#these r the stupid shit teenagers pull anyway

[crooked-rookie]

imagine being deteriorated in all aspects of your being because you're irrevocably in love with someone (couldn't be me)

[lovebugism]

hi! can i request shy/innocent reader who blushes at any sex talk, but one day she shows up covered in hickies that she didn’t notice and eddie, robin and the gang are grilling her trying to find out who shes with and steve’s just standing in the corner like🧍‍♂️

ty for requesting :D — the gang finds a hickey on you during movie night (shy!fem!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Slasher films, Eddie tells you, are just excuses to make the goriest, raunchiest movies known to man. But that’s why they’re so good! he exclaims like a giddy teenage boy before sliding the bulky VHS into the tape player. 

Your stomach’s been in knots about it since. You’re made of something more delicate than that — not particularly built for gruesome horror — but you swallow down your worrying anyway. 

Robin’s smacking on gummy worms at your feet, Eddie hasn’t stopped smiling since he sat down beside you, and Steve’s got one toned arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder. The combination of familiarity takes your mind off the whole thing when you threaten to scare yourself about it.

A half-hour in, and the scariest thing you’ve seen so far, is an overtly theatric sex scene. You only get a glimpse of the static nudity before a clammy, ringed hand splays itself over your eyes. It doesn’t save you from the high-pitched squealing and gruff moans, though, so you’re not entirely sure it’s doing much.

“What are you doing?” you ask Eddie through quiet giggles.

“This shit’s gross,” he answers, muffled through the candy in his cheek. “You don’t need to be watchin’ stuff like this.”

Your brows furrow beneath his palm. “I’m not a child, Eds.”

“Yeah, but you’re too pure! I wouldn’t feel right if I just let you watch it!”

Steve returns from the kitchen then, with a bowl of refilled popcorn in hand. He scoops a handful into his mouth and scolds through the mouthful. “Eddie. Leave her alone.”

The pale hand slips from your face when the scene ends — the climax sufficiently interrupted by a serial killing, chainsaw weilding psycho. The wild-haired boy scoffs. “Jeez! Sorry for trying to take care of your girlfriend, Harrington!”

“I do that on my own. I don’t need your help, freak,” Steve retorts, unthinking, before plopping down beside you and shoveling another handful of popcorn into his mouth. 

All three of you glance at him with unwavering stares. He blinks back at you for a moment until the realization hits him. Rolling his chocolate eyes, he grouses, “Not like that, you pervs.”

Eddie grins. “Oh, so it’s not like that, then?” he wonders in a teasing lilt. 

“Well,” Steve shrugs, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “I mean, obviously it is, but—”

“Steve…” you waver in an inaudible whine, shrinking back into the couch, hoping it’ll swallow you whole. 

The boy seems confused by your sudden sheepishness. He’s never been shy about anything in his life. “I’m just saying!” he chuckles. “I’m your boyfriend. I take care of you. That’s, like, my whole job… One that I do very well, might I add.”

Robin grumbles while Steve and Eddie laugh like a couple of teenage boys. She rises from her comfy spot on the carpet and reaches for your hand. She pulls you into the kitchen behind her and calls to them over her shoulder. “You guys are such freaks, you know that?”

——————

Tired and slightly tipsy, you stand with Steve on his back porch. A cigarette hangs loosely from his plush lips. His chiseled jaw tightens every time he takes a drag. The sight of him is impossible to look away from.

“You don’t think I take care of you?” he blurts before blowing smoke from his mouth. The wisps disappear beneath the starry velvet sky.

“Huh?”

“Earlier. When Eddie was making that stupid joke,” the boy explains, snuffing the cig out in the ashtray on the railing. He glances at you with sparkling honey eyes, half beneath his lashes, before turning away again. Almost shy. “I said it was my job to take care of you or whatever, and you just… Kinda grumbled about it. Like you don’t think I do or something.”

Your chest stings.

“Of course you do!” you answer sheepishly. “It’s just… hard for me to talk about, I guess. In front of Eddie and Robin and everything…”

“Oh,” he hums, nodding with his pink lips softly pouted. When the realization passes, he bites back a bashful beam. “So… you do think I take care of you, then?”

You roll your eyes, still impossibly shy. You know that he knows that answer now — he just wants to hear you say it. “Obviously…” you murmur with a quiet smile you try hard to keep hidden.

“Good,” he says to himself, nodding like he’s proud. “That’s good…”

You’re not sure how, but you end up squished between his body and the deck railing in record time. Steve kisses the breath from your lungs with lips tasting of nicotine, cola, and sour candy. His golden hands dig into your hips while his mouth trails to your jaw. 

You twist your hands in the strands of his silky chestnut hair as his plush lips lock with your thrumming pulse. A sigh spills from your mouth at the tingling feeling — warm and wet, then stinging for a moment. Steve runs his tongue over the bruise he left there. 

“Don’t leave a mark,” you scold in a slurred whine.

His chuckle fans across your neck before he parts from you. The lovebite is hardly noticeable now, just beginning to blossom beneath your jaw. “I think it might be a little too late for that, babe,” he teases with lidded eyes.

The backdoor slides open before Steve can kiss you again. Eddie stumbles out with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Robin nearly runs into the back of him when the boy stops suddenly in his tracks. His chocolate eyes flit between the two of you, now separated and trying to play it cool.

“…Are we interrupting something?” he murmurs through the stick in his mouth.

Steve shrugs and puts his hands on his hips, so not cool. “What? No. What are you— What are you even doing out here?”

The lighter clicks. “…Smoking?”

He glances at Robin, then. Her ocean eyes widen as she shrugs. “I just didn’t wanna be left out,” she murmurs in an answer to his silent question.

“Fair enough.”

Eddie squeezes between you and Steve, clumsy and unknowing. He glances at you innocently once, then again with suspicious, squinted eyes. “Is that a bruise?” he wonders before turning away to exhale the smoke from his lungs.

Your chest wrenches. “Huh?” you hum with pinched brows.

“You have a bruise on your neck,” he tells you, pointing a ringed finger to the blooming mark Steve left some minutes ago now. “What happened?”

He says it like he’s concerned. Like he’s worried something had happened to you. The possibility of it being a hickey doesn’t even cross his mind — ‘cause you’re just too pure for that. 

You shrug and start to stammer, somehow less cool than the overtly uncasual boy on Eddie’s other side. “I don’t know. It’s probably just... The lighting or something.”

His fluffy brows pinch together as his eyes dart over your face. You’re visibly flustered, lips softly swollen and shining with spit. He looks at Steve next and finds the boy looking much of the same. Only then does he realize what he’s interrupted.

“Eugh!” he groans in disgust, features screwed-up and puppylike.

Steve fights back a laugh. “What?!”

“You guys are a bunch of dirtbags!” Eddie shouts.

“It’s just a hickey, Eds,” the brunette boy says, chuckling before he can help it. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

“Absolutely harlot behavior. Both of you,” he chides, shaking his head until his wild curls sway around his jaw. While the rest of you laugh, he grumbles. “I don’t even feel like smoking now. You guys just ruined this cig for me.”

The three of you blink at him when he takes another drag. It takes him a moment too long to register the stares. When he does, he spreads his palms in defense and mumbles through the stick. “Well, I’m not gonna waste it!”

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Missed Me?

Final part for real this time, no cliffhanger I swear!!

Stepdad!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader

Warnings: none, fluff and sweetness

Info: obi-wan loves his brother; even if he does occasionally want Anakin to double over from a swift punch to the gut. Satine is a lawyer btw

“Sweetheart.” Anakin speaks low and steady over the phone. “I need you to listen to me.”

“What? What’s wrong Ani?” Your response laced with worry.

“Deadbolt the doors, make sure the garage is padlocked okay?” He said sternly, so you immediately did as you were told, switching the call to speakerphone.

“Anakin what is going on?” You demanded.

“Sweet girl, your mom knows okay? She took the Camaro and left me here with divorce papers.” He said calmly.

“You’re fucking joking.” You gasped. “She stole your car? Well I’ll come get you!” You started to rush to the door when he sternly told you no.

“I called my brother, he’s coming to get me. Satine is doing us a big favor and drafting up some paperwork. The house, my car and your car are under my name anyway. Your mom can’t win any of that in court okay?” He reassured you.

“So then-“

“Baby, I told you I need you to listen alright?” He reminded you. “I’m not pressing charges over the car. She’s headed home to get hers I believe, or at least that’s the way she was headed last time I looked at Life360.”

“Keep the doors dead bolted understand?” His tone was oddly calm, as if your whole world hadn’t just crumbled.

“R-right okay.” You whispered.

“Hey- princess, don’t worry. Everything’s fine okay? We are fine.” His voice now gentler than before. “I promise, this divorce won’t be messy. It’s very clear cut okay?”

“But what about you An-“

“No. Nothing is happening to me.” He said. “Nothing. You’re over 18. Everything is fine, I swear it.”

“Okay.” You sighed. “Satine said so?”

“Yes baby. I already told them-“

“Shhh! Shh, mom just pulled in.” You whispered as if she could hear you from the driveway.

“Don’t you dare hang up.” He said sternly.

“I’m not!” You huffed, going to the window to peek from behind the curtain.

You watched as your mother chucked Anakin’s keys at the front door, flinching when you heard the impact. Your mom walked over to her own vehicle and opened the trunk, lifting a backpack out. The yellow glow of the porch light was just bright enough that you could make out the heap of bags in her trunk. She’d already packed her things.

“Oh shit.” You whispered and backed away from the window as she walked toward the front door.

“What?” Anakin demanded.

“She’s got a bunch of bags in the trunk of her car but she’s coming up the porch steps right now.” You squeaked.

The door handle rattled and you heard keys jangling, the twist of the lock, and the forceful push of the front door. Then came the rapid, loud knocking.

“Hey!” She yelled. “I know you’re home. I want to talk to you!”

“No. Don’t say anything.” Anakin warned. “Obi just pulled in, don’t talk to her. Not even through the door.”

Anakin could be heard shuffling and slamming his brothers car door, instructing him to get him home as quickly as possible.

Your mother kept knocking, even going so far as to rap on the window in hopes that you’d hear her out.

“Please just talk to me. I’m not- listen it’s not your fault!” She yelled. “You were just a teenager!”

“Baby- no.” Anakin sounded pained as he spoke.

“I know Ani.” You whispered back. “I know, okay? I’m not gonna talk to her. Not even if she says stupid shit like that. As much as it angers me, I know I’m better off staying quiet.”

“Good girl.” He sighed. “I’ll be home soon okay? Or actually-“

”Obi can we stop at the hardware store?”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care. Whichever is open!”

“Christ, alright.”

“I’m getting new locks before I come home.” Anakin declared.

“That’s probably a good idea.” You said quietly, alittle suspicious of the sudden silence from outside.

You crept back up to the window and saw your mother standing next to her car, sitting on the lip of the open trunk. Her hand flailing as she spoke animatedly over the phone. You could physically see her huff out loud just before she got up and slammed the trunk shut, angrily ending the phone call.

“Has everyone lost their fucking mind?” She yelled, pulling out her car keys and walking to the drivers side door to get in and speed away from the house.

“She left.” You breathed out.

“Good.” Anakin sounded relieved. “I’ll be home as soon as I can okay?”

”why don’t I just take you there? I’ll go get the new locks.”

“Are you sure? Well- if… okay! Okay fine, here at least let me give you some cash.”

“Can you hang up so I can yell at you now?”

“You already yelled at me!”

“I’m not done yet!”

“Well you’ll have to wait. Your wife is calling me.”

“Princess-“ he started.

“I know, I heard.” You let out a slight laugh.

“I love you, see you soon.”

“I love you.” You said, hanging up and immediately collapsing on the couch.

You had let all your emotions out or at least you thought you did, by the time Anakin arrived. You ran to the door with dry eyes but the moment you unlocked it and saw him you were drowning in salty tears. He scooped you up and kicked the door shut, sliding the deadbolt into the locked position before carrying you to the couch.

“Shh it’s okay.” He whispered, his lips kissing the top of your head while you clutched onto his shirt.

“What are we gonna do?” You sniffled.

“What we always planned on doing.” He said.

“Serious?” You asked, leaning back to see that he was letting a few tears fall too despite his calm speaking voice.

“Of course I’m serious.” He said, his eyebrows furrowed. “I love you. I’ve always been serious about that.”

“But we just-“

“Look at me.” He said sternly, wiping his cheek with his shoulder. “I love you. I have always loved you. I don’t care if we just got back together, that doesn’t matter to me. I’m just as serious about you as I was before, it didn’t just go away in our time apart.”

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away your tears. He took a grounding breath and kissed your forehead, the outer corner of each eye, and the tip of your nose.

“I would have left at anytime, you know that? Anytime. I just wanted you to be ready.” He said, a hint of something mournful in his eyes. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Six years later

A new state, a new town, a new house.

A new life.

The moment the divorce was finalized you sold your old home. Using that money to get the hell out of dodge and move to somewhere warm.

Arizona was warm, always warm. You’d never even visited before you chose to live there, neither had Anakin. You wanted somewhere completely fresh, a clean slate for you to write your own story on and gods did you have a good story.

You found a beautiful two bedroom home, absolutely perfect in every way. It was close enough to town but far enough away that you weren’t surrounded by traffic or neighbors. A nice front yard, an ever nicer fenced in back yard. The big floor to ceiling glass windows in the dining room really sold it for you, the natural lighting and the fucking view was outrageous.

There was even a fire pit in the backyard which you decided to christen on your first night there via much too many s’mores. Now it was in regular use, sometimes by just you and Anakin, he did love an evening under the stars. The sky was so clear, unlike any place you’d ever been before, it was almost surreal.

Though as of late it’s been seeing an influx of visitors.

Anakin had his very own garage now, a *six* bay garage at that. He was the local go-to for multiple reasons, the prices, the high quality work, and people love a family owned store. With him as the lead man and you at the front desk, the pair of you were practically unstoppable.

This also meant that Anakin was in control of his work life in a new way. He was able to separate home and work unlike before where it wasn’t ever guaranteed that you’d be left unbothered. No more waking up at the asscrack of dawn to the obnoxious noises of old, no more at-home phone calls, no more blocked driveway, no more late nights.

It meant that he was able to be present for important moments without the worry of distraction. It meant he could cry along with you today.

You both were able to reel it in and contain the tears until the last second. The twins were so unbelievably excited for their first day of school, you both agreed that sobbing the entire way to their classroom would definitely put a damper on their day. So you smiled and skipped down the hall as requested by Leia and Anakin performed Luke’s very long, very intricate, never the same secret handshake at the door.

You gave hugs and kisses and a final goodbye wave, then booked it back out to the car. You almost made it to the foyer before your sniffles turned into cries, when you looked at Anakin for comfort you saw he was already holding his breath in that ridiculously uncomfortable way that he did to stop himself from sobbing.

Thankfully you made it to your vehicle before he passed out from lack of oxygen. It would be a real shame for him to miss this afternoon’s celebratory cookout you were hosting due to a blacktop issued concussion. The other fathers from your first time parents group would be highly disappointed if you ended up in charge of the grill.

“I can’t believe we have 12 more years of this.” Anakin sniffled.

“Seriously? Did you seriously just say that to me right now?” You cried.

“Yeah I did. I just wanted to prepare you for our suffering for the next decade.” He gave you a crooked, tearful grin.

“You’re lucky that I love you.” You hiccuped out a laugh.

“Yes I am.”

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[cottondo]

Fizzarolli x fem!reader | BLACK LACE

chapter two ; ringtone

reminder; ur a simp (;

• • •

 

"Honey, it's a stretch. It takes a long time to get there, and of course, practice. Lots and lots of practice!"

•

•

You kick your feet softly off the edge of the stage. Your half eaten lunch sitting beside you, you'd been on a short break in the most comfortable place in the amusement park. Well, not really psychically comfortable, but at least you were alone.

"Are you loved, Y/N?"

Aside from the animatronics behind you.

You turn to see RoboFizz, his head craning to the side to stare at you. "I can only hope." You tease, taking a bite of the food you bought from one of the vendors outside.

"My show is in a couple hours. When the hell a-A-R-are you going to do my check up?" He asks.

You finish up the last bite of your food, and brush off the tops of your pants. As you stand, you kick the wrapper of your food to the floor below. You had to sweep before the show started anyway, so it didn't matter.

"Right now." You mumble, turning to grab the work box filled with equipment needed to tune up his voice box, and fix some of the wires that sparked in his neck. "Sit."

He turns his head slightly, a creeping smirk crawling up his face. "O-O-o-oh~ with pleasure, your highness." Fizz sits on the stage, and you kneel beside him with the small box in hands. Taking out the pliers, you situate his neck to lean to the side where you can get a good view of the wires bothering him.

"Anything hurt?" You ask. It seemed like a stupid question, but to him you guessed it made sense.

"What kind of a question is that?" He asks, eyes narrowed. Guess you were wrong about that one too.

You roll your eyes at him. "You know what I mean."

"No." He huffs. "I've got a stiff neck."

You shrug, and push his head down to view the area a bit better. "Damn. You're all sorts of fucked up." You mutter. It was just the truth, you meant well.

Honestly, you were a bit giddy to be even working on him, period. Your hands grazed his neck and back gently, running a finger over the corrupted wires that lead to the sparking. It was probably from overuse, and the fact that he was so old.

Loo Loo Land has been around for quite a bit now, and you'd embarrassingly admit that you've been a fan since you were a kid. Growing into your teenage years was when you really found out about Fizzarolli, and you wanted nothing more but to accompany him and his acts.

"A-A-a-w. So thoughtful." He says. You smirk at his tease, and pull on one of the wires. You had the soldering gun beside you, as well as the pliers in hand. You carefully pull on the wire in mind, and hold up the gun with your other hand.

"Don't move. This is gonna be a bit tricky." Your voice travels quietly. Fizz merely sits still, obliging your orders. Thankfully.

As you solder the two splitting wire ends together, Fizz jolts a little, causing you to burn your finger in the process of pulling away from him. "Shit!" you hiss out, shaking out your hand from the stinging.

"I told you not to move!" Brows scrunched, you listen to the way he starts laughing under his breath. "That's not funny."

"Only a L-I-I-T—little bit." He turns over his shoulder at you. With narrowed eyes, you pout a lip, looking down at your finger. It was bleeding just a bit, but obviously nothing that could stop you from working.

"Wanna try ag—a-g-a-again?" He asks.

"I thought you wanted me to try and fix you?" You frown, crossing your arms over the exposure of your waist. He tilts his head, almost innocently, and raises his hands. "I do, it was a glitch. Sorry doll face."

Your frown softened, and the fuzziness of his nickname carried into your stomach. Something about hearing his voice call you that made your knees feel weaker than rubber. You step closer and nod. "It's fine."

His smirk creeps back up again, and Fizz turns his back to you so that you can fix the remaining wires. You pick up the soldering gun again, and near his other wiring patches. "Ready?" You ask him.

"Just get this o-O-O-over with." Fizz rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Thought I'd be courteous." You say, dully.

With delicate hands, and a burning finger, you clasp the two other wires together, and hold up the gun. It heats them, melting together the wiring and plastic, until it combines as one again. You pull the gun away and smile softly, seeing the job was done. For those parts. There was still a ton left to do.

Fizz's neck tilts side to side, as if he were rolling it to release some tension. You raise a brow curiously. "How's it feel?"

You feel something nearing your ankle, and when you look down, you see a stretched, ribbed arm.

Suddenly, his hand wraps around your ankle and yanks you forward. With one swift movement before you could fall, Fizz stands, and reaches his arms out to catch you. "Fizz, what the f—"

He spins you once, as if dancing, and your head feels light. He brings you back into him, and holds you tightly in his arms.

"Much better~"

You flush up at him and try to loosen his arms' grip on you. It wasn't budging, and if you were being honest, you kind of liked it that way.

"Oh, good." Your smile is nervous, and he notices. His face grows closer to yours, smile intensifying. Your heart was pounding out of the ribs in your chest. If you were still alive, you'd most definitely be dead.

You wanted to inch closer to him, if that was even possible. Fizz wraps his arms tighter around your waist, squashing the ability for you to breathe.

—As if you really cared.

His mouth moves down an inch from yours, and green eyes glow bright onto your face as they flick from your lips, up to your eyes. "Thanks, sweetheart."

"Mhm," you hum through a closed lip smile.

And just as you tilt your head closer to his, Fizz drops you, and your figure stumbles to the floor of the stage.

What a dick.

He laughs mechanically, turning away and clutching his waist. The sounds of his bells were practically mocking your shame.

With narrowed eyes, and a quick movement, your foot bucks out and kicks his leg from behind. It would probably cause a problem for you to have to fix in the future, but right now, you didn't care.

Fizz turns to you with a few sounding glitches. "O-o-oooh~ someone's salty!"

"Fuck you." You hiss out. With a quick turn to your knees, you get up and brush yourself off from the dust of the floor. Fizz smirks, leaning forward with crossed arms. "You wish~"

"Wooow," you drawl out, "you're such an asshole."

Maybe it hurt deep down a little, that he didn't really seem all that interested in you. After all, he was just a robot, but programmed or not though, he was the closest thing you had to the real one.

"I thought you liked assholes?" He smirks down at you. You eye him a little before bending over to pick up the tool box. "Yeah, the ones that at least pretend to like me back." You tease.

"Pretending is just acting. The real Fizzarolli would be good at that." He cracks up in more laughter, and you pout over at him.

"Whatever." You trail off the stage, tool box in hands. Vibrating in your back pocket, you hear your phones ringtone playing. You pull your phone out and see that it's a random number calling you.

To answer it or not to? Hell was known for scam callers, but something told you to pick it up anyway. Giving in, you answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this . . y/n?"

Your eyes widen at the sound of the voice on the other line. It sounded oddly . . familiar.

"Yeaaah? Who's this?"

  A sigh stirs up on the phone, and you pause, eyes glancing around the room briefly until they answer. "This is Fizzarolli calling from Ozzie's. It's about your application." He sounded like . . he didn't want to be talking to you.

Your heart drops, and suddenly, you're nauseous with a hot flash. Fizzarolli was on the phone. You are talking to Fizz! The real fizz! On the phone!

"Oh!" You wave a hand in front of your face and stumble over to the bleachers to set the tool box down. "Yeah?" A few clanks and clutters are heard from your end of the phone, and you were sure that he was cringing at the sounds.

"Yeah! So, listen. We don't have much of a choice, but Ozzie actually just got injured during his last show, and I need someone for a quick gig tonight. My ass is riding on this one, and I can't cancel the show." He grunted into the phone. You hang on to every word like it was his last. "It's a little short notice, but you were our last resort, so—"

There was no hesitation. Overly excited, eyes wide, you make a fist and nod your head if he could see you. It was a good thing he couldn't. "—Yes!"

His suppressed chortle made your face flush with embarrassment. "I-I mean, yeah, tonight can work. What time?" You twirl a lock of hair around your finger before looking up and catching the head tilt of his robotic replica on the stage watching you.

"Get here around seven so we can go over everything. The show starts at nine. Got it?"

"Yup." You smile harder. Walking around in small circles as you talked was helping the anxiety breaking through your voice. "Should I bring anything?"

"We can find something for you to wear later on. Just bring yourself."

"Sounds good!" It was getting harder for you to contain your excitement. "I'll see you then." Your lip curls into a soft smirk.

"Thanks allot. See ya."

You made sure the call ended before letting out a lots squeal. RoboFizz cringes as you flail yourself around. It was amazing! There was no way that this night could have gotten any better- - you'd be working with the REAL Fizzarolli! Not some old, glitched out animatronic.

"What the hell is your problem?" He asks, eyes narrowed.

You grin, tossing the rest of your things to the side. "That was Fizzarolli! He asked me to work a gig with him tonight!" You couldn't even believe those words came out of your mouth. How was that even possible?!

"What?" His eyes widen down at you. With a soft giggle, you skip over to the exit of the circus tent. You'd have to get home early if you wanted to look good. "I told you that I'd make it! I fucking knew it!"

Just wait until your mother hears about this. You wouldn't be just a loo loo land worker anymore. Even if it was just one gig- - you were destined to show off what skills you had, and make it worth their while. You know that you were going to impress Fizz tonight. You just had to.

"Wait, he actually called you?" He asks. You laugh, grinning hard. "Is it really that hard to believe?" You smile from the doorway at him. The uncertainty was there, and robotic or not, his face showed it.

"You're lying." He states, face anything but amused.

You wave, and dip out of the doorway, making your way out into the park. This was really happening.

[scary-lasagna]

SlenderDaughters Part III

they're really taking this whole 'manifest yourself into a new reality' thing too seriously

Part II: https://www.tumblr.com/scary-lasagna/737154582257532928/for-my-request-i-would-like-a-part-two-to-the?source=share

The house overcame with an unsettling quiet, everyone being so afraid to even speak above a whisper that night.

The girls all slept in one room, and couldn't even enjoy the activities they had planned due to the stress that weighed on all of them. Maeve never even left her bed once she lay down as soon as she entered the room. Four bunkbeds was a stupid idea for late teenagers, anyway.

"Do we wanna talk about the elephant in the room or....." Azalea spoke up, the first time someone mentioned something above a whisper, which even startled Isa, who finally decided the pain wasn't worth those ugly shoes and tossed them out the window earlier in the night.

"Nothing to talk about." Maeve was pouting as she lay on her side, face facing the wall, and arms crossed tightly against her diaphragm.

"Sounded like you were hella pissed though, so what's about that?" She asked, lolling her head to one side.

"Just people being bad parents." Maeve sighed, and rolled over on her back.

"You don't have to take it out on us, though." Isa pointed out, crossing her legs which such poor posture it made Sol's poised back hurt just looking at her.

After a beat of thought, Maeve sighed deeply and rolled onto her back, staring at the intricate pencil marks on the bottom of the bunk above her. "You're right...I'm sorry." She admitted, but still refusing the courage to look at any of them. "I just- I just feel like shit for what I said. All he's done for me...and this happens." Her hands attempted to speak what her voice couldn't, but gave up and dropped onto her stomach.

"People can be good and still do bad things, Mae." Sol soothed, and crawled over to Maeve's bed, sitting beside it. "My dad eats my saved food at night and then lies about it in the morning."

"My dad made me watch R-rated horror movies when I was a kid." Azalea piped up, remembering the vision of Pinhead that still haunts her nightmares.

"My dad keeps judging me no matter how I dress." Isa didn't even remember what her stupid shoes looked like. They were out int he garden now, anyway, so it didn't matter.

"What if they raised us while their beloveds were still alive? What do you think would be different?"

"Maybe a little bit less dramatic, but all around, the same." Sol predicts with a light laugh. "They're still the same people, but they have more experience since then and still can't admit whenever they're wrong."

"HOLY SHIT!" Azalea suddenly boasted, standing up with her arms spread.

"Have you found Jesus yet?"

"BETTER!" She announced with a side, shark-toothed grin similar to her fathers. "Listen closely," She raised an important finger with a sly grin, "We take the box, and we enter the reality of memories for ourselves to see what they were like back then!"

"Aza, that's the most stupidest idea you've ever had, you know that?" Maeve said directly to her, with extreme disdain, before resuming her plan of avoiding all direct gazes to her cousins.

"Oh, Maeve, but aren't you curious?" Sol bounced closer, peering form over the edge of the mattress. "What were they like when they were younger? Maybe we'll even see our mother's back then, too. Because they contracted Sickness."

The tease of seeing her own mother again twinged at Maeve's heart strings, pulling with great triumph down into her stomach where the rest of her nerves lie.

"You're the only one the knows how it works, Maeve. So it's up to you one way or another." Isa put her hands up with passive defense, but her quick look up to see Maeve's reaction is what caught her peeking in interest.

"We'll just have to find a way into the office, is all." Aza pondered, leaning back on her palms. "You'll know how to do that, right, Maeve?"

Maeve still lay silent, and pondered the thought of seeing of what could have been, had they all been born just a bit earlier. What would have become of them? And more importantly, would Slender love her differently.

Would they even be able to get into the magically protected office? And if they could, what would they do if her father was still in there, writing papers for work?

Maeve sat up in her bed for the first time in the night, and the three girls were on the edge of their seats for a response, eagerly studying her body for any giveaways.

But the oldest showed nothing, but solemnly sighed, "I need a lockpick, a distraction, and piece of spellbook paper."

[lennjamin-o7]

To Be Truly Free

Chapter 2

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As far as punishments go, Technoblade recognized that it could have been worse.

There was that time when he was twelve that he smuggled food from the kitchen. He had accidentally injured another kid during a particularly rough training session. Per the rules, if you couldn’t walk yourself to the Mess Hall, you didn’t eat. Technoblade thought that the rule was stupid, and decided to sneak the kid some food.

The kid refused and turned him in. Being banned from the Mess Hall for a week was brutal, especially when you were running miles everyday.

Or there was the time when he was nine. A priest’s hem had torn on a bush. The priest hadn’t noticed, hadn’t even cared, but a small shred of gold and crimson fabric was left behind. Technoblade had snatched it, hidden it in his pocket. He pulled it out where no one could see, enjoying how the light caught on the gold and how soft the fabric felt against his fingertips.

He was punished for stealing. They beat his wrists and hands with a thin rod until every inch of skin was covered in blood. It didn’t excuse him from training, though. Holding a sword with flayed fingers was not the easiest thing he had ever done. 

And then there was the time he ran away-

A blistering hot room. Screams torn from his throat. A whispered promise of retribution in his ear.

You’re not there .

Technoblade took a slow shaky breath. He wasn’t there anymore. That was in the past. Thinking about it would not help. He had to stay focused on the here and now. Even if the here and now was mildly uncomfortable.

The cold air plumed in front of his face, the sky finally lightening once again. His disheveled hair dripped as it continued to drizzle, not nearly as bad as the maelstrom that seemed to pop out of nowhere yesterday. Technoblade tried to shift. His shoulders were certainly not happy with being pinned in the same position above his head all night. His bruised ribs complained anytime he moved. 

He leaned back against the post, trying to lessen the weight pulling on his shoulders. Yeah, still not the worst punishment. Tied to the post all day and night? Not a big deal. No food or water? Eh, he didn’t need them anyway. Besides, he had perfectly good rain. One of the guards beating him with a wooden cane twenty-five times? Nothing. It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s just built different. This doesn’t phase him. Nope. Not at all.

Technoblade shivered. It was cold.

Yeah, this punishment was just as petty and unnecessary as the rest. Technoblade did not see how he had ‘tarnished the image of the Church’, as Priest Jereth said. Dear old Jerry just had a vested interest in making sure Technoblade was as beaten down and broken as possible. So, of course, Technoblade was punished for guiding a teenager through the city. Because that is just the height of blasphemy against the Blood God. Associating with some random blonde kid would be the end of all the Blood God’s well laid plans. The very downfall of Scywar. Ridiculous.

Technoblade didn’t regret helping Tommy. Even knowing that helping the kid would lead him here, he would still probably do it again. Technoblade wasn’t big on regret in the first place and Tommy had been interesting. It had been…nice. Fun, maybe? He didn’t have much experience with fun, so he wasn’t sure what to compare it to. The short conversation had run through his head multiple times during the cold and wet night.

He should have asked where Tommy was from. It definitely wasn’t Scywar, unless he lived under a rock in the countryside. Tommy might have answered some of his questions, the ones that he couldn’t find in the books he ‘borrowed’ from the priests’ library. The books cleverly hidden in the cell the priests loved to throw him in, a carved out crevice in a cold stone wall. Then again, the kid didn’t give him the impression that he would know many of the more technical answers. Technoblade snorted as he recalled the kid’s reaction to his ‘nerd shit’. Still. It really had been a wasted opportunity. To pass the time, he made a mental list of the things he would ask if he ever met someone else from another country. He wished he had a journal or something to write them down in.

Technoblade lifted his head when he noticed movement. He peeked through the wet hair stuck to his face. Priests and their younger disciples were making their way slowly across the grounds to the barracks, umbrellas held over their heads. Maybe Technoblade should be more grateful that he wasn’t in the barracks. He did get to avoid the annoying wake-up call of those irritating gongs-

A loud click and suddenly Technoblade was falling, arms no longer pinned. His feet slid out from under him, finding no purchase on the wet marble to hold his weight. He groaned as he slammed against the ground, the fall sending a wave of fresh pain to his ribs. He curled up on his side for a moment as crimson robes filled his vision. 

Priest Jereth stared down at him, a disciple holding an umbrella over his head. The priest scowled at Technoblade. That could either be a good thing or a bad thing. He had once made the priest mad when he called him Priest Jerry outloud, and his face had turned a similar color puce. Technoblade stands by that choice, no matter the scars he earned from the punishment.

“You’ve been summoned,” The priest said through clenched teeth.

“Summoned?” Technoblade croaked, voice cracking from disuse. He coughed, causing the priest to scowl harder. “By who?”

“By the King,” Priest Jereth spat. “Come. We have to get you looking more presentable .”

A guard jerked him to his feet and Technoblade nearly collapsed again. His legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate and the guard was nearly dragging him across the Church Grounds. Technoblade gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to work with sheer willpower so he could push away from the guard’s grip. Once he was able to walk, Priest Jereth’s words caught up to him.

Summoned by the King? No, no, no. Technoblade was not good in social situations and now he would have to try to not offend a King? The King? King Dante, The Bloody? Was this more of his punishment? He could almost hear the universe laughing at his plight. A chorus of cackles and mocking nonsense, entertained by his misfortune. He wanted to ask for more details as the guards and priest pushed him into the showers, steadily ignoring his questions. Frustrated, Technoblade quickly washed, making sure that no blood was congealed in his hair. He winced when he glanced at the massive purple bruises mottled along his side and arms, touching them gently before braiding his hair with well-practiced ease. He slid in the slightly fancier (but still completely white) clothes that Priest Jereth had given him. More of the Church’s people had gathered while he changed and Priest Jereth motioned to a disciple to cover Technoblade with an umbrella as they stepped back into the rain. As if Technoblade’s already wet hair wasn’t dripping into the white fabric.

There were many buildings across the Church’s Cloister, a part of the city walled off from the secular masses except for specific feast days. It was more like the size of a town, hidden away from the rest of the city’s people. Most of the structures were crumbling barracks assigned to the Blessed Ones who were ‘stationed’ in the capital. In the center of these barracks was where public punishments were held, where Technoblade had spent his pleasant night. The nicer buildings held purpose only for the Priests, or the devoted guards that volunteered their services to the Church. Of course, there was the massive cathedral in the very center of the cloister, a work of art. The stained glass windows sparkled, diamonds and rubies lining the polished white marble walls. Fine engravings and gilded reliefs lined every inch of the exterior. The tall steeple was carved into the likeness of a thick spear, hurtling to plunge its point even into the heart of the sky.

He was roughly dragged to the large wooden gates that separated the Church from the rest of the city. Many of the Church’s people loitered around the entrance but Technoblade didn’t have a chance to make sense of the crowd before one of the guards shoved him into a windowless carriage. The door nearly hit him as it was slammed shut.

“About time,” A voice grumbled and Technoblade glanced up. He wasn’t alone. Five other people were shoved in the carriage, all dressed in white, all staring at him. “Technolate, as usual”

He didn’t respond to Hallowlance’s comment, sitting in the only available space before the carriage began to move. It was astounding how much the man looked and sounded like his brother. The same red hair and pale eyes. It was almost like there were two Jerrys. And even though Technoblade would never be allowed to punch Priest Jereth in his smug face, he had taken great pleasure over the years in breaking Hallowlance’s nose repeatedly. It was cathartic. Self-care.

“Any idea what this is about?” Technoblade asked while he fiddled with the metal bracelet around his wrist. His fingers searched for any sign of clasp or weakness in the cold, slightly glowing iron. 

“Not a clue,” Ashenpike replied, not even glancing at Technoblade.

Technoblade hummed in response, leaning against the carriage wall.

Locked in the windowless carriage, Technoblade was unable to see the entire spectacle of people that arrived at the front of the Palace. Gold inlaid dark oak carriages carried dozens of priests, even more disciples. Townspeople jumped out of the way of the brown clad guards that surrounded the procession. Technoblade stayed quiet as the other Blessed Ones in the carriage talked. They did nothing to pull him into their conversation, and he had more important things to worry about than making small talk with people who despised him. Nothing could be done about the hunger that had begun to claw at his stomach, so he focused on what he could do. He tried to roll his shoulders enough that they would stop aching. His back was stiff, and his legs felt a little more durable than gelatin. Technoblade did every little trick he could think of to relax the muscles, ignoring the glares he received from the other five. He stifled a cough, his throat feeling slightly raw. Oh, he was not going to get sick. Nope. That was not something that was going to happen. 

“Do you think it's about the prophecy?” That caught Technoblade attention, but he maintained his uninterested facade.

“They did always imply it was only one of the Blessed that the prophecy referred to,” that would be Subtleknife’s voice.

“Do-do you think they know?” 

“It’s been twenty years,” Hallowlance scoffed. “It should be obvious who it is at this point.”

“Go fuck yourself, Hallowlance. I kicked your ass just last week.”

“Except we know it’s not just about power,” Hallowlance interrupts. Technoblade pretends not to notice the glare thrown his way. “Because we know who the prophecy isn’t about.”

And that was the one thing on which Hallowlance and Technoblade agreed.

When the carriage stopped, The Blessed Ones were ushered quickly inside with the Church’s entourage. Technoblade hung back to let the other Blessed go first, Hallowlance’s self-confident strut had him rolling his eyes. The guards stayed with the carriages, not allowed inside King Dante’s palace. 

King Dante’s Palace. Right. Technoblade swallowed hard as the large golden doors that led to the throne room slowly opened. 

The priests entered first, guiding the Blessed One with subtle gestures. None of the Blessed had experience in front of the King, but the meanings of these signals had been beaten into them since they were small. Technoblade knelt with his peers, not looking up at the throne  only a few feet in front of him. He stared into the plush carpet on the floor. He had expected to see the room packed with the nobility or the constant bows of stewards and servants. 

But the room was silent.

“Welcome,” A voice boomed, which seemed unnecessary because they were already so close. Priest Jereth’s robes were basically touching Technoblade, an unspoken reminder for him to behave. “to the Blood God’s faithful servants. And, a momentous welcome to those chosen to be His Blessed Ones, His swords and shields. I do apologize for calling upon you with such short notice, High Priest Jericho, but I assure you that it is of the utmost importance.”

“I understand, Your Highness,” Technoblade flinched at the nasally voice, soft footsteps echoed as a person approached the throne. “Service to the Blood God means service to one’s King.”

Technoblade felt as if the air had been knocked out of him, and it was only his years of feigned nonchalance that prevented him from visibly panicking. He was hyper aware of that voice, the voice of the High Priest.

A voice he had only truly encountered once before. A voice that bound him. A voice that haunted him.

“However, I would like to know what prompted your summons. You have never asked us to bring any of the Blessed from the cloister before. It is quite risky, as they may be corrupted by the world if not kept safe under the Blood God’s watchful eye,” The High Priest continued.

“Your concern is understandable, High Priest, but you have no reason to worry. The Blood God revealed to me that this would be the best for all,” The voice- King Dante responded. “Raise your heads, those Chosen by the Blood God.”

Technoblade wasn’t the only one who hesitated, before they all stood and looked up at the throne. Technoblade met the eyes of the King for the first time.

Technoblade wasn’t sure what he expected a King to look like, especially not one with the reputation of King Dante. A King that took what he wanted, by threat of blood. A reputation that suited one that claimed to be a direct connection to a god of slaughter and battle. So seeing a slight man, clad in soft silks and furs was not something Technoblade could say he expected. Brown hair with a long well kept beard, gold braided throughout. He sat comfortably in his throne, grinning down at those who stood before him. He inspected them with undisguised greed, eyes flickering between each of the Blessed. 

Technoblade’s eyes drifted up to the crown on the King’s brow. It was beautiful, true. It was gold with interspersed gems. But its well polished shine could not hide the plethora of dents and scratches in the metal, the harshness of time wearing on a crown meant for a warrior king. Battle leaves its scars, even on the inanimate. But that wasn’t what drew his eye. Something about the crown seemed… more. Something barely contained in the ancient metal and magic. Something powerful, angry, deadly. Inhuman. Divine.

Technoblade also noticed that the King was not alone on his dias. Two men stood on his left and right. He resisted a shudder as he glanced at the High Priest settling on the King’s right side. The elderly priest’s neat white hair stood out starkly against the crimson hood, the intricate golden embroidery separating the man from any common priest. Technoblade glanced away as the High Priest’s gaze shifted to him.

He focused on the third man standing on the dias. He looked younger than both the King and High Priest. Not much older than Technoblade himself. Chocolate brown curls accentuated eyes of the same hue. Round glasses rested on the end of his nose. The unknown man was dressed much more simply than the King or High Priest. Technoblade could see that the clothes were wellmade, but not in a style that was common for Scywar. Scywar favored cloaks and capes for the colder months, but the man was wearing a well tailored brown coat. Yet, even without a lavish appearance, the man didn’t seem out of place. As if neither finery nor wealth could compare to the presence he held, even as he stood silently with a lazy grin. He met Technoblade’s gaze, quirking an eyebrow as his grin widened.

“I have heard that the seeds of doubt that have taken root among the nobility,” The King tapped his fingers on his throne. “Some have so little faith in our God that they try to impede His work. They continue to try and stop any legislation that would aid us in protecting the country from the vampiric plague to the north. They are too focused on lining their own pockets rather than doing what is good for the country. I had been tempted to just kill the main dissenters and reclaim their wealth for the crown.”

“But then, Sir Wil here swayed me,” The King gestured to the brunette, who shifted his smile to the King. “He raised a valid point. All these years, none outside of the Priests have seen the fruits of their labor. All the effort into building an army, and not even I know everything that takes place behind the cloister walls. ”

“So, High Priest Jericho, I asked you to bring the best of your Blessed to snuff out any doubts. To show me what all of my hard work has created,” The King turned to the High Priest, who was frowning at the King’s word. 

“...this is rather unorthodox, Your Highness, and so sudden. If I could have a moment of your time I could expl-”

“Orthodox should only be applied to those without a direct connection to the Blood God, don’t you think?” Sir Wil tilted his head. Technoblade’s eyes locked on the man. His voice seemed to reverberate through the air, laced with milk and honey. 

“The state of the Blessed Ones is privileged knowledge-” The High Priest argued.

“And the King isn’t privileged to that knowledge?” Sir Wil raised his eyebrows in shock.

“The King is always informed about anything to do with the Blessed Ones-”

“Then there should be no surprises in this meeting, only confirmation of his information. Unless you think you are more knowledgeable about what best serves the Blood God-”

“I have been King Dante’s closest advisor for years! He trusts my judgment. You, who have been here barely a week-”

“Enough,” The King raised his hand, silencing the argument. “I will not have my two wisest advisors arguing over this. My decision is final.”

High Priest Jericho gaped for only a moment, before composing himself.

“What did you have in mind, My King?” The High Priest asked cooly.

“It would be good to talk to them, get an idea of their character-” Sir Wil’s voice was silky and warm.

“I did not ask you, Sir Wil,” The High Priest snapped, which only seemed to amuse Sir Wil further.

“High Priest Jericho,” The King leveled the man a look. The High Priest shut his mouth with a click. “I would very much like to speak to those that you have brought. Who knows? The one of prophecy may even be standing among them.”

The King’s eyes surveyed the Blessed Ones.

“We may even be able to find them today,” The King stroked his beard in thought, a sly grin spreading across his face. He stood quickly. “Come, tell me about the ones you have brought.”

The King strode forward, Sir Wil strolled just behind him as the High Priest glared behind the King’s back. The King was much shorter than both the High Priest and Sir Wil. Sir Wil glanced over the King’s crown at Technoblade, before pointedly walking to the other end of the line of white clad people. Hallowlance stood up straighter, basking in the gaze of the King.

“Tell me your name, Blessed One,” King Dante said. Hallowlance quickly glanced at the High Priest before answering. A subtle nod was all the confirmation he needed.

“They call me Hallowlance, your Highness,” He then dipped into a smooth bow. “It is an honor to serve.”

“Hallowlance,” King Dante weighed the words, “Ah, yes. I have heard of you. High Priest Jericho has spoken nothing but praise. Skillful and pious.”

“I come from a long line of Priests, your Highness. It has always been my family’s goal to serve you and the Blood God with our entire being,” Hallowlance smiled brightly and the King nodded in approval. The High Priest ceased glaring at Sir Wil for a moment to grace Hallowlance a smile.

“Oh? What kind of skills do you have?” Sir Wil stalked around Hallowlance. Hallowlance flinched as the man walked out of his sight. But he did not turn to look at him. 

“Hallowlance is well-learned, knowing all of the Sacred Texts by heart-” The High Priest started.

“Yes, but will words help defeat the vampires? If so, maybe I should draft a strongly worded letter-”

“Enough, Sir Wil,” King Dante cut in. Sir Wil merely hummed at being chastised. “Even if you are not from Scywar and do not know all of our customs, I cannot allow you to take the sacred texts lightly.”

“Apologies, your Highness,” the man did not sound repentant at all, yet Technoblade couldn’t help but believe him. “I merely meant that it should go without saying that all of these ‘Blessed Ones’ would be pious. That’s why the Church keeps them so separate, no? But what actual skills for battle do they show? How would they defend against the Sleeping Empire? What threat do they pose to the vampires?”

The King nodded, eyes unfocused as he pondered.

“I understand. Indulge Sir Wil, then, High Priest Jericho. What militant skills set Hallowlance apart?” The King turned to the High Priest, who looked put out.

“Hallowlance is one of our most accomplished with sword and shield, though he is almost unmatched on any weapon. The exceptions standing here as well,” High Priest Jericho gesturing to the five others. “He also excels as a leader, and has truly devoted himself to the cause.”

King Dante nodded in thought as Sir Wil walked all the way around Hallowlance. Hallowlance glanced at the man warily, eyes flicking away when he caught his eye. Sir Wil hummed thoughtfully.

“You said ‘one of our most accomplished’?” The High Priest had a sour look on his face when Sir Wil spoke. Hallowlance tensed at his question. “Not the most accomplished. Who is the most accomplished, then?”

The High Priest merely glared for a moment, but composed himself with a look from the King.

“That would be Technoblade, Sir Wil,” came the High Priest’s stilted answer. Sir Wil seemed delighted at the answer.

“I see,” The brunette walked away, not even glancing at Hallowlance. He walked to the next one down the line. “Who is this?”

“This is Ashenpike, a natural tactician. Her aim is almost unmatched with all projectile weapons. She-”

“Almost? So there is someone better?” Sir Wil seemed to be enjoying himself. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. Once more he circled, much to Ashenpike’s obvious discomfort.

“Yes,” the High Priest gritted his teeth. “There is one other whose aim is better.”

“Oh?” Sir Wil tilted his head, brown curls briefly falling over his eyes. “Who?”

“...Technoblade has the highest accuracy, as of now.”

“I see,” Sir Wil stood right in front of Ashenpike, his height dwarfing the woman. She glanced away, not meeting his eyes. “Anyway…”

Sir Wil skipped to the next person. The King followed behind, eyes still hazy as Sir Wil and the High Priest talked.

An obvious pattern occurred.

“Who is this?”

“This is Clovenscythe. They are extremely skilled with polearms of all types-”

“Are they the best? Who is the best with polearms?”

“...Technoblade.”

“I see, I see. And this one?”

“Subtleknife is very skilled with staff weapons, especially a quarter staff. She-”

“-is the best at it? No one can beat her?”

“She is extremely skillful! The only person who can consistently beat her is-”

“Technoblade, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, but-”

“What about this one? What are they the best at?”

“Toxicmace is exceptional at close range hand-to-hand combat as well as stealth and reconnaissance. The only person who can outmatch him is-”

“Let me guess,” Sir Wil snorted. The High Priest was shaking, his face nearly as red as his robes. Sir Wil barely spared a glance at Toxicmace, who stared at the ground, red-faced and fists clenched. 

Technoblade watched the trio approach with trepidation. Part of him was entranced by Sir Wil’s disposition, the calm way he seemed to goad the High Priest with every word he spoke. How he seemed completely unbothered by any power the High Priest could hold, which was a significant amount in Scywar. Seeing the High Priest blushing with embarrassment was a treat. However, the other part of Technoblade was wary of how the High Priest was becoming more and more angry as Sir Wil spoke.

Technoblade had spent a large portion of the last three years trying to not make the High Priest angry. Seeing him in such a state was nerve wracking. 

“And this is?” Sir Wil was right in front of Technoblade. Technoblade found himself analyzing the man. It was very rare for someone to be taller than him, even if only by an inch or two. The brunette grinned when Technoblade met his eye. Technoblade didn’t want to look away.

“Technoblade,” The High Priest huffed. Technoblade ripped his eyes away from Sir Wil to look at the High Priest. The older man looked at him with narrowed eyes, a warning evident in the glare. Technoblade looked away, staring at the ground. 

“Hello, Technoblade. I’ve heard so much about you,” Sir Wil half-sung. The sound of his voice sent a not completely unpleasant tingling down his spine. 

“Hullo,” Technoblade said back, still not meeting his eye. Sir Wil chuckled.

“You have quite the reputation, it seems.” Sir Wil glanced back at the other Blessed Ones. Technoblade felt his face get hot at the admiration in Sir Wil’s voice, only nodding in response.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sir Wil. Technoblade’s talents in battle are unmatched, it's true. But he has one incredible flaw,” The High Priest warned..

“Oh? Is it a penchant for walking in the rain? His hair is soaked. But it’s a chilly day and I’ve heard that can make you sick-”

“Loyalty,” Technoblade tensed as the High Priest stepped closer. “Technoblade’s flaw is a lack of loyalty and a lack of devotion. Something I don’t expect someone from L’Manburg to comprehend. You dismissed the virtue of piety, and those who exemplify it. But piety is something so hard to teach. And some wayward Children need a firmer hand to keep them on the path.”

Technoblade shuddered as a finger lifted his chin, brushing against the scratches from yesterday. The High Priest met his eye, his glare making Technoblade stiffen.

“Is that not right, Technoblade?” 

“...yes, your Holiness,” Technoblade muttered.

“Ah, so this is the one,” King Dante stepped closer, the hazy distracted look vanishing. Now all three men were way too close for Technoblade’s comfort. The King stared at Technoblade’s face, avarice apparent in his eyes.

“Yes, your Highness,” The High Priest released Technoblade’s chin.

“Oh?” Sir Wil raised an eyebrow.

“It isn’t something that concerns you, Sir Wil,” The High Priest sneered.

“I think it is up to the King whether or not it concerns me,” Sir Wil said sweetly, turning to the King. “Your Highness?”

The King looked between Sir Wil and High Priest Jericho. Technoblade glanced up to see the King staring into nothing, before blinking hard.

“We will discuss it in private at a later time,” The King said. Sir Wil pouted before glancing at Technoblade.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Sir Wil said, clapping his hands together. “Well, I am so happy I get to thank you in person, Technoblade. My brother will not stop talking about you, and how you helped him find his way through the city.”

“What’s this?” King Dante raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed one of the priests would have told you, Your Highness. Since ‘the King is always informed about anything to do with the Blessed Ones’, correct?” Sir Wil’s eyes widened, he placed a hand over his heart. “My poor brother was coming to meet me and got completely lost. He was absolutely distraught, no one to guide him to where he needed to be. I didn’t even know he was coming, so I couldn’t go out to meet him. Technoblade guided my brother through the city before returning to the Church. My brother has done nothing but go on and on about Technoblade for the last day. Honestly, I’m quite relieved to know my brother was in such good hands.”

Sir Wil stepped closer to Technoblade, nearly touching. Why was he getting so close? Technoblade met his eye with slight apprehension. Sir Wil smiled warmly.

“Maybe I don’t know a ton about loyalty,” Sir Wil chuckled. “But I do know the importance of family. So, you have my thanks.”

“Y-you’re welcome?” Technoblade was shocked into answering. He glanced at the High Priest, who looked on impassively. The King seemed…absent from the conversation.

“And you have my thanks as well, High Priest Jericho. Any achievement of Technoblade is obviously a reflection of you,” Sir Wil briefly gave the High Priest a dazzling smile. The High Priest wrinkled his brow in confusion, but Sir Wil had already turned back to Technoblade. “But tell me, what did you think of my brother? I’d like to know.”

An odd sensation washed over Technoblade. He felt warm, the aches and pains that had bothered him seemed less important. He felt content as he stared into Sir Wil’s eyes. The honeyed voice reverberated in his head as he thought of the best way to describe Tommy, not concerned with anything except answering truthfully.

“He’s like a thunderstorm,” Technoblade settled on. Sir Wil tilted his head, eyes glittering.

“Oh? How so?”

“Loud,” Sir Wil barked a laugh,” But…not unpleasant to listen to.”

“I agree,” Sir Wil’s eyes softened, taking a step away from Technoblade. “A thunderstorm is an excellent way to describe him.”

Technoblade and Sir Wil stared at each other, Sir Wil smiling warmly. The look was so genuine that Technoblade found himself returning a small smile of his own, before catching himself. With a glance at the High Priest, he fixed his eyes on the floor. Something flickered in Sir Wil’s eyes, a sort of excitement. 

“Well, I think it's obvious who the big, very important prophecy is about,” Sir Wil strolled back to the side of the King. The High Priest bristled and he wasn’t the only one. Priests that had stayed silent the entire exchange scoffed, muttering among themselves at the blasphemy of the man.

“While I trust your advice, Sir Wil, as your information concerning the actions of the Sleeping Empire have been extremely accurate, you don’t have the knowledge necessary to anticipate the Blood God’s choice,” King Dante frowned, but Sir Wil did not seem deterred.

“Would you at least like to hear my opinion? It may be meaningless, but I think it would confirm what everyone already knows,” Sir Wil’s honey silk words stilled the King, who frowned deeper, gazing in the distance before sighing.

“Fine, tell me who your pick would be, Sir Wil.”

“Your Highness!” The King stopped the High Priest with a wave of his hand. Sir Wil smiled sweetly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sir Wil sang. No one dared breathe, attention firmly on him. “Your child of prophecy must be Hallowlance.”

Previous | Next

[foolondahill17]

Cesar is a good-looking guy – both he and Jesse are – but Cesar has the thick dark hair, crow’s feet, piercing eyes thing Dean usually goes for. Something about him feels rough like Benny. Strong.

If it was fifteen years ago, Dean would have flirted with him. Don’t eat where you shit is a common adage, and, as a rule of thumb, Dean stayed clear of hunters in case word ever got back to Dad. But Dean can’t say he’s always been good at following rules. That’s how he and Lee started hooking up. He had a raging crush on Dad’s old army pall, Deacon, for the month he spent with him when he was a teenager. He even tried kissing Caleb once when he was very drunk and very lonely, but Caleb put a stop to that real quick.

I’m twice your age, kid, he’d growled, even though Dean had been holding his own on hunts since he was seventeen. But Caleb never told Dad, so he was a decent guy in more ways than one.

Except Dean strangely has no desire to flirt with Cesar, now. It’s not just the idea that the other man might reject his advances – or worse. But it’s also that Cas is working this case with them, and Dean doesn’t really want to hook up with someone with Cas literally in the room next door.

"So, how'd you and Jesse start hunting together, anyway?" Dean makes conversation, winding Baby through the backroads, tires crunching against old snow and slush.

Cesar huffs a laugh as if recalling an amusing memory, "Chupacabra. Wasn't pretty."

Dean laughs, too. "Nasty suckers. My dad, brother, and I went after one back in '95. Hell of a thing. Picking chicken feathers out of my hair for weeks afterward."

Dean feels Cesar's eyes heavy on him from the passenger seat. "You were young, then, when you got into this?"

"It was a...family business of a kind," Dean shrugs. "My dad taught me and my brother everything we knew."

"Jesse was young, too," Cesar replies, voice somber. "Me - I was already an adult, and I grew up in a household already well-acquainted with the supernatural world. But to be introduced to it as a child, I can't imagine."

"Never really knew much else," Dean says, trying to keep his voice casual. Talking about his childhood with strangers isn't exactly his idea of a good time.

“Your brother and father, are they…?”

Dean’s all-too aware what Cesar is asking.

“Dad died on the job…Jesus, ten years ago, now. My brother’s still in the game. Doesn’t, well, doesn’t take as many cases anymore. It’s complicated.”

“He doesn’t mind that you found a new partner?” Cesar asks with a swift smile.

Dean matches his smile. He likes talking about Cas. “Nah. I trust Cas with my life. Sam does, too.” Dean’d like to talk about Cas more, but he finds himself weirdly bashful. He switches gears, “You and Jesse always hunt together, then?”

Cesar laughs like Dean’s missing out on some joke, “It’d be difficult for us if we didn’t. We’re married.” He pulls a ring out from a chain around his neck. "Too risky in this line of business to wear them. Don't know if you've ever seen a degloved finger?" He shudders.

“What – oh,” Dean stammers. Jesus, is he glad he didn’t flirt with the dude.

"We're careful who we tell," Cesar says with a significant look, like he’s waiting for Dean to lash out. Dean’s been there. He’s taken more than his fair share of punches because he said the wrong thing to the wrong guy at a bar.

"No - yeah - of course,” he rushes to say. “You don't need to, ah, worry. I - one of my best friends is a lesbian. It's, ah, cool." Before he adds something stupid, something like: I also sometimes like sucking cock, he makes himself ask, "So, what's that like? Settling down with another hunter?"

Cesar laughs, relief evident in his voice. “It’s frustrating. Terrifying more often than not. You’ve got twice as many reasons to worry about getting everyone out safely. Jesse’ll send me into cardiac arrest one of these days – the stunts that boy pulls.”

“I know what you mean,” Dean laughs, too, despite the scratchy feeling in his throat, like he’s having an allergic reaction. “Cas drives me crazy sometimes. He doesn’t always, ah, understand what he’s heading into.”

“You and Cas seem close,” Cesar says slowly. “But you’re not…?”

Funny, Dean and Cas have been mistaken as a couple before. Diner waitresses or hotel managers. But it feels different. It feels like Dean’s wearing it like a neon sign around his neck to be perceived like this by Cesar, an actual, living, breathing homosexual man with a husband.

Is it that fucking obvious? Dean wants to ask in his sudden, near-panic. And he and Cas have talked about it. Almost talked about it. Alluded to something, but Dean can’t afford to think about it in more depth. He and Cas –

They can’t. They just can’t. It’s too complicated. Dean won’t risk ruining the good thing they’ve already fought so hard to get.

“No,” Dean says. “Cas doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“But you maybe wish he did?” Cesar guesses.

It’s bold. Doesn’t matter that he’s right, it still ticks Dean off. Or maybe it ticks Dean off because he’s right.

“So, Jesse,” Dean says pointedly. “He’s obviously got skin in the game. Why’s this case so important?”

“Jesse’s seen these things before,” Cesar moves with the change in subject as if he didn’t even notice it. Dean’s part annoyed and part grateful for his charity.

“Twenty-seven years ago?” Dean infers. “And you said he got into hunting when he was a kid?”

“It isn’t my story to tell,” Cesar says. “But suffice to say, Jesse won’t back down from this hunt. If we fail to put it to rest this time….” He trails off darkly.

“Yeah, well, there’s four of us now,” Dean reassures him. “We’ll smoke these sons of bitches.”

“It’ll eat him alive if we don’t,” Cesar says, and Dean feels the real weight behind his words. Cesar loves Jesse – really loves him. Dean wonders if people have ever been able to feel Dean’s love for someone else, just by listening to his voice.

Another chapter of this nonsense just dropped

I didn't even make you wait 3 months this time.

[hazbinextgeneration]

Hazbin Worlds Collide Ch31

(Mako/Tristan belongs to Palettepainter101)

The room became utter silent at the maniac at the dining room entrance. She giggled at the frozen faces before her before shifting one of her hands and magically summoned a towel for her face. As she leaned the towel to cover her face most of everyone else quickly lowered their hands or placed down what they had picked up to throw, Queeny was a bit busy humming to herself while rubbing the remains of Hannibal's horrid stew off of her face. When she looked back up it was like nothing had ever spilt on her.

"I see I haven't missed much." Her crazy eyes glanced around the room, eyeing the foods stuck onto the walls or spilt all over each other. Her brow rose amused at the sight. "I leave for a few days and already you all are acting like barbarians.~"

"It wasnt exactly their fault." Maizy gave a sideways look to Wild-Card. He gave a pathetic look from under the blobs of buttercream and vanilla cake staining his fur. "And certainly wasn't a delightful scenario either might I add."

Queeny hummed before taking a few steps into said chaos, where a few closest her made a few hurried steps back from her presence, her amusement grew, it was always funny to see others scurry away from herself. Granted most of the time it was just because of the Radio Demons connection but funny nonetheless. She pulled out a chair and sat down in it before casually looking at the crowd of what used to be clean teenagers.

"Now...I don't suppose you at least didn't throw a portion of food for me did you?" A few silently shifted uncomfortably. Gem-Stone hiding a broken bowl behind her back. Queeny hummed, fingers drumming against the table. "I guess not. What a shame?"

"Y-You wouldn't probably h-have liked it anyways. I-It tasted awful-"

"Tasted like shi- Ow!"

Angel-Cake had quickly nudged Mako in the side to avoid any more risk of something being thrown at them but wasn't fast enough to avoid Queeny's eyes shifting to them with interest.

"Really? Exactly how was it? Like shit is about how everyone describes it.~" She chuckled at the slightly shocked face of the dark wolf. "No need to hide it.~ I wouldn't expect any of you to eat like I do-....Which still begs the question of how exactly this happened?"

Mako gave a glare towards the cat prince who was as still as a statue. "Why dont ya ask your sister's stupid pet?! F*cker shoved the dam spoon in my mouth!"

"Hey!" He pointed a cake splattered arm at him. "You started it!"

"By doing what! Not wantin to eat that god dammed fo-"

"Queeny?" All eyes turned to the little moth demon who stood in the doorway of the dining area, concerned confusion over the entirety of the room. Holding what looked like a plate with a small blob on it. He stood there for a moment until Queeny outstretched her hand and beckoned him to come in, he did but once he caught sight of the giant pot of what used to be his stew on the floor his ears drooped. "My soup.."

He was gently patted on the back before the ...chunk? Was taken from his hand from Queeny, who regarded it for a moment before glancing back up to Mako...Then over at the prince who looked a little guilty down at the pot. Her smile widened-

"Don't feel bad, Hanny~" She cooed to the young moth. God hearing her use a baby voice sounded weird- "Im sure they didn't mean to knock it over in their heathen attitudes." Her eyes snapped to them. "In fact, I just bet the prince would just LOVE your pudding.~"

Silence.

Wild-Card visibly flinched and stared as the small plate of black blobby mass was pushed across the dirty table over to him. Oh good sweet satan! The smell was terrible, his nose felt on fire as he stared down the thing-

"R-Really?" His hope returned upon looking at him.

"But of course!~ After all, he wouldn't want to waste such a hard cooked meal.~"

A snort went off as Mako let out a stream of chuckles at the irony of the situation. He gave another cake covered glare and looked to Maizy, but only got a blank stare back as if to say "You started this mess, now deal with it.

"C'mon princey. You don't want to hurt the little guy's feelings now do you?"

"Or if he ever wants me to reveal how soon everyone gets to go home," she sang out in a sing song voice, "Now wouldn't that be a shame.~ Especially since I know

Well sh*t. With one sentence he was put in the spotlight as everyone looked at him expectedly. He looked around at the others then back to the smiling 'innocently' maniac...He slowly sat down and stared down at the thing like it would come alive any moment. A clinking sound softly rang out as a spoon was slowly nudged to him by someone, it stopped next to the plate and he looked up into the excited face of Hannibal. The cat demon just sat there for what seemed like a small eternity, before a shaky paw grabbed the spoon. Dipped it into the bowl....And held it in the air.....

"There's no need to be modest, Your Majesty.~ No ones going to judge you if you eat sloppily.~..Hannibal, dear, is there something on your wing?"

With that a yellow aura quickly surrounded the utensil and it flew forward into the poor cat's mouth. In an instant his fur puffed up and his stomach flipped. Mako for one snorted and covered his totally not snickers with a paw. Maizy gave a poor look at Wild-Cards now green face as the prince remained frozen to the spot.

"H-Hows it taste? I-I tried using the new recipe with cinnamon this time."

He didn't answer and insted slowly held up a shaking hand in the form of a thumbs up- Hannibal bristled happily and Mako snorted louder. Luckily Tristan new exactly what to do and redirected the happy moth to the kitchen to 'help him clean up something'. As soon as the two were out of sight, the cat collasped onto the floor. At first everyone was afraid hed fainted but the fact he started clutching his stomach and coughed up a storm told him differently. He couldn't hold back anymore. Mako let out a bellow of laughter followed by high cackles from Queeny at the cat who was sick as a dog.

"Ok. You two had your fun," Maizy gently patted her lover on his back. "Now why dont you deliver the grand news."

"Oh, yes. I almost forgot. Everyone. I am happy to say you can all be sent home in the morning....That is of course," She gave a look to where The moths had disappeared. "If Hannibal is satisfied with his interactions. "

[ickymichi]

Hiiiiiii I’ve never put in a rq on tumblr before I’m usually a silent reader ahah so idk if I’m doing this right >.<

Butttt if ur taking rqs Rn I’m here to request a denji one shot, I have no proper ideas but some denji x reader very soft, fluffy and funny 🥺 maybe something like cuddling late at night and all that cute shit. Also if power makes an appearance her and reader have a very cute relationship and power actually doesn’t hate her ahaha.

Anyways u totally don’t have to do this!! I just love denji and am starving from the lack of denji content on tumblr hehe

SLUMBER PARTY!!

warnings: fluff!, cute denji as always :).

things to know: gn! reader, (if you’d like a fem reader lmk and i’ll change it!)

note: so so sorry this took so long lovey!! but it’s such a cute idea and i had such a good time writing for our boy :,) but i hope you enjoyed and sorry again it took so long! reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

©hotboyissei 2021.

one thing that became a ‘tradition’ in yours’ and denji’s relationship was having a sleepover every weekend. even though he sees you at least three times a week, he’d tell you that he needed to at least spend a whole night with you or he wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly until it happened.

so now right on time just like every other saturday at 6:30pm you were stood infront the apartment door with your over night back and some snacks n’ drinks in hand. the door swung open violently, startling you a bit, but it didn’t last long when you seen the wide smile on denji’s face, showing his sharp teeth and the corner of his eyes crinkling. “(y/n)!! your here!!,” he lept forward and wrapped his arms around your middle, squeezing tightly. “hi denj’! of course i’m here, just like every saturday! should we go inside?” he nodded his head quickly and taking your arm to usher you inside.

“what’s in the bag, what’s in the bag?!” eyeing and grabbing at it is what he kept doing once you set it down in his room. “i’ll show you, i’ll show you. so first i brought alll of our favourite sweets n’ chocolate. and of course your favourite favourite drink,” watching his eyes light up as you listed off the different items you’d gotten for the night was one of the things you loved about staying over.

“hey! why’re you so loud denj- (y/n)! i didn’t know you’re here!” somehow, power was quite fond of you and quickly the two of you grew close through denji. something that shocked him and Aki. “silly, i always come over on a saturday,” “yeah stupid!” denji had butted in and pulled his eye while sticking his tongue out at power. “hah?! (y/n) do something to him he called me stupid!! your the stupid one, stupid!!” she quickly fell into you and whined into your chest while snapping back at denji, continuing the bickering. “hey, stop stealing them from me! go play with meowy or something” huffing, power eventually pulled of you and left to look for her furry companion.

the afternoon grew into the late night and the both of you had already devoured all the sweets you bought and sat through two movies, a comedy and a horror. you were now watching one you remembered from your childhood and how funny it was.

from the corner of your eye you could see denji’s eyes fluttering and his head bobbing—almost as if he was trying to fight off the tiredness. he looked so cute like this, but you knew if he fell asleep here you’d have to wake him then he’d get all moody. “hey denj’ wake up for a sec, let’s go to bed ‘kay?” “mmhhff okaaayy” he was probably already asleep and now you’d woken him but it was probably only a light slumber.

leaving him to lay on the floor while you set up the futons he couldn’t help but admire how the bright lights of the city reflected off your face in the dark room. “pretty,” is what he mumbled to himself, not caring if you heard or not. while trying to keep watching your movements he also was trying his hardest to stay awake for you. when he did open his eyes again he was met with you in your sleep shorts and slipping your shirt over your head, just about giving him a glance of your bare back. he claimed it as him just being a normal teenager, but he couldn’t stop the heat rushing to his cheeks and the sight of only your bare legs and the quick glance of your back.

“hey, you still awake sleepy?,” his eyes must’ve closed again for a few second because now, you were crouched infront him, softy rubbing the top of his head. with a nod he crawled over to his futon-not before helping you get tucked into your own. “goodnight denji, see you in the morning,” soft as ever your voice was when you wished him goodnight at the early hours whenever you’d stay with him. “g’night (y/n) see ya when we wake up,”

even though it was just a few hours prior that he was desperately trying to stay awake, he’s now laying flat on his back staring into the dark room trying desperately to fall asleep. the only thing he could thing of was scooting over to your futon and cuddling into your back—but he didn’t want to frighten you, so he just kept to himself for the past hour.

finally deciding that if he actually wanted to get some sleep he’d have to cave in and move over to your futon. he was moving as slow as power does in the mornings, but only because he was afraid that even the slightest movement would wake you-even though you’ve learned to sleep through his loud snoring and kicking limbs-. slowly, ever so slowly he moved closer to your sleeping figure with shaking hands. once he was close enough to wrap the blanket around himself he used the arm he wasn’t lying on to drape it around your waist and pull you into him with some new found confidence.

you don’t think he realised how harshly he pulled you because, even just that movement had shook you from your odd dream and back into the darkness of denji’s room. only this time you could feel his breath on your neck and his arm clutching your tummy. softly, you laughed and twisted in his grip so you could face him.

he wasn’t expecting it that’s for sure. you could tell by the way his mouth fell and eyes bulged slightly. when you smiled back at him, he tried to splutter out an explanation as to why he was cuddling you out of no where.

“you don’t have to ask to cuddle denj’ you can just do it whenever you like, i really don’t mind. i love it when you do.”

it was one of those moments he was having that only happened once every few weeks. it’s when you say or do something that makes his heart skips a few beats. the last thing you’d done was wipe the crumb off his cheek and kiss it afterwards.

like earlier, he frantically nodded at your comment and now wrapped both arms around you, pulling you even closer to his chest so you can wrap your own arms around him and entangle your legs.

slowly and softly falling back into your previous sound sleep—until denji’s snoring quiet literally vibrated through your body.

[yesmooshoe]

6) (i) from the AU list for ironhusbands? 👀💖

You’ve got a date tonight and you asked for advice on what to wear but I’m so in love with you and damn you look good in the outfit I picked out for you.

“Rhodey Rhodey Rhodey! I need help!” Tony cried out as he burst through the front door of their drafty apartment.

Rhodey’s head shot up to look at him, but he didn’t move from the nest he’d created on their couch. He was wrapped in several blankets with a few large stacks of books and notebooks surrounding him. Mid-Terms started next week, and he had a lot of material to get through.

As Tony stumbled over some of Rhodey’s books on his way into the living room, he finally noticed all of the shopping bags that Tony was carrying.

“Did you get a haircut?” Rhodey asked, seeing that his friend’s usually unkempt hair was freshly trimmed and styled.

“Yeah, and I got a bunch of new clothes. I have a date! An actual date! And all of my clothes are trash and I’ve got no idea what to wear so I went to the mall and just like bought everything that looked cool because I just really want her to think I’m cool.” Tony rambled as he dropped the bags to the floor and started tearing through them.

“Wait, hold up. You have a what?”

“A date!” Tony said with a big smile.

“With who?” Rhodey asked as he closed his book, realizing that this was going to be a thing. Tony didn’t date. If he wasn’t at the apartment he was either at class or in the robotics lab, and he didn’t really have any other friends.

Until this year, at least. Tony was 17 and finally the same age as some of his fellow classmates, so Rhodey had noticed him being a bit more social. Still, Rhodey felt very protective, and while he’d never admit it out loud, he kind of missed having Tony all to himself.

“Uh, Amy Lin? She’s a freshman! And she’s on the robotics team and she’s just super cool and smart and we were sitting outside today and she was like 'hey do you want to go out sometime?' and I was like 'what do you mean, we're already outside.' and then she laughed and was like 'no like...go out. On a date.' and I just felt like such an idiot and I didn't know what to say but eventually I managed to say yes I think and well now we're going on a date! And I have no idea what to wear, you gotta help me. Everything I own is ripped or has burn holes from welding or is covered in grease and who knows what else and I just want to look good."

Rhodey resisted the urge to tell him that he'd look good in a paper bag, and did his best to swallow his own jealousy before he started helping him look through the bags.

The crush on Tony was very new. 

Two years ago Tony had just been this quiet, nerdy kid who didn't know how to do his own laundry and was afraid of his own shadow. This year though? This year he was just different. Over the Summer he'd grown a few more inches, gotten his braces off, discovered contact lenses, and overall just came off as more mature and confident. Rhodey's jaw had literally dropped when he saw him for the first time at the beginning of the semester, and ever since then he'd been struggling with a lot of feelings.

"Uhh, ok. Well first of all, where are you going?" Rhodey asked as he pulled out item after item, which ranged from a leather jacket to a tuxedo, so he wasn't sure what the vibe was going to be.

"Bowling."

Rhodey just laughed. "You bought a brand new tuxedo to go bowling? Is that what you rich white people do?"

"I...I mean, I don't know. She mentioned maybe getting dinner at one point and I think I just panicked like what if she wanted to go somewhere fancy instead of bowling and all of a sudden and I just started grabbing everything I could possibly need." Tony explained, sounding a bit exasperated.

"Dude, take a deep breath. It's going to be ok."

"I know I just...I want to do everything right. I want her to like me, ya know?"

"She will! She already does. She asked you out, didn't she?"

"Yeah but...I don't know. I don't know what to do. I'm just not used to this. People liking me. I’ve always been so much younger than everyone at school and no one ever talked to me and I always just feel like I missed out on learning how to be a normal teenager. I don’t know how to date." Tony admitted, being way more candid about his feelings than Rhodey was used to.

"You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Just go out and have fun. Be yourself."

"I’m just afraid she’s going to see what a huge nerd I am and change her mind."

“You guys are on the robotics team. You’re both nerds. It’ll be fine.

“I just - 

“Tony.” Rhodey Interrupted. He hated when Tony got like this, and something in him just snapped. “Stop being so down on yourself. You’re funny and smart and sweet and you tell great stories and you’re so enthusiastic about your work and about learning new things so that you can change the world. You’re incredible. And I’m sorry that no one in your life has ever told you that before, but it’s all true and if she sees what I see then...then she’ll love you, ok?”

Tony was just staring at him like a deer in headlights, and Rhodey immediately knew that he’d said way too much. He just hated when Tony got like this, and he wanted him to just see how great he actually was. 

“Rhodey I…” Tony started, clearly unsure of what to say in response to that, and Rhodey’s stomach just dropped. Had he completely fucked this up? Had he made everything weird? There was nothing weird about telling your friend that you love him, right? Even if you did happen to have a huge crush on that friend? 

They were both silent for what felt like forever, though in reality it was only a few seconds.

“You’ll be fine. Anyway. So when is this date?”

Tony glanced down at his watch. “I’m supposed to meet her in 45 minutes.”

“Well, then we’d better get to work.” Rhodey said as he stood up and grabbed an armload of clothes.

They made quick work of it, just putting Tony in jeans, a red t-shirt, the leather jacket, and a fresh pair of Chuck Taylors. They were a little quiet at first, but soon they found their way back to the joking and teasing they were used to. As Tony stood in the hallway trying to fix his hair the way the lady at the hair salon had told him too, Rhodey just stood back and admired his work. There was nothing spectacular about the clothes, but they were new and clean and fit him well. And the leather jacket was driving Rhodey crazy. As he watched Tony from behind, he wanted nothing more than to grab him, pin him against the wall, and have his way with him.

There were a million reasons why he shouldn’t do that, especially since he was literally about to leave to go on a date with someone else. With a girl.

“How do I look?” Tony asked, spinning around and giving him a big smile.

“Great.” Rhodey replied simply, resisting the urge to say hot. He didn’t want to make anything else weird.

Tony seemed unsure, but looked at his watch again and took a deep breath. “Right. Well, I gotta go. Thank you. For everything. Don’t study too hard, all right?” He said with a little smile before taking one more look at himself in the mirror and then heading out.

Rhodey tried to focus on studying after that, but he just couldn’t. He was jealous, he was embarrassed, and most of all he was horny. He took care of the latter problem a few minutes after Tony left, but after that he just laid on his bed and started at a crack in the ceiling while a million thoughts raced through his head.

This crush on Tony was stupid. Tony obviously wasn’t gay, right? And being gay in the Air Force sounded like a not-so-great idea anyway, so Rhodey really had to work on resisting these crushes if he ever wanted the chance to fly. Still, he couldn’t get that image of Tony in the leather jacket out of his mind, nor could he get over how jealous he felt. 

He figured that the best way to get over it was to distract himself, so he got up, took a cold shower, ate some dinner, and settled in back on the couch to watch TV and wait for Tony to get home. Despite the jealousy, he wanted to hear about the date and how it went. He just wanted Tony to be happy, and if dating Amy made him happy, then he’d do his best to be enthusiastic about it. At least on the surface.

Not long after Rhodey settled on the couch Tony came home and immediately plopped down next to him.

“Hey, you’re home early. How’d it go?” Rhodey asked, genuinely shocked that he was home. It hadn’t even been two hours, and he was just glad that he hadn’t decided to jerk off again.

“Yeah, it was fine. I mean, I had fun. We bowled and had some pizza and then sketched up an idea on a napkin for a bowling robot that we might try to build next week.” Tony said as he stared at the floor while fidgeting around with his zipper. “And then like, we were in the arcade part. Playing pinball. And she kissed me.”

“Well hey! That’s good, right?”

“I don’t know. It was weird. I mean, I’ve never kissed anyone before so I’ve not got much to compare it too. But like, it was like kissing my sister. If I had a sister, I guess. I don’t know. Just didn’t do much for me.” Tony admitted quietly, and Rhodey had no idea how to respond to that. Luckily, Tony kept talking. “And then it was a little awkward and she said that she didn’t feel like bowling anymore so we turned in our shoes and then she said that she thought that maybe we should just be friends.”

“Oh. Well shit, that sucks man, I’m sorry. But this is only your first date, there are plenty of other girls out there! There’s even at least 1 more on the robotics team, right? I’m sure you’ll find someone that makes you feel that spark.” Rhodey said as he put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. He just didn’t want him getting too down on himself.

Tony just looked up at him and smiled, and it was a look that Rhodey would have to file away to use later. “Thanks. Yeah, it’s fine. She still wants to be friends, so that’s good. Friends are good. I’m gonna go change, ok?”

“Sure.”

Tony stood up to head to his room, but then stopped and hesitated for a moment.

“Tony? You all right?” Rhodey asked as Tony turned to look at him. He was quiet for a moment, like he was searching for what to say.

“Are you doing anything Friday night?” Tony finally asked.

“No.” Rhodey answered, confused.

“Do you - would you be interested in like - going out?”

“W-what?” Rhodey stuttered out as his heart started pounding. This wasn’t actually happening, was it?

“Go out? Like...on a date? I guess? Unless I read that whole situation earlier wrong.”

“I…” Rhodey just trailed off, completely taken by surprise by all of this. “Um. A date?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Uh...ok. Yeah. We can do that, if you’re sure.”

Tony nodded. “I’m sure. Been thinking about it all night.”

“Oh.”

“Ok, so. It’s a date, yeah? Dinner? Movie? I don’t know, that’s what people do, right?” Tony said as he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets.

“We’ll figure something out.”

Tony nodded again and turned to head to his room.

“Hey, Tony?” Rhodey called out after him, causing Tony to stop and turn to him. “Whatever we do, promise me you’ll wear the leather jacket.” Rhodey said with a confident little smile, finally regaining a bit of composure.

A huge grin spread across Tony’s face, like he was finally relaxing too. “All right.”

Rhodey was terrified, but also so excited that he couldn’t imagine focusing on his notes anymore. After Tony disappeared Rhodey ran straight to his room and to his closet, desperately looking through all of his clothing. Nothing seemed good enough, so he figured he’d have to take a trip to the mall himself tomorrow. He wasn’t sure he could look as good as Tony did in the leather, but he could certainly try.

[sapphicwhxre]

tiny pansy rant, cut short so it’s *hopefully* not too long:

i. wanted. to. see. her. change! and in my opinion the reason she never got the chance was because jkr used her character to make fun of people she disliked :/

pretty much all the other noteable slytherins had some sort of redemption arc,, and yeah they’re still mostly problematic people but they got chances: snape, draco, narcissa, regulus, slughorn, leta and technically andromeda? you get the point i just—

like miss ma’am decided to make pansy,, the like slytherin stereotype? and have her want to betray harry? she was seventeen ffs, not bellatrix lestrange. she was in the middle of a war? in my personal opinion i don’t think that she wanted to hand harry over out of cruelty like. it’s possible? but maybe she was just scared? also don’t we know that pansy was terrified at the thought of like. voldemort coming to hogwarts? again: everyone expects all of the children in harry potter to be these selfless brave individuals,, they’re kids :( yes ik it’s ya fantasy but cmon. they were supposed to be stressed about the N.E.W.T exams not the upheaval of their society?

and don’t get me wrong i know that she was. not a good person. she was a bitchy teenage bully who was taught hateful views. but i wanted to see her change even a little– even draco marries someone who presumably teaches him how to treat people equally? like. there was so much room for change: she was a prefect, she was capable of some kindness seeing as she liked draco, or alternatively, we could’ve seen her break away from draco and potentially stop hating harry/all his friends quite so much or develop her own opinions. or maybe her group of friends that she used for validation throughout her school years was uprooted during the war and she had to learn that independency? or her pointing out harry could’ve been turned into trying to be selfless, like she thought they’d be safe that way, or she returned later fighting with reinforcements to show she was on Hogwarts’ side. jkr is always like "well they technically came back to fight, if you squint » but that’s not enough. also? let’s say we did get a glimpse of her during the actual battle: there could’ve been anything, the smallest scene, that showed some sort of support or reconciliation or something between her and hermione, considering how hermione was often pansy’s target. everybody wants to see forgiveness between draco and harry because of minor events/details (i dislike drarry but that’s besides the point), but imagine what could’ve changed with some semblance of apology or assistance from pansy to hermione. there were so many chances for r*wling to give her a smallest redemption

but instead we got her characterized as evil and a stupid, cowardly traitor. she the only person we ever see her care for marries her friends younger sister. she’s the written depiction of jkr’s bitterness and her arc is jkr’s vengeance.

also, another reason that i’m so mad she got nothing is because of the whole slytherin=evil thing. she’s made into a stereotype of a “slytherin”— cruel, selfish, shallow, ugly, and asinine. (also i could rant about slytherin forever, but can we just mention that jkr consistently refers to slytherins as physically ugly and just how fucked up that is? i– wtf). but anyway: to give pansy a chance to change is to give the slytherin house a chance to change its reputation. trying to justify that the slytherin house got its redemption because of the actions of ppl like snape or regulus, etc isn’t possible. because all of those “slytherin heroes” were described again and again as being “different from all the other slytherins”. they set themselves apart by being decent. they weren’t normal slytherins, no, they were set apart, they were brave and smart and kind— not evil. there’s no redemption to be found there. i wish jkr would just fucking say that being sorted into slytherin was being made into a villain. she dodged around it with rhetorical questions and pointing out how not All of them are bad,, and then will go on to mock the other slytherins and talk about how the heroes were Not Like The Other Snakes... again: there’s no redemption of slytherin as a house, as a quality, as a concept there. it’s just the redemption of an individual.

in pansy, however, we could’ve found so much more. like i said, she’s The Average Slytherin: not a hero, not a villain like voldemort. she’s made out to be a depiction of the typical slytherin student, one without a “destiny”, so to speak. and so to give her the chance, to see her change, to have her redefine herself? that would be a starting point for restoring slytherin as a whole (obviously not the best way, and the real best thing to do would be not to make an entire house be the bad guys in the first place, but–) to have someone who’s the figurehead of slytherin (like actually a figurehead,, girl is a even a prefect) show remorse and growth gives the entire house the seed of redemption. it would mean that after over a thousand years there could be peace between the houses. obviously not the only factor in reconciliation but still so important.

and not to just continue to heap on my own issues with it, but look. i know that there are so many other ways to introduce “mundane” antagonists without making them a symbol of anything. pansy could’ve been a bitch without representing slytherin. also pansy doesn’t have to break character and become kind for amends to be made. they don’t even have to be fully made, just started. but jkr chose to:

a.) go with bullying as a minor antagonistic element

b.) create and develop a character around that theme

c.) make this character only based on her own negative personal experiences

d.) turn that character into a representation of a much larger group of people

e.) deny that character any final moment that could begin to make amends for her actions and instead, chooses to make her “defining” moment an act of evil and cowardice

f.) either neglects the character or chooses plot points that would humiliate the character in all the glimpses of the future we are shown (ex. how dracos marriage is)

g.) openly mocks and insults the character repeatedly and never directly comes out and proves she didn’t write slytherins as evil

h.) to the best of my knowledge, ignores that pansy personifing slytherin, whether intentionally or unintentionally, and then characterizing both as “bad” and not giving them a chance to grow, is a summary of her thoughts on slytherin ls and is a possible interpretation of the text (i mean her opinions are already TRASH)

i. ignores the consequences of this or the possible effect it has on her entire fanbase and doesn’t seek to remedy it

but yeah, jkr, it was such a good idea to base a character off of your loathesone memories, take your anger out on her, and that choose to have that character partially represent a large percentage of your fanbase. thank you sooooo much. i really appreciate it!

summary:

I. Pansy— deserved an opportunity to have some character development. everyone else’s mistakes get overlooked to some degree save hers. had so many places to draw inspiration/opportunity from. could’ve progressed other ideas in the book and the analysis of her house while still remaining a “dislikable” character

II. Writing— from a “technical?” aspect, Pansy is underdeveloped and stagnant, used for personal reasons instead of as a plot device. perpetuates the slytherin=bad idea via a sloppy and repetitive characterization and emblem. there are ways around this that weren’t used.

III. I have no qualifications to be saying any of this lmao. Am I reading to much into it, knowing that Rowling tends to be shitty with writing details? Am I being dramatic and repetitive? probably!

IV. Fuck JKR (for everything. she’s an awful person)

anyways this has been: my mini-rant on pansy and her analysis,,, and i am terribly sorry,, i offer my apologies in advance for randomly dumping this into your inbox. it’s long and opinionated and there’s no real reason behind it! i just thought of it and then thought about it some more and then. here we are

ilysm mwah <3 should’ve definitely done something more productive but shh😭 rat brain hours

this is everything, you're completely right. i don't have much to add but i agree all the way. and people give pansy so much shit for the harry thing but she seemed genuinely scared of voldemort coming back and i really think that she believed he would leave them alone if they gave him up. from her perspective, it's either her and the people she cares about get to live or this guy that she not only isn't close to but probably sees as the bad guy considering she dated/was best friends with draco and witnessed their rivalry from his side. did she make the best decisions? no, not at all but i see her reasons and i don't think it makes her this antichrist that jkr makes her out to be. she pulled the “he's just a boy” with draco and had people sympathise with him when he did so so much worse than pansy did so why doesn't that apply to her? she's a kid. they all are. i love harry, ron, and hermione SO MUCH but jkr really said fuck everyone who isn't them ─ especially any girl who isn't her precious hermione. she projected her own pettiness onto fictional characters who are CHILDREN and proceeded to get upset when people connected to and loved other people that she herself made. creating such an underdeveloped character and expecting people to hate her just because she imagined her as her bully is beyond immature and ridiculous. anyways. jkr take a fucking chill pill and leave my girl alone.

[enochianribs]

p r o j e c t l a z a r u s (outlast au) pt 1.

Dean, a supernatural investigative reporter, receives an anonymous tip that something terrible has happened at what is supposed to be the long abandoned Novak Institute. As things quickly go south, Dean finds himself trapped within the rotting halls, pushed further and further in even as he tries to escape. What he discovers underneath the mountain may very well be the death of him.

read on ao3 here | or under the cut.

 The tip was anonymous but he’d followed it in good faith. If the lead was anything he’d hoped for, he’d have the story of his lifetime.       If    it was good. A huge if, but he was getting about that desperate for a big break, especially since he was still competing with Henriksen and Ash. Half of the time he couldn’t figure out where the fuck they were getting such gold mine stories. The bastards.

 He parked the Impala outside the gate, a tick of paranoia etching itself in his spine that someone would see him and yank the story out from under him. He debated covering Baby with branches and then realized that there was literally      no one     around. Outside of the sound of dry leaves blowing across the cracking blacktop and the breeze rustling the dying aspens, there was not a sound.

 Feeling stupid, he grabbed his small duffel bag and double checked its contents: his video camera (getting a little outdated with all the new tech but he’d bet his life on its durability), his flip phone (yeah, yeah, he knows), the first aid kit (he always brought it with when he went into abandoned buildings after stepping on that rusty nail that one time), a flashlight, the EMF detector (made it himself), and the switchblade (stolen from his father).

 The tools of the trade, if your trade was being insane and stupid and reporting on old urban legends and ghosts and demonic possessions and shit. Y’know, normal stuff. The kinda job you could tell someone about on the first date.

 With the contents all accounted for, Dean locked Baby up, shoved his keys into the bag and took a deep breath.

     Show time.  

 Beyond the crumbling brick wall towered the Institute in all of its fading glory, its architecture dated and magnificent even as the clay tile roofing broke and shattered at its base, creating a minefield of broken pieces sharp enough to dig through the tread of his boot if he wasn't careful. The hedges were overgrown and misshapen, and most of the exterior windows were broken. Dean could only assume from local teenagers trashing the place. It must have been beautiful back in the day, a hidden gem among the peaks. Fuckin’ kids.

 According to an old newspaper article, the Novak Institute was closed down in 1982 for financial reasons and had been avoided by every sensible local like it was cursed ever since. It was founded in the early 1880s by a man named Charles Shurley with a simple goal: fund and research miracle cures. The stuff of angels, as the word of mouth story went. After his death in 1930, his wealthy in-laws took over and kept his goal in mind as they expanded into even more experimental treatments for all kinds of medical and psychological ailments.

 Folks from around the world came to be healed, and the Novaks—   Shurley’s in-laws—  were damn      good    at it. They sought to push the boundaries between modern, traditional, and experimental medicine and frequently did so successfully.

 In 1970, a woman by the name of Naomi Novak took over the Institute, and (though it had always been a private facility for the wealthy to turn about their health for the better) she privatized the institution completely. Within a year it became a family owned research facility. Rumor was that members of the Novak family suffered from a mysterious condition, one that they kept behind closed doors and drawn curtains and that she was hellbent on finding the fix for it.

 From there Dean took every tale he'd scrounged up from the small mountain town down the road with a grain of salt. Urban legends all started somewhere, but along the way they lost the truth, and that was usually where the scary stuff kicked in.

 Still, the story went that it had been the wrong direction for the family to take, and they immediately stumbled into financial struggles that eventually dragged the entire thing down around them. In '82 they closed their doors, for good.

 Except, two days ago Dean received an encrypted email. Sent out in mass, he suspected. The contents of the email was straight up bizzare— since he'd received it, he'd kept a printed copy tucked into his back pocket, folded up and folded up again until the creases wore thin and threatened to tear.

It was in the mountain. They told me not to look. I did anyway. She told me not to look. By the time I send this, it will be too late. The Novak Institute needs to be burned to the ground. Don’t look. Just light the match and let it go.     

Dean’s issue was always the same.      Of course     he was gonna look. That was kinda his whole job—  stick his nose where it shouldn’t go and see what bit it. In fact, he      wanted     something to bite. That would be his big break. He just had to haul ass the other direction the second something chomped down and pray that he caught it on camera.

So here he was, sticking his nose where it shouldn’t be.

To the left of the main doors sat an armoured convoy. Its doors were closed, and it looked surprisingly free from rust, if it has been sitting there for a couple of decades.

 The model of the car was somewhat new, Dean realized.

 "Huh," He stopped in front of it, swiping a finger along its hood. Inspecting the pad for dust, it came away blank. His finger barely left a trail. The vehicle was spotless. It couldn't have been sitting there longer than a day with the way the wind swept dust across the open courtyard. "Weird."

 The convoy should have been his first red flag, so scarlet it must have been dyed fresh with blood. It wasn't.

 Dean pulled one of the ornate handles on the front door, but it didn't give an inch. They were made of a solid piece of wood, heavy duty. There was something vaguely fortified about the place. Hospitals had welcoming doors, encouraging people to come and get better. These, Dean could tell by the massive iron hinges they hung from, were bolted shut from the inside.

 Dean tried the other handle just in case. Nothing. He sighed, and tugged out his phone. 4:10 PM. One bar of signal that kept flashing in and out of existence. In October, the sun would be going down soon…and he was only supposed to be checking it out today. His plan was to come back at sunrise for a full day of sunlight and investigation.

 Down the expanse of shattered windows, a piece of glass skittered out across the cobblestone. His head jerked up and instinctually, he called out a inquisitive "Hello?"

 No one answered, but he heard, with straining ears, what sounded like footsteps shuffling further into the building.

 What if someone had beat him here? He hadn't been the only person the email was sent to. There was a chance that coming back tomorrow meant he lost the story to someone else. Henriksen would never let him hear the end of that. Dean had boasted that he had something      big,    had left in the middle of the night to get here before anyone else. No, he was not going to let Henriksen win another bet against Ash.

 Almost drowned out by the sound of the continued breeze, Dean heard a door slam shut inside the Institute. A stone sank past the bottom of his stomach down to the floor. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the insidious feeling that someone was watching him crept around his psyche until he had no choice but to look back over his shoulder. The courtyard remained the same: desolate, abandoned.

 "Fuck it."

 He should've pulled his switchblade out, just in case, but he settled on the flashlight, fingers wrapping around it tightly. The light was really starting to die beyond the snowy backdrop, warm sunlight fading into a sickly orange glow that bathed everything in sight.

 "Just one room." Dean muttered to himself, and shouldered the bag, brandishing the flashlight with a grimace.

 This was a stupid idea.

 Like a statuette too close to the end of a table, Dean hoisted himself carefully over the edge of broken glass and hopped into the room blind. Darkness greeted him, enveloped him in an unknown that would consume him and spit a cracked reflection back out. All it would take was a little push in the wrong direction to send him toppling to the floor.

 The halls of Novak Institute were filled with hands just itching for something to break.

[xanadontit]

OMFG.

E called MIL last night to say hi and she casually dropped in to conversation that she and Niece 2 got burgers the other day and it sent her blood sugar into a tailspin and she almost went to the hospital. Niece 1 advised her to hydrate and keep testing and it steadily but very slowly improved so crisis “averted” but Christ on a crutch what the hell? Every time she pulls a dipshit stunt like this it messes her up long term. This isn’t a scraped knee that will heal and be fine!  

I’m torn here. I don’t think Niece 2 should be responsible with a capital R for her grandma’s poor choices but all we’re asking is that she not egg her on or enable her stupidity. If MIL wants to sneak around with food when no one’s around there’s not a lot anyone can do and that’s not fair to put that on someone else. But when she convinces Grammy that “a treat won’t hurt” but it absolutely does? And she knows this? I lose my mind. She’s almost 24 years old and whines about not being a child and we need to treat her like an adult. Well, fucking act like one. Not to be all “when I was your age” BUT when I was her age I was contacting hospice for my grandma and choosing what outfit she would be cremated in (I couldn’t handle the thought of her just wrapped in a sheet) so maybe we can put Niece in charge of choosing Grammy’s urn. That’s some adult stuff.

On the other hand, MIL needs to suck it up and get her shit together and quit acting like a teenager sticking it to her parents. Great, you almost went to the hospital over InNOut - please tell me why I should every listen to anything you say ever again. I dare her to make a comment about how mean SIL is what with cooking her decent food and reminding her to take her meds. SIL is the reason she’s living in a brand new house and wants for nothing. Yet she - without irony - complains about her living conditions. Sorry about that refrigerator full of healthy food and the warm (new!) bed and cable TV and newly landscaped backyard to relax in. I’ll alert The Hague.

Anyway I told E I’m not visiting her for Mother’s Day but he should feel free to go and enjoy lol.

[marvin-best-looney-tune]

The new Space Jam is.. I don't like it. Actually, I hate it. As an OG space jam fan this means the following for me: a scarcity of original Space Jam merch, and the actual fact they have the fucking balls to call this the sequel to it. It seemed forced and I especially hate the corporate feel of it. To me, it's just one giant advertisment and I couldn't bear it. There's a point where Rick and Morty, who I am a fan of as well, appear for a moment. I'm sure to people who've seen it before but never actually watched the show went and pointed at the screen like, "omg! Rick and Morty!" but I just.. hate it.

Warner bros HAVE to be aware of the inappropriate nature of the show. Personally, R&M is tremendously stupid and genuinely written show. It's the equivalent of cleverly written poop jokes for 20 minutes straight. Which I think they have done at some point although not to that extent. Like characters being ripped apart from limb to limb with lotsa lotsa blood, the show not being afraid to be grusome and, at moments, can make a teenage boy watching it have to turn it off and pretend they were doing homework instead of watching Morty fondle the boobs of his crush, the murder of snake Hitler, or some really fucking stupid shit on interdimensional cable. Truthfully, watching it in a room full of a bunch of people you do not know with their children sounds like an absolute nightmare. And this is the issue.

Rick and Morty is about making offense jokes and all this other gross shit to offend the hell out of people. But in a comedic way you know. That doesn't mean it doesn't have it's moments where it's deep and really want you to think about the universe.

I hate saying shit like this, but they really nail Rick's intelligence being his worse enemy. In a world full of dimensions that go on forever and ever, what is the difference between a Rick from another dimension and Morty from the other? What makes their lives significant when there's infinite amounts of them that are exactly the same? Many times this question is asked, and there really isn't a proper answer. Like when Rick accidentally turns the human species into mantis people, or the concept of the Rick citadel as a whole. How is life even significant if you're immortal? Rick is essentially so smart that he is a literal god. Like how he turns the entire human race into Mantis people, or being in love with a whole ass planet, or, even better, becoming an antagonist in an episode while drunk and defeating the super evil and bad guy that the hero team was going to beat earlier and then making them all kill each other in return because they hate one another even though their whole goal is to save the galaxy from evil. y'know, Rick and Morty stuff. But then you see Rick sitting down and making a robot to pass him butter on the table, getting super buff and beating the shit out of people, fucking an entire planet, probably fucking aliens I don't know the show is never shown that I bet he has though.

But you know what? That's adult swim. Adult swim is where all the weird shit on television goes. It isn't the best show in all the world, but damn, it really does show some weird shit as well as some emotional shit that wish they would embrace more. give me more jimmy and Rick bonding you damn pussies. Also kill Summer's boyfriends more that's really funny and I don't like her

What I'm trying to say is that FACT that there is an example of Rick and Morty in space Jam is a disgrace to the show's nature and it's clear that the attempt to put it in was simply for recognizability. It fucking sucks. Rick said, and I quote, "dum-dums". What the fuck. why would he say that. He would swear. There wasn't even a nice long belch afterwards or anything. And I bet later in Rick and Morty they're going to make a fucking reference to Space Jam and how they were in Space Jam and I don't want to see it. If you've seen the movie the sequence where they're in is only like two or five seconds long or some shit but it's still upsets me.

It's all for that money. Also, I hate harry potter, and seeing Lebron dressed as fucking harry potter made me want to barf. Having them flex all of these franchises that they own on screen hurt me to watch. I literally could not get past the Rick and Morty part. It

This movie fucked my soul so fucking hard thati my damn ass is as stretchy as Michael Jordan's arm in the OG Space Jam. And I only watched 30 minutes of it. Imagine having to sit through it for like almost 2 hours. I think watching this movie all the way through is a million times worse than getting my wisdom teeth pulled and having bloody gums for several weeks.

Anyway here's my rant about Rick and Morty and Space Jam and how much I hate the new Space Jam. I do not want you to watch it, do not support it it is one giant fucking advertisement that you pay for. I would not see this in a theater if you gave me $250 (which actually did get for using Instagram for the first time and reporting on it).

[real-fanta-sea]

Still taking kiss requests? 11 trikey would be cool with an od scare

wow it’s been a month? oops... anyway! Here comes your fic!

"mmmm hello handsome!!"

Usually, when the trailer door was kicked open, and Trevor stomped in, it wasn't at 2 in the afternoon, and Michael didn't stand by the sink in an embarrassingly pink apron, washing dishes. And it also didn't involve two giant plastic bags being tossed towards the kitchen while Trevor snickered and clapped his hands.

"oh my, how did you know I love it when you dress up like a french maid Mikey?"

Michael somehow found it incredibly hard to come up with a coherent answer, because T danced trough the room to slap his ass, snake his arms around him and lay a loud kiss on his neck. Instead of words, he just stabbed him with his signature 'I'll kill you' glare and fidgeted a little to shake Trevor off. It was hot inside the trailer already, and M didn't need another guy sweating into his tank top. To his surprise, the pressure T put on his back was gone in an instant, and when he turned around to find out why, he saw Trevor sitting on the table, drinking beer and checking him out with a predatory grin.

"Trevor I told you not to do that. People might see."

"Isn't it cute how afraid you are to be seen when the whole town hears you moan at night?"

Michael frowned and turned around to fish another dirty plate from the sink and scoff in disgust. When did he sign up to be a housewife? Behind his back, Trevor let out a mighty burp and threw the empty bottle across the whole room right to the open mouth of their new trash bin. When it broke with a satisfying crunch, he cheered and whooped like a teenager with his arms flying all around. It occurred to Michael he was, in fact, the only adult in the house capable of being a caretaker.

"What are you so happy about?"

Trevor opened up another beer and snickered.

"You won't believe it, Mikey. I was on the business trip as usual,"

"Uhuh..." Michael rinsed a plate, turned around and while drying it with a cloth, tuned out the sound and just watched Trevor spill beer while flapping his arms around and overact facial expressions as if he was a kid in a drama class.

"...and when I caressed him gently with my fists a couple of times, he agreed to give me a couple of packs for free!"

Still rubbing the plate, Michael just raised one curious eyebrow "Did you kill him?"

Trevor shifted and pointed the bottle to him so fast a couple of drops splashed out "What kind of animal do you take me for? Of course, I didn't kill him, but I sure took his marshmallows!"

"Wait a second, so those... things are full of marshmallows? What the fuck are we going to do with 100 bags of that crap???"

Trevor tapped his head with his index finger to articulate how stupid Michael just sounded to him. "What else do you want to do with food than eat it, Mikey?"

Michael just shot one dead glare to him and shook his head slowly.

"But I like how you're thinking; we could masturbate with them!"

"Trevor, that's disgusting..."

"Noooo try it! They are incredibly soft!"

"Stop it."

"And so runny when you heat them up! And if you are a good boy, I'd fill them with a very special cream for you..."

"T..."

"Michael, I love you, but you are one big fucking buzzkill, you know that?" Trevor slid down the table, finished the bottle and put it back into the crate. Stretching like a cat, he crossed the space between them and casually leaned against the counter next to Michael and tugged him into a half hug, leaving hand lower on his hip than Michael would have liked. He tried his best to look mad and sulking, glaring up into Trevor's grinning face.

"Aww look at those pretty lips pouting! Why don't we put them into good use..." Trevor leaned closer, and Michael slightly shivered when he felt T's hot breath full of beer and Redwoods on his lips. "...and have a challenge!"

"What?" Michael was utterly baffled. He was so damn ready for a forbidden daytime kiss, but all he could do at the moment was blink a couple of times and see Trevor pull away and laugh.

"Challenge, cupcake! To see how many of these bad boys you can fit into that pretty cockpit of yours."

"Trevor, you know I hate it when you call any part of my body a cockpit!"

"But you are not against stuffing it with marshmallows, are you?"

Michael threw the cloth he was holding to the full sink and immediately regretted the splash because the water would get behind the counter and he simply hated fixing that shit. He turned his frowned gaze to Trevor, who watched him with raised eyebrows and waited for round two of winding him up. There was no use going against Trevor who was determined to annoy him till M would give in. He might as well get it over with sooner than later.

"You know what? Fine. Let's fucking do this." Michael pointed an accusing finger and pushed it as close to Trevor's face as he could to see him cross-eyed and grin wider. "But just because you have a killer whale mouth doesn't mean you'll win!"

Michael stomped to the couch, threw his apron over the closest armrest and continued to the bathroom at the same pace, because why not taking advantage and getting his storage empty before the game begins? Judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, Trevor decided to do the same, but in the sink right next to the washed dishes. Fucking A.

A lot of rustling and swearing later, Michael decided it was safe to return from his porcelain throne and fall back on the couch, scrutinizing Trevor's grin with suspicion and still wiping water off his hands. Trevor returned his gaze with lively flames in eyes and patted the open bag sitting on his lap.

"Ok Mikey, you start."

Michael's unimpressed gaze did not affect Trevor, determined to see his cheeks stuffed. Without a word, Michael reached into the open bag, snatched one marshmallow from the top and put it in his mouth. He almost let his angry act slip when he saw pink tip of Trevor's tongue wet his lips and then lick around the white foam as it disappeared in his mouth. Alright, he can do better than his boyfriend, can't he? The second marshmallow stuck to the inside of his cheek. And then third, fourth, fifth, tenth...

"yoo cunt fat in any mour, Miki? Yoo r a pushi!"

Michael felt a few drops of sweat roll down his temple - and instinctively frowned and balled his hands in fists. He knew he must have looked ridiculous with all the white foam sticking out his mouth, but for love of God, Michael couldn't let Trevor win, not with that smug expression he sported and with the bag almost empty, which meant just a couple of candies away from victory.

"jooosh ya waat, ya kanaaanian fek"

Fuck, his jaw hurt so fucking bad from keeping it forcibly open. It was precisely that kind of pain that woke him up in the night covered in a cold sweat after his brain gave him a dream about blowing a huge cock. Unpleasant and persistent. Michael exhaled through his nose, and while keeping eye contact with grinning Trevor, he slowly craned one hand into the almost empty bag.

Oh fuck!

Nothing could prepare Michael for the feeling of the soft, hot skin under his fingers and the impossibly wide shit-eating grin Trevor put on. It wasn't like Michael wouldn't expect T to cheat, or come up with a different kind of prank. Still, this oddly familiar thing hardening under his fingers literally took his breath away - and Michael shot up from the couch, wheezing, progressively getting more and more red as he stumbled against scarce furniture.

"Bwahahahaha, you should have seen your face, Mikey - I've never seen you more wide-eyed than now! One would think you're used to the feeling of my dick in your hand by now, baby, but thank you!"

Trevor let the rest of the laugh resonate and mix with the wheezing and choking.

"Mike? You can stop, I got it, you hate it... are you ok?"

In answer, Michael's eyes bulged out, and his face tinted blue.

"That's not funny, sugar..."

Trevor's face grew the most serious Michael had ever seen it when he quickly rounded him, hugged him from behind and pushed against Michael's ribs a couple of times with force M was sure was enough to finish him. Instead of crushing into his ribcage, the last blow loosened something within, and he just watched the cursed candy fly through the thick air and roll under the couch in a ball of saliva and dirt.

For a second, Michael could barely do anything else but take deep breaths and hang onto Trevor's arms that held him steady cautiously. However, he never was a man to put rage off, and with one quick movement, he turned around and slapped Trevor across his frightened face.

"YOU FUCKING PRICK, WHY DID YOU DO THAT!!!"

"Mikey, it was just a prank, I didn't want to kill you!"

"REALLY? REALLY? YOU'VE WANTED TO KILL ME SINCE THE FIRST TIME YOU SAW ME YOU ANIMAL!"

Not even the visible hurt and a couple of tears on Trevor's face didn't stop him from going on with his rant. He paced towards the door as fast as possible and turned around to point a finger to T one more time.

"This is the last time I put up with your shenanigans, Trevor. I'm done with you; we're over, you hear me? OVER!"

"Michael! Wait!"

"FUCK YOU!"

Michael stomped out of the trailer and right into the unforgiving Sandy Shores sun, swiftly passing a bunch of half-dissolved marshmallows, and turned around in the middle of the road to gaze back at Trevor one last time.

"MIKEY!"

"TOO LATE, T! DO YOU THINK I'LL WAIT HERE FOR ANOTHER MURDER ATTEMPT? THAT I'LL KEEP SCRUBBING YOUR DIRTY DISHES AND WASHING YOUR DISGUSTING CLOTHES WHILE WAITING FOR YET ANOTHER KNIFE IN BETWEEN MY RIBS? NO! SO LONG, LOVE, AND FU..."

Whatever it was Michael wanted to say, it was completely drowned in the sound of screeching brakes and sighs of metal being deformed in an impact. Before the world switched off and he slowly slipped into comforting darkness, Michael heard a blood-chilling cry and the same voice calling his name, a voice he painfully needed to hear and hold onto like a lifeline.

*****************

Rhythmic Beeping. So loud. Droplets of fluid. Impossibly loud. And why is this light so damn white?

Michael had to blink a couple of times before his eyes decided to focus and adjust to the brightness in the room. He had no idea what the hell has happened to him, every part of his body switched on to let him know he was in a fucking lot of pain that was somehow numbed by whatever they put into the fluid dropping steadily into his IV. As a result, every muscle in his body vibrated in a very uncomfortable, subtle way, and it occurred to him it felt like that one time when they lived above a night club - a constant, low and very intruse mumble.

Moving his head around was near impossible - there was something around his neck, keeping it still. With a minor spike of anxiety, he decided to check whether his toes and fingers even respond. Good, he could feel the sheets rubbing against his moving feet, gentle creases in the bedsheet under one of his hands and... someone else's fingers under the other?

The hand twitched as if in sleep, and tightened its grip on his own. Somewhere near his bed, a familiar sleepy grunt echoed, and Michael's memory filled his vision with many pictures of lazy mornings in a small trailer bed, where the same sensation mixed with dust dancing in scarce sunrays and unexplainable peace.

"Michael..."

"T... Trevor..."

A rustle later, Michael could finally see the familiar face hover over him and block out most of the light. He looked 30 years older than he did last time Michael saw him, with his eyes red and weighted with huge dark bags. His hair was greasy again, and his stubble coloured salt and pepper from worry. Suddenly, Michael's eyes closed under the rediscovered sensation of Trevor's palm gently caressing his cheek.

"Mikey? Are you awake?"

Michael opened his eyes again to look into Trevor's, and tears he saw gathering in them were breaking his heart.

"Trevor..."

The sudden extra weight on Michael's body as Trevor jumped onto the bed and straddled him made him wince in pain.

"Oh my God, I was so afraid you'd..."

Trevor bit his lip and tried to stop the tears by taking a shaky breath. Then, as gentle as he could ever be, he leaned in and took Michael's head in both hands, and brushed his thumbs over his cheeks in tiny circles - a movement which Michael found oddly satisfying. Just as he closed his eyes and eased into the feeling again, familiar lips gently touched his forehead and stayed for longer than ever as if Trevor tried to channel everything he wasn't able to say trough the kiss.

"I almost lost you, Mikey..."

Trevor could not hold his tears in anymore, and just let them fall down onto Michael's face as he gently pressed his forehead against the very place his lips left a moment before.

"Please don't leave me, I can't... I can't live without you!"

"I'm so sorry I hurt you, love, can you forgive me?"

Michael wasn't sure Trevor heard or understood what he said - instead of answering, Trevor just collapsed sideways and squeezed him tight, sobbing into the white sheets. With all the strength left within him, Michael pulled him into a soft hug, and let his hand resting on Trevor's shoulder.

"T?"

"M?"

"Look, I... I'm sorry it had to end this way... I overreacted and got you worried sick, that's the last thing I'd ever want."

"No, I admit, it was stupid to put my dick in the bag. I apologize, Mikey... Are you still leaving me, though?"

Michael's grip on him tightened, seeking the heat and well-known frame against him.

"... No. I said stupid things in the heat of the moment, and now I regret I did. I don't want to hurt you."

"Are you coming back home with me?"

"I am, baby - as soon as I can. I love you, T, and I'm too tired to fight it..."

Trevor's head slowly rose from this shoulder, and he could see both surprise and relief on his face. He would give anything to keep that childlike expression on for longer. His own mouth curved into a slight, but warm smile.

"Let's seal the deal with the kiss, shall we?"

Trevor slowly climbed back upon him, and this time, Michael could feel a familiar kick of lust under his belly as T's ass grazed over the sensitive area. Trevor has never been this gentle with him before, and when he closed his eyes as their lips met, all he could think of was the first time he saw him standing by a lone plane and the way it felt to fall in love at first sight with him.

"Mmmm.... Mikey, careful with that, one more poke on my ass and I'll have to ride you right here."

"Shut up,"

There was no malice in Michael's voice for just a joy of having the old horny Trevor back along with the over-the-edge suggestive banter. The grin over the flushed face above him told him Trevor was more than glad he was back to his old self too.

"And put those pretty lips to work, sugar!"

T just snickered, planted the last brief kiss on his lips and disappeared under the whirlwind of sheets.

[iampikachuhearmeroar]

another unsolicited relationship advice post:

okay. i know that there’s probably thousands of relationship advice posts on here. but anyway. to my younger followers, if i have any:

if anyone that you’ve just met declares that you’re “girlfriend material” or “boyfriend material” and that you must simply meet their parents NOW! or some other ridiculously short interval (like a week say), instead of, idek, like a month or two into your relationship, know that that is a possible red flag for trying to push the relationship too fast.

i say this as again, bc on some buzzfeed fb post about supposed “nice guys” i commented about my high school stalker/creeper from 2012/2013. who, when i first met him in 2012 at public school, he insisted that after two days of knowing him that i simply “have to meet my (his) mum and my sisters right now! bc you’re girlfriend material and i LOVE you!”

like woah! dude! i’ve known you for a grand total of two fucking days! i absolutely don’t have to meet your family RIGHT NOW (although if i’d ever been stupid enough to actually date my stalker back then, i would’ve had to meet his mum or one of his 4 sisters/all of them at once; at some point anyway…. bc they would’ve had to drive us to dates etc bc neither of us had our Ps (provisional drivers licence here in aus) yet at the time)). because i’m pretty sure the normal window is about 1-2 months? maybe 3-4 months? why the fuck are you so obsessed with the term “girlfriend material”??? what the actual FUCK does that EVEN mean?? get away from me. bc this isn’t love. it’s something else, that i can’t put my finger on.

compare this to clear braces boy from catholic school, who literally took almost 3 years to ask me out; and to even ask for my number. when he’d finally asked for my number right before one set of the winter holidays at the end of term 2/before the start of term 3 in 2010, i was so oblivious as to why he wanted my number…. when he’d never wanted it/asked for it before.

so when he called me, while i was still on the bus home from school, i was panicking like “OH FUCK THATS WHY HE WANTED MY NUMBER!!! HE WANTS TO ASK ME OUT!!!!! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!! WHY THE FUCK AM I SO SLOW AND FUCKING DUMB???!!!” he never pressured me to meet his parents (although at 14/15 it was very obvious that that was a standard practice since we couldn’t drive ourselves anywhere lmao). we were basically on equal footing, except for my slowness with cottoning onto him asking me out and why he asked for my number lol.

CBB had never pressured and harassed me about my virginity. he had NEVER harassed me with porn, most especially while at school, unlike mr creeper who LOVED pulling out his porn filled phone and school laptop to show me his overly violent, degrading and aggressive porn. CBB’s flirting method was showing me norwegian black metal bands (or normal metal bands like parkway drive) and making me watch repeats of family guy on his ipod at lunch bc he loved family guy. he never brought up the term “girlfriend material” ever. he treated me like an actual person. and not his own personal fuck doll, that had holes that were conveniently for sticking his useless and clueless ass teenage dick in, again unlike creeper who was hellbent on wanting to act out his favourite violent etc porn on me to let him “take your virginity in a wonderful weekend of sex down the coast and you have to do all things that I LIKE BC THAT’S THAT AND I SAID SO!!!” 🤮🤮. although if i had progressed further than those few weeks with cbb, and my constant *karen from mean girls voice* *fake cough, fake cough* i’m sick *regina george voice* boo, you whore!” act every time i didn’t turn up on date that he’d asked me on…. maybe he could’ve treated me like that. but i’ll never know lol.

so cbb was unlike mr stalker; who was obsessed with my supposed “girlfriend material” status. mr stalker was obsessed with the fact that i had the ability and audacity to basically tell him “no”, by coyly letting him down with “my dad says i can’t date bc it distracts me from school and getting good marks 🙄😑” (which probably wasn’t true, looking back lmao)….. where he then whined PUBLICLY on facebook about it, with a status like “today sucks”… and then naming and shaming me in the comments when someone asked in the post comments what was wrong like: “*insert my name here* said no! she’s being a bitch!”. that at the time, made me roll my eyes and still does today when i think about it. because bro. i had literally only known you for two fucking days at that point. of course i’m going to say no. what the hell??? two days is nowhere near enough time to know a person well enough (although the conversation we had together on misguided trip to his house one day while we were wagging (skipping class/playing hooky for americans) aboriginal studies told me MORE THAN ENOUGH about his piece of shitness tbh) to “date” them imo.

because to me, the title “girlfriend material” doesn’t mean any fucking thing. but when it comes from a creep like mr stalker; it means “you’ll be my girlfriend forever and have my kids bc you’re such a nice girl and you’ll fix me bc that’s what nice girls like you do; bc you’re SO LOYAL AND NICE!” which i also saw as a MASSIVE RED FLAG back then, because we were literally 16yo kids (he literally told me this when we were on his bed in his bedroom in the aforementioned misguided trip to his house). and i also saw it as a red flag bc…. just because i’m “loyal” and “nice” doesn’t mean that i’ll spend LITERAL Y E A R S trying to “fix you” while you fuck around and never bother to change your behaviour all bc you think it’s “girly” to do just that. it definitely DOES NOT MEAN that i’ll have KIDS with you, what the actual fuck. like i’m a hopeless romantic, to an extent, mr creeper. but not to the extent where i’ll give myself up to someone like you, all because i’m “nice and caring” and it’s apparently what “nice girls do!!!” or whatever else fucked up guilt trip views you’ve got on why girls/women supposedly have to waste their time with and on you.

and also, on another front. CBB never FOLLOWED me home (considering he lived in a suburb 20mins away from mine lmao and we both lived at least 15mins away from the catholic school we attended) despite me telling him REPEATEDLY to “fuck off and walk home your way”….. whereas unfortunately, mr creeper lived just over the other side of my suburb.

so one day mr creeper decided to stalk me home (despite me saying the above “fuck off and walk home your way” comment constantly to him in the 10min walk home). and then when we got to my street and in front of my house he decided to joke that “oh now i know where your house and bedroom are, i’ll come to hide under your bed naked one day!!!! and when you get home (bc i’ll obvs do it when you’re out doing something), you’ll just have to FUCK ME because you’ll be so surprised that im there and ready to fuck you!” as if i’d be so overcome with supposed lust & love for him, after knowing that he’d broken into my room against my will and messed with my shit….. all for some cutesy love prank…. like in, idk, love actually (???) or himym (specifically the “naked man!” episode from season 4) or some other shitty romcom. bc no. you’re overstepping SO MANY fucking boundaries that i’d literally call the police on your stupid fucking stalker ass. what the actual fuck.

finally, cbb never forced me to try to kiss him, unlike mr stalker…. who whenever he got the chance, he’d grab my head and force me to kiss him…. and then gave me back the utterly disgusting & controlling GALL to tell me that i was “kissing wrong” and whinge/bitch that i “wasn’t into it”. and then he’d force me to kiss him again with a “im so sorry does this fix it 🥰🥺???” like NO???!!! forcefully kissing me DOES NOT FUCKING FIX ANYTHING YOU STUPID CUNT! please just get the FUCK away from me. like if you force me into anything, of course i’m not going to enthusiastically enjoy it??? and moreover, don’t you think it’s YOU who is “kissing wrong” (whatever the FUCK that bullshit actually means) and not me???? why do you think GRABBING MY HEAD and FORCING me to kiss you is appropriate in ANY of these situations????

just. to end this. to anyone and everyone, regardless of their gender/sexuality/age etc. NEVER trust anyone who uses the term “girlfriend material”/“boyfriend material”, to describe you, most especially when you’ve JUST MET them.

they’re using it as a means to control you and possibly trap you into an unhealthy (or potentially abusive) relationship like i would’ve had with my stalker/creeper. but most especially, this goes out to my younger followers, if i have any. be aware of this. watch out for the small red flags and run at the earliest time.