#that is what all this stemmed from after all

[firelightmlpoc]

In regards to the current Pansear Doodles problem, I have this to say, & will continue to stand by this until further proof is presented:

Firstly, a statement of mine I’ve been saying for a bit now:

“So, is this account in the screenshots that is claimed to be Pansear actually 100% confirmed to be Pansear’s? The grammar pattern isn’t matching any other messages Pansear has posted in any other server I’ve seen them in, nor was the actual ACCOUNT actually shown besides the nickname & the pfp (Which is barely able to be considered solid proof, especially with the advent of server profiles allowing specific names & pfps for other servers on a whim) You can click an account to see the full account details, mutual servers, ect cetera & show that information WITH these screenshots real easily, so idk why that wasn’t done.

Fuck, it’s still really easy to fake Discord screenshots nowadays too. Is this 100% confirmed to be Pansear in the screenshots being posted?”

As of the time of writing this post, this STILL hasn’t been addressed, nor has any further proof been given. Furthermore, with regards to how Pansear responded to just the allegations themselves, I guarantee they didn’t try to defend themselves & keep their accounts up because of actual threats to their person.

Just look at what happened to their Tumblr handle LITERALLY, AT MOST, HOURS AFTER THEY TOOK THEIR ACCOUNT DOWN.

You all think that the horribly socially-anxious, anxiety-ridden person known as Pansear Doodles could handle that kind of harassment directly to themselves, much less WANT to? No wonder they didn’t even try to defend themselves.

Now, another user I was talking to about this mentioned a good point as well (Not going to give their name to avoid them getting harassed as well.) They said this in response to the screenshots:

“There is no solid proof the Feral Porn screenshot or the Self Harm screenshot are truly Pansear or Emily, but there is some weird oddities regarding the two that show "multiple members". Occasionally, you can see a blue blip peaking behind the censor that matches the color of the 0303Emily account in the FP screenshot exactly. More critically, all of the accounts in the screenshots that aren't "Pansear" have the time sent value uncensored, and they line up with eachother pixel for pixel. This means that if you wanted to fake this screenshot, it would be really easy, as you only need 2 accounts, or just one friend. Also Pansear mentioned how they blocked 0303Emily months ago, so them talking like nothing happened makes no sense. I find it VERY hard to believe the screenshots are real considering all the oddities, the story holes, ease of fakery, and the anonymous source of the information. Every one of these points isn't enough to prove that it is fake, but it certainly isn't enough to prove it's real, and them combined all point in the same direction...”

Now, today I hear that more crusading is occurring from these same people who made these claims about Pansear.

So, @iridescentipede & @azrielfiend . You got any actual PROOF, or is this all stemming from your prior incident with Pansear not immediately trusting you when you accused their friend with minimal proof before?

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"What's my hidden perk?"

Preview: The LADS boys and their hidden perks. (lemme know if you guys want a part 2 hehe)

SYLUS - horseriding

Quirking his silver brow, his crimson orbs tailed your gaze. A gaze that went from bottom to top, a view you could not believe witnessing in front of your eyes. The giant figure of your boyfriend on top of a Dutch Draft. "Are you planning to just stand there and watch me in awe or do you plan to ride with me?" His voice thick, specifically laced with proud mockery as he was enjoying the look of shock you had been wearing ever since he had told you that he is good at horse riding. He extended his palm to you and took your hand, providing balance to you as you walked up the steps and took a seat in front of him, on top of the horse. This is afterall, your first time riding a horse.

It all started out as a harmless joke while the both of you were watching some National Geographic show about horses. Till he nonchalantly mentioned that he has been riding horses from a very young age and hence the surprise date for today. Featuring your boyfriend, with a horse--that you had no idea where he got from. You tensed up when you felt his chest pressed against your back, his breaths fanned over the top of your head. You hate to admit it—but you still do anyways— how he always manages to get a reaction out of you, be it stemming from a simple gesture. "Now that you have found out about my secret talent, does this mean we get to ride horses more often?" He leaned down, whispering seductively against the shell of your ear. "Or perhaps you would just prefer riding me, sweetie?"

RAFAYEL - good with kids

“Careful.” Rafayel grabs ahold of your forearm, guiding you past the puddle in the vast garden. The date came about to be a surprise, with the charming boyfriend of yours appearing at your doorstep in the mid evening, seeking you out from the stuffiness of your house to embrace Mother Nature in all of its glory after a whole day of heavy rain. Blushing slightly, you continued walking with him down the cobblestoned pathways, enjoying the coolness of the rain till sounds of laughters filled the air. A couple of kids were perched over a drain cover, staring into the waters with their beady eyes.

Rafayel drops his hold from your forearm and held onto your hand, the casual yet romantic gesture still greatly affects you. “Come on, let’s see what they are looking at.” At a certain extent, when you stared at your boyfriend from a distance, interacting with the children, laughing and chuckling as he was playing catch with them made your stomach feel warm. For someone like him, who spends most of his days locked away in that mansion of his, interacting with only a fish and canvases, you had never thought of him to be good with children. However, Rafayel had yet again managed to surprise you. Seeing him waltzing over to you, with a huge grin stapled on his face, you can’t help but mimicked his expression. “You seemed bored. Do you want to join us cutie?”

XAVIER - has an annual pass to amusement parks

It took forever for the both of you to plan a date due to the recent influx of wanderers. Captain Jenna had gotten the both of you to be split up into two different shifts; with you being the leader for the day shift while your boyfriend, Xavier is incharge of the night shift. Hence, when the wanderers' amount had finally decreased, Xavier did not hesitated to ask you out on a date. "I had always wanted to bring you here. It was on my list." He spoke, hands holding tightly onto your smaller palms as he led you past the huge archways of the theme park. Colours of all spectrums welcomed you, revealing the colourful fanfare of a theme park and you could feel your inner giddiness peeking through your smile.

As the both of you stood in line for the tickets, you were surprised when Xavier muttered to you. "Since it is your first time here, I will buy the ticket for you." When it came to your turn for the ticket purchase, your boyfriend only requested for one and you tapped onto his shoulder nervously, immediately asking him if he was only going to get one and watch you from outside or perhaps he may need some aid for funds. The man however beamed shyly, ear tips turning a shade of rubicund when he tried to explain himself. "I...uhm...have an annual pass?" The hidden question mark at the end of his sentence made you chuckled in return, mind already imagining how funny it would be to see him riding the theme park rides all by himself. "But, I got you an annual pass too." He held up the golden ticket in his hand. "From now on, we can both come together as much as we want."

ZAYNE - good at snowboarding

Zayne had appeared at your doorstep a little too early than his usual timing, which is usually going by your timing as you do like taking your time to sleep in and he do not find the need to disturb your beauty sleep. But today seems to be different when he appeared in front of your door with a coat in his hand. When you asked him about the purpose of him coming so early, the man only kept it short and simple, replying accurately to what you had asked. "I had taken a few days off of work and I had booked us a spot at a ski lodge." When you had an eyebrow raised, he continued to explain himself. "You had been watching the snowboarding event for the Olympics recently. I assumed you would like to try it yourself." You weren't exactly surprised at how conscious he tends to be, but you are more concerned of yourself as you had never done any snowboarding in your life.

"You had never snowboarded before haven't you?" Zayne questioned, those forest green orbs of his meeting yours with amusement. As you nodded, you could feel your cheeks heating up, warming you from the harsh cold winds. You hesitated though, asking him in return if he were to know anything about snowboarding given that during the safety briefing he did asked a couple of questions here and there. "Me? I would not say I am good at it, but I did tried it before, ever since I was a kid." He patted your head, a small smile tugging onto the end of his lips. "Don't worry, I will hold onto you the whole time and make sure you do not hurt your knees or fall into the snow." His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close against his side and he planted a kiss onto your forehead. "But you can definitely fall into my arms if you slip."

[tblsomedoodles]

Dragon Deku maybe?

been rereading mha (i didn't get past the school festival thing after eri the first time (that might have been all that was out at the time? Idk) so yeah) So i started playing with the concept of if Izuku's dad's fire breathing quirk was a result of a dragon mutation type quirk and not just breathing fire (which, of course, leads to dragon deku)

it's just something i'm playing with to kinda stretch my creative muscles as i come back from burn out. (mostly stemmed out of the fact that i went through pretty much all the winged izuku fics on ao3 and none of them were quite to my tastes. (plus a lot of them were with inko being abusive for some reason and i just can't get behind that.) )

Im not entirely sure where i'm going with this. (if i'm going anywhere.) rn my idea is that he still grows up thinking he's quirkless b/c his doctor decided his mutations were deformities and 'fixed' them shortly after he was born.

he still has some dragon-like mannerisms like having a hoard (hero merch) and both lizard and bird like vocalizations. (they aren't quite either but both are close enough that someone with a lizard or bird mutation would recognize what they meant. mostly b/c i want Hawks and Tokoyami to be like "what the f? why is this not-birb birbing?" and then try to figure out the mystery that is izuku. (maybe draging consperacy theorist Todoroki in on it b/c that would be fun lol.))

Honestly i just wanted to draw what this boy would have looked like without meddling. (and maybe what he might look like again eventually? again IDK.)

[scrumptiousstuffs]

i dont think FK used to really do fanservice the way were used to seeing it but they are now and it makes me wonder what has changed.

Hemm…I’m not sure what you mean. We only have these 2 as CP officially from 2022. Don’t quote me on this, cause I’m now just speculating, but I got the impression when they first got partnered up the boys (esp Khao) were trying to find the dynamics on what they want to show to the fans on-screen (so, if that’s what you meant by fanservice - then yes, it seems the boys are more comfortable with just showing how clingy they are together).

However, I mention previously on another asked, it’s the off-screen behaviour that strikes me the most. Even before they were partnered officially, First and Khao were already flirting on Twitter (it’s amusing to see this on Twitter now - cause as FK are slowly gaining more traction internationally, we have Thai fans kindly translating their posts from 2020 - WAY before they were officially a CP. Plus, from what I could gather - they used to be even more unhinged before they were official. The boys did live IGs where they called each other handsome/cute to the point we have fans from both camp wanting them to be CP even back in 2020. Not to mention we have First wanting so badly to act with Khao, he even auditioned in Tonhon Chonlatee).

Also, when Khaotung was officially promoting with Pond (during TC area) - we have First basically turning up to their events, happily third wheeling. And if you recall the infamous BTS video, where we have First back hugging Khaotung while Pond is next to him, P’Som and Pond just shrug 🤷🏽‍♀️ it off, saying that these are common behaviour for these 2!

I also recall during a promo of one of the concert (I think LOLfanfest?), when CPs were asked to describe each other - and we have PondPhuwin describing FirstKhao: Pond bluntly said “P’First, there is not much to say. He just follows P’Khaotung everywhere.”

I guess, what I’m trying to say is that it seems off-screen they are just as clingy and sticky on screen (but they are now just more comfortable showing them?). Everyone in GMMTV knows this - we have people like Ploy, Book, Jojo and Joong showing us wonderfully unhinged content of our boys BTS (but notice it’s never our boys doing the photos/videos themselves - so I can’t even call it fanservice when they seem just to act them subconsciously/naturally and it’s other people around them that amusingly clocks on how close the boys are!)

After saying all the above though, both FirstKhaotung are method actors. And some Thai fans from Twitter did wonder whether the off-screen clinginess we are currently seeing maybe stemming from their characters (of KantBison in The Heart Killers). Either way, I think even taking that into account, these 2 are just so codependent on each other. FK went into mini-meltdown when Khao was away for GMMTV Musicon (that’s the only way I could describe them with Khao calling First at least twice? before the show and then we have First joining Khao’s gym 😂 permanently…or when Khao was hosting GMMTV Live House, he could not helped but mentioning his bestie 13 times (someone calculated) during the entire run of a show that lasted for approx 1 hr - that’s like 1 per 5 mins 🫣. Or Khao shyly mentioning he wants to bring First during his solo events next time.

Anyway, the boys can flirt and be clingy all they want on my social media. I will happily lapped it up.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Harley Quinn, former bad guy, anti-hero and unemployed therapist chases after Nightwing (Dick Grayson) as he tries to get away from her while on patrol.

Nightwing: Stop chasing me!

Harley: Then have a chat with me!

Nightwing: How did you find me!

Harley: Babs told me.

Nightwing stops running causing Harley to halt her running as well. He puts his index finger up and presses his communication device.

Nightwing: Babs, what the heck?

Oracle: She begged me and I can't say no when she pinpoints my mental health issues! Just let her spend some time with you.

Nightwing looks down at Harley who has a big smile on her face. He runs the other direction as Poison Ivy walks over to the group while watching 'Little Shop of Horrors' on her phone.

Ivy: He caved yet?

Harley: Not now, babes. Follow me.

Harley chasses after Nightwing. Her girlfriend casually walked behind her.

Harley: Stop running! Why are you running?!

Nightwing: Because I don't want you touching me! I am not a piece of meat!

Harley: I'm sorry, I wasn't aware you were uncomfortable with the butt smacks!

Nightwing: I was very vocal about it!

Harley: Do you think that stems with some trauma in your past?

Nightwing: Stop therapizing me!

Ivy (pausing her movie): This is the smartest approach, Harley.

Harley: Ivy, not now!

Nightwing runs around Ivy and uses her as shield, then shoves her on Harley.

Nightwing: You chasing me doesn't prove your point.

Harley (pushing Ivy off of her): Let me make amends.

Nightwing(whining): NOOOO!

Harley: I made a full bill of health at Arkham. And I may not have the diploma, but I can be your-

Nightwing (in angry romani): Me sem bahtalo tumare progresosa, numaj te aven dur mandar!

Harley: What?

Nightwing stops at a fence and turns to Harley.

Nightwing: I said, "I am happy with your progress, but stay away from me for now!" It... It will take some time. Okay?

Nightwing jumps a fence and keeps running.

Nightwing (over his shoulder): Bye!

Ivy: See ya, kid.

Harley: But... Shit!

Harley tries to climb the fence, but Ivy, best friend and girlfriend uses a vine on her hip before she jumps the fence.

Ivy: Harley, don’t do that impulsive thought.

Harley: But they need a therapist. All of them, Jacey ran from me, now Nightwing? Why can’t I catch a break?

Ivy: If I may, it has something to do with working with the joker, who killed one of them, tortures the batfamily on an annual basis... oh and you won’t take a hint to give them space.

Harley glares at her girlfriend.

Harley: It was a rhetorical question!

Ivy (chuckling dryly): Aww, Harls, you know I don’t care about that. He did say it takes time, he's saying you have a chance, but at this moment of time, no. Remember I’m not dumb either. I worked more in science for botany over what you do, but I can see when someone doesn’t want to talk or want your therapy services.

Harley groans, bending back: You’re right, I’ll give 'em space. Plus you didn't say I slept with my professor.

Ivy: Please, you wouldn't degrade yourself like that... Get with a homicidal lunatic who thinks clown makeup is scary, but you are not the type who tries to get easy A’s in school.

Harley: Damn straight!

[say-hwaet]

The Dynamic Between Arthur and the Marstons (long post )

I guess I should say there are spoilers, just in case…

After playing the story through several times, I have to say, that Arthur Morgan is one of the best characters ever written. Aside from his development, there is so much depth to him, and regardless of his honor, there is so much to unravel.

I’ve been thinking about the relationship that he has between the Marstons, meaning John, Abigail, and Jack, and it really makes sense as to how Arthur acts the way he does around them in the beginning and all the way to the end.

A lot of his behavior, I think, stems from the loss of Eliza and Isaac. It is my opinion that he himself was torn between living a full life with them and remaining loyal to his gang, and before or by the time he had made a choice, it was too late, as they were killed in a robbery. This had haunted him since and it made him extremely bitter. Later in the game, he tells Rains Fall that he realized that he didn’t get to live a bad life and have good things happen to him. I also think that he was with Eliza after Mary had broken their engagement. I can get into my support for this later, but that isn’t what this post is about.

I think that Arthur was angry with John out of jealousy. He is the “golden boy” and clearly was Dutch’s favorite at one point. Not only that but after Arthur loses his own son and lover, John and Abigail get pregnant and he takes off for a year. He abandons his family, which Arthur takes personally. Arthur had tried to do right by Eliza and Isaac and still failed. So when John has Jack and is within the circle of the gang to help and support him, he takes off. Arthur gives up a potential life with Eliza and Isaac for Loyalty to the gang and John throws it all away. When John comes back, Dutch welcomes him with open arms, and Arthur believes that he would have been held to a different standard if he had come back after being with Eliza and Isaac for a long time. And it doesn’t help that John treats Jack like crap in the beginning of RDR2.

Arthur, imo, was a good father to Isaac when he was present. We can see this in how he treats Jack. In Arthur’s journal, he writes how he should have married Abigail, but due to his feelings for Mary, he didn’t. I’m not sure why after years of not hearing from Mary he would say this, but meh. Perhaps, the hope of starting over, or that she did pop in again at some point (which is how Abigail might have met her?). Anyways. I think he says he should have married her so that she would have someone to rely on and that he could be the father Jack needed. He cares about Abigail, but I don’t think it is anything beyond that. Arthur seemed to me not to be one to be with a woman without some sort of relationship, based upon how he treats women and the prostitutes in Valentine, so I don’t think he was ever with Abigail. Even so, Abigail relies on Arthur, and while he puts up a front, he gives her money for clothing and spends time with Jack. Heck, he even tells John to step up and be a dad. In some of Arthur’s conversations with John, he tells him that he can’t be two people at once. He’s speaking from experience. I think he’s subtly telling John he needs to make a choice as to what life he’s going to live. Hosea and Arthur both tell Abigail and John to leave at parts of the game.

When Jack is kidnapped, and eventually rescued, I think it is one of the most heart-wrenching missions and scenes. I can see it in Arthur’s body language that he longs for the family that he once had. He’s alone in his pain and when everyone is celebrating, Arthur doesn’t sing with the gang; there isn’t even the option to do it like it does other times. Even in my first playthrough, it seemed so sad to me. Everyone was drinking and singing, but Arthur just looked so sad.

So, it is at this point that John starts to step up, and Arthur starts to show symptoms of his illness. When he learns of his diagnosis, Arthur’s eyes open to the reality of the gang’s downfall, and he acknowledges the doubts/reservations he has about Dutch’s plans and schemes. He isn’t blindly loyal anymore. He tries to get John, Abigail, and Jack out, so that they can have the life that he had lost due to loyalty to the gang. He continually tells John to get out and that it would mean a lot to him. In his journal, after rescuing John from prison, he writes in his journal “…We’ve argued over the years, but I’ve grown to care a little for [John]. He’s less of a fool than he was, and maybe he can have the luck that has eluded me. Jack is an innocent little boy. In him, I see what I missed [meaning Isaac]. We did it.” This speaks volumes to me about how he feels about them in the end. He sacrifices himself to let John live. And though it isn’t forever, Arthur dies believing that he made it, and that matters. And hopefully, he could finally be at peace and see Eliza and Isaac again.

I could keep going, but I think I am too long-winded. I guess that helps when writing fleshed-out fanfiction stories, but not for posts. LOL

Would love to hear other thoughts or opinions, I’m always keen for a discussion.

[lightsovermonaco]

an: requests and comments always welcome!

wc: 1250

Summary: Pato surprises you by coming home for your anniversary. Fluff with a slight bit of suggestiveness at the end.

One full year. One full year of dating the most thoughtful, obnoxious, beautiful, annoying soul of a man. Three hundred and sixty five days of weird faces, suggestive Snapchat captions, and random phone calls. There's been less drama and more love than you could've ever dreamed. 

You wouldn't trade the past twelve months for anything in the world. 

Dating Pato hasn't been all puppies and rainbows- although Norbi had joined the two of you on a picnic once and you had seen multiple full rainbows. There's challenges, most of which stem from the constant distance and busy schedules. But one way or another, Pato always finds a way to make you feel like he's only in the next room instead of a few states away. 

Whether it be sending you flowers after you've ranted over text or facetiming you for thirty seconds to wish you a good morning, Pato does what he can. Sometimes it's overwhelming to have him away from home so long. There's days where you aren't sure how much longer you can go without holding him in your arms or feeling his stubbly cheeks beneath your fingertips. Pato must have a sixth sense for those things however, because he always seems to know and always gives you a little more love on the rough days. 

Tonight though, you've got the man all to yourself. The lottery drew your number.  You don't know what sacrifice he's made to the scheduling gods, but he's managed to come home for your anniversary just two days before a race. And the worst part? Pato hadn't given you any warning. You'd opened the door in your pajamas, expecting your door dash order instead of the whole package. 

Once you'd attacked him and thoroughly smattered his face with kisses, you'd worked up the courage to ask how long he'd be home. 

“It's only eight hours, I have a plane later tonight to catch back to Milwaukee. But I figured a few hours is better than seeing your face on a screen.” 

“It's so much better Pato,” you murmur and steal another kiss. You can't help it; you're addicted to him and have been in withdrawal for far too long. “I missed you so fucking much.” 

“Trust me, I missed you more.” Pato nudges your jaw with his nose. You understand his request and tip your head to give him full access to your neck, letting any thoughts of that very important work project that had to be finished this week float away on the breeze. 

If you only had eight hours with your man, you were going to make the most of them. 

“Upstairs,” you breathe, fingers tangling in his freshly styled hair. “Now, Pato.”

“Ma'am yes ma'am.”

**********

After spending a few hours wrapped up in each other, Pato had finally convinced you to go out to lunch with him. He'd picked your dress, a burnt orange satin number with thin straps and a slit up the leg that nearly went to your hip.

With Pato dressed in a charcoal quarter zip that's shamefully unzipped and his hair fluffed just how you like it, it's a miracle you've made it through the first course without jumping him. Because with that much of his neck on display and the proof of your earlier fun poking out from under the collar, it's taking every ounce of willpower to keep from dragging him out of this fancy restaurant and begging him to put some marks of his own on you. 

"My eyes are up here hermosa." 

"Hmm? Oh- no I know Pato, sorry! I just got distracted." Pato shifts to allow more skin to show. His smirk tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

“I seem to distract you a lot don't I? Like before when I got home and you were working on that project…” Pato swipes his index finger through the pasta sauce on his plate and licks it clean. Thoughts swirl in your head like mist, though the only one that materializes is the memory of where those fingers had been an hour ago.

“Uh… sure…” 

“Not doing yourself much justice here, are you?” Pato tips his head, brown eyes warm and sparkling. “Good thing you're cute- you're not a very good conversation partner when your head is up on mars.”

“Well maybe if you wouldn't be so hot all the time,” you mumble, spearing pasta on your fork. “It would make my life a lot easier. Then maybe I could get through a meal without losing my train of thought.”

Pato's cute little dimples are on full display when he smiles. Your stomach does flips as if you're back in high school sitting across from your crush. It's crazy how he still has that effect on you now. You'd once worried that the spark would fade and you'd get bored of each other. Now though, you're positive that it's still as alive and hot as the day you met. 

“We both know you don't mean that. These,” Pato taps one of the bruises on his neck, “are proof that you love me just how I am.”

“Yeah well, all I'm saying is once in a while you could show me some mercy, you know? You c-could-” you stutter when Pato's hand meets your knee. Hidden under the table and exposed by the slit in your dress, his thumb moves over your smooth skin whilst his eyes remain trained on you. 

“Hermosa? Everything alright?” Pato smiles sweetly as his hand slides halfway up your thigh. Now you know why he asked for the tiniest table tucked away in the corner. Considering Pato's smug grin, his public torture is having the desired effect. 

“I'm- I'm fine Pato. Perfectly fine.” You clear your throat and shift in your seat so that you're out of his reach. For a split second, you feel guilty when Pato frowns. But instead of giving up, he ups the ante. Pato simply moves his own chair so that he can replace his hand exactly where it was. You should've known he wouldn't let you get away so easily; Pato isn't one to be deterred. 

“Actually,” you purr, laying your hand on his arm, “it would be better if you could let me finish eating in peace.”

“Mmm let me think about it.” Pato drums His fingers on your thigh and purses his lips. You both know the answer before the, “no,” leaves his lips. 

You huff and curl your fingers so your nails dig into his sweater. “This isn't fair Pato. I can't do anything to you, and you're set on torturing me.”

“I think the solution is simple.” When you stare at him blankly, Pato shrugs. “Finish your meal. The quicker you finish eating, the quicker we can get home, yeah?” Pato's wink is accompanied by a dip of his hand between your thighs, there and gone. As quick as it is, his touch is still enough to leave you scrambled. 

“Just pay the bill. I'm done eating.”

“But I ordered dessert-” 

“And I’ll be the dessert as long as you get me home in the next twenty minutes.” a mischievous glint dances in Pato’s eyes. His hand stays exactly where it is whilst the server retrieves the tab. Pato takes one look at it and leaves cash on the table, not bothering with change. 

Pato makes it home with three minutes to spare, and as promised, makes you his dessert. 

[ananke-xiii]

ah yes, of course I have more to say. This time it's not about a specific comparison/trope, more about how angels are perceived by viewers (but also partly by writers, too, tbh).

anything about angels being ethereal and divine etc: I think sometimes the non-in-universe view warps what's canon when it comes to angels. For instance, the way we the audience commonly perceive angels sort of interferes with the in-universe depiction of said creatures. Like, maybe we see angels as ethereal, celestial, incomprehensible figures but in SPN they're anything but. We can very much understand their motives, their feelings and what their agenda is. It's totally not beyond human comprehension, as amatter of fact, it's very much human but it's also NOT human at the same time because angels don't have the same morality as humans do and their notion of "good" and "evil" is quite peculiar, if they even have one. This is also why the "halo and a harp" joke is thrown around quite a few times as a reminder that SPN angels are not "our" angels.

The same misrepresentation happens when it's about angels and love (and sex). It's pretty clear that in SPN (hashtag not all but many) angels are actually very, very, very much interested in sex and love. I'll concede that they tend to confuse obsession for love and that there's a lot of repression/suppression/sublimation/you name it going on in that department but, frankly, it's not something so inherently alien that humans can't relate to.

Anyhow, I don't think it's only the audience's fault, though, as I see SPN writers implicitly inserting their own personal view into the story as well. For example, the idea that Lucifer is the "primary agent of evil" in s14 after we've spent a whole season dealing with how God has traumatized and abused both his own sister and his own "son" and how said sister has, in return, abused and traumatized Lucifer doesn't exactly hold up. I mean, if there must be one primary agent of evil in SPN everything seemed to point to Chuck well before s14's big "reveal". Moreover, from their first appearance in S4 angels have perhaps wreaked havoc more than demons and other monsters combined. Lucifer is admittedly a big problem (among other things because he is an abuser and a general piece of shit) but he's not the only problem in paradise (lol).

Related to the first point, how Dean's in awe with Cas because he's a celestial being etc: this is something that I read in a lot of fics so it's just both my own personal taste and my fic preferences (I like when fics stick to canon as far as possible because I like to see how different minds might have developed a particular storyline) that differ from others and that's fine, to each their own. The thing is, I don't really see it. Maybe S3-4 Sam was more in awe with the idea of angels but after Lucifer I don't think the guy's particularly moved by them. As far as Dean's concerned, I actually see him hating on angels the most. Vampires can be okay, werewolves maybe, he's surprisingly okay with demons as well, but angels? He doesn't like them at all. And I mean this, this is actually interesting because out of all the creatures in the world he hates (and who have hurt him and his family) he ends up getting a best friend/consort who belongs to that particular flavor he just can't tolerate and who probably hurt him and his family the most ("Angels are just monsters with good PR"). As in: Dean finds Cas amazing because he's Cas, not because he's an angel but he IS an angel nevertheless and that alone causes some problems. It makes for a very interesting moral dilemma and an engaging angle to explore where a good chunk of their issues stems from.

[froggy-demon]

Ford x College Age!Reader (gender neutral)

Please accept this offering Ford lovers, I plan on doing some pre portal ford writing so pleaseee send requests for pre portal ford/stan, also open to (almost) any other asks !! <3

You’re in college for either business or a STEM program, in fact it’s the summer before your senior year of your program

You had been looking for internships to take on over the summer when one of your aunts insisted upon reaching out to a friend of hers from college

“Smart man that Pines, told me he owed me a favor one time and I’m sure he has something for you to work on!”

You were not so sure about shipping out to the middle of Oregon to work for some old college buddy of your Aunt’s, but off you went anyway, it was better for your resume than nothing.

So you had been working at the Mystery Shack

Upon arriving you found that there was in fact two ‘Stan’s, there was the one who actually went by Stan as well as Ford, your Aunt’s actual former classmate.

Stan was very laid back, and he loved having an extra set of cheap hands around the shop even if it meant you were taking up the (formerly wax statue) spare room and drinking all their coffee. You grew on him pretty quickly and you had a very friendly and sarcastic sort of dynamic, it was easy to joke around with him and the two of you were absolutely encourageable

Ford was not so quick to warm up to you it seemed. He was certainly the more serious of the two and always had some experiment to work on or thing to engineer, meaning you also just didn’t spend as much time with him off the bat.

“It’s too easy to get hurt. I can’t exactly send you back home with a broken arm, or worse, I fear your Aunt will trek all the way up here just to wack me on the head!”

That said he did sometimes let you come down to the lab, especially if you played it off by bringing a coffee for him and offered to organize or clean something up (Ford had no motivation in cleaning his horribly chaotic labs, but he did very much enjoy a clean lab when it was possible) and you found yourself sitting at the cash register upstairs just trying to think of excuses to go downstairs more than you’d like to admit.

One afternoon at the shack you were stocking inventory onto the floor while Ford uncharacteristically had been chatting with Stan for quite a while in the gift shop. you’d been stealing glances their way, but Ford’s back was to you anyway, his six fingered hands clasped behind his back as they often were. After the third of fourth time Stan caught you he winked at you, “like what you see?” He teased. Your ears burned when Ford turned to follow where his twin was looking, you turned back to the merchandise in front of you replying sarcastically “yeah these Bigfoot snow globes are pretty cool.” Earning a laugh from Stan and from the corner of your eye you could see Ford smiling at you curiously before going back to their conversation.

Eventually Ford had gone back downstairs and two tour groups later you were still thinking about the way he had look at you. It was ridiculous though, he was supposed to be your mentor this summer and you’d been brought up to date on all the freaky goings ons of last summer when he walked out of a different dimension, not to mention he had a few decades on you. He wasn’t the first older man to have caught your eye, but he was the first you fell so hard for. Given this, while you pretended to read all you could think about was what excuse to give Stan. The sound of the “employees only” entrance into the house caught your attention, you were ready to ask for a coffee break and of course you would be polite and bring one to Ford who always appreciated more coffee. Stan didn’t even give you the chance, “I don’t wanna hear it, you are actually going to work the job you have here today.” He chided, inspecting your stock job. “I have rights you know, you still need to give me breaks, I’ve yet to have one today.” You’d defend. “This is not how you get a glowing letter of recommendation.” He grumbled checking shelves for dust that wasn’t there. “Isn’t Ford supposed to write that?” You quirked an eyebrow at his assessment of the store, he is not normally so picky. “Fucking- Fine I guess so, is that why you want to go kiss his ass right now?” The older man asked walking back over to you at the cash register, evidently satisfied with the store. His arms were crossed over his chest, now he was assessing you, clearly he could tell you were working an angle, but couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it was. You took the excuse, hopping out of your seat. “Yup! Thank you Stan!” You said walking past him. “For what?” He asked. “For the rest of the day off!” And you disappeared through the door he had just come through before he could argue. Quickly you went to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee and before long had poured two cups just the way you each liked them. You quietly walked down the staircase carefully not to disturb the scientist prematurely, a knot building in your stomach, some mix of anxiety and excitement. Ford always mumbled to himself while working, something you honestly found kinda charming, but it also made it easy to know which room he was in if you just listened for his low voice. “Dr. Ford?” You called out as you approached the open door. You had called him ‘Dr. Ford’ the first time you met him and he had lit up at the title ‘Dr. Ford, I like that’ he had said with a smile, it always pulled a small smile to his lips to hear you call him like that.

Three doctorates and only one person he knows uses his proper title! He certainly wasn’t going to stop you, especially when you always said it so sweetly, it almost sounded like a compliment the way you said it and it definitely boosted his ego like one. He liked that about you, you may have seemed friendlier with Stan, but never sweet like you are with him. “Come in, come in” he called, glancing quickly towards you before continuing writing. “I was making myself fresh coffee and thought you might like one as well?” You offered holding one mug out to him. He placed his pen on his page closing the journal to take the mug from you as you walked in. Taking a sip his smile widened, “two sugars, perfect, thank you.” He said. Your coffee always tasted better than his, sometimes he’s even put off getting himself a fresh one in hope you would offer instead.

He watched you walk over to the seat on the opposite side of the table and sit down with your own mug, his eyes clung to the curve of your silhouette for longer than they should. Internally he chastised himself for even wanting to look at you that way, some your age—it wasn’t appropriate, but the guilt still never stopped him. “Is there anything else I can help with?” You asked, looking around the room. Ford forced him mind to push out the thought of something you could help him with. “Well,” he paused to clear his throat, “I’m not sure if there is much to be done today. Just boring data entry.” Your mouth formed a small frown at his words, still not looking back at him as you anxious tapped your mug. “What about your glassware, I’d be happy to clean and sanitize them, I know it can be a pain.” You offered, acutely aware that you didn’t actually see any dirty lab equipment, maybe he was hiding it all in one room like a kid after being told to clean up. Ford had already done that though, he seemed easily distracted today so his focus had been on tasks that didn’t necessarily require full mental effort like cleaning the glassware and simple data entry. His eyes dwelled on your mouth when you bit your lip at this news, all your usual tasks had been done already, “Well, is it okay if I just read down here then? I like the quiet.” You asked softly trying to ignore the light blush you could feel dusting your face. He nodded, unsure of why you wanted to, but happy to accommodate, especially if it meant his got to observe you more.

After that Ford found himself watching you more often whenever you were around, even going out of his way to go up to the gift shop when you knew he was there to hang around or talk to Stan. He also liked when you’d ask for his help: “Dr. Ford? Could you reach that box?” “Dr. Ford, can you help me move the display?” He loved feeling needed by you.

His thoughts about you were loudest at night though, when the store was closed and you’d just be hanging around the shack in your pjs. He would try to work late, especially once Stan caught him looking at you as your reached for the top of a cabinet on your tiptoes, the hem of your shirt and shorts each riding up exposing even more skin. Stan had walked in and promptly clocked his brother, silently hitting him on the back of the head, ‘Need me to reach that for ya?’

Yeah he didn’t trust himself to be subtle enough around you in that state, even if he craved it.

You on the other hand were worried you’d done something wrong seeing his withdrawal. Still, he never turned away your coffee, he’d get this soft tired look in his eyes every time you handed it to him, you knew this was a weak point for him. One you didn’t mind exploiting.

You and Stan have just finished a watch of one of those cheesy and overly generic horror movies that played nonstop on channel 13, he was off to bed for the night, but you hadn’t seen Ford come up since before dinner. The man kept odd sleeping hours, but you brewed a decaf pot just to be safe. The summer heat and barely working ac unit of the mystery shack meant you were only ever able to wear your little sleep shorts and a tank top or maybe an oversized tshirt overnight and this was no exception. Totallyyyy no other reason…

You crept down the staircase with his coffee in hand, thinking of your excuse, readying a reason to stick around. “Dr. Ford? It’s pretty late you know, you should be getting to bed soon.” You called out, keeping your voice light. When you got to the bottom of the stairs you saw he was in the main room sitting at the first table with one hand propping up his chin as tired eyes examined the journal he was writing in. “You’re one to talk.” He retorted with a weary smile before looking up towards you. Ford could feel his face warm at the sight of you, what a sight you were, your pjs hugged the shape of you revealing the tops of your thighs, the curve of your hips, even a section of your waist exposed. His eyes raked over you slowly as you approached him, you were very pleased to have caught his attention. “I couldn’t sleep,” you said, holding out his mug, leaning one hip against the table next to where his hands rested. Ford hesitated before taking the mug. “It’s decaf, coffee is not a replacement for sleep.” You said and he finally took it. His eyes were fighting to focus on yours, your hands overlapping on the mug as you transferred it. You could feel the callouses that had formed on his hands over time rake across your softer skin and it nearly sent a shiver down your spine as the little voice in the back of your head begged to know what they would feel like against more of your skin. “I know.” Was all he said flatly, closing his journal and eliciting a frown out of you. He pushed his glasses up, pinching his eyes closed as he rubbed them from a mix of tiredness and trying to focus his guilty mind. “Dr. Ford?” You asked, adding to the knot forming in his gut. “Do I bother you?” You asked, pulling yourself onto the table so that your legs dangled over the side, trying to read him. Truly it was impossible for you to tell if he had decided you were the most annoying person in town or if he possibly returned the interest you held in him. Ford leaned back in his seat, looking back at you, feeling ashamed that he wanted to do nothing more than to spread your soft thighs in front of him and show you just how highly he thought of you, ‘does this feel like you bother me?’ He’d coo, but he couldn’t. “Why do you ask?” He managed to say, his voice coming out lower than usual. You’re soft lips pressed together as you searched for the right words, “Stan said I’d been bugging you too much and you just seemed withdrawn when I tried to help down here, I’m sorry.” Your voice was soft and your thumb was subconsciously busy digging into your other nail beds one at a time, a nervous tick. Ford parted his lips, pausing, choosing his words very carefully, “Of course not, in fact I’ve been very grateful to have you here, it’s just-“ his eyes were transfixed on your hands, resting in your lap, he placed his larger hand on top, stilling your anxious movement. “-I’ve been having a hard time concentrating on my work when you’re around.” His choice of words made your heart pound in your chest. “I’m not used to be observed.” He added, deflating you once more. You had no idea what to do with him, all you could think about was that his skin was touching yours, fixating on the way his thumb was gently rubbing your hand. At one point you knew you would have to just say it because this second he was driving you absolutely crazy. He so rarely touched you and here, so alone, so late, so exposed, you desperately needed a conclusion.

“Ford?” You started, the sound rang in his ears. He was always ‘Dr. Ford’ to you, always, as much as he loved hearing you use his title the lack of it here was even more arousing. You felt your face burning as you built up the courage to continue, “I’d like it if you kissed me.” You wanted to say something more, but it all was caught in your throat. His thumb stopped, neither of you said a word as you sat perfectly still, you wanted to run up the stairs and never look at him again and probably die of embarrassment at some point along the way from the silence. Finally, he moved his hand off of yours, you closed your eyes unwilling to take in the sight of him, even when you felt him cup your cheek and gently turn your face towards him. “You shouldn’t want to.” Was all he said, but when you raised your eyes to look at him his face was so soft, you leaned into his touch, placing a hand on the arm reached out to you. A small “Please” was the only encouragement he needed before he buckled, shoving aside what he think should be and focusing on what he desperately wanted, he slid his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. His guilt and worry washed away, this was perfect you were perfect. Finally, what you had been daydreaming of for weeks happened, your fingers quickly found themselves in his hair and his free hand moved to your thigh, squeezing the soft exposed skin. You reveled in the taste of him, coffee mixing with the scent of leather filled your senses as you leaned further into him. His hand on your thigh began to explore you, squeezing your hips, tracing around your waist, threatening the hem of your shirt, you encouraged him by parting your lips gently and allowing him to deepen the kiss. Ford was eager to, eliciting a small groan to escape you and only turning him on more, such a sweet sound, he wanted more of them. His grip on you tightened bringing more sweet moans to his ears yet just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. He pulled away resting his forehead on yours letting you both process and catch your breath. Ford wanted to do everything he’d been envisioning of the last few weeks, but he also didn’t want to rush things with you, it wasn’t just lust for him. He had grown incredibly attached to you, the way you smiled and laughed and were sweet to him and smart, he wanted more of all of you. He moved both of his hands down to your waist, tracing tiny circles there with his thumbs keeping you captivated, afraid to break the tension. “That was a good idea.” He practically panted, rolling his head down to your neck where he planted gentle, barely there, kisses up towards your jaw. On one hand he wanted to taste more of you, but on the other he was embarrassed for you to see the desperation for you that he couldn’t keep off of his face. “We should both get some rest.” He asserted against your skin. You melted at his touch and you didn’t want to leave this moment, but you couldn’t produce a whole sentence fast enough. “Before you get to working tomorrow,” he planted one more kiss on your cheek, “come back down here okay?” You breathily agreed, Ford hummed and released you, his eyes tracing over you again, using all the composure he had left to restrain himself in front of you as you hopped down and left for your room for the night. Admittedly you both had a very difficult time falling asleep.

The first few days after that you didn’t say much on the matter. You had done as asked and found him back in the lab looking better rested than normal the next day, fully dressed, he was less confident, but you were eager for his touch and his lips on your skin again. It repeated like that for the next couple nights, until you worked up the courage to ask him, while sitting on his lap and acutely aware of a hickey forming just below the collar of your tshirt, “Ford,” you caught his attention seeing his eyes flick their focus back to your face, “I absolutely enjoy this, but-“ crimson washed over your features, unsure the right way to proceed. You didn’t want to scare him off, nor for your late nights to end, but you also had to tell him your feelings for him. “I like you as more than this I-“ Ford you kept one arm around your back to keep you steady as he moved the other to take one of your hands, bringing in front of his lips. “I’d like more than this.” He finished for you, kissing your knuckles gently, he fumbled for his words a moment before stopping and taking a deep breath, “I treasure you far too much to not want more.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night on the roof after that, talking mostly, kissing some, Ford had a wonderfully awful trait of wandering hands while he spoke. Whenever he was listening to you though his mind was too occupied to wander so much, instead he busied himself by playing with your hair or holding your face. Whenever you’d point out his handsiness he’d become flustered and turn pink, even under the moonlight you could tell that he was flushed as he stuttered out an explanation.

While you didn’t immediately say anything to Stan, he caught on fairly quickly that something had shifted with the two of you, especially since he had picked up on Ford’s attraction in the past. ‘How the hell did that happen?’ Stan asked on a particularly slow day when it was just the two of you in the gift shop, you didn’t need to hear his train of thought to know what he meant. ‘You don’t seriously think I liked brewing that much coffee just for fun do you?’ Which was enough for him seeing how much his brother had been smiling and even sleeping more regularly. (Something was tiring him out for once)

[the-impala-is-my-home]

Wilmon stuck on a desert island

"I wanted to be alone with you since idk when I didn't ask for this"

“I wanted to be alone with you since I don’t know when, I didn’t ask for this!”

The confession makes Simon halt in his tracks from where he’d been pacing circles into the ground of this stupid little island in the stupid stockholm archipelago where they got left behind by their stupid classmates after their stupid uni field trip when they failed to get back to the stupid boat on time- okay maybe he’s a bit riled up but he was already annoyed before they got themselves into this situation, when all his problems had stemmed from his arguments with Wilhelm.

“What?”, he hisses out in response, not even sure where to start unpacking that, because- “What the fuck does that mean? You sure have made it very clear that you want nothing to do with me with the way you’ve been avoiding me ever since our first semester, so excuse me if I’m not following here.” God he’s so angry and Wilhelm is absolutely infuriating with his eyes and the way the sun highlights his cheekbones- completely unbearable, especially with that stupid kicked puppy look of his that Simon currently has to suffer through.

“I wanted nothing but spend time with you actually, but I kind of freaked out and then I was way too nervous to approach you again- I never meant for you to think I dislike you when it’s actually quite the opposite,” Wilhelm mumbles and if Simon isn’t mistaken that is a rather strong blush making it’s way across his unfairly good looking face.

“Urgh I can’t believe you sometimes-” he’s walking over to a slightly spooked looking Wilhelm with big steps, continuing to talk all the while “It takes you over a year to stop avoiding me, a year we’ve spent arguing whenever we saw each other, to finally tell me that? When we could have been doing this the entire time?” With that, he grabs Wilhelms’s face and tugs him into a hungry kiss. At least they’ll have a lot of time until the rescue boat comes to pick them up.

---

Thank you for the prompt! :)

I was a little annoyed because of a prof at Uni yesterday (who still hasn't given us last semesters grades!) and I guess making a character annoyed in my stead is great therapy! Hope you like this little enemies to lovers Wilmon👀

[myfairkatiecat]

nightfall was crazy, but I'm also kind of confused??? It went by sooo fast I was like WHAT? WAIT, WHAT? WAIT WAIT WAIT-

Love the fact that they went on with keefes whole "I'm not worth it, but you are, so I'm going to take over decisions we need to make (as a team) and screw them over so that they cause harm to me and not you!" Kinda vibe, honestly thought that after he came back from the neverseen in lodestar they were just going to forget about it, yk??

Only thing I really didn't like is that like...everyone has a slight distrust to keefe (at least in the start, till he apologized ) but Sophie, the person who was (in my opinion) most affected by his 'betrayal' never once had a doubt???? Like, if someone betrayed me, right? Yk they're my friend whatever whatever, ID STILL HAVE SOME KIND OF LIKE ISSUES WITH THEM???

I feel like her distrusting keefe and then slowly learning to trust him would have made the book MUUUCH better!!

Also, I'm still not getting where the Fitz discourse is coming from, like, his sibling just betrayed him, fell unconscious and WOKE UP WITH NO MEMORY OF ANYTHING?? I can see where the anger issues come from

Holy shit this was long, sorry!

-- @localburntoutkid

Had a blast reading this!

You’re so right about Keefe. That definitely doesn’t get dropped after lodestar, or even nightfall—it’s one of his character’s main flaws, and while it does shift and evolve as the series moves on, it’s kind of there, you know? And I’m really hoping it resolves in some way by the end of the series, because his arc is just… so interesting to me. Because it is NOT arc-shaped. At all.

I get what you mean about Sophie being the only one who doesn’t distrust Keefe when he comes back. I really like that too acknowledge that it’s a Sophie-specific thing, though! Too many people forget that this is a third person limited story told by an unreliable narrator, and act like Shannon Messenger herself is telling us Keefe deserves to be fully trusted. Sophie Foster decides, at the end of Neverseen, not to hate him, and Lodestar is where she has her moments of doubt and distrust, but even in Lodestar, she always believes in Keefe’s good intentions. There’s even a scene where she says something like “Yes, Keefe’s plan is horrible and I hate it, but his heart is in the right place. I have to believe that.” The part about keefe’s plan is paraphrased, but she did say she needs to believe his heart was in the right place, in that wording, and it’s fascinating to me. She’s very attatched to Keefe (obviously) and I think it’s mostly for her own sanity that she chooses over and over to believe that there’s something right about what he’s doing, because letting him go sounds excruciating, even by his own fault.

I actually have no issue with this being Sophie’s perspective, and I actually find it interesting especially in the context of sokeefe, but I wish we got to see this portion through another character’s eyes. For example, Fitz. Someone who does distrust him afterwards, and rightfully so.

As far as Fitz discourse goes, that stuff stemmed less from nightfall and more from flashback and legacy. I don’t hate Fitz in either of those books, but you’ll probably notice the moments that made people kind of go nuts about hating him and ran away with his character (personally, I think Fitz is fully understandable in both books, but don’t fully condone the way he acts in a few scenes, particularly in legacy. I’ll explain later after you’ve read it)

Don’t apologize for length, I’m literally Katie, have you met me? Everything I write is longer than I intend

I’m glad you’re having fun with the KOTLC series. Keep me updated!!!

[loganjameshowlett]

SAME AS IT EVER WAS

01: AND YOU MAY ASK YOURSELF (WELL, HOW DID I GET HERE?)

pairing: peter parker/mutant!reader summary: you tutor peter parker. you dodge a robbery. you get run over and are somehow unhurt. all in a day's work, i guess. word count: 4.1k+

series masterlist | next installment

You were beginning to regret promising your tutoring services to Professor Sorensen. 

The early morning sky was pink outside the library’s picture windows, and you stared wistfully as you spread your things out across one of the empty tables, wishing that you were still in bed. But Sorensen was maybe your favorite professor ever, and when she stopped you after class last week and asked you to tutor for the general education English classes in exchange for a meager pay and some extra points on your final essay, you didn’t have the heart to tell her no. 

You couldn’t imagine, though, what kind of linguistically-inept STEM major would be desperate enough for tutoring to schedule an appointment with you at eight o’clock on a Wednesday morning. You kind of wanted to beat them over the head with your laptop. Instead, you took a searing gulp of your coffee and opened your current required reading for Sorensen’s class. If you were going to be up this early, you might as well make some use of the time beyond tutoring. 

“Excuse me,” a voice calling your name cut through the otherwise silent main reading room of the library a few minutes later, and you looked up to find a tall boy with messy brown hair standing at the other side of your table. He had a frayed backpack slung over one shoulder, and a look of exhaustion in his brown eyes that was very familiar to you. “Am I in the right place for Professor Sorensen’s English tutoring?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nodded, shutting your book and briefly glancing down at the email from Sorensen open on your laptop to catch his name. “Peter Parker?” 

“That’s me,” he nodded, offering a small smile as he slid into the chair to the right of you. 

“So, you’re taking Beginnings of American Lit with Professor Liu, right?” you asked, checking the email once more. 

“Yeah. She’s kind of a tough grader, and if I don’t score an A on my next essay it’ll fuck with my GPA,” Peter explained, glancing over at you sheepishly as he dug through his bag, eventually producing a thin stack of rumpled papers. “I was hoping we could edit this one together? Maybe you’ll be able to explain what she’s looking for, ‘cause I really don’t know.” 

“Yeah, Liu is… particular, but not impossible,” you told him, reaching forward to slide the essay toward you. “Luckily, I’ve taken her twice, so I think I’ll be able to help.”

“Oh, thank god. I was starting to feel hopeless,” Peter said, and you couldn’t help but snort at the complete earnestness in his voice.  

“So, I take it you’re not a humanities major,” you observe, and Peter laughs, shaking his head. 

“Definitely not. I’m a chemistry major, actually. Science has always come easily to me, but writing not so much. S’why I put off taking my literature requirement until Junior year.”

“That’s what I did with my lab science requirement,” you said. “And now I’m struggling through a biology lab that might actually kill my GPA. Okay, so, your intro paragraph looks pretty good. Thesis is solid. I think your trouble is probably in the body– Liu is a real stickler for thorough analysis of quotes and citations. And by thorough, I mean extensive to the point of near-redundancy.” 

“Alright, I already know I’m gonna have to beef up the middle, in that case,” Peter sighed, taking the first page of his essay to look over the few line edits you had penned in with red ink. “Hey, about your biology lab. I can help, if you want. As a thank you for helping me with Liu’s class.” 

“Yeah? That’d be a lifesaver, honestly,” you said, raising your brow at him. “I don’t really know anyone in the department to help me find a reliable tutor. Not that I know you’re a reliable tutor. You could be a really shitty chemist, for all I know.” 

Peter let out a theatrical gasp, bringing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “I’ll have you know that I’m a very good chemist. And, lucky for you, a perfectly average biologist. Good enough to get you to pass that lab with an A, I bet.” 

“Well, then, I’m gonna hold you to that, Mr. Parker.” 

“Just Peter’s fine. Mr. Parker makes me sound geriatric.” 

“Okay, Peter,” you hum. “Look, this quote you have at the top of this paragraph? It’ll be really easy to beef up your analysis if you introduce how it speaks on gender roles in American culture at the time. In fact, you could probably get a whole extra paragraph out of it, if you provide enough context.” 

“Would you mind writing that in the margin? I’ll forget otherwise,” Peter asked and you complied, writing the potential edit in small, neat letters next to the paragraph. “If you’re free Friday afternoon, we could go through some of your biology work.” 

“I actually am free then,” you said, eyes roaming over the last paragraph of his essay. You scribbled a few notes and line edits in, before stacking the pages neatly and sliding them back towards Peter. “Tell you what, you make the edits we talked about today, and we can go over the next version of your essay then, too, yeah? Make sure it’s up to Professor Liu’s standard?” 

“You’re an angel,” Peter said, glancing up from where he was absorbing your edits to shoot you a grin. “Hey, sorry to be so abrupt, but I gotta run. How does same spot, two o’clock on Friday sound?” 

“Works for me. Thanks for volunteering to help, Parker.” 

“ ‘Course. We should exchange numbers, in case anything comes up. I never check my email,” Peter said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He passed it along to you, the contacts page opened, and you entered your information, sending a text to yourself so you had his information in return. 

“See you Friday,” you smiled, handing the phone back to him. 

“Friday,” Peter confirmed, taking a few backward steps away from the table before turning around. He glanced over his shoulder once more, waving, before he disappeared into the hall. 

***

“God, this shift couldn’t be any fuckin’ slower,” Mickey groaned, dropping her head against the bodega’s countertop. Her red curls fanned all around her head, dripping over the edge of the counter. 

“Closing shift is always slow, Mick,” you reminded her, leaning against the wall with your arms folded over your chest. The thick of the after work rush had been over for about an hour, leaving the bodega deserted, aside from the two of you and Gary, the ancient orange bodega cat. 

“Dontcha ever just wish somethin’ interesting would happen around here?” she asked, picking her head up in order to blow a big pink bubble from her lips. 

“Interesting things happen in this city every day,” you countered. “Spider-Man fights some new fuckin’ loser every week, man, and that’s just him. Daredevil broke Mrs. Llewellyn’s kitchen window, like, four days ago.” 

“That shit’s not interesting anymore; you said it yourself, it happens every day,” Mickey said, stepping around the counter to pretend to organize the shelves. “Tell you what’d be interesting: if we found out who Daredevil or Spider-Man or any of the others are beneath the mask. And if not that, I’d settle for Daredevil crashing through my bedroom window tonight. That man is fine.” 

“How would you know? Nobody’s ever seen his face.” 

“He’s built, baby. That’s how I know,” Mickey scoffed. 

You shrugged. “I’d rather the cape types stay away from my bedroom window. Or my general vicinity. I’ve got enough going on between class and this job and tutoring without getting involved in one of their situations.” 

“Oh come on, you’re telling me the thought of some sexy superhero literally crashing into your life isn’t appealing at all?” 

“No, dude. I don’t want the drama. Or, I’m sorry, the adventure,” you doubled down. “You can have it.” 

“Amen,” Mickey nodded. “I hope Daredevil heard you say that somehow.” 

Before you could respond, the mostly quiet night was cut through with the sound of police sirens, loud and close and then fading slightly as they passed down the street. 

“Wonder what’s going on,” you murmured, craning your neck to follow the red and blue lights down the block. 

“Whatever it is, I hope a man in tights responds to it.”

“God, Mickey, you are incorrigible,” you groaned, turning away from the window and grasping the handle of the broom, looking for something to do. 

“Don’t use your fancy English major words on me, woman.” 

“Incorrigible is not a fancy–” you started, but were cut off by your phone ringing in your pocket, the specific song you assigned to Mr. Browne, your boss. 

“Hey, bossman, what’s up?” you asked, answering. Concern laced your voice; it wasn’t like Mr. Browne to call during closing shift. He trusted you and Mickey not to burn the place down, and his watching reruns of Jeopardy! time was basically sacred. 

“Honey, listen,” his gruff voice filtered through the speaker. “I want you and Mickey to close up and go on home now.” 

“What? Why? There’s still an hour until closing,” you asked, furrowing your brow. 

“I just saw on the news that there’s a robbery going down in the neighborhood, and I don’t need you girls getting caught up in any danger, okay?”

“Oh, guess that explains the police cars,” you said, more to yourself than to him. 

“You see? Lock up and get out of there,” he said, his voice firmer. “And no dilly-dallying, you hear? I got a bad feeling.” 

“Okay, Mr. Browne, you got it. We’ll close up now and go straight home,” you promised. 

“Good. Just feed Gary before you go.” 

“Will do. G’night, bossman,” you said, before hanging up the phone. 

“What’s that all about?” Mickey asked, brushing a piece of her wild hair away from her face. 

“Apparently those police cars that went by are responding to a robbery in the neighborhood,” you informed her. “Mr. Browne wants us to lock up and go home now before we get caught up in any of the trouble.”

“Must be my lucky day,” Mickey grinned. “You get the keys, I’ll feed Gar.” You did as she said, retrieving the keys, your jacket, and your bag from behind the counter. Already, you were lost in thoughts of going home and crashing immediately in bed. You had been out and about for over twelve hours that day already, and you were practically asleep on your feet. You had half a mind to walk down the block and thank the robbers for cutting your shift short. 

A minute later, the two of you were standing out on the sidewalk. You could hear shouts and the sirens as more police responded to the scene, even the drone of a news copter overhead. The robbery must be closer than you expected, and maybe a bigger problem than you were assuming, too. There was a bank two blocks down and one over; you wondered if it was all going down over there. 

“Alright, text me the minute you get home,” Mickey said sternly. 

“You, too,” you responded. The two of you lived in opposite directions, so you wouldn’t have the comfort of each other’s company on the walk home. 

“We’ll be fine,” Mickey responded with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I bet the neighborhood is safer than usual– bet nobody else will try shit with the place crawling with so many cops. But still text me when you get home, got it?” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She pulled you into a quick, tight hug before waving and heading down the block towards home. You turned in the opposite direction, back towards your apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. The night was cool for the beginning of October, and you pulled your flimsy zip-up tighter around your middle, hiding your hands deep in the pockets. Your head swam with all the things you needed to do for the week, wondering if you should get a jump on some of it with your newfound hour of free time, or actually give yourself a rest for once. You were leaning toward the former; if you hurried, you could probably finish the reading you started at the library before Peter showed up, and the corresponding question set. 

With that thought in mind, you cut through a nearby alley, shaving off a block from your walk. You wouldn’t normally, but you had a feeling that Mickey was right, the high concentration of cops in the area would deter any other criminals. Probably you’d be fine. You stuffed your earbuds in your ears and pressed play on whatever had last been going, lost in thought as you tried to plan the rest of your week around class and work shifts and your new tutoring session with Peter. 

As you cut through a second alley, bringing you just half a block from home, chin tucked in and head down against the wind, you didn’t hear the squeal of tires as they turned around a corner and sped down the street you were just on. You didn’t hear as they abruptly turned into the alley, doors scraping against a dumpster. The hair-raising screech of metal on metal finally cut through your music, and you turned around just in time to find a large, black SUV barrelling straight towards you. 

There was nowhere to go. The alley was hardly wider than the car itself, and fear or shock or some horrible mix of both at the sight of it coming toward you had rooted you to one spot on the wet asphalt. 

Fuck. I am about to die, you thought as you stared down the headlights, so bright you couldn’t see whoever was driving the thing. 

The next ten seconds– because, really, it couldn’t have been any longer than that– occurred in a blur. The impact, your body on the wet ground. Front right tire crushing over your torso, the back tire following half a second later. Vaguely, with the small part of your brain where synapses still seemed to be firing, you knew there must be immeasurable pain, but all you felt was cold and static. There were too many things happening at once, too many pains and thoughts all garbled together that you couldn’t feel or register any of it. 

You laid there, staring up at the dark, gusty sky, expecting death to collect you at any moment. When, after several minutes of slow blinking and shallow breathing, you were still alive, you figured you might have experienced a miracle. Maybe the tires had passed over you in just the right way to preserve your life? Not that you thought such a thing was possible. Getting crushed by a speeding SUV felt like a very final kind of thing. 

Slowly, your senses started coming back to you. Hearing first, as you registered sirens rushing past at the mouth of the alley. You grimaced, tensing as you waited for them to also cut down the alley and actually kill you this time, but they passed by without incident. The pain started next: a horrible, dull ache across your ribs and a sharper, prickling kind of hurt along your shoulder blades, but nothing like you thought you should have been experiencing. You were worried that it was still all a trick of the mind, that you’d muster up the courage to lift your head and look down to take stock of the damage and find your torso resembling roadkill more than anything human. But you couldn’t lay there forever, you reasoned, and so went to work testing appendages to see if they were in order. 

You wiggled your fingers and toes first, surprised, frankly, that you were able to do so. If you could wiggle your toes, everything below your ribs must still be connected to everything above your ribs. Good sign. You bent your arms at the elbow next, which reignited the flame of pain in your shoulder blades, but they moved fine otherwise. Bent your knees, turned your head from side to side. You were… okay, you concluded. Physically not dying in a dirty alley, at least. 

A jolt of effort, and you sat up all the way, despite the protest of pain across your ribs and shoulder blades. Looking down, you took stock of the dark tire track running across the front of your sweater, but more importantly, the very uncrushed nature of your ribs and internal organs. 

“How the fuck,” you muttered to yourself, brushing your hands tentatively down your front. The contact of your palms against your middle was like irritating a nasty bruise, but that was it. That was… impossible, you were pretty sure. Maybe you could gaslight yourself into believing it was if it had been some tiny, dinghy little car that had run you over, but it was a fucking monstrous SUV. 

Blinking, you reached back toward the wall behind you and used it to hoist yourself up onto your feet. A terrible panic was creeping up on you now, and you preferred to deal with that in the privacy of your bedroom, not on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. As you turned to stumble your way out of the alley, you noticed something else: the pavement beneath where you had fallen was crushed in a peculiar shape, almost like wings and six feet across. 

“What the fuck,” you said, louder this time. Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck. This situation was getting stranger by the second, and you were pretty sure you were about to experience a mental break, if you weren’t already. 

Maybe I actually am dead, and none of this is happening right now, you mused as the alley spat you back out on the street. Your feet headed in the direction of your apartment on their own accord, your mind caught up in bright headlights and wing shapes stamped into asphalt. A horrible headache was building behind your eyes, and all you wanted was to get to the safety of your own home, dead or not. 

The walk seemed to take an eternity in your dazed state, but eventually the familiar redbrick corner building that had been your home for the last two years loomed in front of you. You fumbled in your jacket pocket for your key, gripping it in your shaky fist as you punched in the key code to the front door. Up four flights of stairs, a fight with the apartment door as the lock rejected your key like always. You went through the motions in a dream state, so many thoughts tumbling through your head, but none of them sticking. Before opening the door, you shucked off your sweater and balled it up in your arms, in case either of your roommates were up and about. You really had no idea how you’d be able to explain the tire tracks across the front. 

Inside, the lights were dim and a Bob’s Burgers rerun was playing at low-volume on the little television. An electric blue pixie cut shot up over the back of the couch at the sound of the opening door. 

“You’re home early,” your cousin, Winona, called to you. “What’s the deal?” 

“Uh…robbery. Down the block. Mr. Browne wanted us to leave early to be, um, safe,” you stammered out, toeing your shoes off at the door. Each subtle movement sent more pain lancing through your ribs, and you struggled to keep a straight, unbothered face. 

Winona wasn’t convinced. After living together for two years and knowing you since birth, she was familiar with all of your little idiosyncrasies. She could tell when you were just a little irritated, so of course she could tell when you… well, when whatever the fuck just happened, happened to you. Her thick, dark brows drew in until they met at the center, brown eyes narrowing as she scrutinized you. 

“What’s going on with you?” Your cousin was not one to beat around the bush. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, skirting around the question.

“Somethin’s wrong with our girl?” a sleepy voice called from the other end of the couch. A second later, Odie’s head of wild brown waves popped up over the back of the couch. Winona’s best friend since grade school and your other roommate, she was extremely protective over you. Always had been, since she met you when you started freshman year at Midtown High and she and Winona were seniors. 

“There’s nothing wrong,” you huffed. Even that extra expansion of your lungs caused the pain to flare. “I’m just tired. It was a long day.”

Winona frowned at you, clearly disbelieving. “I made lasagna earlier. You hungry?” 

“Ate a bunch of junk at work with Mick. But I’ll bring some with me for lunch tomorrow,” you promised, and wrenched open your bedroom door and disappeared behind it before either of them could question you further. You pressed yourself against the door once it was closed, then jumped away quickly as the action sent an explosion of pain through your shoulder blades. You’d forgotten about it that fast. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, closing your eyes against the burning of tears suddenly threatening to come. “Oh, god. What the fuck. What the fuck.” 

What was even the next move? You couldn’t very well go out there and tell Winona you’d been crushed by an SUV earlier in the night. Nothing about your current state would corroborate the claim, why would she, or anyone else, believe you? And honestly, that was the least of your worries. More pressing issues: why weren’t you crushed by the SUV? Why weren’t you fucking dead? What was up with the weird, wing-shaped damage in the street below you? What had actually happened in that alley?

Something was deeply, deeply not right. You could feel the wrongness of it all buzzing through every inch of your body. You knew that the feeling would overwhelm you if you let it, and you were dangerously close to just sinking to the floor and letting it take you. 

Your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Opening your eyes, you fished it out and brought the too-bright screen to your eyes. 

Make it home okay? The text from Mickey read. 

No, you wanted to say. Got hit by a fucking car but somehow I think that might be the least of my problems. I think something’s really wrong. 

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but of course you didn’t type it. You shot off a text confirming that you did– because really, you supposed, you did get home okay in some sense of the word– and asked if she did, too. 

After Mickey texted back that she did get home safe, you set about the task of peeling off your uniform. Every movement hurt like a bitch, and you reminded yourself every five seconds that you should be grateful for the pain. You didn’t even have a single broken bone. You weren’t dead. You could handle some aches and bruising. 

You worked your jeans off first, then your shirt and bra, heaping them in the corner of your room and plucking a random t-shirt and pajama shorts out of your drawer. Before pulling on the t-shirt, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror tucked in the corner. As you suspected, a thick line of bruises was already purpling along your ribs, the width of a car tire. You sighed, turning to see how far they stretched on either side and paused when your back came into view. 

Two thick lines of what looked like red, irritated scar tissue traced along the lines of your shoulder blades. It looked as though someone had surgically cut them open, and recently. You brought a hand to your mouth, suppressing the gasp threatening to worm its way out. You felt like all the crap you ate at work was about to make a reappearance. 

Those certainly hadn’t been there this morning. You would know: you stood naked in front of this very mirror after your shower, sleepily trying to pick out your outfit. The skin of your back had been smooth, unscarred. Obviously. You would have remembered if you had gone through something that would have resulted in scars like this. 

“Okay, no,” you muttered, throwing the t-shirt over your head as quickly as possible in your bruised, hurting state. This was all too much to deal with in one night, you decided suddenly. You were tired and hurting and you had a busy fucking day tomorrow, damn it. 

You pulled your blankets back and turned off the light, climbing gingerly into bed. Maybe if you were lucky, you would wake up in the morning to all of this having been some wild fucking nightmare. Not that you were ever that lucky.

[leafwateraddict]

Huge trigger warning for openly talking about wanting to commit suicide

Pretty much summed up some old feelings I used to have towards sans and Undertale as a whole? I’ve gotten better since, but it definitely feels nice to get them out.

Transcript in case you cant read my handwriting:

I’m going to do it. I will. I cant stand to live anymore.

Do you even have any idea how?

No clue. But it has to be done.

What do you think waits for us..?

Fire. We deserve it.

Fair.

There are things we will lose.

Of course.

These little characters… this little world this mind cannot seem to let go of…

You Must Purge It.

We Must Purge it.

In Order To Die

We Must Detach Ourse-

whoa-! calm down kid… not gonna hurt ya…

You.

the one and only.

I am too attached to you.

If I can finally remove you…

kid-

You stupid stupid anchor-

kid stop- you know you dont want that.

i do! More than anything! If I think about one thing more than you, it’s death! I… I need this to end sans. This game is the only thing that makes me get out of bed. I’m too dependent on this.

It doesn’t even matter does it? I’m too much of a coward to go through with it…

you’re not a coward for being scared of ending your life kiddo.

I can’t do this anymore.

…i know

[ruvviks]

PLEASE DO NOT TAG AS YOUR OWN OC OR PAIRING.

Nathan and Ruben share a bond more powerful than most; mutual understanding through past experiences no one should ever have to go through, and through past actions so horrible they cannot be spoken of. Their grief and the blood on their hands binds them to the STEM technology they created, which has alienated them from the rest of the world— but they give each other the comfort they have both longed for so desperately for years, and that is all they need. They are each other's counterpart; you cannot imagine one without the other, like two sides of the same coin. Through their pain, their grief, their desire, and their regret, they have become one.

anna akhmatova, the guest // bones; equinox // 'i won't become' by kim jakobsson // agustín gómez-arcos, the carnivorous lamb // by oxy // achilles come down; gang of youths // czeslaw milosz, from 'new and collected poems: 1931-2001' // 'extended ambience portrait from a resonant biostructure' and 'migraine tenfold times ten' by daniel vega // a little death; the neighbourhood // marina tsvetaeva, from 'poem of the end' // by drummnist // katie maria, winter // 'nocturne in black and gold the falling rocket' by james abbott mcneill whistler // micah nemerever, these violent delights // body language; we are fury // 'the penitent' by emil melmoth // chelsea dingman, from 'of those who can't afford to be gentle'

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree

[kagoutiss]

*complaining for no reason again because i am bored* i need more ppl to know that these. are all the same person these are literally canonically all the exact same individual person im begging u

literally almost all the ganondorfs are the exact same individual and almost all the ganons are the exact same individual, almost all the ganondorfs & ganons are the same exact person just in different forms and circumstances. except for FSA and maybe whatever the fuck is going on with TotK ganondorf but i still think it’s weird that he still has golden eyes & rounded ears when even the gerudo in TotK’s ancient past dont, but anyway ashfjsbfjsn

[janadoesstuffwrong]

Sokka: This is getting out of hand, now there are two of them

Kiyi is the only addition from the comics that I'm willing to acknowledge, however, I will happily ignore everything else abt her story. Instead she is Ozai's daughter and protecting her was what kept Ursa in hiding, at least until a year after the war when Zuko and Katara show up for The Southern Raiders pt 2: Electric Boogaloo.