you in half. Just this once, to intertwine your fingers as he bottomed out in you with one smooth motion. Just this once to fuck you like he really meant it, to watch your eyes gloss over and tears pool at your lashline. Just this once, yet a thousand times over, another lie he would tell himself as if he wouldn’t pound you into his mattress until you couldn’t walk if you asked for it. 

Your fingernails scraped harshly against his skin, your own little desperate cling to reality. You didn’t think it was possible for him to feel any deeper, finding it hard to breathe at the new angle as you were certain he was well into your guts by now. Your mind was utterly blank, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he fucked you with a new fervor as if to shape your insides to only remember the feeling of him. That heated, gut twisting sensation had rebuilt and teetered dangerously on the brink of collapse just as quickly.

He could tell you were close, your words slurring into an incoherent babble of his name. He could practically feel you tighten around him, willing him to finish you off as he leaned forward. 

“That’s my girl, cum for me.”

He kissed you, muffling the sharp whine you released as that familiar heat snapped violently in your gut. The harsh pull of your pussy was too much for him to resist, his hips stuttering as his teeth sank into your lower lip. It was a hot, sticky and overwhelming feeling that rested deep in your womb as he slowly fucked his seed into you, the taste of iron seeping into your mouth. 

He looked apologetic as his thumb swiped away the bead of blood forming on the vermillion of your freshly busted lip, but you had no heart to be angry when you met his glowing and tired eyes. There was a tremble to his arms as he effectively collapsed on top of you, trapping you under his weight. Your heartbeat was steady in his ear, your fingers tangling in his mussed hair. You could practically feel his entire body relax under your touch, hear his breathing slow.

“You don’t intend to sleep like this, do you?” You cringed at how hoarse you sounded. 

“I’m never opposed to this if it’s with you.” He countered, catching your wrist and pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “But I should clean you up.” 

It was a hollowing feeling, the loss of his dick that had been seated so firmly within your walls that you subconsciously clenched around nothing. You watched in silent surprise as a trail of fluids weeped from your used cunt and spilled onto the bed, a sense of abject horror striking as you caught the burning gaze of your lover locked onto the sight as well. You clamped your legs shut, shrieking as he easily pried you apart once more, his fingers scooping the viscous liquid back up and pressing it back into your pussy as you hissed at the sensation.

All at once he grabbed your ankles, dragging your hips to the edge of the bed. You propped onto your elbows, staring down his re-hardened cock that lay hot, heavy, and twitching against your hips before flickering up to his flushed cheeks.

 “I'm sorry, baby, let me indulge in you just a bit longer.” 

Rey, 2023

[clawbehavior]

tdj modern au idea where gaon works as a cook in a poorly managed restaurant with a shitty owner that nevertheless has glowing reviews because people crave his food. except for one prick.

he comes in every day, orders a range of dishes, then provides unasked for constructive criticism on the meal to a fuming gaon and leaves a 1 star review. every. single. day. but he pays 400% so the restaurant owner falls over his feet to get him back.

still, the 1-star reviews catch up with the restaurant. the owner calls it a flush and shuts it down abruptly, leaving his staff unemployed.

which is when said prick pops out of the blue to open a new and better restaurant in the exact same spot staffed by everyone who just got fired, including gaon as the chef. gaon's in a bind, being jobless, but he still plays hard to get, demanding competitive wages and benefits for the staff and complete creative control over the food. surprise! yohan agrees and over time wins gaon's trust and heart. and then you find out this was yohan's plan all along to capture this spitfire of a cook and make him his.

just imagining gaon dressed in the gif below and absolutely reaming out yohan for being a dick while yohan stares back awe struck and wanting to kiss him sooo badly

[nanamimizz]

tags: 18+, minors dni, dark content, yandere toji, set in the SOMETHING BAD IS GONNA HAPPEN TO ME universe, implied kidnapping, panic attack, manipulation, stockholm syndrome let me know if i miss something. @saintshigaraki happy birthday vic my beloved.

synopsis: barging into your life isn't enough, toji can't help but play cat and mouse with you even if it brings you to tears

When you had turned to the right, Toji had left. You wish you could say you felt relief from the briefest of moments without him there but really all you could feel was pure panic.

How long has it been since you were alone? Alone without his presence, you could tell him apart from  the rest by footfalls alone and now when you need them most you could not identify the source of your torment. The sounds of the grocery store melt and bubble sounding like the rumbling of a blender left too long alone in the kitchen. It frightens you. Nothing used to frighten you before, back then. 

Your hand is almost cut by the tightly clutch plastic bag in your hold, and like a robot you begin to walk to the register. The sounds around you turn into a buzz,static and meaningless but every graze of another against your person feels like a burn that does not cease as the distance between you and them grows. How long has it been that these small, inconsequential things that would be the smallest inconveniences now turn into boils on your skin? Nothing is familiar, everything is different in the cruelest of ways - it is hard to keep the tears at bay as the cashier hands you the receipt for the items you purchase.

You could not leave the store fast enough, the sun had set when you stepped out and dread filled you when you realized you didn't know your way home. You don't even know the address to where you stay and you most certainly didn’t have a phone to call your keeper who calls himself your lover. Eyes wide and wet make sweeps on the streets to try to find the only face you know yet you are incapable of it. With stinging eyes you can not land on a single feature you know by heart not because you want to but because you had too - no raven hair that falls haphazardly from when he made you cut it or green eyes that like to watch you sleep.

Your feet carry you blindly, you don’t even realize that you have stumbled into the alleyway behind the store. The realization only hits when the all too familiar voice can be felt by your ear, the familiarity of the warmth and base makes you sob - “Boo.”

Gasping, dropping the bag you somehow still had a grip onto the concrete you don’t even have the strength to go rigid in his arms like you usually do and let Toji wrap his arms around your shivering form; a lazy grin on his face at how you clutch at him. You hear his voice, rough and smug still in your ear, cooing words that would make you vomit usually and maybe they will when you are back to your senses because you hate when Toji forces your hand without laying one of his on you.

“Aw, you miss me sweetheart?”  Too choked up to speak, you only nod, still pressed up against him in a way that makes you feel small that is not in stature alone. His hand so much bigger than yours is warm and all encompassing as he presses you to start moving. You stumble between your steps and your hiccups as Toji lets his body form a shield around you.

“You can’t be without me now you know that right?” You nod, sniffing quietly and hiccups into the sleeve of his heavy jacket and you even preen when you feel his hand ruffle your hair in an almost patronizing affection. A gold star for the right answer, your admittance is as sweet as the salt of your tears on his sleeve. The path to where you live, your unwanted and unasked for home is not clear - you couldn’t remember it even if you wanted to, the world blurry from your tears.

The only thing that is clear is the door and the numbers on the mailbox and the all too familiar sound of the lock clicking in place.