#this sound is simply unbeatable!!!!!!!

[francesderwent]

I want ttpd to sound like this!!!!!!!!

[harmonysanreads]

Happy Birthday...!

feat. vampire!alhaitham

cw(s) : two dorks being too adorable, smitten alhaitham

wc : 1.4k

Every so often, Alhaitham could be found in profound contemplation in the study of his imposing mansion. Books strewn about, some half open and some in piles beside his chair and utop his desk—though the material of his perusal remains hard to deduce.

An amateur mistake would entail that Alhaitham wasn't in deep thought at all, but in a slumber and that could be credible, if you were to disregard his species' characteristics altogether. Though Alhaitham assumes a relaxed position, his senses are never in the same state of inertia. His ears pick up on tip-toeing footsteps, the vibrations registering as familiar in his sharp mind. These playful tricks could fool any ordinary human, not a vampire capable of catching the pressure applied in those pattering sounds.

He knows it's you, can predict you have a surprise in your hands and can envision the playful smile that must undoubtedly be stretching across your lips. But he does not move an inch, does not give any indication that he's aware. Alhaitham is not known for frivolity and neither would he be inclined to encourage such behavior if this was anyone else. Perhaps every action of an intellectual appears to bear some motive to the audience, or simply the intention is interpreted.

Nevertheless, Alhaitham continues to act his part, giving all the reactions you expect. Appearing to be startled when your arms wrap around his neck but before he has the chance to respond, you swivel in front of him after pressing a chaste kiss under his jaw. Turquoise eyes widen, for that he didn't see coming. He can only thank that blood never rushes to coat his skin pink as you stand in all your giddiness before him and dear vampire lords, are you the brightest.

“Happy birthday!”

The vampire blinks, vacillating between your expectant expression and at the ‘gift’ you eagerly present to him.

Ah, so that's the occasion. Alhaitham has always thought that humans were a bit too passionate about celebrating the day they were born. Such customs are not performed among his kin, for a vampire's ‘birthday’ is just a bitter reminder of their eternal damnation. But, you don't know that. Tied to your mortal sentimentalities and well wishes ; he knows of your sole and innocent wish to make him happy.

So, he carefully takes the wrapped object in one hand and grasps your outstretched palm in the other, gently guiding you to his lap. His unbeating heart swells when you follow him without the slightest hesitation.

“Thank you, what is the gift?”

“No no, you aren't supposed to ask me that, Haitham! You have to open it yourself.”

You chide him with a raised finger and one of his brows quirks up. He's still not yet accustomed to every nuance of human behavior but, for you, he continues learning.

“Apologies, let me correct myself then.”

Alhaitham undoes the ribbon and wrapping paper, putting them aside to feel the coolness of the ceramic mug on his hand. Orange pupils squint to capture the details, turquoise painting and the words ‘best vampire’ boldly printed in black in the mug's body.

“Do you like it?” your hopeful tone snaps him out of his inspection. If this had been even fifty years ago, he wouldn't have stopped a confused frown from showing. Or, if the object had been handed by someone else, he wouldn't have considered it anything less than a joke.

“I...yes, I do like it. I wasn't aware that I was the ‘best vampire’ in your eyes. But then again, have you met other ones?” Alhaitham asks smoothly, feigning indifference to the sardonic prospect that you might have.

“Not at all! But you know the stories of vampires everyone tells, they're usually so scary, mean and selfish. You're none of those, you're intelligent, calm and have the softest heart—which is why, you're the best.”

Alhaitham appraises your confident answer with a humorful look, surely you must not think he's like this with everyone else? But, he doesn't correct you at all, feeling almost inebriated by your heartfelt words. It's also a bonus that his ego swells, he's still like any other man in some aspects.

“You know, I actually wanted to add a mosquito and bat sticker to the mug.”

That yanks Alhaitham out of his bliss.

“A.. mosquito?”

“Yes..? Aren't you essentially an overgrown mosquito? You know, both of you rely on blood to survive?” you question innocuously, shifting in his lap nonchalantly.

Alhaitham's jaw slackens, not knowing whether to be offended or amused. If this was inquired of any other vampire, you would not be able to get a second sentence out. But, he identifies this as a lack of knowledge and decides informing you would be best.

“That is a grave misconception. Because only female mosquitoes drink blood, during the time they bear eggs, more precisely.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape in understanding, quickly morphing to a sheepish expression. “I’m really sorry…”

Alhaitham waves it off, pausing when he remembers something, “You also mentioned a bat sticker, why?”

This time you look up at him in barely restrained excitement, “I've wanted to ask this for the longest time! You can transform into a bat, right?”

“No, I can't.” your shoulders slump slightly.

“Then.. will you turn to ash if you come into contact with sunlight?”

“While prolonged exposure to sunlight can kill a vampire, we've evolved to be able to withstand marginal exposition. It's not as deadly as the movies portray it.” your expression falls but he notices some semblances of relief. Huh, were you worried for him?

You try again, “W-well, will you die if you eat garlic?”

“Garlic makes me allergic. Its scent is pungent and irritating. Not much different than human allergies.”

This time, Alhaitham doesn't bother masking his amusement at your pout, “Was everything I've known about vampires a lie?”

One of the first traits Alhaitham had noticed about you was your curious nature and eagerness to learn new things. You'd always be on the lookout for an opportunity to ask him questions regarding his vampire roots in particular, preferably when you deemed he was in a good mood. Most of the time though, you opted to make your own observations. It seemed both of you were the most interesting creature on Teyvat in each other's eyes.

The vampire puts the ceramic mug aside on the table, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. He tilts up your downcast face with a finger beneath your chin, “It's not your fault that human media portray vampires in that particular light and weave these stereotypes. You know only what you've been shown.”

Ashen locks tickle your skin, “You’re not mad at me..?”

“Not at all.” how could he ever be upset with you?

Alhaitham sighs in relief when your smile returns in full force, turquoise eyes slowly shift to your neck, the pulse there beating with the essence of your psyche. A frown marrs his impeccable features as a thought passes by his mind. Humans cherish every year of their lifespan due to the limitation of it. They're fragile, susceptible to the whims of time. But instead of lamenting their inevitable end, they choose to celebrate and foster the memories acquired within their short lives. He's not subjected to the same laws, the shadow of death will not fall upon him as a result of old age.

He'd pondered about this mortality but never worried about those subjected to it. However, as he feels the warmth of your body envelop his cold one and cradles this vessel of the purest soul he's encountered — he can't stop a bolt of paranoia from racing down his spine. What would he do if he could never hold you again like this?

His thoughts are interrupted when he feels your arms around his shoulders again, your warmth presses against him. For a moment, Alhaitham stays still and stunned, all his senses focusing on your proximity, your scent and the beating of your heart. You don't say anything more, letting all your reassurance seep through that sweet embrace. A canopy of serenity drapes over the vampire and he returns your hug to imbibe these feelings deep in his soul.

His hand brushes along your back a few times before coming to a halt, “[ Name ],”

“Yes?” your hum tickles the skin of his shoulder.

“Are you wearing my shirt?”

A beat of silence passes, Alhaitham was so caught up in the flurry of events that he completely missed the white shirt hanging loosely on your figure. Albeit, he's anything but irritated at this revelation, you could take his entire wardrobe and he'd thank you.

“Teehee~”

Alhaitham places a reverent kiss on your pulse, smiling as your mischievous giggle reaches his ear.

Just for this moment, he supposes he can forget the rules and restrictions of this wretched world and indulge in your presence.

[more vampire!alhaitham content]

[cottonlemonade]

How To Comfort People by Tsukishima Kei

word count: 961 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: Tsukishima x chubby!Reader

genre: angsty fluff, rivals to… whatever this is

warnings: horrible social skills

request: small-medium strawberry-passion fruit lemonade with extra ice and a slice of ginger for Tsukishima Kei || angsty-fluff, forced proximity and getting caught in a storm with rival Tsukishima

Tsukishima said Goodbye to the rest of the team and walked down the road alone. The thought of spending a whole bus ride with the others who were still downtrodden from their loss against Aoba Josai was too annoying. Instead he called his older brother to pick him up. Thunder rumbled above and the steely gray sky matched his mood. Tch, it was just a club. No reason to care so much. Hands in his pockets he spotted the small corner shop his brother told him to meet him at. It was still a little ways away but Tsukki didn‘t mind the walk. He kicked a pebble along the path. Then something wet hit his neck and when he looked up, big drops of rain splattered his glasses. Cursing extensively he fell into a jog, his limbs still screaming from the exertion of the match.

He sought shelter at a run down bus stop halfway to the intersection. Still swearing he shook his hair, brushed at his clothes and then took off his glasses, feeling around for a somewhat dry spot on his shirt he could wipe them on.

Once he could see again, he noticed a figure standing with him under the rusty, slightly leaking roof.

The thought that he had seen you before clung to him much like his wet jacket. Then when you nodded and smiled politely he realized that you were that pudgy manager from Aoba Josai. Just his luck. When he decided to simply ignore you until his brother came, the ribbed roof creaked and a small wave of icy rain water splashed into his collar, running down the back of his neck. He gave a decidedly embarrassing shriek and jumped to the side. To add insult to injury he stumbled and bumped into you. Perfect.

Muttering an apology with a small bow he turned to stare stoically out onto the slowly flooding road. After a minute or so he heard you take a deep breath.

“You guys played really well.“, you said, awkwardly holding onto the strap of your bag, “It was pretty impressive seeing so many first years on the starting team.“

Tsukki guessed you meant it as a compliment and he was not about to tell you that it was simply lack of team members that influenced the roster significantly.

In his opinion, it would have been perfectly fine to stand there in silence but his proximity seemed to jump start some kind of rambling in you because now you just wouldn‘t shut up, “I‘m sure you‘ll have better luck next time.“

Tsukki was certain you were just taunting him at this point.

He bit back, “Your oh so „Great King“ is not unbeatable. Everyone has a weakness and next time we‘ll find yours and destroy you.“ Where the hell did that come from? It seemed that the loss did bother him more than he thought. He almost sounded like Hinata.

Even worse, your expression changed from - what he had interpreted as - patronizing to shocked. He pressed his lips together. So what if you had been sincere? He would rather listen to Hinata babble about the Little Giant for two hours than apologize. But then again… you did look genuinely confused and even… hurt (?) at his words.

Long silent seconds dragged on between you two, the downpour on the thin metal roof drumming in his ears. He threw another glance in your direction and a little triceratops figure dangling from your bag caught his eyes. It was the same make as the parasaurolophus he had on his house keys.

Tsukki let out a small breath, then looked around, needlessly making sure that no one would see or hear him and then mumbled “sorry“ being 110% sure that it was entirely drowned out by the heavy drops hitting the metal above.

Lightning flashed across the sky and he saw you flinch and retreat a little into the corner. Great, apparently he was trapped here with a five year old. Thinking of the triceratops he pressed out a rather lukewarm “there there“.

When the thunder clap followed you seemed to shrink even further and Tsukki saw that your hands started to shake.

… What would his brother do if he was here? Akiteru was always the one with the social skills. He would make sure that you were okay and comfort you. Tsukki definitely already did that. And then he would probably prevent you from getting scared again. Resisting the urge to groan loudly at the pathetic display in front of him he reached up and took off the headphones around his neck. You looked up at him with impossibly big eyes when he placed them over your ears. They were top of the line so excellent noise cancelling was a given. Stepping a little to his right, he was now standing directly in front of you - tall enough to block your view of the sky and of the next lightning flashing through the clouds.

Teary eyes aside you were actually not that horrible to look at, he thought. Even… even quite cute, especially with the way his headphones seemed to squish your chubby cheeks together a bit more. Plus there was the triceratops. Always a sign of good taste, really.

A honk behind him ripped Tsukki from his thoughts. Akiteru‘s beat-up car waited in front of the dingy bus stop, engine running.

In one swift motion, Tsukki collected his headphones again and with a curt nod (more towards the key chain than you) he hurried to the passenger side.

His brother offered a sort of happy frown when he closed the door.

“Shouldn‘t I give your friend a ride?“

“No.“

And with that, the brothers drove off, making way for the bus behind them.

✨ @s4lemsstuff ✨ thank you for the request - it was lot of fun to figure out! 😂 hope you like it!

For requests see here

[elsweetheart]

going crazy over how you write ellie omfg , requesting you do hcs of your choice for her !

lots of people wanted more ellie hcs so here’s a few more! enjoy 🫶🏼

ellie williams hcs part 2

• you love her tattoo, and she catches onto that pretty quickly. she loves the way you trace your finger over the leaves sweetly whilst you ask her for something, or stare at it whilst she’s talking to you if she’s wearing something short sleeved. because of this, you notice ellie starts to roll her sleeves up more often. she’ll be pushing the material up her arms and look away from you, pretending she has no idea what she’s doing but can never resist taking a peek and letting a little smile slip onto her face when she catches you staring, sucking down on your bottom lip, eyes glazed over.

• ellie is super perceptive to your emotions, half of the time she knows you’re anxious before you do because she’s in tune with the way you act / react when certain things happen. she usually does a pretty solid job at reassuring you, but overtime she realises that sometimes you don’t want to directly talk about what’s making you anxious — so she comforts you in different ways. she’ll pull you in for a hug and keep you there a few seconds longer than usual, knowing you need it. her voice will instantly lower its volume when she talks to you, trying to make everything about her gentle. one time, she could tell you were overthinking and worrying so she found a load of felt tip pens that still worked on a run and let you colour in her tattoo.

• will play the guitar for you when you can’t sleep, even if she has to squint at the strings in the moonlight to make sure she’s about to pluck the right one. she’ll even quietly sing you a little song, and won’t stop until she hears your soft snores. ellie is terrible at taking compliments, so the next morning when you’re cuddling and you tell her how nice her voice is / guitar playing skills are, she’ll just blush and tell you everything she did wrong— but she feels good on the inside.

• ellie honestly has no shame. if she wants to fuck you, she truly doesn’t care where it is. everyone could be in the next room with the door wide open and she wouldn’t hesitate to stick her hand down your pants, chuckling as she slides a hand over your mouth. “we’re fine. think you can keep the noise down or am i just that good?” she’ll also make your bed creak and bump into wall loudly whilst she’s fucking you with her strap at night, simply chuckling when dina, who was at the other side of the wall complains about it the next day. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.” she’d shake her head, pinching your waist as she walks past you.

• literally unbeatable at board games. no one knows why, or how — but she is victorious every single time. usually you’re too sleepy for a late night board game session with the group, so you’ll just curl up beside her as she insists that the two of you are a team. before each roll she’ll hold the dice up to your pouty lips and make you kiss it for good luck. on the rare occasions when she loses, she’s a terrible sore loser. she will argue with whoever beat her for hours and insist they cheated and then pretty much bully them the entire next day.

• so condescending during sex. it’s infuriating but makes your head swim because it puts you in such a subby headspace you don’t even know how to react other than to just “mhm” desperately to whatever she’s saying. when she’s making you feel good, you often babble — trying to hold onto whatever control you have over your brain until she chuckles, pressing a kiss to your collarbone. “oh yeah? wanna tell me what language that was in baby? sounds like nonsense to me.” she’s smiling against your skin and you’re burning hot with embarrassment. “ellie—st—please i don’t know— can’t even think.” you whine, her fingers curling up deliciously inside you. “i know, teasing you is so funny though. so fucking cute.”

• will kiss you even when she’s mad (either at you, or in general.) like if you ask for one, or just pucker your lips at her she physically cannot say no. her angry pouty face won’t leave her, she’ll just grab your jaw and press her lips to yours kinda rough before letting go and continuing like it never happened. sometimes you find it cute, other times it makes you wanna bend over for her :)))

• i headcanon ellie as an ass girl, so she’s always copping a feel or checking out your behind when she gets the chance. if you bend over to pick something up and she’s standing behind you she will literally lean back to look at it, and then pretend she wasn’t looking when you stand up straight again. also if she’s walking beside you her hand will start on the centre of your back, slide down slowly to your lower back, sometimes take a detour to your waist, but always will end up in the back pocket of your jeans so she can squeeze.

• the first few times you took her strap was fucking excruciating for her, because you looked so sweet trying your best to take it all for her. it tested her self control, because seeing you spread out, holding your puffy abused pussy open to take her deeper and whimpering through the stretch made her want to hold you down and fuck you hard but she wanted to of course make it as pleasurable for you as possible so she took it nice and slow, let you fuck against it yourself for a while before grinding it carefully into you making you practically sob for her. sometimes it would all get too overwhelming for a moment and you’d be panting, losing your breath slightly. she’d stop and take your face in her hands making you look at her. “hey, breathe. i’ve got you. not gonna go faster than what you need right now, but i’m gonna give you what you want. just relax. there you go. good girl.” and she just talks u through it so well :::::)))))

• takes so much interest in your special hobbies and interests because they’re so unique to you and she just wants to feel as close to you as possible. whatever you like, she tries to practise in her own private time so she can get good at it too / learn about what it is so she can hold her own in a conversation about it. ellie is an incredibly curious person who is always looking to learn new things so she’s thrilled when you can introduce her to things she doesn’t know that are fun :)

[ummmlife]

Nanami using his "christmas present" in a very rough way!

Warnings!; MDNI this is literature porn, if you lie and read santa won't give you any nanami present 😋 , reader doesn't have an specified gender/genitalia , dom!top!nanami × sub!bottom!reader , facefucking , spankings , no foreplay , rough , angry!nanami , gift wrapping tape , dirty talk + degradation

Having a joyful christmas shouldn't be that hard. Waking up next to your boyfriend while his protective embrace covers you from the coldness of the morning, get ready together for the night, eat some KFC's chicken for dinner and then open up your gifts.

Your lovely man got you everything you were asking through the year. Every single jewelery, perfume, bag, shoes, clothes... Everything was there in their respective bags under the tree, who could be the luckiest lover in the world if it wasn't you? With a man like Kento, that was unbeatable.

Then Kento asked for his presents, you bought them, of course, his presents were hiding under your shared bed, why? Well, you decided to play a little prank to him, silly you.

The prank was to, flirtatiously, undress yourself to reveal a nice gift wrapping tape enveloping your naked body.

— "Here is your present!"

— "... Only that?"

To say that you blood run cold when you saw Kento's displaced expression was short to describe it. But he wasn't just displaced, no, Kento was enraged and we all know how blood-curdling that is. He spent so much money in those presents for you and you only got him what he can take every day he wants? Unreasonable, stupid even.

How ungrateful you are.

Kento got up from the couch and, even before you could reveal the prank, he grabbed your hair with one of his hands, pulling your head back as tight as he could for you to face him. — "What do you take me for?". More than offended, Kento sounded genuinely hurt by your "present".

You tried to speak again, of course, but this time his fingers in your mouth were more than enough to make you shut up. — "I don't want to hear anything from you tonight, I really don't want to..." . He took his fingers from your mouth and started to unbutton his pants, — "But if I got nothing else... then I'll use my present as much as I want. Get on your knees, now".

A mix of terror and eagerness ran through you as your body obeyed the words of the man you love the most, knees on the carpet, face up and mouth wide open, you even had the decency to stick out your tongue for him. It didn't take long for Kento to take his thick length out of his underwear and slide it in one single thrust all deep down to your throat, his hand taking place on your hair once more.

Thrust by thrust, Kento made it obvious for you that neither your constant gagging nor the lack of oxygen you were getting was going to stop him from using your mouth.

His growls and soft sighs decorated the living room of that peaceful home, accompanied by sounds of his balls hitting on your chin and your own gagging sounds. — "This is what you wanted, isn't it?.. Hah... What– ngh-! did you expect after disappointing me like– ah! like that?!"

But it wasn't enough to satisfied himself though.

Kento took his manhood out of your maw just to push your body against the couch, forcing your face down while your back arches. His palm smacking your ass sent a chill through your spin, but you couldn't savor the pain before another slap was send by him. Just like a naughty kid, you were being spanked for your bad behavior towards your loving boyfriend.

— "How ungrateful and foolish you are". Kento never used to be this rough, never calling you mean names unless you asked for it, never treating you with hate. Deep down you know that if he was actually hurting you, he'll stop, although... why could you him to stop anyway?

Kento stopped the spanking treatment for you to press yous head on the couch. You felt how he simply spat on your hole just to slide his throbbing shaft with a single thrust, the pain was unbearable at first, and Kento knew that because one of his hands moved to your hip to start rubbing it, that was his way to comfort you despite all his mood.

Once you got used to his size, because Kento still waited for you to feel comfortable, your inner walls became the victim of a delicious assault that was leaving your mind and senses all numb. — "Is this what you wanted? Ahn... Mngh-ph! Having this filthy hole filled with your boyfriend's cock? Huh? So greedy...". His movements didn't do anything but increase in force and roughness.

Your moans filled up the silence of your home as Kento's groans and sighs accompanied the melody of your screams drowned out by the cushions while the creaking of the chair marked the pace of this symphony that your bodies played.

It took a few minutes to feel the tickling sensation in your belly anticipating the culmination of your torturous pleasure while Kento's thrust erratically hitted your most sensitive spot. You couldn't see him directly, but by closing your eyes you could clearly focus on the mental image of your boyfriend's face as he's about to cum as well.

Small drops of sweat falling from his hair as this sticks on his forehead, his teeth clenching his jaw as the his heavy breathing leaves his nose. That focusing expression that he makes when he's avoiding himself to cum so quickly with a small frown and his eyes closed.

It was too much, Kento always make you go crazy for him and visualizing his expression of pleasure, while your body is focusing on the sensation of his manhood sliding in and out from you as his hips hit your flesh, just made easy for you to reach your peak. You didn't want to cum that fast, you wanted this moment to last, that was until Kento started to show his real voice, — "Mmm-ahh. A-aahh... Darling! I'm– nnhg! going to... to cum! Haahhh!".

Pure and loud moans of pleasure chime your ears, that was enough to make the orgasm hit all your body and make you shake. You could feel Kento's cock twitching inside of you as his fingers squeezed your hips tightly. It was marvelous.

Kento's thick cum fell from your greedy hole to the floor, running down from your thighs. Just like you, he was catching his breath before sliding out of you and slowly sitting back on the couch, his expression changed from a irritated one to a bitter one. — "Did you seriously not buy me a present?". Kento asks you with a obvious angry pout on his lips, how adorable.

You couldn't help but smile softly and move your body slowly, with Kento's help, to sit next to him.

— "Your presents are under the bed, I just wanted to play a little prank on you".

Your boyfriend's eyes lit up in realization, he looks at you now all embarrassed for how he reacted. Kento instinctively holds your hand as he looks down ashamed.

— "Can I... go and take my presents?" Is he really asking you permission for that? Obviously you didn't say no and as you took off the uncomfortable gift wrapping tape from your chest, Kento came back with 5 gift bags and a gleeful smirk.

To compensate all the damage caused, Kento cleaned all the kitchen and living room and also carried you in his arms for the rest of the night, because, poor you, who shouldn't move your legs for some brutal assault... That in his words, nevertheless, you were more than happy to spend the next hours in your boyfriend's arms, watching some cheesy american christmas movies and grabbing some snacks together.

fun facts with miss bibi ! for the ones who don't know 🤓☝️

in japan, christmas is more a valentine's day snowy edition, so you can perceive the christmas spirit more from the young couples (and the kids, of course). that's why a lot of people spend their christmas with their partners, unlike us who usually spend it with our families.

also, due to the arrival of many new brands from overseas to japan and thanks to an excellent advertising team, it became a tradition for the japanese people to have kfc as their christmas dinner since the 80's.

that's all folks!

[lesbicosmos]

day 5 of @painlandweek !!

day 5 prompt: canon divergence

summary:

what if, while esther was torturing edwin with her machine in episode 8, he screamed out specifically for charles? well, charles simply wouldn't be able to handle that without doing something about it.

notes:

title from i will follow you into the dark by death cab for cutie (one of the most payneland songs ever idc)

also on ao3!!

fear is the heart of love

Charles gasped awake, only to find himself in a vaguely familiar kitchen, with the face of Esther Finch staring back at him, a smirk on her face.

What had even happened? They’d said goodbye to Crystal, and then the next thing he knew, the butcher shop blew up and he and Edwin were trapped in a tiny cage in their most basic forms – tiny spheres of densely packed spectral energy. He didn’t remember anything else after that until right now, with the witch’s face only inches from his.

“Oh…there he is…” Esther said condescendingly. “Pow! Bam! Fire, burning! Remember that?” she teased, laughing. “I’m feeling bad that I trapped you in that little glass box, but…you teens, you’re just so hard to pin down.”

Charles was so angry. He wanted to say something, to scream, but couldn’t bring himself to. He had no idea where Edwin was, and that terrified him. For fuck’s sake, they’d only just escaped Hell! Could they not have had a little more time to recover from what happened before they were kidnapped by an immortal vengeful witch?

“And, if I’m being honest, I didn’t want you to ruin my plan and try to rescue your pal.”

At the mere mention of Edwin, Charles went to move, to grab her, to do anything to attack, but barely moved before finding himself in intense pain. Shit. Chares groaned, breathing heavily as he tried to move into a position where the collar that held him wasn’t touching his neck.

“Oh! Nasty sting. The choker’s iron,” Esther said, proudly.

“Where is Edwin?” Charles demanded. “Don’t you dare-”

“Where is Edwin? Where is he, mate? Oh!” Esther mocked, with a terrible impression of Charles’s accent. She laughed. “Honey, don’t be jealous. Once I get him up and screaming, I’ll come back and play with you, yeah?” The playful tone to her voice made Charles wish he had his cricket bat. “Just you wait,” she added, more severely.

Charles’s face contorted into an angry snarl.

“Boop!” she said, high pitched playfulness back in her voice as she tapped Charles’s nose, stood up and walked right past him, out of the kitchen.

Charles struggled, desperate to do something, anything, trying to move without hitting the iron circle around his neck. Monty cawed in his cage behind him.

From the other room, he could vaguely hear what Esther was saying over the music she was blasting throughout the house.

“Charles says hi,” she said.

Right, okay. At least Edwin was only in the next room. He wasn’t too far.

“Charles!” he heard Edwin yell. He sounded panicked, but not in pain. Not yet, at least.

Charles looked around desperately, trying to think of anything he could possibly use to escape. He really didn’t want to have to break out with his bare hands, but he hadn’t entirely dismissed the idea.

Esther’s voice had trailed off and he wasn’t able to make out what she was saying, but then he heard a mechanical whirring echoing through the house. What was she doing to him?

“This is amazing,” he finally heard her say after a few minutes. “I know it hurts, but you’re taking it like such a champ,” she said, presumably to Edwin. “Such a good boy. Don’t worry, it’s gonna get a lot worse.”

She was cackling. Charles wanted to strangle her.

Not too long later, the screaming started. Charles’s unbeating heart sank in his chest at the sound. Edwin was in there, suffering, and he was stuck in the fucking kitchen, chained to the counter with nothing but the repetitive cawing of a traitorous crow in his ear.

Edwin’s screams were horrifying, visceral. It made Charles’s blood boil at the thought. What was she doing to him for this to make him scream like that, after everything he had been through in Hell? And why couldn’t he do anything about it? Bloody hell, he was supposed to be Edwin’s protector! He was always meant to be there to step in between Edwin and whatever it was trying to hurt him. He’d already failed him once, already just watched in shock as the doll-head-spider-demon snatched him from right beside him, forcing him to re-live the worst things imaginable over and over again. But Charles had saved him then, marched right down there and got him back, so why couldn’t he save him now?

Charles weighed up his options, trying to think clearly despite the heart-wrenching echoes and the fact he was trying his hardest not to start crying. There were things around the room that he could probably use, if only he could reach them.

Monty cawed again, and Charles groaned in frustration.

“If you’re not gonna be helpful, could you please just shut up!” he yelled, turning to face the bird. His cage was open, almost tauntingly. The crow was free while he was imprisoned, chained in an iron collar.

Without making another sound, Monty flew out of the cage and out of the open window on the other side of the room.

“Fucking crow,” Charles muttered.

The screaming stopped, along with the whirring. He heard Esther’s voice, saying something indistinguishable. Maybe she’d given up? Stopped torturing Edwin and decided it was Charles’s turn now? Charles didn’t care. He hoped that was the case. He wished it was him in whatever machine she had created rather than Edwin.

Of course, this was Esther Finch he was talking about. She wasn’t that reasonable. She was just taunting him. The whirring kicked back in, louder this time, drowning out her wicked laugh. And the screams started again, only this time they were different. This time, Edwin was screaming out for Charles.

Hearing his own name in Edwin’s hoarse and wounded voice, paired with his strangled sobs of pain, broke something within Charles that wasn’t just his heart. Something in his mind snapped, like a call to action. He had to do something. No matter the consequence. He had to get him out of there. The mere thought of losing Edwin now, after everything; the mere thought of losing him at all just wasn’t a thought that made any semblance of sense in Charles’s mind. He could not accept it.

Which was why, holding his breath in anticipation of the pain, Charles moved onto his knees and spun around, facing the counter. He only hissed slightly at the pain as the choker grazed his neck. He reached into the pockets of his trousers, praying his gloves were in there to form any protection they could – they weren’t, of course. They were in the pockets of his jacket, which he assumed Esther had flung somewhere in the kitchen out of his reach just to taunt him.

“Right. Okay,” he whispered to himself, preparing for what he knew he had to do.

He reached out, wrapping both hands around the very end of the chain, right where it joined the edge of the counter. He grunted in pain, but pushed it away, the sounds of Edwin still screaming and crying out for him drowning out any feelings he might have had about his own situation. Ignoring the smoke beginning to rise from where the iron met his hands, ignoring the burning sensation eating away at him, Charles pulled on the chain. He pulled as hard as he could, hoping Esther hadn’t put some sort of enchantment on it.

Charles bit down on the inside of his cheek so hard that it would have bled if he were alive in an attempt to stay quiet. He couldn’t have Esther hearing his escape attempt. Sure, it might draw her away from Edwin temporarily, but she would only put Charles in an even worse situation, one he might not physically be able to escape, leaving Edwin abandoned in his torture.

Charles thought about Edwin as he desperately tried to break off the chain. He thought about his dry sarcastic humour and his lack of understanding of some of the modern world. He thought about how at peace he looked while reading a book about some new magic he was practising and how relaxed he seemed when it was just the two of them at the office. He thought about how immensely kind he was at heart, beneath the stern studious guise; about how that first night the two of them met, despite having just escaped Hell itself, he had sat and talked to a cold dying stranger, read to him as he slipped away. He thought about everything he had been through, being sucked back into Hell for a second time and torn apart over and over again; thought about how broken and vulnerable and impossibly brave he had been on that staircase, pouring his heart out to the boy he loved, the boy who loved him so much in return. He thought about how he couldn’t conceivably lose him, about how there was no Charles Rowland without Edwin Payne, not anymore.

All of that, along with the sound of Charles’s name being cried throughout the house, gave Charles enough willpower, enough anger- and love-fuelled strength, to break the chain from the side of the counter, launching himself backwards against the opposite wall. He winced as the collar hit the front of his neck on the rebound, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Iron burns were temporary and would fade in a few hours. What really mattered was that he was free, he could save Edwin.

He scrambled to his feet, holding his head up in a way that attempted to avoid touching the scorching iron. He left the kitchen and could see through into the other room. He couldn’t see Esther herself, could only hear her laughter, but he could see Edwin. He was strapped to a table, several metal rods all pointed down and prodding at him, either forcing some sort of energy into him or, the more likely option, drawing it out. He was glowing somehow, his body barely even corporeal, and his eyes were screwed tightly shut.

It was even worse than Charles anticipated. There was no way he could possibly fight Esther on his own, not when she was this powerful and had full control over whatever this device was that she was using to torture Edwin. He had to weaken her somehow, make her more vulnerable. He had to kill the snake that was keeping her young.

As though sensing Charles’s presence close by, Edwin looked over, and exhausted green eyes met determined brown ones.

“I’m going to save you,” Charles mouthed, hoping Edwin could read his lips. If he couldn’t, he at least hoped Edwin knew him well enough to assume. “I promise.”

As difficult as it was to turn his back, to look away from Edwin when he was in such a situation, Charles knew he would only be there suffering for longer if he didn’t get a move on.

He raced back into the kitchen, crouching down next to the cupboard that hid the entrance to the snake’s underground lair. In his haste, he’d forgotten about the band of iron still locked around his neck, and cursed as it touched his skin. He spotted his jacket thrown across the stove as predicted, and rummaged through the pockets. He put his gloves on and took out the lockpicking kit he kept in there for emergencies. Despite his hands shaking in the hurry, he expertly unpicked the lock on the collar, catching it in his hands before it could clatter to the ground and alert Esther to his freedom. He gently placed it down on the counter, before rushing back to the cupboard and unlocking the door. He pulled the cord inside, revealing the gaping hole that led straight downwards into the snake’s basement.

Ah. He realised he didn’t have his rope. Or anything to attack the snake with once he was down there. Everything was in his stupid infinite backpack, which was still at the fucking butcher’s shop. Trying to best a serpent that big with his bare hands was going to be a ghostly suicide mission, and would do nothing to help save Edwin.

Just as he was about to scream out in frustration, the sound of flapping wings caught his attention. He turned around to see Monty flying back in through the window. Clasped tightly in his beak was the handle of Charles’s backpack. He swooped down, dropping the backpack on the ground before the ghost, standing beside it proudly.

“Where’d you find this?” Charles asked in disbelief.

Monty cawed.

“Redemption arc, eh?”

Charles reached into the bag, taking out the rope Edwin had previously used to climb down into the depths of the house. He tied one end of the rope to the metal stovetop, hoping it would be strong enough to withstand his weight. Then, he grabbed the backpack, took hold of the rope, and jumped down.

It seemed like pure darkness down there, as though the place was just a void with hundreds upon thousands of bones and half-disintegrated clothes and toys forming a sort of nightmarish carpet. Charles knew the snake was down there though, hiding in the shadows.

He reached into the bag once again. He knew his trusted cricket bat just wouldn’t cut it this time, not against something as huge and powerful as that snake. And there wasn’t time to try. This called for a different weapon.

“I know I left one in here somewhere,” he muttered, rummaging around until he found what he was looking for. “Aha.” He pulled out a long, slightly curved sword, immediately brandishing it and standing his ground.

He could hear the beast close by, lurking, preparing to attack. What the snake didn’t know was Charles was prepared too.

At least, he thought he was. The thing came out of the shadows from behind, knocking him down and sending the sword flying across the floor. Charles groaned, standing up immediately and retrieving his weapon. It was only then he had realised he had actually felt the attack, and stumbled forwards slightly. Magic snake, magic wounds. This might be harder than he thought.

And with Edwin up there suffering as long as this thing was still alive, that just wouldn’t do. Charles stood up straight, holding the sword ready to attack. He knew where it was now, could hear it edging towards him, hissing. It was right behind him, closing in. When it was close enough, Charles leapt upwards, utilising his ghostly ability of not fully adhering to the laws of gravity, flipping backwards in mid-air and bringing the sword down on the snake’s neck as it moved to attack the spot he had been standing in moments prior.

With a wave of magical flames, the snake was gone. Not just dead, but properly gone, leaving no trace.

Right, Charles thought. Now he just had to get back up there and deal with whatever was left of that witch. He had no idea how old she was, but he was hoping to find a fragile shell of a being where the powerful, deranged Esther Finch once stood. He climbed back up the rope, thankful that it seemed sturdy enough under his weight, and collapsed on the kitchen floor.

As he was catching his breath, he heard the front door open. He sat up to find Crystal and Niko sneaking through the house towards him.

“Crystal!” Charles hissed.

“Charles? Oh my god, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, it’s Edwin we need to worry about. I’ve killed the snake, she should have aged by now.”

“How? Your bag- we were gonna bring it but then that fucking crow came-”

“He brought the bag to me, it’s fine, now let’s go.”

Charles got up to move, but Crystal stopped him.

“Hey, wait. We came up with a plan.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Well, you’ve done half of it, but I’ve got Esther covered. You two go in there and get Edwin out of that machine.”

Charles and Niko nodded, crawling through the hallway to the other room while Crystal walked around to where Esther was. As it turned out, they hadn’t needed to sneak. Esther was in a heap on the ground, looking so wrinkled and fragile it was barely even a fight anymore. Crystal stepped over to her, crouching down by her side. She tried to hiss something at her, but Crystal just grabbed her wrist, her head tipping back and her eyes going white as she slipped into Esther’s memories. While she did that, Charles and Niko darted over to Edwin.

The machine had turned itself off, seemingly connected to Esther’s life force, and Edwin was panting, stilly lying flat on the table.

“Hey,” Charles said, standing beside the table and placing his hands either side of Edwin’s face. “We’ve got you. You’re alright.”

“Charles…” Edwin said weakly.

Gently, the two of them pulled Edwin up into a sitting position, and he peered down at where Crystal was kneeling beside Esther.

“Come on, mate, let’s get you out of here.”

Charles wrapped one of Edwin’s arms around his shoulders and lifted him off the table, as gently as he could. He had no idea what kind of pain he was in, and the last thing he wanted was to make any of it worse.

“Charles…your hands,” Edwin said, weakly lifting a hand to point at the burns on Charles’s palms.

“They’ll heal, Edwin, it’s you I’m worried about.”

Carefully, they carried Edwin out into the hall and towards the front door, but before they could open it, it opened on its own. There was a woman stood there, tall and dripping water from a source none of them could identify.

“No!” they heard the body that was barely Esther cry out. “No! Please!”

The strange woman in the door silently stepped in, grabbing Esther by the ankles as she screamed out. She dragged her out of the door, slamming it behind her.

Crystal, out of breath, must have seen the confused shock on all three of their faces and simply explained, “Lilith.”

When they got back to the Tongue and Tail – or what was left of it at least – Charles immediately took Edwin back to the office through the closest mirror, moving him to sit on the sofa. He was still shaken up by everything, so let Charles guide him. Charles knelt on the ground in front of him, seemingly checking him over for any injuries.

“Charles. What happened to your hands?” Edwin asked, worriedly.

“Mate, don’t worry about me, honestly,” Charles insisted.

“Charles.”

Charles sighed, knowing Edwin wasn’t going to give this up.

“Look,” he said, offering his hands out to him. “They’re fine. We’re ghosts, iron burns heal quick.”

Charles was right. Where the burns had originally been intense, reddened, like any burn on a living person, now they had already become less inflamed, and had even begun to scar over.

Edwin’s hand reached for Charles’s jaw, cupping his face and his fingers gently brushed over the similar marks on his neck.

“What did she do to you?”

“I really think you’re focusing on the wrong person here.”

Edwin moved his hands, instead taking Charles’s in his own. He hesitated for a moment before bringing Charles’s hands up to his face and gently pressing a kiss to his palm.

Charles froze up. He didn’t know how to respond to that, to a touch so gentle from his best friend, from the boy who had suffered so much. He’d just been tortured, had the energy of his own trauma sucked out of him by a witch for nearly two hours, all only a couple of days after escaping Hell for a second time, and here he was holding Charles’s hands so gently, kissing the scars that had formed. Charles thought his iron burns were nothing compared to what Edwin was going through, yet Edwin only seemed worried about him.

Edwin must have felt Charles freeze up because he let go of his hands, moving away from him slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Hey, don’t apologise.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You wouldn’t, okay?”

“But now you know how I feel-”

Charles took Edwin’s face in his hands, gently stroking his cheek with his thumb.

“I know. And…” he took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about that, actually. When you were in Hell, then when Esther had you, it made me realise… I really couldn’t go on without you. You’re…alright, I might not be sure if I’m in love with you, but I think I could be. The only reason I don’t know is because I’ve got nothing to compare it to, I don’t really know what it feels like. But yeah, I could be. I want to be. You’re the only person I could ever imagine loving this much.”

There had been tears welling up in Edwin’s eyes ever since Charles had seen him strapped to that table, but they only appeared to be threatening to spill now.

“Charles, please do not say these things to make me happy.”

“I’m not,” Charles shook his head. “I mean it. God, Edwin, you’re everything to me.”

“And you are everything to me,” Edwin said austerely. “Which means you cannot go throwing yourself into danger or pain for me as often as you do.”

“I couldn’t let that witch keep using you as a battery! Hearing you screaming, I…” Charles trailed off, now holding back tears of his own at the memory of that sound, of Edwin suffering and Charles feeling so powerless to stop it. “I can’t lose you, okay?”

“Charles…the feeling is mutual.”

Charles acted on an impulse. It was what he always did, and it had a tendency to end poorly for them, but this time it felt right. It was simply an instinct to lean forwards slightly, closing the gap between his lips and Edwin’s. He kissed him softly, gently, and Edwin gasped before kissing back. When they parted, Charles’s hands still on Edwin’s cheeks, he leaned back in only to rest their foreheads together. If any breath actually escaped their lungs when they breathed, they would have been able to feel the warmth on each other’s faces.

“I will always protect you,” Charles whispered. “You can’t stop me.”

Edwin sighed, his eyes falling closed.

“Well, I suppose we just have to try and avoid any existence-threatening situations as much as we can.”

“I highly doubt there’s gonna be another Esther Finch around,” Charles shuddered slightly at the thought.

No, they needed a well-earned break from creatures as intense as her.

“We can only hope.”

Charles finally removed his hands from Edwin’s face, this time snaking his arms around Edwin’s waist to pull him in for a hug. It was awkward, with Edwin being on the sofa and Charles being knelt on the ground in front of him, but they made it work. They held each other tightly.

They were safe.

They were home.

They were together.

And that was all that mattered.

[veenus777]

◜𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬◞

          ┊ ᝰ﹕For a long time, I’ve had this playlist about Jason that I created based on some specific universes and scenarios, and now I associate all of them with him and specific situations. Anyway, I decided to share a little about it with you.

          ┊ ᝰ﹕The following words were written by a woman with insomnia during an anxiety-filled and obsessive night about Jason Todd.

♧ Electric Love

This song makes me feel like I'm in a specific scenario where Jay and the reader are just riding a motorcycle on one of their outings through Gotham, without any specific destination. I imagine the sun setting and giving way to the city lights at night while they just speed off towards nowhere.

♤ Go To Hell

This one is a bit more specific to the Vigilante universe. It happens right after they meet again following Jay’s death and all the drama of Red Hood vs. Batman. Jason rejoins the team, but the reader has already moved on or at least tries to, despite Jason's constant presence by their side. So, after a successful mission, they decide to have a happy hour with some of the older team members like Babs, Dick, Luke, and Kate. The reader ends up meeting one of their flings while Jason ends up drinking too much. I feel this song is exactly what’s going through his head the whole time.

♧ End Game

First of all, I’d like to make it clear that this song is definitely the song for Jason and Vigilante. There simply isn’t a better definition of them than this. Okay, just imagine Jay alongside another vigilante with a turbulent past and questionable morals, who is equal to or worse than him in ruthlessness. They simply become the royalty of Gotham’s underworld. Criminals would shudder just hearing about them because they know how bad they were separately, but together, they are completely unbeatable.

♤ Adiós

This one is short and quite similar to Electric Love, but different at the same time. In this, Jason and the vigilante are riding a motorcycle through Gotham, the reader on the back while Red Hood pops a wheelie on the wet asphalt of rainy Gotham. That night, there was a small breakout in one of the smaller prisons, nothing as serious as Arkham but still dangerous. So, the whole team spreads out across the city looking for the criminals. The adrenaline is strong while shooting at criminals at high speed, and Jason’s hand on your thigh to congratulate you on a job well done.

♧ Love Me Harder

This one is extremely specific and also takes place in the Vigilante universe. Jay and the reader were sent on a mission to Tokyo, which wasn’t uncommon as they had to travel frequently. They end up staying in a cheap hotel that served as a great hideout for them. By this point, they are already a couple. In fact, I feel this is where things change for both of them in their relationship. The mission ends well and ahead of schedule, but they decide to stay and enjoy the beauty of Tokyo, going out at night, trying foods, or buying silly things at fairs, just being young and in love on a trip without any external worries.

♤ Harleys In Hawaii

This story happens when Jason, finally, after much insistence from the reader, decides to take a vacation. And nothing is better than a hotel in Hawaii, in which Bruce is one of the partners, far away from Gotham and vigilantism. So, the next two weeks are summarized by boat rides along the coast, diving, hiking, and romantic seaside encounters with a tanned Jason, with his sculpted and tattooed body under the Hawaiian sun.

♤ Dark Paradise

This story takes place in two scenarios at the same time, where the reader is a classical dancer. The reader is in their dance studio, rehearsing late at night to relax and relieve the weight of their feelings. "Dark Paradise" plays on the sound system while they spin and leap around the mirrored room, but their mind travels to the previous night, where another Wayne gala took place. All the pomp and candlelight created an ethereal atmosphere with Jason there. He hated balls but knew the reader would be present. So, there he was, in a well-tailored suit, his eyes fixed on the reader as they entered the ballroom, almost hypnotically. The rest of the night was filled with tension and small "accidental" touches everywhere.

♧ Valentine

This is a simple yet extremely cute story, where Jay takes the reader to a carnival that was passing through Gotham that weekend. And it is nothing but intoxicatingly cute. They go through all the rides, and Jay makes sure to win the biggest teddy bear at the shooting gallery. They eat junk food and laugh idiotically as they walk, with Jay’s strong arms around the reader’s shoulders. They end the night on the Ferris wheel, having a perfect view of Gotham's lights. When they head back home, their hands are full of prizes and photos taken in photo booths.

♤ Marry You

This story came about because of a one-shot I read here once and simply could never get out of my head (I really don’t remember the author’s name, but if you know, please leave the name of this heaven-sent angel in the comments). The scenario is basically this: Jay and the vigilante are on a mission in Vegas, and things almost get out of control, but it ends with a "if we survive, will you marry me?". And they do survive. They look for a chapel the next day, wearing simple clothes and nothing but each other and an Elvis-dressed officiant. For them, it is simply perfect. Everything happens with lots of smiles and loving gazes. Afterward, they just enjoy the Vegas gambling and casinos (let’s completely ignore the song lyrics, okay? Just feel the vibe).

.˚｡  💋 .˚｡ 💌

[toournextadventure]

If you're able to do a story based on Katy Perry's The One That Got Away where the reader is immortal or a vampire and they were connected with Goody Addams (basically had a relationship or smthng with her idk her age) but moments before she was burned to death they had a "In another life I'll look for you" type of moment and R cant do anything because they were tied and held back forcing to watch Goody die the way she did. Then to the present, R finds Wednesday amidst the crowd and they just push through the crow to get to Wednesday hugged her while Wednesday has a vision of the R and Goody's past and they have this "I found you" , "You found me" moment. THANK YOU

I am OBSESSED with this premise, you're a GENIUS

i found you

“Goody, no!”

Your eyes flew open as the dark room enveloped you. The air was cold and the sound of the fan mixed with the rain outside to form the perfect sleeping conditions. It truly was a shame you had been awakened by yet another nightmare.

No, not another one. The same one.

Slowly, you sat up and rubbed the remaining sleep from your eyes. It seemed it was going to be another early day, just like yesterday. And the day before, and the day before that. Gods, you just couldn’t manage to get Goody’s burning face out of your mind. Hundreds of years had passed and you still couldn’t force yourself to forget.

A familiar burning sensation seared down your throat once your body had finally woken up enough to comprehend it’s needs. With a sigh, your feet hit the cold ground and you dug your toes into the rug before standing up. The fridge was only a few feet away in your tiny studio apartment, but still too far when it was this early.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you slammed your fridge door closed. Seemed you had run out of blood faster than anticipated. Well, it was a rainy day; you could pick someone out pretty easily and no one would be the wiser.

You sat down on your couch and turned to the first senseless show you could find at such an early hour. Something about restaurants, you didn’t really care to pay attention. Its only purpose was to kill time until you could reasonably walk around outside without drawing too much attention.

But the wait was torture. As the show droned on in the background, your mind drifted back to that day. To that day all those years ago where you were forced to watch the most painful thing you had ever witnessed, worse even than your own turning. The memories felt like a vice grip around your unbeating heart, squeezing what little life was left out of the cold muscle.

You wiped the tears away once the clock struck seven. No more use in sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, it was time to hunt. There was no need to try and protect yourself from the rain; you simply grabbed your coat so you could blend in with the rest of the morning crowd.

The smell of rain calmed the nerves that never seemed to truly disappear. It didn’t matter how many times you had actually hunted, a small part of you remained nervous with every outing. Maybe it was the fact that you were taking a part of someone’s life, you weren’t entirely sure. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t going to stop you. If Crackstone could be celebrated for his bigotry, you could live with taking just a bit of life force from a normie.

Call it reparations.

The streets were far more crowded than you had anticipated; a bigger selection, but far riskier. Good, it always added a sense of adventure. You found a nice stoop to hang out in as you watched the crowd walk by, your eyes searching each and every face that passed in an attempt to find your target.

Until your eyes froze on a familiar face, familiar hair, familiar eyes. A face that you would have recognised even in the darkest of nights. One that you hadn’t seen outside of your nightmares in over 200 years. And there she was, walking amongst the common folk as if she had not a care in the world.

You had to get back to her.

Wednesday loved the rain; the sound it made when falling against the umbrella, the smell of it on the concrete, everything about it. So she could be forgiven for deciding to walk that morning instead of having Lurch take her to her final destination. Her umbrella kept her dry and everyone gave her a wide berth.

Even with the space everyone was giving her, Wednesday could still see that someone was parting the crowd like the red sea. There was no chance she was going to move, not for some entitled asshole that was coming directly at her and-

-she felt arms envelope her in a hug so tight she almost couldn’t breathe.

The crowd around her vanished and was replaced by a different crowd, one full of pilgrims. The moon shone down on the screaming and cheering crowd and Wednesday pushed her way through to the center. There Crackstone stood next to a wooden pyre, and someone who looked just like her was tied up; Goody Addams, her mind told her.

Across the clearing was another pyre, one with someone else tied to it. You. You were struggling against the ropes, but the pilgrims around you kept you contained. One of the pilgrims carried a torch over to Goody, prepared to drop it at the bottom of the pyre.

“Look for me,” Goody said, her eyes staring at you and you only. There was an acceptance in her eyes, though it didn’t erase the fear.

“Goody, no!” You screamed once the pilgrim dropped the torch, and the roar of the fire echoed in Wednesday’s ears as she came back to the present.

She pulled back from the arms to see you, looking down at her with tears in your eyes and a pain on your face that Wednesday had seen only once. A look so full of fear and relief and absolute desperation. Your bottom lip quivered as your eyes scoured every inch of her face, her skin, her.

“I found you,” you mumbled, your words barely audible over the sound of the rain and Wednesday’s own heart.

“You found me,” she answered just as quietly, pulling you back into a hug and hearing a heartbeat that sounded familiar.

Sounded like home.

[aalissy]

Waffles

A short lil chapter today <3. Sorry I'm behind :'). I promise to get caught up tomorrow when I have more time hehe! Lemme know what you think of this lil fluff

AO3

The glow from the computer screen cast a soft light around Marinette's bedroom. The room was filled with the sounds of cheerful music and playful banter as Marinette and Chat Noir sat side by side at her desk, game controllers in hand. They were in the midst of an intense round of Ultimate Mecha Strike, their competitive spirits in full swing.

"Gotcha!" Marinette exclaimed as her character landed a perfect strike, causing Chat’s character to lose a life.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned, rolling his eyes in mock frustration. He nudged her with his shoulder, a smile tugging at his lips. "You're way too good at this game, you know. How did you get so good?"

"Just natural talent," Marinette teased, winking at him. "But you're not so bad yourself, minou."

Chat laughed, throwing his head back as he chuckled. They continued playing for a while, the competition fierce but friendly. After a particularly close match that ended in Marinette’s victory, they paused the game and set their controllers aside.

"You're unbeatable tonight," he moaned, shaking his head in mock dismay.

"Just like every night," Marinette replied with a grin. She playfully nudged his side back, her eyes shining in the glow of the computer screen. 

A soft, quiet pause filled the room as the two leaned back in their chairs, listening to the soft chirps of the music. Slowly, a thoughtful expression crossed Chat’s face. "Hey, Marinette, can I ask you something?"

"Of course." She nodded, curious. “You can ask me anything.”

"Do you like to hold hands waffle or pancake style?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Marinette blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. "Waffle or pancake style?"

"Yeah," Chat said, his grin widening. "You know, waffle style with fingers interlaced, or pancake style with hands flat against each other."

Marinette considered it for a moment, then smiled shyly. "Waffle style. It feels more... connected, I guess."

"Good choice," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Mind if we try it?"

Her heart fluttered at the suggestion, and she nodded. "I'd like that."

Chat reached out, and Marinette placed her hand in his. He gently intertwined their fingers, holding her hand waffle style. The warmth of his touch and the feeling of their fingers laced together sent a nice, fluttering, comforting sensation through her.

"This feels nice," he said softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"It does," Marinette agreed with a blush, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at him, their eyes meeting. There was a quiet understanding between them, a bond that went beyond words.

They sat there for a while, simply enjoying the connection. The video game continued to play on the screen, but neither of them paid it any attention. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble.

"Thank you for being here, Chaton," Marinette said after a while, her voice filled with warmth.

"Always, purrincess," he replied, his voice tender. "I'll always be here for you."

As the night went on, they continued to hold hands waffle style, finding comfort in each other's presence. At that moment, they weren't superheroes or worried about hiding their secret identities. They were just Marinette and Chat Noir, two friends sharing a quiet, intimate connection in the heart of Paris.

[emberenchanted]

For Keeps (2/3)

Pairing: Dark!Carol Danvers x Female Reader

Summary: Carol sees you. Carol wants you. Carol gets what she wants. 

Series Warnings: extremely dubious consent, strap ons (r receiving), sex (oral, vaginal), fingering, anal fingering, Dom!Carol, orgasm denial, spanking, violence (not really towards reader), manipulation, forced relationship, rough sex

18+ ONLY

Link to Chapter 1

Chapter 2

As you drag yourself up the stairs to your studio above the bar you reflect on whether living at home with your parents had really been that bad. This kind of thing didn’t happen where you were from and it had you thinking that perhaps it was time to revisit your long term plans. Coming back home after three months was kind of pitiful, but even that might be better than getting pulled into a world you have no business in. One filled with casual violence that made your stomach turn. 

Especially since you were now dreading the inevitable phone call from Carol. You knew she would call and you knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to her. That was a dangerous road to start down. Better to nip it in the bud ASAP. 

Calling an ambulance for Mel and closing down the bar mostly by yourself made for an extra late night and all you could think about was taking a hot shower (your meager attempt to wash the violence off of you and out of your mind) and climbing into bed. You wish you’d given yourself a glass of wine “on the house,” but after Carol’s display, it seemed like Mel really couldn’t spare the extra cash. 

When you awake late the next morning it’s with a pounding headache and two missed calls from an unknown number. You also see a voicemail notification. Your mind quickly flashes over the events of the preceding night and you immediately wish you were still sleeping. For some reason you feel like you should be sitting up while you listen to Carol’s message, so you throw your legs over the edge of your sofa bed and drag yourself into an upright position. 

As you suspected, the message was from Carol and she sounded like sin. 

Beep. “Hey, baby. It’s me, Carol. I had such a good time with you last night, and I can’t wait to see you again. How about I pick you up tonight at 7pm for dinner and a show? Call me back with your address as soon as you get this. Ok, bye baby. Talk to you soon.”  

You squeeze your eyes shut and press 7 to delete the message. You never should have given her your number. And you definitely couldn’t go out with her. She’d hurt Mel! In the three months since you’d moved to the city, Mel had been--well, not a friend exactly--but a stable acquaintance. He’d given you a job and a place to live, and only price gouged you a little. But the commute to work was unbeatable. You generally liked Mel and wanted him to be ok. Carol, or whoever she was representing, could have offered him some kind of payment plan. From what you could tell from his tearful blabbering while you waited for the ambulance, he’d made an honest mistake. 

You also knew that while you might be telling yourself you were refusing to call Carol back out of some source of solidarity, the simple truth was that Carol scared you shitless. She also didn’t seem like someone who handled rejection well. And you aren’t interested in standing up to her and risking her undeniably brutal wrath. You don’t think that she would hurt you like she’d hurt Mel, but you also don’t think she’ll simply accept your answer and leave you be. So, to your bleary brain, ignoring the problem is the next best thing. You busy yourself with laundry and tidying your small apartment; your distractions work well until Carol’s next two calls at 5 and 6pm. She doesn’t leave any more voice messages and you hope that she got the message that you weren’t interested and that she would lose interest in you. You spend the evening with a bottle of cheap red wine and Netflix. You tumble into bed around 2 am and fall into a fitful sleep. When you wake up in the early afternoon the next day, 6 hours before your 7:30 pm shift at Mel’s, you nervously check your phone for more messages. To your relief, there are none. 

Carol’s good mood fizzles in the 24 hours after meeting you. The morning after Mel’s Tavern she’d woken up in high spirits. After a quick 6 mile run, she’d showered, eaten a hearty breakfast, and started planning her date. She’d settled on a location for dinner, made reservations, and bought tickets to a popular live show. She’d called Y/N to tell her all about their night, then called again to leave a message. By 5pm, Carol was irritated, and by 6pm she was worried. She’d even driven by Mel’s around 6:30pm to see if you were working. If Carol had known your address, she wouldn’t have hesitated to drop by. By 7:30pm Carol was back in the gym, sparring just a bit too viciously with Natasha. 

“Damn!,” Nat huffs out as Carol puts her on her ass for the fifth time that evening. She sits up while rubbing her side and looks at Carol through the red sheet of hair that has fallen over her face. “Did I happen to do something to you? Because, if so, you should know I’m very sorry. Can you please stop beating me up? ”

Carol sticks out her hand to help Natasha off the mat. “Sorry. I’m a little distracted today so I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Natasha, now standing, looks quizzically at Carol and then laughs, “I feel like I should be insulted.”

Carol smiles. “Never, Nat. You always give me a good fight." The next moment her smile turned sour. “I’m just frustrated and a bit pissed. I met this woman last night and she gave me her number, but then started avoiding me. She won’t answer her phone and stood me up for a date. That’s actually where I’m supposed to be now. But I know she likes me. I saw the way she looked at me and reacted when I touched her. But, she’s just too nervous to admit it.” 

Carol rolls her eyes and throws her head back as she releases a frustrated grunt.

“Ok, woman troubles. Now that I can help with,” Nat chuckles. “If she’s too shy, then you need to be bold enough for the both of you. Don’t let her say no.”

“You know what Nat?,” Carol grins, “it’s like you read my mind.”

Carol strides into Mel’s Tavern at 9 pm the following night. She walks directly to the bar, ignoring everyone around her and heading straight to you.

As she approaches, your heart starts racing and the room feels much hotter than it had moments ago. She was just as breathtakingly beautiful as you remembered and your mind empties for just a moment. She didn’t look happy, but she also didn’t look like she was about to fling a knife into your heart or drive a fist into your face. That had to be a good sign, right? 

“Hey, Carol,” you choke out quietly. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, Y/N. But I would very much like to speak with you.” Carol states calmly, hands braced against the edge of the bar and body leaning over the counter towards you. “Why don’t you take your break now?”

You gesture aimlessly to the few scattered patrons in the bar. For the second time in as many shifts nobody would look at you. They were all suspiciously interested in the glasses in front of them, even if those glasses were empty. You grit your teeth and say, “Someone might need me.”

Carol frowns, looks around and asks the room loudly, “Anybody here need anything?”

A chorus of “nos” come back to her.

Carol raises one of her perfectly arched eyebrows and beckons you over to her with a softly crooked finger. 

You scoot to the section of the bar directly in front of Carol, cross your arms and look down. Carol reaches across the bar with her right hand and, taking your chin between her thumb and forefinger, pushes your head up until you meet her eyes directly. 

Your brain races through excuses frantically. You knew it was a possibility she’d show up and you should have prepared better. Maybe you could say that things have been a little crazy in your life and you don’t have time to pursue anything... with anyone? Not just her? It was a pitiful excuse, but the best you could come up with.

Carol looks at you, head tilted slightly, brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed as her thumb gently strokes your face. Her expression could only be described as frustrated yet determined. “Baby,” Carol began slowly, “I’m confused. When I came in two nights ago, we had an instant connection. That doesn’t happen often, does it?”

Your head jerks quickly back and forth, signaling no.

“Ok, that's what I thought,” Carol continues. Her voice hardens slightly, as does the hand holding your face. You wince at the sudden pressure. “So why didn’t you call me back? Why did you make me call you four times with no response?”

Your head feels dizzy and your lips stay glued together. You're on the verge of a panic attack and all you could think of is getting her to let you go. 

“Answer me, baby. Now,” Carol commands, as her grip on your chin tightens further. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your eyes squeeze shut and your upper body is leaned back as far as you can while your face is still being held by Carol. 

Carol abruptly releases your face and you have to take a quick step and set your hand on the bar to rebalance your body. 

Carol’s hand snakes out and grabs yours, holding it firmly so you can’t walk away. Her voice softens some, but still sounds slightly harsh .“Ok, I’ll forgive you this time. But don’t let it happen again.” From her back pocket she whips out a piece of paper and a pen. “Write down your address so I know where to pick you up tomorrow.”

Once Carol pockets your address, she reaches for your hand once more. “How much longer do you have on your break, baby? Let’s go outside.” 

After walking you outside, Carol immediately presses you against the brick wall and pushes her lips against yours in a forceful kiss. Her tongue slips across the seam of your lips until you open to allow her entry into your mouth. She sets to exploring every bit of you, sucking your tongue into her mouth and nibbling on your lips until they are tender and you are breathless and dizzy. Then she’d promptly untucked your shirt, unbuttoned your jeans, and slid her hand down to your slippery folds. When you try to move away, her free hand tightens on your waist and shoves you back, making your back scrape against the wall. 

“Mmmm, is all this for me?,” she murmurs, nuzzling your ear, as her fingers part you and begin gently rubbing from your clit to your slick opening. You squirm on Carol's fingers, and Carol slides her thumbnail over your sensitive clit harshly, making you yelp. “Did I tell you to move?”

“No,” you whisper.

“When we're together like this you call me Ma’am,” Carol growls. “No, who?”

”No, ma’am” you gasp out while trying desperately to stay still. She slides two fingers into you and your walls flutter furiously around Carol's fingers, searching for relief. “Sorry, ma’am.” It comes out as a whimper. 

Carol pushes her fingers deeper up inside of you and you choke. Her free hand slides under your shirt, over your waist and ribs, before spreading and tightening under your breast, fingernails digging into the hollows between your ribs, scratching your soft flesh. Carol thumbs your taut nipple, and a moan bubbles up in your throat as you fight your every instinct in your attempt not to move. Her warm breath fans over your neck as she shifts your body flat against the wall, caging you in. 

Carol pinches your nipple sharply as her fingers begin to push into you harder and faster. She  focuses her thrusts, curling her fingers inside you to rub your spongy flesh until she hits that exquisite spot that makes you moan and shiver. The slick sound of her fingers pumping in and out of your pussy fills your ears. That and Carol’s murmuring are all you can hear. Her voice pitches you higher as she calls you her good girl, her sweet girl, her hot sticky tight little girl. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the relentless rising in your core. You approach the edge of a wicked orgasm, and just as you feel yourself begin to teter over, Carol slides her fingers out of you and starts slipping them, in a whisper soft motion, over your clit, just barely brushing you. The abrupt emptiness has you whining sharply. 

“No, no, no,” Carol whispers in your ear. She presses her body firmly against yours,  “No coming for you. You were a bad girl. Do bad girls get orgasms?”

“No,” you gasp.

Carol pinches your clit sharply once before going back to her soothing motion, “No, who?”

“No, ma’am,” you whimper. 

“Good girl. We’re going to do that a few more times while you apologize to me, ok? Hold on, baby.”

Feeling lost, you loop your arms around her neck and drop your head into the crook of her neck. Carol’s long slender fingers push roughly back inside of you, furiously rubbing you as you whine and squirm against the wall. Before long you hear yourself apologizing for not answering her calls, for worrying her, for standing her up. 

She tortures you throughout your broken apologies, bringing you to the edge over and over only to force you back down. 

Finally, finally, she must decide you’ve apologized enough, and she whispers in your ear as her fingers pick up again, “Shhh, now, I’m going to let you come baby. You’re being such a good girl and you apologized so nice. But don’t you ever ignore my calls again. No matter what.” Her voice hardens and her slippery fingers pinch at your clit gently--making you jump and yelp--before pushing them back inside you, “You understand me?”

Your brain is fuzzy and can’t seem to string together enough words to form a sentence. When you first saw Carol enter the bar you definitely didn’t intend for this to happen. You’d hope that you could somehow weasel out of a date with her without her getting mad. Things had obviously not gone according to plan. You must take too long to respond, because Carol’s free hand reaches to twist your clit harshly, making you howl. 

“Answer me. Now.” The fingers inside you don’t stop. 

The sharp pain from her twist radiates up your body, and temporarily mutes your rising orgasm. “Yes,” you sob pathetically. “Yes, I understand, ma’am.”

Carol uses the entirety of her body weight to push you up against the wall. Your back scrapes the wall as her fingers pick up speed and she coos softly in your ear. Her fingers push you violently over the edge, and you buck harshly between the wall and Carol's solid form. Carol’s fingers fuck you through your orgasm as she nuzzles your neck, licking and nipping at the tender skin there as you come down.  

Carol watches as you readjust your clothes and wipe at the mist in your eyes before she walks you back into the bar. She drops a possessive kiss on your mouth before heading toward the door. At the last minute, she turns and looks you dead in the eye. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Right, baby?” 

You look back at her and nod. “Yes, ma’am,” you whisper under your breath. 

After dropping you back at work, Carol walks to her car with her lips curled into a smile. She is sure that she’s on the right track with her sweet, shy little baby. She's even hopeful that she might be able to trade in her unused tickets for show credit that she could use for her date tomorrow night with you.

Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for reading and for any feedback you give. Please do let me know what you think so far. It's much appreciated. Also, I know need to work on my dividers.. haven't quite figured those out yet. Thanks for bearing with me.

[lemonyinks]

All the ways Bart Allen is loved.

Bart Allen oneshot accompanied by art from the wonderful @bamboozled-and-alone for the @flashfambigbang

6,565 words

or read here instead

1.

Bart trudged inside after Helen, bag dragging along the floor and shoulders slumped. 

It had just been one of those days; the ones where even friendly contact made your skin buzz in a not so pleasant way and simply getting out from under your thick blankets felt like medieval torture. He tried to make it through the day, he really had, but even Carol and Preston could tell that he wasn’t his usual self, being more easily frustrated, shying away from touch, and quick to snapping at the smallest  of things. It was a surprise to no one when he inevitably caved part way through the day. He told his teacher he wasn’t feeling well and then called Max using the phone in the nurse's office.

It was Helen that answered, and she had told him that Max was out but she would gladly come get him. He knew she was a busy person and that this was probably the only free time to herself that she was going to get this week, and he felt bad for taking that away from her, but he was so tired that he all but begged her to come get him. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t just run home. The school wouldn’t release him without a guardian present and just up and leaving would cause more problems than it was worth. Stupid school and its stupid rules.

It felt like hours before her familiar car rolled up to the school and she came inside to sign him out and collect him. Even though Helen was the type of person to blast music when she drove, the ride home had been blissfully silent. Bart was so thankful for it.

He flopped onto the sofa after carelessly throwing his bag down near the hallway entrance. He buried his face in the corner of the cushions and squeezed his eyes shut. He felt wrung out and tense. Maybe he just needed a nap and he would feel better. At least, that is what he was hoping.

“Are you hungry, hun?” Helen asked from the doorway of the kitchen. Bart felt vaguely nauseous but he had to admit that he was a little bit hungry, so he muttered a tired “sure” and listened to the sound of Helen's retreating steps. He closed his eyes and tried to stave off the headache that threatened to expand behind his eyes. Yeah, that nap sounded good right about now.

He unknowingly drifted into a restless sleep and woke to the pink and orange hues of a setting sun in the open window. He rolled over onto his back and admired the pastel clouds as they drifted by. A breeze cooled his skin and caused the curtains to flutter gently. The beauty of the sky was one of the only things VR had never been able to replicate perfectly. He inhaled deeply, taking in the delicious smell of something cooking in the room over. He leaped to his feet and dashed into the kitchen as he recognized the smell as Helen’s Beef Stew.

“You, like, never make this, Helen. What’s the occasion?” He asked, mouth water at the sight and smell as she stirred the large pot on the stove. It was something that was tedious to make in quantities large enough to satisfy the speedster metabolism, making it a rarity in the Mercury household. 

“I just felt like it.” Helen said, ruffling his hair as she headed towards the cupboard to grab one of Max’s big bowls, the ones that looked like oversized mugs with the handles that got too hot to hold. She scooped him several large spoonfuls before handing the bowl off to him and pointing him over to the table. She handed him a bread roll from a bag sitting on the counter that Bart knew hadn’t been there that morning.

“Thank you, Helen.” He said, excitedly dipping his spoon into the heavenly meal and digging in, humming at the as the unbeatable tastes exploded across his taste buds.

“No problem, kiddo.” She said, taking a seat beside him with her own bowl.

I love you

2.

Bart was tired, which wasn’t something that happened to him very often. He was known to have an infuriating inability to grow tired, actually. It was something that drove Max crazy in the beginning, and left Bart feeling restless and agitated. But today, he was well and truly tired.

His shoulders had an exhausted slump to them and he had to shuffle to keep himself awake as he stood behind Max. He gave a tired blink, eyes absently staring up at the starry night sky while he tuned out the boring run down the old man was giving the police officers who had come to collect the small-time villain they had just taken out.

“You look pretty tired there, Bart.” Max said as they finally, finally walked away from the police officer. It felt like they had been standing there for hours! How did Max even find the words to have a conversation so slow?

“Yeah, a little bit, I guess.” Bart said with a yawn. No use in lying about it, really. He was tired, after all.

“Why don’t you go ahead and hop up onto my back then? I'll give you a lift home.” Max suggested, halting their walk. Bart perked up slightly, his eyebrows raising nearly to his hairline,

“Really?” He asked, maybe a touch too excited. He loved piggyback rides, you see.

“Why not?” Max asked rhetorically as he moved to crouched in front of Bart, arms extended back in preparation to hold Bart’s legs. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He moved at the speed of light, practically throwing himself onto the older man’s back with a newfound energy and wrapping his arms around his neck in an near choke hold. Max choked and teetered forward, almost being thrown off balance before righting himself and standing up straight. He hoisted Bart further up his back, grip firm and secure on the underside of his knees.

“Are you sure I’m not too heavy for your brittle old man bones?” Bart asked, swinging his feet back and forth in an excited manner. He knew his weight was nothing for Max, but he couldn’t resist the urge to rib him whenever he could.

“Don’t make me regret this, Bart.” Max grumbled with a sigh, though there was a smile on his lips.

Bart just laughed and hugged him tighter, resting his head against Max's and letting his eyes slip shut as he started back up their journey home for the night.

I love you

3.

“Bart!” Preston’s voice called out to him from somewhere to his left. 

Bart turned towards the sound and found Preston rushing towards where he was sitting on the bleachers watching Carol run through her cheer routine. His steps were loud and thunderous on the rickety structure. He threw himself down onto the heated metal of the bench beside him, side pressing into Bart’s and elbow digging into his ribs.

“Where’s the fire?” Bart joked, unconsciously leaning into the weight of Preston.

“That is not a funny joke to make when it is well over 102 degrees outside.” Preston said, giving Bart a disapproving look, his face already blotchy and red from the heat.

And he made a fair point, to be honest. It was so hot outside that Bart was convinced he’d managed to sweat off more than two times his body weight by now. He would have surely passed out if not for the constant water breaks the teachers had been begrudgingly allowing them. Even the shorts he’d borrowed from Cissie and the light tank top he stole from Wally weren’t doing very much to help him from overheating in the sweltering August heat.

“My bad,” He laughed, “But seriously, what's the rush?”

If it was even possible, Bart could have sworn that he saw Preston’s face flush even deeper. The heat must really be getting to him, huh?

“I-um-well, I wanted to give you something.” Preston said. He pulled his backpack up into his lap and then rooted around in it before producing a small cassette tape case. It was see-through and without any indication that it was by a specific band so Bart deduced that it must be homemade.

“What’s this?” Bart asked, reaching out to pull it from Preston’s slightly shaky grasp. Upon closer inspection he realized there was a piece of scrap paper with his name written in red pen taped to the cassette itself.

" It's a cassette tape.  I recorded some stuff I thought you might like onto it.” Preston said. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, a small tremble noticeable to it. 

“Oh, wow, thank you.” Bart said. He reached into his own bag, digging around for the walkman that Max and Helen got him for his birthday.

“Are you going to listen to it now?!” Preston asked, sounding almost panicked. Bart turned back to him and raised an eyebrow.

“Am I not supposed to..?” He asked.

“I mean, I’m not stopping you. It’s just- well um, I though that- No, nevermind. Go ahead and listen to it.” Preston stuttered out, turning his bright red face away from Bart, who shrugged in response before finally pulling his walkman out from where it was crushed between several trashed spiral notebooks and borrowed textbooks. He rooted around some more until he found the headphones that went with it, half-heartedly untangling the wire before plugging them in and then poking Preston in the shoulder.

“Listen together?” He questioned, holding the headphones out between them.

Preston pursed his lips and looked between Bart and the device several times before his expression softened into a smile and he said, “Why not.”

Bart twisted the headphones a bit until he was able to press one of the speakers to his ear, cupping his hand over it to keep it in place. Preston did the same. This position forced them to lean into each other, their sweaty shoulder’s stuck together, knuckles brushing against each other, and knees knocking together. Preston leaned back, forcing Bart to follow until they were both leaning against the bleacher bench behind them, heads leaning back against the hot metal and faces upturned to the shimmering sun. Bart closed his eyes and let the lyrics to Some Kind Of Wonderful fill one ear, the sounds of the activity on the field and Preston’s steady breathing in the other.

I love you

4.

The rest of Young Justice dispersed throughout the base as the meeting and debrief came to an end. Bart shoved his chair back and flew to his feet, ready to go tearing back home to Manchester. Those meetings were always soooo boring, and he was more than ready to go running with Max or hang out with Preston and Carol. It was the weekend, so he didn't even have homework to worry about. Well, no homework that he was going to worry about anyway.

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He paused and turned to make eye contact with Tim. Oh no, what had Bart done? Was he in trouble or-

“Hey, here's a list of all the rogues - active or otherwise -  in your area. Let me know if anything is missing, kay?” Tim said before handing him a laminated piece of paper that he confirmed with a glance was indeed a list of rouges, with both names he recognized and a few he didn't.

What?

“Thank you?” Bart questioned, raising an eyebrow. Tim patted him on the shoulder one more time before walking away without another word.

He didn’t know why Tim felt the need to give this to him, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it. For now, he decided to hand it off to Max and hope to forget about the weird experience.

Execpt Tim did it again. And again. And again. Every weekend like clockwork Tim would bring him a new updated list with more and more information on it each time, and again and again Bart would give him a confused look before going home and handing it off to Max. It was like Tim didn’t think he could do his own job!  The nerve of this guy!

...But that wasn’t it, was it? The more he paid attention, the more he began to realize that it wasn’t just him that Tim did this to. No, he did it with everyone. He even did it with Cassie, who Bart knew Tim had absolute faith in. So it wasn’t done out of a lack of faith in his ability. It was done out of…concern? Or at least something similar to it.

Tim wanted them, wanted Bart, to be prepared for anything. He wanted him to be safe. And honestly, it had been helpful, he wouldn't lie. More than once it had clued him and Max in on some suspicious activity that they would have been otherwise too busy to notice. It was nice, Bart thought, to have someone on the outside help out every once in a while, even if it was from someone weird enough to alphabetize and colour code the information. 

Bart smiled widely at Tim the next time he came to hand him an updated list. Tim smiled back, the lenses of his domino scrunching up and his dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth. He patted Bart on the shoulder like always and left to carry on with his tasks.

I love you

5.

Cassie Sandsmark was an extremely tactile person. This was a well known and inescapable truth that the entirety of Young Justice have come to know over the course of their time together. Whether it be a casual arm around your shoulders or a spine cracking hug lifting you from the ground, Cassie couldn’t go longer than a few minutes without being in contact with one of her friends.

And Bart loved this fact.

He was just as touchy as Cassie, if not more so. Hugs, high fives, pats on the back or shoulder, and even holding hands, you name it and Bart Allen loved it. This simple fact made the two of them the perfect victims to the others' affection.

“Hey, Bart.” Cassie’s voice called from the sitting space as he made his way to the kitchen for a quick snack.

He paused and peaked his head into the doorway. “Yeah?” He called back.

“I’m going to watch Wendy. Want to join?” She called back, unnecessarily loud considering he was only a few feet away from her. He considered her offer and then shrugged. He didn’t have anything else to do, he was just going to go back to his room and play video games.

“Sure, why not. Let me grab a snack real quick.” He said, ducking back into the kitchen.

“Grab me a pop while you’re in there, would you?” She yelled from the other room. He didn’t answer, and instead got to work poking around for something to eat.

He returned to the sitting room a few minutes later with a family sized bag of crisps in one hand and a soda for Cassie in the other. She was laying across the sofa when he got there, one leg lazily hanging over the edge and the other bent at the knee and leaning against the back. Her head was cushioned by the armrest.

He didn’t even consider the other furniture in the room before immediately going to lay himself directly on top of her, setting the drink and the snack on the floor in front of them. He laid his head on her muscular chest and she wrapped her arms around his waist, locking her hands together and setting them on the small of his back. He tucked his hands underneath her, warming them with the heat of her back.

He listened to her heartbeat as they watched the show, his head rising and falling in time with her breath. Eventually she began to run her fingers through his thick hair, and even he had to admit it made him just a little bit sleepy. He felt content to lay there forever.

I love you

6.

Bart leaned back against Anita’s legs behind him, shifting impatiently as she ran a brush through his unruly, static-y locks.

It was getting longer, annoyingly so. It would not stop fall in front of his face unless he was constantly pushing it behind his ear or blowing it out of the way. It drove him crazy. It also seemed to drive Anita crazy, because she had wasted no time in coming up to him after the day's mission was over with a wrist full of hairties and a brush in her hands. He didn’t think twice before following as she wordlessly led him to one of the long couches, allowing himself to be sat on the floor in front of her.

“How is school going?” Anita asked, setting aside the brush to run her skilled fingers through his thick hair.

Bart couldn’t help but snort at the ice breaker. It was something Wally or Barry would awkwardly ask him when they didn’t know how to start a conversation. However, whereas they would say it with this weird, stilted energy, Anita said it casually.

“It’s been good. I joined my school's conservation club recently. It’s really easy to clean up all the waste around the city with my speed, but something about working as a team and slowly making somewhere look nice and clean is really…rewarding I guess.” He replied. Anita hummed.

“Any friends in that club?” She asked, fingers deftly dividing his hair into sections.

“I joined with Rolly and Carol. Preston was going to join too, but then the school started up this film club that runs at the same time, and he couldn’t miss the opportunity.” Bart said, rolling his eyes at the reminder of Preston’s betrayal.

“How are Max and Helen?” Anita asked. 

“They’re doing great actually. They’ve both had more free time than usual recently so we’ve been spending more time together. It is honestly a little painful playing board games with them, though. It feels like it takes them both an eternity to take their turns.” He admitted, frowning at the memory. Behind him, Anita giggled as she tugged the strands of hair into place.

“I understand that. It’s a nightmare when my family plays card games. They’re way too strategic about it, especially with Uno. I swear it takes hours before even a single card is played!” She exclaimed, pulling a laugh from Bart in turn.

“We tried to play Uno once, but Max got so angry he refused to talk to me and Helen for the rest of the night. Poor Matt, he got the cold shoulder for nearly a whole week! All because he hit Max with a draw six.” Bart lamented. Anita gently, but firmly, righted his head when he went to shake it in mock disappointment at  his guardian's petty grudge.

“That sounds about right,” She said, “We had to remove those cards from our deck to get uncle Maad to play.”

“No way!” He laughed incredulously.

“Yes way!” She laughed along, fingers pausing in Bart’s hair for a moment so she wouldn’t pull at it while she tried to calm her giggles.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence a few moments later, cheeks hurting from all the smiling and laughter. Not too long later, Anita slid a yellow hairtie with a star charm on it down her wrist and pulled the end of the braid into it. She gently patted him on the head to let him know she was done and he took it as an invitation to give her a big hug, which she returned.

He thanked her and they went their separate ways, both in a hurry now to get home after the long day. On his way out, Bart caught sight of the beautiful French braid Anita had done for him in the reflection of one of the big glass windows. He stopped to turn his head from side to side, admiring her work with a wide grin. It looked beautiful.

I love you 

7.

One of the Ken’ts cows was due to give birth soon, which meant that Ma Kent was stressed, which meant she was stress baking, which meant lots and lots of baked goods to go around. When she inevitably made too much for the family to finish on their own, it was only natural that she would load up a foil pan to the brim with fresh Brownies and hand them off to Kon on his way to a Young Justice meetup. Being the perpetually hungry teenagers they were, the team swarmed the baked goods like a shiver of hungry sharks that got a whiff of blood in the water. The previously full pan only had a handful of squares remaining in a matter of seconds.

“Kon these are heavenly.” Bart moaned around a mouthful of warm, fudgy brownie. “You’re Ma needs a reward for these or something, I could eat them every day for the rest of my life.”

A bit dramatic, yes; but, hey, they were really good brownies. Kon looked thoughtful at that, a tilt to his head as he studied Bart like a specimen under a microscope. Bart smiled at the attention, uncaring of the mess of brownie that was probably clinging to his teeth as he did so. Kon raised his eyebrow in amusement and slid the rest of the brownies over to him.

Bart didn’t need to be told twice before he was polishing the rest of them off in one go, the foil pan empty in the blink of an eye; literally. Kon laughed at the display while the others all whined in unison, chastising him for not saving any for the rest of them.

Somehow, the stream of sweets didn’t stop, even after the calf had been born (it came out healthy and adorable, for the record). Different sweets and baked goods, all courtesy of Ma Kent, would show up to their meetings and hangouts without fail. Which was awesome. What teenager wouldn't love being brought homemade desserts all the time? However, Bart began to notice something was up. Sometimes the sweets would taste different, too different to be a mishap in the kitchen, and Bart knew Ma Kent was too skilled a baker to make mistakes on a recipe at all. They would also be a little more sloppy, a little misshapen or  varying widely in size. Not that he cared. Sweets are sweets, after all. It was just something he had taken notice of.

He came to the conclusion that Kon had started baking them himself, and so he did the only thing natural in this situation. He brought it up.

“Hey, did you make this one?” Bart asked around a mouthful of blueberry pie. Kon seemed to flush a bright red. Bart had to stop himself from laughing at the mental image of Kon with the head of a tomato.

“Is it that bad?” Kon asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Bart tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“No? It tastes awesome.” He said incredulously. What a stupid thing for Kon to say.

“How could you tell then?” He questioned.

“Well, it just looks a little less…” He thought of his words carefully, “neat? I guess?”

At that, Kon laughed.

“I can’t deny that. I’m still new to all of this. I still haven’t gotten the presentation down to a T just yet. Ma is still worlds better at it than I am.” He admitted. He cut another slice of the pie and put it on Bart’s plate. Bart kept eating as if he didn’t notice.

“How come you started baking? New hobby?” He asked, taking another large bite, licking the blueberry syrup from the fork, something he couldn’t get away with doing around Max, lest he spend the next hour or two getting lectured on table manners.

“Ma is a busy woman and I know you like sweets, so I thought, hey why not give it a shot? I get practice in the kitchen and my best bud gets an endless supply of sweets. Win, win.” Kon explained. He refused to meet Bart’s eyes and his cheeks were still red. For some reason, Bart felt his own face grow warm. Weird.

“Hhm. . . Well, I’m not going to complain. You’re the best!” Bart said before returning his attention to destroying the pie as fast as he could.

I love you 

8.

Bart hated shopping. He could usually do a full sweep of a store four times over and find everything he needed by the time the others were done looking at one rack of clothes. It was so slow and incredibly boring, so he rarely ever tagged along when his friends went to the mall. They understood his reasons and didn’t push him to join, though he could tell that they were sad every time he said no when they still asked to make sure he hadn’t changed his mind. That alone was enough to make him feel warm inside, to be honest, that his presence was missed. It made him feel like he belonged. 

He was currently playing his Gameboy on Cassie’s bed, waiting for the others to return from one such shopping spree. He was technically early - Cassie had invited him to a movie marathon that was planned for when they got home - but her mom had let him in when he knocked so he figured there wasn’t a problem. Cassie probably wouldn’t care anyway.

He didn’t look up as the door opened and his friends all piled into the cramped room, only raising his hand to give a short wave before returning to his game. His high score on Tetris wasn’t going to beat itself.

“Bart! Why are you in my room?” Cassie said, her annoyance all fake and played up.

“Your mom let me in like an hour ago or something.” He answered. He cursed under his breath and set the handheld down as his stack got too high, the Game Over screen flashing mockingly at him only a few clears away from beating his score. He glared at it. Stupid thing.

Kon and Tim were dropping a bunch of bags on the floor as Greta impatiently waited to go through them off to the side. Bart thinks the mall trip might have been for her since she needed new clothes, but he didn’t quite remember. 

“Oh, Bart, hi. I’m glad you’re here.” Cissie said, appearing in the doorway and shouldering past Tim, who halfheartedly grumbled in annoyance as he gave her a playful glare. She stuck her tongue out at him before rooting around in one of the bags hanging off of her arms.

She gave a triumphant yell as she pulled out something small from one of the bags. She made her way over to him and held the object out with a closed fist, hiding it from his view.

“A present? For moi?” Bart asked, batting his eyelashes at her. He sat up properly in Cassie’s bed and held his hand out to receive the gift. Cissie rolled her eyes and dropped it into his ready palm.

“I saw it while we were in line and thought of you.” She explained before going over to where Greta was happily digging through her new clothes and dropping down beside the younger girl with the other bags.

Bart looked down at his open hand and examined the gift. It was a small keychain no bigger than his thumb in the shape of Cherub from After-Life Avenger. Cissie must have seen him reading the comic during one of their hangouts. The sidekick was in his iconic fighting pose. The paint was poorly applied and his smile was wonky, likely from some kind of factory error. It was hideous, and it was perfect.

A wide grin spread across his face, a warmth in his chest. He pocketed the keychain and jumped off the bed to join his friends on the floor, ready to help Greta organize some outfits. 

I love you

9.

“So, do you think you’ll be able to make it?” Carol pestered, shoving the flyer into his hands. “It would really mean a lot to me if you came to this.”

Bart stared down at the poster, the font bond and in his face. “New Hampshire Cheer Competition!! Finals this Saturday 11/15 Don’t miss it! Be there, or be square!” He blinked at it and then looked back up at Carol’s anticipatory face, her eyes shining behind her glasses. 

“Sure, I’ll be there.” He promised.

And that was how Bart found himself pressed in between Preston and Rolly on a set of tiny bleacher benches in the gym of a school two towns over. He had wanted to run here when he heard the distance, but Preston had insisted on carpooling with his dad, so Bart was pressured into sitting through the agonizing hour and a half long drive over here.

He grumbled and elbowed Rolly in the ribs when the other scooted way too close to him in order to make room for an elderly man who was very intent on sitting on the same bench as them. He regretted his choice to wear a thick flannel today. Despite it being cold outside, it was way too hot in this cramped gym. Why did they choose this school to do their competition at? Their gym was way bigger than this one! Stupid…

His sour mood quickly dissipated when Carol and her team walked into the gym, however. He watched his best friend scan the crowd with squinted eyes, a hand shielding her face from the fluorescent lights up above. He decided to make it easier for her to spot them, raising his hand high as it would go and giving a big, dramatic wave. He definitely got way too into Rolly and Preston’s personal space as he did so, but honestly? It was revenge for making him sit in the middle. Take that. 

Carol spotted him immediately, a grin stretching across her face as she waved back just as dramatically, hitting one of her teammates in the head with her elbow in the process. She immediately withdrew her attention from her friends to apologize to the laughing girl, who waved her off before gesturing towards their team, who were leaving both of them behind. Carol gave one more small before moving to join back up with her team.

Bart had to admit, the competition was impressive. He didn’t even know many heroes who could do some of the flips that Carol and her team were doing, and even less who had the communication skills to work so in sync without even uttering a word. 

Carol’s team didn’t win, but they came in third place, which wasn’t too bad. Bart would admit that he did start to zone out at this point, bored to pieces by the long winded award ceremony. He cheered when everyone else did, but counted ceiling tiles with his chin resting on his closed fist in the meantime.

Eventually the competition was over and the crowd began emptying out of the double doors at the back of the gym. Bart followed his group out and to Preston’s dad’s car with his hands in his pockets, idly chatting with Preston and Wade as he went. Suddenly there was one arm thrown around Bart’s shoulder, another around Preston’s, forcing them both to bend over slightly.

“Hey, boys!” Carol’s excited voice shouted into their ears. Her hair was disheveled and frizzy, her face flushed from both the past hours of physical activity and the biting cold weather. Her smile was as bright as the sun, happiness radiating off of her in waves despite the fact that she hadn’t won.

“Carol! Hey! You did amazing out there!” Preston exclaimed, throwing his arm around her waist and giving her a sort of side hug.

“Aw, thanks. You’re sweet. My team did most of the work though.” She said, leaning away from Bart to return the semi-hug.

“Sorry you guys didn’t win,” Bart said, “You really did do awesome.”

“Psh, who cares about winning. I’m just really glad you guys are here.” She said, giving him a similar side hug as Preston. And Bart could tell that she really meant it.

I love you

10 .

Bart felt a little silly if he was being entirely honest. He had been in louder, more crowded situations than this before. Hell, he had been to concerts in the past, performed��in them even! This shouldn't be affecting him in the slightest. And yet, for some reason, as he stood in the mosh pit of some concert Cissie had convinced them all to go to with her, he felt more overwhelmed than he had in probably his whole life. Or, at least that is what it felt like.

The pulsing lights, the roaring cheers, the incomprehensible lyrics screamed into a crackling mic, the pressure of a million sweaty bodies crowding up against his own; it was all too much.

In the blink of an eye, he was zipping through the crowd and out of the door of the concert hall. He doesn’t know where he went or how he got there, but he found himself pressed up against a cold, concrete wall, shivering slightly in the chilly air. There was a cold sweat breaking out across his overly warm body, leaving him feeling even more uncomfortable. His breath came out in short pants as it crystalized in front of him. He tried to get control of his rapidly beating heart, pressing a fist firmly into the underside of his ribs and feeling it pound against his sternum like it was trying to burst free.

He took deep breaths through his nose and exhaled out of his mouth, just like Max had taught him. It didn’t seem to be doing much, though. He squeezed his eyes closed and leaned his head against the concrete, uncaring of the way the action pulled on his hair.

He let out a gasp when a frigid hand suddenly slipped into his own. He opened his eyes and found Greta sitting right beside him, her legs pulled up to her chest. One arm was resting on her knees so as to cushion her chin, and the other was pressed between the two of them where she was holding his hand. She was making a point to not look at him.

He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. Her actions and presence alone were enough to say I'm here for you. She just sat there with him in silence until Bart finally got his breathing under control. Then, she leaned her head against his shoulder and her thumb rubbed circles into his knuckles. Bart took one more deep breath, now comforted by the presence of his friend, and he never felt lighter. He leaned his head against hers and closed his eyes a second time.

I love you

11.

Bart lay on the hood of Cissie’s car with his hands folded over his stomach, Greta on one side of him and Cassie on the other. Greta was fast asleep under a pink and yellow star print blanket, head cushioned by her arms, while Cassie was chatting up a storm with Cissie, who was sitting on the roof above them. Tim was next to her, pointing a camera up at the sky and meticulously taking pictures of the stars. Kon and Slobo were playing with Krypto somewhere off to the side. Anita was watching them from where she sat in one of the car's open doors, her laughter quiet but still loud enough to be heard.

They had come out to watch the stars, but most of them had lost interest in that a long time ago. Now they were just enjoying each other's company. 

Bart lazily blinked up at the cosmos as the drone of his friends talking and laughter filled his ears. He wasn’t tired, really; it was more of a content drowsiness that was washing over him, brought on by a feeling of utter safety and comfort. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in it.

He didn’t even notice he had begun to shiver a little until something warm and heavy was tossed over his body. He cracked his eyes open just enough to see Slobo standing on the bumper of Cissie’s car, hands planted on his boney hips and a disapproving look on his face as he glared down at Bart's half asleep body. Bart further saw that it was the other teen’s insulated leather jacket that was now draped over Bart like a blanket. 

“Idiot, I told him to bring a fraggin’ coat of his own.” Slobo said to no one in particular, shaking his head in what was clearly meant to be disappointment.

“You know, we had spare blankets in the trunk, Slobo. You could have given him one of those.” Cissie said, amused. 

“That’s too much fraggin’ work, scrounging up one of those. Nah, this is just fine. He can use that for now.” Slobo said before hopping off the bumper to go back to where Kon and Krypto were waiting for him. Bart slipped his eyes shut once more, snuggling into the warmth of the jacket.

I love you

+1  

Bart  had been thinking a lot lately; about love and what it meant. 

He couldn’t claim to know exactly what it meant to love or be loved, but, really, who did? There were a million different ways to say I love you. It was near impossible to even try to comprehend the true extent of the word. 

Love was the heavy weight of a warm meal sitting in your stomach after a hard day. It was fingers weaving beautiful patterns into your hair while you talked and talked about anything and everything. It’s the sticky residue of homemade blueberry pie on your fingers, staining the corner of your mouth as you clean your plate and go in for more. It was a lovingly crafted cassette with wearing tape that you listen to almost everyday, a flush on your cheeks as you absorbed the true intentions behind each carefully selected song. 

Love was a small gift to say “I’m thinking of you”. It was a detailed report looking out for your safety. An invitation to watch someone do what they enjoy so that you may share in their happiness. A cold hand holding your own when your heart won’t seem to slow down. It’s a jacket draped over you like a blanket as you drift off to sleep to the sounds of laughter. 

Love was all of this and so, so much more.

So, while he may never know just what that four letter word meant by definition, he didn’t need to. He was already certain of one thing; he is beyond loved and he is full of it. That simple knowledge was more than enough for him.

[astralartefact]

Placeholder Name for Atarase's Media Diary

Entry 005 - Paper Mario: The Thousand-Year Door Remake

<<Prev: Unicorn Overlord

Synopsis

The Only Plumber I know is made to visit Fantasy America to collect yet another set of mystical stars - and we gladly do it all over again.

How much did I know before playing?

I played the Original and I liked it very, very, very, very, very, very much. One of my favorite games ever.

Did I like it more than I expected?

It was everything I hoped for <3

If you say you like Turn-Based RPGs and own a Switch you owe it to yourself to play the Classic.

Since I liked it, here's what I hated about it

I would be hard pressed to find anything really.

I guess they could have added more things (the Luigi fight we all crave and the rest of the Paper Mario 1 cameos that were even hinted at in the game files of the original) - but I think what they added is good enough. They added Super Bosses, they added non-intrusive QoL - I don't need them to change the face of the game, I like the OG for a reason.

(and also a thought I had was - I don't know how many writers from the OG Games (both PM1 and TTYD) worked on the Remake and if there isn't much overlap I could see the Remake Devs feeling weird about putting those fanservicey kind of things in on their own)

Also the Thinking Music is punishing don't stop the banger while I'm over here being stupid navigating the UI q_q

What did this game make me think about?

Similar to what I said in my Entry on Unicorn Overlord, I kept thinking that this game - at least in this day and age - isn't even all that groundbreaking - it just does the thing you're supposed to do, the normal Turnbased RPG Overworld-to-Dungeon-to-Boss Loop really really well and it's kind of weird that people don't do it more often.

I guess Thematic Takes on RPG Staples aren't interesting enough for the Unique Selling Point Crowd anymore :/

Specific Impressions that will stick with me

the soundtrack

The Excess Express was the Progenitor of my love for Train Levels.

Specifically for this Remake - How having Vivian's Trans Moment* makes Mario's actions more heartwarming.

*look forward to hearing about this in the ramble section

Outstanding Audio

Very non-exhaustive List because Goddamn. This Soundtrack.

vs. Shadow Sirens

vs. Atomic Boo

Moon Battle

vs. Magnus Von Grapple 2.0

There is one single "bad" thing I have to say about the Soundtrack and it is... that I think Origami King's OST is still unbeaten as my favorite. The banger ratio of that game is simply unbeatable.

All the Partner Themes they're all so good and they're used like twice each

Edit: ___the bonetail theme, goodness___

Besides that they did exactly what I wanted them to do. The Paper Mario Sound Team is just amazing, they do not get enough credit. I'm so excited to see what's next - whatever it is the entire team decides and/or gets to do.

btw there's nothing quite as irritating to me than people complaining about remake soundtracks, even in the off chance that i agree with the sentiment its always voiced in the most condescending tone possible and it drives me up the walls. and sure, ppl can voice 'valuable criticisms' and disappointments or whatever, but i also can read them and be baffled why you thought you needed to share it sounding like you're the only person on earth who understood the original, especially when - like it is in this case - the remake sound team is the same as the original, they literally made the thing you like so much and you thank it by calling them names for daring to 'not get' one specific second in their own work as much as you do.

especially now that we don't really have technical sound quality to improve on there's always going to be changes you like more and less because any remaining difference is closer and closer to a lateral move and the only 'value' difference is subjective opinion. and regardless, the original keeps existing, you hear the new soundtrack in context for a playthrough at most, afterwards you can just listen to the og again.

Favorite Character

Toadette. My All Time Fave, she steals the show everywhere she goes <3

Also Mini-Yoshi, Vivian, the Rich Bob-Ombs, Kammy Koopa,...

Favorite Arc/Story Line

The Excess Express, I know it's relatively short but I just really love Train Levels

Also Glitz Pit, I guess I just like when the Dungeon is the RPG Chapter Location.

Favorite Set Piece

The Remake is so beautiful I could really put anything in here.

Honestly I love all of the Chapter 6 locations, the train in the different atmospheric lightings, the Sunset train stop, Poshley Heights,... (Bad Glimmerich in german, one of the reasons I will allow Fluffy)

Favorite Scene

The Excess Express being covered in the Smorgs (is that the name, they're called Fluffys in german which is kind of lame but I will allow it)

Best Performance

I'm leaving this in here because they didn't replace Charles Martinet for this one and they got me too often with random Luigi Dialogue sounds there's a really good one where they talk about luigi and when they show his picture he echo-ey goes 'wahoo!'

Also the new voice sounds they gave all the characters were too cute, some of them sounded really really nice.

German Localization Notes

I can happily confirm that Barbara is Trans in German too! I can't tell you with certainty how the situation was with the original but I'm pretty sure it was also removed there.

Honestly the German Localization for this Game is and was so good, you people have no idea. I don't know how similar the text between the two is (I haven't played the OG in years) but they kept all the names from the old Localization - which I was a little bit worried about since the german names are so wildly weird (in a good way) I could have seen them go back and 're-align' some of them.

The OG Localization didn't give that much of a damn about keeping in line with the source material when it comes to Character and Location Names, but also they got the Vibe so well they honestly did a better job at it in certain places.

For every weird thing like calling Petal Meadows Fire Valley (which makes more sense when coming from the japanese name but still mischaracterizes the 1-1 world of this game in a way that's honestly fascinating to think about) and boring names like Fluffy we have things like calling "The Great Gonzales" Bomba Luigi, a change I will defend with my life, that's such a funny name, it even makes that Bowser Scene with Rawk Hawk funnier when Bowser is perplexed who the fuck Bomba Luigi is supposed to be. (mini yoshi calls you bomba throughout the game and nobody remarks on you being called like your brother - not even luigi himself, which makes it funnier)

Also the Grandma Bubu (Puni) yells the phrase "Soll ich mir in der Kälte hier Gicht holen!?" (do you want me to get gout in this cold) at the Boy Bubu and that's just. I'm still laughing about it. I hope you have a similarly fun-to-shout sentence in its place.

Ugh, I love it. I know if I looked it up people would complain about how much they 'changed'.

--- ENTERING THE PRETENTIOUS SECTION OF THIS ENTRY ---

What about this game gives me Hope for the future of gaming?

I just want this game to be a sign to let future Paper Marios break the character design regulations again. (if you didn't know, these are an actual thing and are why post ttyd has either fully unique looking npc or entirely non-unique npcs, it's for brand integrity reasons so new characters aren't confused as 'official' and like all brand integrity stuff it sucks the fun out of everything)

I'm even one of the four people in favor of letting them do whatever they want with the gameplay if they don't want to do Standard Turn-based RPGs anymore - by which I mean to say I was fine with Sticker Star - but the texture that only PM and TTYD have, the Texture we all want and crave so much, comes squarely from the unique Toads and Goombas and Koopas and Bob-Ombs..., all the ones they're not allowed to do anymore because the Brand Integrity Manager says no.

(okay so to put this a little more thought out: specifically the unique npcs make the paper mario style less about 'haha paper pun' (which, as funny as they might be once in a blue moon, not a single person cares about) and more an abstracted story book-esque depiction of the mario universe. it makes the entire thing work better by just being 'real but less detailed' - which also makes the plot work better with fewer details - instead of... well, a paper(thin) joke.)

What about this game makes me scared for the future of gaming?

The Unique Selling Point will be the end of me.

Ever since Dexit (yes i'm specifically blaming that hot mess) awakened the worst type of Gamer to the fact that complaining about Problems caused by Capitalism means nobody can disagree with you, Nobody gets to have fun anymore. Not gamers, Not devs, Not anybody.

Everything has to have Value now, everything has to have a reason to exist, a unique take and always also a quantifyable improvement on what came before. If it isn't as good as 'it should be' it's an insult to the people paying money for this! You need to fix this, I paid for this! I know what's good and need to share my intellectual opinion on this minor detail that you clearly don't have any idea about! What in god's good earth are you smoking that you thought this was acceptable?

It comes with this "Customer can do no wrong" mindset (which is often enough wrong btw, you're very much responsible for your own goddamn actions) and it always belittles the thoughts and decisions of the developers who more than likely have to fight higher-ups for those to actually end up in the video games they produce.

Sticker Star really is a good example of that, aside from the Brand Integrity stuff that made us lose unique NPCs the other thing people endlessly complain about is that the Sticker System disencourages Battles which i'm pretty sure they just heard someone smart say once and that therefore the system sucks, who could ever have thought of pivoting to something that stupid???

Well, it's actually a really creative idea on a very foundational RPG problem: Turnbased RPG Battles and the Overworld are for the most part distinctly seperated from each other. For a standard TRPG what you do in the Overworld has fuck all to do with your battles. This is an attempt to make Overworld Exploration a meaningful part in the Battle Gameplay Loop. It has its downsides and it didn't work out perfectly, but I think it was an interesting idea to put to the test!

But I guess that's not allowed. The Devs simply were too stupid to realize you would just end up doing a lot of backtracking to get good Stickers. They just simply don't know what they're doing and we have to make that clear to them by lambasting the game whenever it comes up. (and also to prove to everybody that you have very smart opinions)

There's a thing I learned in school and you might have heard that too before: You shouldn't tell people negative feedback (first). And that might sound like "a nice thing" to do, you "shouldn't hurt anybody's feelings" after all, but here's the thing why I think we should do that: Most of the time People already know what they did wrong, but they don't know what they did right - what they can capitalize on.

Maybe keep that in mind the next time you share your "Valuable Criticism" underneath an official Instagram post (btw who in their right mind does that)

The Ramble Section where I get to actually talk about what I thought about

Let's talk about 'Nintendo adds Transphobia.' I know it's just a meme. Still don't like it :) I liked that they added the Transphobia! I just don't like the meme.

It's like bnuuy. I don't get the joke. It's not fun to pronounce. If the joke is that u and n are upside down, then you could also type pnuuh, that's the entire word upside down. Why are you all finding this so funny. I just don't get it. And just for the record, it's fine you find it funny. I hope you feel validated that I'm okay with your choice of meme. I just don't get it.

But with 'Nintendo adds Transphobia' there is this undertone of "What they did is good" (that's the happy reaction gif in the background) - but the thing they added, the Transphobia, is some amount of bad, or else it wouldn't be funny to be happy about it. We would prefer if you added the Trans Character without including Transphobia after all. But would we? Would that be "better" - whatever that would even mean?

And just to get it out of the way, yes, for a lot of people it's probably haha just a joke about how it sounds funny to be happy about adding transphobia - but then i still don't know what you people think you're doing when spreading a haphazard joke about 'nintendo does a transphobia' in a day and age where nobody checks any of the news they receive when nintendo is literally doing the thing they are supposed to be doing, like come on guys i do have the moral high ground here and i am firing shots

Fully aware that I'm taking this too seriously - If this is what's resting at the heart of some these jokes then I would guess this comes from the "It shouldn't be a huge/integral part of their character!"-BS that people (on both sides) have been peddling for years (because assholes really want that and well-intentioned people rightfully don't want to be fetishized) - but regardless of what you're using that sentiment for, clearly it's not that easy. Like, it should matter to the character or else it might as well be a JK JKRO "Dumbledore is Gay" Tweet and never be talked about again.

It's not like Beldam bullies Vivian just because she is Trans, Beldam bullies everybody, she almost bullies Doopliss more than her. It's just that 'her bullying feels meaner ever since she realized she was a sister, not a brother.' You know, exactly what they state in game and exactly like somebody would probably feel about it even if Beldam's Transphobia didn't play any part in the bullying at all, Feelings don't really care about Facts after all and it creates another dimension to Vivian, a tangible relationship between her and her bullying.

Sure, everything about her story would work without her 'being trans' - but a little change like that goes a long way to color all of her interactions. Even just the simple fact that Mario is nice to her hits a little different knowing that her sister treats her differently since she lives as a woman.

But that's all kind of besides the point because while they wrote a Trans Character facing a struggle that hopefully people will at least feel a little represented by - that's not the only thing they did. They put a Canonically, Directly Stated Trans Character right next to the best plumber you know. And that's kind of the thing that annoys me the most about "They Added Transphobia." Like guys. She's a main character. She's not some weird side quest character that appears one time, doesn't even have a name and says a weird line about it before disappearing forever like that one quest people bring up to say FF14 has Gay Representation. You Can Have a Fully Canonically Trans Woman on Screen for 50% of this Game, Right Next to The Mario Man, And He's Like "You Rock Girl. Love Wins." He doesn't even wince when she implies she has a crush on him.

This is a much bigger deal than some of you make it out to be! This is a serious occassion and you made the social blunder to show up wearing "They added Transphobia"!

And for the people that missed it: Origami King also had a Trans-affirming Birdo Moment where they used her for a Secret Drag Show at the Coffee House at the Rainbow Spring. The Paper Mario Writers know what they're doing with Mario's Image and even Nintendo's Brand Identity Manager can't stop them. You look foolish and don't know who you're talking to. These people made Mario canonically visit a gay bar hiding as a coffee shop. Fix your wig.

[revalentine2]

Mountain Climbing and Meteorites! - Team Objective plays Pokemon Emerald

I love drawing my team, I hope you've enjoyed my little doodles as well, loyal viewers!

I skipped this house earlier when racing to the fiery path, but now I guess I can give it a look. Their family is really tough, they say?

Pfft. They were easy. Didn't even use any object pokemon! Kept going on about their son, though. I'm sure he's just as washed up as the rest of them.

Ooooo!! A proper interview? Well, I couldn't deny a chance to promote my cause...

Ah, magnemite! It looks like they're already sympathetic!

Why can't I have a magnemite :(

So this is the 'Team Magma' Archie was talking about...He needs a meteorite to do...something-

-you know, I've heard meteorite pokemon exist. Is that what they're talking about? Where is it!?

Secret Base!? Oh, Team Objective can finally create a hideout, just like all the other evil teams! I'll just have to find the perfect cave to create mine within...

My interview's already on! Sounds like they're talking me up.

Yes! Yes!! Our strategy is unbeatable! Object Pokemon are Unstoppable!

...Perhaps it wasn't wise to broadcast our skills on live television, though. We wouldn't want our opposition to get wise to our antics...

...

I have no comment. This area is just beautiful.

Meteor Falls? This must be where the meteorite pokemon Team Magma was looking for is! I must find it immediately!

A SOLROCK! Oh, it's simply gorgeous. Those chunky rays, those eerie eyes, as if it's squinting out into blinding sunlight...I'll call you 'Sungaze.'

Modest...surprisingly, I don't hate that. Our team has a lot of physical attackers already. Sungaze leaning more into the special side of things might be a good idea.

That being said, I've heard Solrock has a special-oriented counterpart, but haven't seen sight nor sound of it at all. Perhaps Team Magma already took them all!?

Or Team Magma just wanted a normal meteorite. Oops.

Team Aqua appeared, and now Team Magma's taken off to do...something...at that volcano we were at earlier. Could this be related to the Titans? I should tail them and not get distracted. This may be important.

Ooh, Secret Base decorations!

Let's make a base here, shall we? This area is beautiful, even if lacking in Object Pokemon...we can consider it, anyway.

With Sungaze's addition, I think Intern's time has finally come. Despite everything, I've gained some amount of fondness for this non-object pokemon...and you know, I've heard stories about a Grovyle that really liked collecting gears. Perhaps they're Klink enthusiasts? Maybe I should let him accompany me to Unova.

What was I doing-oh right, Volcano.

Thankfully, the team's been powered up! Back at Slateport, I saw fit to outfit members of the team with both Secret and Hidden Power. I'm hoping to save up for stronger TMs, but for now, we have no time.

Let's get that Titan pokemon before team Magma even THINKS of touching it!

Team: StepStone the Graveler (F) Bulwark the Aron (M) Skybomb the Koffing (F) Goo Goo the Grimer (F) Patricia the Nosepass (F) Sungaze the Solrock

[sidekick-hero]

Hunter and Prey

Part 2 (Part 1) and more to come!

Eddie never thought he would end up here.

Sure, he always knew he'd stay with Wayne, even through the occasional dreams of getting out of this shithole of a town. Staying here, with Wayne and Chrissy, was something he had imagined when he thought about the future, but he never thought his life would become this. Growing up, vampires and werewolves and swamp monsters were figments of people's imaginations. Stories to be told around the campfire. The right stuff for movies and books, but too scary (or campy) to be real. The Munson Doctrine was pretty clear on this.

That is, until Eddie walks in on an actual vampire sucking the life out of his best friend his senior year. He's not proud that his first reaction was to freeze in absolute horror, his mind rejecting what was happening right in front of him. Chrissy was lying motionless, a tall guy with dirty blond hair leaning over her, his teeth prolonged into fangs and dark blood dripping from his mouth. Eddie's body felt numb, but he stumbled over to Chrissy as fast as his shaky legs could carry him and tried to help her, but nothing he did would dislodge the vampire. It actually seemed like the bastard thought it was funny.

Just as Eddie was about to go into full panic mode, ready to do something probably very stupid, the doors to the gym slammed loudly open. Both the vampire's and Eddie's heads whipped around in perfect harmony at the sound, something he would have found hilarious under any other circumstances. Before Eddie knew what was happening, the vampire gasped, a choked sound of utter surprise, and clutched at his chest, where a stake protruded from where Eddie thought his heart must be.

Right in front of Eddie's eyes, the vampire made one last garbled sound before simply turning to ash. Eddie slowly looked up from where a monster of the night had just been feasting on his best friend to a tall, broad man holding a crossbow at eye level.

"What the —" Before Eddie could finish the thought, Chrissy started coughing and his attention was drawn back to helping his friend. The man walked over to them, watching as Eddie pulled off his shirt and pressed it to the wound at Chrissy's throat. After a long moment, he said, "She'll be all right, son. Probably saved her life."

And that was the moment that changed his life forever. The man who introduced himself as Hopper helped him bandage and clean Chrissy, and in the process opened his eyes to a world he never dreamed existed.

His earlier run-in with the strangely helpful vampire made him think about that day. He had to remind himself that this was the true nature of vampires. They don't help humans out of the goodness of their unbeating hearts. They are soulless predators. He'd do well to remember that.

"You got everything, son?" Wayne asks, filling a large pitcher of water from the sink.

"Yeah, I think so." Eddie watches as Wayne finishes filling the pitcher, then picks up a worn book, muttering under his breath over the water. Meanwhile, Eddie checks to make sure he has everything he needs, patting himself down to do a quick inventory. Wayne fills the assortment of water pistols on the table with the holy water he just consecrated and hands them to Eddie. Eddie holsters the guns. Wayne's eyes roam over him, double-checking that he's got everything he needs.

"Hey," Eddie says, drawing Wayne's attention to his face and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine, Uncle Wayne. These leeches won't know what hit them." He punctuates the statement with a broad grin.

Wayne huffs with a small smile, but Eddie sees the twitch in his eyebrows. "You better, son. Remember, if you get even an inklin’ that things might head into something unsavory, you call —”

"You and Hop, I know, I know," Eddie interrupts. Wayne smiles at him, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Eddie knows how much it stresses Wayne out to see Eddie put his life on the line like this, but Wayne also knows how important it is for Eddie to go out night after night. "Batten down the hatches and I'll be back soon."

"Just come back in one piece and with all the blood still in your veins, 'kay?"

Eddie gives Wayne a two-finger salute, backs up to the door, and pushes it open. Wayne follows him as Eddie steps through it and into the night, watching as he gets farther and farther away, the darkness quickly consuming him.

Part of an ongoing series @legitcookie​ and I will be doing! We’ll be going back and forth posting parts, so keep that in mind.

This is dedicated to our Elle Woods-coded, big brained, fabulous friend @yournowheregirl​ We’re taking your twilight loving heart, corrupting it with a show you’ve never seen (btvs), and making our blorbos smash together like barbies. We adore you immensely and we would be nothing without you 💜

[sagnaevi]

@iiryoku / plotted starter.

Hua Cheng's had his suspicions of what was going on, for his unbeating heart had been growing unrestful for months - tense and excited. An alert of what was about to take place sometime soon. That the gates to the City of Gu are about to open at Tonglu Mountains once again. All ghosts felt this arousal, the months leading up to the inevitable event. Once the gates have opened, the ghosts who travelled there and those living within would start to slaughter each other, killing until only one of them remained. The more opponents one kills inside Tonglu Mountain, the stronger the slayer will become. A new ghost king would emerge.

Wether good or bad, a distraction had come along, for him to ignore the ever growing wickedness. That distraction was Kaveh - soothing the turmoil simply with his presence and kindhearted smile. Hua Cheng had believed this to be enough, that he had not needed to take any precautions, for Kaveh was all he needed.

A grave mistake.

It was Hua Cheng's mistake, to let lower his guard so frivolously, with his beloved god standing so closely. Before he knew it, the gates opened on the distant mountain - and something in him snapped, like a stepped-on twig.

In one moment they had been -together- cultivating seeds and soil, watering the myriad of flowers inside the building raised just for Kaveh to enjoy. The next, Hua Cheng clutched at the edge of a nearby table, claw-like nails digging into the wooden surface until splinters settled inside -now- burning hot flesh, his other hand covered his right eye where overwhelming pain throbbed. E-Ming shot open it's crimson eye and it whirled and rolled in an unyielding frenzy. Veins popped over the hand which dug into the table, and a strained growl seeps out from between clenched teeth; sharp and furious.

Hua Cheng felt it, the way Kaveh had begun rushign towards him, worried. He heard his name being called out. San Lang! He heard it, but it sounded so distant and diffused - almost like a foggy dream. " Don't touch me! " He managed through his shaking body, " Kaveh... Please, stay away from me, I'm not- "

[randomvarious]

Technotronic - "Get Up! (Before the Night Is Over)" 1990 Eurodance / Hip-House / Eurohouse / New Beat

When Belgian project Technotronic first stormed onto the global dance scene in 1989 with their all-time classic debut single, "Pump Up the Jam," it legitimately became the single-biggest song in the entire world. And the sudden star of the group happened to be a beautiful Congolese model named Felly, who naturally shined in the music video, performed the song on TV multiple times, and was exclusively featured in the art for both the single and its corresponding album too.

But as the world would soon find out, all of this actually turned out to be an enormous ruse. Felly was *not* the singer-rapper of Technotronic that everyone was tricked into believing she was. She actually had nothing to do with the making of the group's music at all and apparently didn't even speak English either! And whenever she performed "Pump Up the Jam," all she did was just lip-sync the words! 😲

So, who was Technotronic's lead vocalist then? Another Congolese-born person: a mere teenager named Ya Kid K, who seemed to possess this uncanny ability to both rap and sing effortlessly in this assertively cool, deep, distinct, velvety-smooth, and magnetically thick New York-sounding accent. She wasn't the most technically skilled rapper out there by any means, but as someone who served as a sort of cross between fitness tape instructor and narrator of catchy contemporary tracks that had been inspired by 1960s dance craze tunes, Ya Kid K was unparalleled. No one else in the world seemed to have a voice that was quite like hers and her mic presence was spectacular.

So then why did they initially try to hide her? Well, Ya Kid K didn't want to sign a contract with ARS Records, the label that was intent on releasing "Pump Up the Jam" and shooting a video for it, and she was already signed to Technotronic leader and producer Jo Bogaert's own record company anyway. In fact, the initial pressing of "Pump Up the Jam," before it ever even broke big, was released on his Sound 89 label, and Ya Kid K was actually credited. But Bogaert wanted to make the record much bigger, and ARS was apparently capable of helping him do that.

But when Ya Kid K refused to sign that contract, what she didn't seem to be aware of is that ARS was then going to recruit someone else to pump up the jam. And when she found out that her own record was in the shops, with some other woman featured on the cover, she was not happy about it, to say the least.

Now, you also have to keep in mind that Technotronic exploded right at the time when lip-syncing was seen as this totally scandalous act of purely unconscionable inauthenticity. It *ended* Milli Vanilli's career and Italo-dance project Black Box caught a whole lot of flak for it too. So when people finally managed to actually catch on to Technotronic's game, Ya Kid K rightfully and immediately became the face of the group, and then Felly was cast out to the sidelines. And in 1990, Ya Kid K would front Technotronic as the opening act on Madonna's own Blonde Ambition tour.

So, this super fun video here for the group's second single, "Get Up (Before the Night Is Over)," is the one that really marked Ya Kid K's official introduction to the world as the person who truthfully possessed Technotronic's captivatingly golden voice. And she comfortably rocked a wholly different look than Felly's too, by decking herself out in a rotating wardrobe of baggy hip hop clothes, while also covering her short, cornrowed hair with an alternating pair of backwards snapbacks. Felly's presence as the group's original frontwoman had clearly been a boon to Technotronic, and she also still appeared in this particular video by mouthing Ya Kid K's multitracked "before the night is over line" too, but this full package that finally matched Ya Kid K's voice to her own genuinely infectious tomboy swagger was simply unbeatable.

And rather than Technotronic flailing to stay relevant after they'd inevitably found themselves caught up in such an embarrassing fiasco, "Get Up (Before the Night Is Over)" ended up succeeding as an excellent follow-up to their previous era-defining smash, landing itself in the top ten across the entire globe, including #7 on the Billboard Hot 100 and #2 on the US Dance Play chart as well.

The group's magic would virtually run out by the dawn of the mid-90s, but at least Ya Kid K got a couple years to really bask in a moment that she had been so clearly deserving of all along. It was unfortunate that "Pump Up the Jam" had left her out of the spotlight, but we also don't know if that record would have succeeded as well as it did without Felly either. However, with such a momentous hit then under their belts, Technotronic no longer had to sell that faux image that had helped them become famous in the first place; the people had clearly fallen in love with their tunes, and they were now free to be themselves.

More fun videos here.