#tw: swearing (just a bit)

[flowerbloom-arts]

Change is a two-way street.

(Is my favoritism towards the Damsel obvious enough, or?)

note: TLQ [aka my sona Bloombird] is a butch sapphic and this is yuri

[hakusins]

tw // scars, blood, bruises, piercings, cigarettes, a bit of ooc?

man, i love whitney

[taradactylus]

Been off from tumblr a bit but I just wanna share my general thoughts about TSAMS, especially today's episode...

‼️Quick warning for suicide and self harm mention‼️

I feel betrayed. I legit cried. Out of embarassment, betrayal, and pure but well-reserved anger.

I'm not going to be quiet about how to show handled Sun's problem. Not one fucking media type ever dares to normally bring up suicidal problems, the people who suffer from this, the amount of kids and adults who DIE from such thoughts. This isn't about the overly edgy teenagers who want to normalize cutting yourself is okey and cool. This is about the people who suffered for months and years with such conditions while the world made fun of them or ignored their calls for help. Ignored the signs.

USA doesn't have much of a public transport where the show is going on. But here we do. And a lot of trains are late every day. Late for hours because of "mechanical issues". 8 out of 10 times the mechanical issue is a local kid who jumped front of the train. A teenager fed up with life. An adult who lost their way. An ederly too impatient for death.

I have waited months. Months. To see how Sun deals with it. A character I fell in love with not in a romantic sense, a character who shared way too many of my own problems from hallucinations from abuse till betrayal. A character who was pushed and pulled their entire life around people who slapped you then said they love you. I wanted to see how he heals out from it.

The signs were there. Everywhere. Sun said it out loud once that he at least fantasized about death. EVEN OLD MOON KNEW ABOUT THIS! He literally told New Moon Sun would be capable of doing it.

So why... why through Miku, the character used as the "weird fandom girl" symbol do they bring up such a delicate topic? A topic that is not delicate because you have to tip toe around the people who live with self destructive thoughts day and night, but delicate because it matters to be properly heard out AND NO ONE LISTENS!

Not one fucking media listens. A lot of us out there rely on fandoms. Stories we can escape to because the world never listens. And call me a self-projector all you want dear creators or whoever writes the story, but you either just pulled the cheapest and most dumbest way to close off a story line with solving Sun's problems off-screen, or you just legit don't give a fuck about people who "self-projected".

Honestly, what if I did? What if in a sense, I saw myself in Sun? A Sunshine of a character ruined and changed by the things that happened to him. Am I not allowed to relate to him? Am I an annoying "fan-girl" for caring about how he heals because I myself have no idea how to do it either? Or am I like Miku for hoping someone calls out on his behaviour because that's something I've wanted my entire life and never got?

And here I am, still somehow hoping Sun is lying. That he is in denial. That there is more to what was shown... but honestly? How long should I wait and hope while the character I started to like is now becoming a bit too toxic?

And with all due respect, I'm taking this episode personally. The creators watch the fandom. Probably have their secret accounts to see what the people theorize. And if Sun is not lying, and suicide is an annoying topic and we are self-projecting too much onto Sun, with all due respect, dear creators... grow the fuck up and educate yourself.

I don't need the world to pity my ass for having self-harming habits, wishing to die and even attempted suicide before (I'm getting my ass to therapy in the meantime so do not worry about me), but all I want from content creators to fucking educate themselfes before bringing up such topics. TO CARE A BIT MAYBE?!

I have survived my worst times, but not everyone does (it's not about who is weaker or stronger, only utter guilt held me back, without that I'd be long gone), andI want for those who has no help feel like they're heard and seen. Cause literally that's all itt takes sometimes to maybe save someone's life.

So yeah. I'm utterly disappointed in this episode. Not because I want the world to know that I'm suicidal and everyone should tip toe around me and "omg pls give me attention" ect ect ect...

Im disappointed because I had hopes for TSAMS to maybe, maybe be an example and bring this topic up normally for a change. But well... here goes my hope for an educational approach of suicide and self harm in a popular show.

[achingly-shy]

spotify wrapped 2023: #51 + teen wolf for anon

"or were you all in a dream amelie, amelie? i don't know" amelie — gracie abrams

[nompunhere]

Vore Dialogue Prompts

I’ve seen people make these in the past and sometimes I just think of vorish one-liners, might as well put them where people can see ‘em

most of these are rather shitposty bc that’s just how I roll

Eager/Willing Prey:

“Okay, but have you considered: eat me”

“You. Me. Your belly. Now.”

“Slurp me up like a noodle, baby~ Pffthahaha, sorry, sorry, I’m kiddi- WAIT NO WHERE ARE YOU GOING COME BACK”

“Mmh, goddamn do I love your insides.. How do you make them so comfortable? Tell me your secrets~”

“Wow, it’s hard to believe you’re just like.. happening around me. Existing, y’know? Living.”

“Why don’t you just put me in your mouth and maybe then you’ll feel better.”

Reluctant/Unwilling Prey:

“Please stop licking me, I’m trying to focus.”

“Your stomach can wait its dang turn.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you—I’m sure you’d keep me perfectly safe, and I’m sure it’s soft and warm and all that. It’s just. It’s just fucking bizarre, is all. No offense.”

“Wait, you want to.. eat me? Really? Huh. Never had that happen before. I dunno if I should be flattered, or scared out of my mind, or-”

“Put. Your tongue. Back in your mou- nOT with me ON IT!”

“I’ll have you know I am a delight to be around, okay? I am a sweet treat! ...I did NOT mean that literally and you know it, put me down.”

Eager/Willing Preds:

“You hear that? Sounds like it’s dinnertime~” (“It’s 2:30 in the afternoon-”) “Shhhhhhut up and get in here”

“Awww, does someone need a little tummy time? ...Don’t look at me like that, I see the blush on your face.”

“Hm, you know, I think we could derive mutual benefit from you getting in my belly RIGHT now. Come on, get over here-”

“Hey, can I- Can I eat you? I, uh, you’d just- feel really good in there, I think, and um... Jeez, I’m sorry, you just look so tasty...”

“Is it alright if I put you in my mouth for a bit? ...No, I’m not gonna bite you, who do you take me for?! ...Wait, why do you look disappointed, what-”

(“...Would you eat me, if given the chance?”) “Hm? Oh, for sure. No question.” (“I- oh.”) [Putting it in this section because idk if the prey is willing or unwilling]

Reluctant/Unwilling Preds:

“FINE! Fine, I’ll eat you, just stop pulling on my face!”

“Are you sure? Okay, but are you sure you’re sure? Ah, yeah, sorry, sorry, I got it. ...But are you absolutely certain-”

“Keep your hands off my food, please. Yes, keep the rest of your body out of my food too. No, that doesn’t mean you can go in my drink, either. For the love of-! Just get off the table?!”

“You realize what a massive invasion of my personal space this is, right? You can’t just go shoving yourself down people’s throats willy-nilly like that, you’re gonna get hurt. Not to mention that I had stuff to do today. Alone.”

“No, please, don’t make that face. I’ve been trying to hold back for so long, don’t make me break that just because you’re so cute I need you sliding down my throat- *hic* S-sorry..”

“Did you crawl into my mouth in my sleep again?! ...Look, if you get scalded by coffee when I don’t know you’re there, I’m sorry, but that’s your own damn fault.”

[triple-pupil]

May I join the polycule?

"Damn, eager but coward- Didn't write their name here..."

"Yeah, ya already know how frequent those are... More paperwork"

"Siiigh...."

"..."

"Y'know, if ya get as many as me, we might as well throw a party for those crazy cats!"

"heheheh..."

"...heh..."

"Ain't ya a smart bastard! Good brainwork, Dice"

[minty-frost]

Ooh, you need to make art for active and popular fandoms to-

NO!!!

「バランワンダーワールド」の攻撃!!!!!

(+ feat. Anon who was supposed to be a reader insert but ended up just an OC)

[transgendersquiddo]

people should write ashswag breakdancing more. like. in the middle of an argument? nice try have you've seen my sick moves. i would rather breakdance about it than hear your problems. need to piss someone off? breakdance about it. how are they even supposed to react. bored and need a conversation starter? breakdance about it. its The most ashswag response if you dont wanna write dialogue and its sick as hell. ashswag breakdance for the win

[astralspen]

Alright I know I've already done a few but another Dazai hc

WARNING: This post talks about depression. I am in no way an expert or professional, and everything is based off of my own experience and research. If you relate to this, please seek professional help.

Ok so the headcanon in short is that Dazais depression caused him to 'lose' his sense of taste.

Quick explanation before moving on BUT a more accurate way to say it is that I don't think he can really perceive taste. It's kind of complicated and hard to explain but it's basically like when you eat something, you can't really tell someone what the food tastes like despite knowing that it does have a taste. It's something, but you don't know what, and no matter how familiar you are with food, you can't identify it. Sometimes you can, but only when it's super strong, and when the depression is unaddressed, it can worsen into not even getting strong flavors over time. It's important to note that you can remember what things tasted like. So, you could eat an apple before you lost your taste perception, then eat it again afterwards and remember that the apple tasted or is supposed to taste sweet. You can't tell that that apple specifically is sweet, but you can tell that the apple is supposed to be sweet in the form a phantom sensation or even just a though of 'Oh this is supposed to be sweet' way.

Going back to Dazai specifically, I think that, despite him getting better in the ADA, this perception worsened over time. Mainly because dude never actually deals with his depression. I can't really say when I think it would have started, but I'm leaning towards not long after or before he joined the PM. Mainly because he could still taste Odas spicy curry and alcohol. With that in mind, he can probably lie easily when asked to try or eat something, because he can remember what certain foods tasted like, and he's smart enough to give a general guess if he never tasted that dish but can tell some of the ingredients. Also because of this, I imagine that he likes canned crab because it has a nice texture to him. He can't taste, so whether or not he likes a food is more based on how it feels in his mouth. The canned crab is probably cheap and has a proper texture, making it still at least a little enjoyable for him to eat since he still can have some sensation in his mouth. At the same time, he likes whiskey or just alcohol in general because he can remember what it tastes like from back in the pm where they were strong enough for him to taste. Also I imagine that makes Dazai kind of picky on his food? Like if it has a weird or no texture, he won't like it. Same thing if it has a funny or bad scent.

[adzy-drawz]

the them

i didnt know what to draw so i just doodled really low quality versions of them in ms paint and then colored it-

[eldrichfuck666]

но что, если тяга делать зло станет чуть сильней чем я?

это мне не повезло не устоять.

[withoutalice]

oops! all food!

Rating: M

Warnings: disordered eating, binge eating, mental health struggles

Word count: 3,600

~~~

Fortress Maximus could only stare directly as the bright, phosphorescent light from the Lost Light’s halls poured into his habisuite, cascading over him exposingly. Dust stood still in the air, illuminated sacredly in the dark kitchen.

“Maxie? What’s happened to you?”

(Full story under the cut)

A/N:

Hehe~ oops! All food p*^n!

TW: Binge eating and talk of disordered eating guilt

Good luck!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fortress Maximus crashed into his berth. This had to be one of his longest days on the Lost Light. Early this morning, he went to get a checkup at Ratchet’s to ensure he was recovering from his coma properly. After that, he had his appointment with Rung, which took up the rest of the morning and a bit of the afternoon. For some reason on the way back to his habisuite he was dragged off to Swerve’s to get the “friends check-up” so he wouldn’t lose it, or something. Well he wanted to use their inner energon to paint the ship the whole time. He abruptly had said goodbye to the table before he did something he regretted and trudged to his room, exhausted.

Now he lay face down, venting heavily but evenly. He was so tired and-

He heard his tanks groan.

Fort Max punched the wall next to him and sat up. He needed fuel. He hadn’t had anything all day except for a mint in between Rung’s and Swerve’s. He leaned against the backboard of his berth and pulled his private datapad from under his pillow. His bleary eyes squinted at the several applications he could choose from. It was only 6pm, it definitely was dinner time. He decided to start with a standard personal pizza. He put in his order and closed his eyes, waiting for the knock on his habisuite door.

He still startled when he heard the rap at the door fifteen minutes later. Still in a sleepy state, he dragged over to the door with a handful of shanix for a tip. Then he stepped back to his bed, settling in with his dinner and turning on a program to watch. His servos were large enough for the whole pizza to fit easily, so he began to bite away at the steaming hot pizza. With each bite the cheese stretched in gooey strings from his denta that was then quickly swiped up with his glossa. Steam rose from each separated piece of pizza and swirled past his optics. Fortress sighed satisfied and relaxed more with each large bite. Before long, the personal pizza was gone and Fort Max left to wash the grease off his hands in the kitchen sink.

He went to go sit down and continue his program. He gnawed on the ends of his servos for a few minutes before he finally conceded to his tanks protesting. He clicked off the program and put on some music instead. Max reached over to grab his datapad off the nightstand for the second time. It was okay right? He should have a little extra because he had eaten nothing all day. It was totally justifiable. He realized as he looked down at his apps that he didn’t know what he wanted to eat specifically. Well, he had a few ideas, but he couldn’t possibly order more than a couple items? He offlined his optics.

After a moment and another yowl from his tanks, he decided it was fine. I mean, have I ever done something like this? It can’t hurt every one in a while… He opened up a different app this time. Can’t have the same place again…what if they think I regularly eat more than one bot should? Shame burned in his cheeks at the thought. Max placed his order and waited again, eyes fixed on his habisuite door. Fifteen minutes passed, and his order hadn’t arrived. To stave off the hunger he got a glass of low grade energon, then a second one, then half of third before his tanks sloshed uncomfortably with the weight of the smooth liquid. His tanks still clenched painfully like he hadn’t eaten in a week.

His optics bored into the door, and when that long awaited knock sounded he couldn’t hide his desperation as he stepped to the door and opened it jerkily. Fort Max shoved the heavy tip of shanix into the delivery bot’s servo through the slightly open door. He was trying to hide from guilt that he didn’t know the origin of. Carefully he put down a towel on his bed and set out the food. Set in front of him were two large bowls of macaroni and cheese, a plate of mozzarella sticks, a basket of fries, fried chicken, a caesar salad, and a 2-liter bottle of carbonated sweet energon. This could feed six bots, or a larger family unit of bots easily…he reflected to himself. He didn’t want to dwell on that. He wanted to ease the clenching of his tank.

Fort Max practically inhaled the fries first, not really savoring the taste or texture; he ate them without any of the provided sauces. The salt dried out his glossa shockingly fast so he washed it down with long gulps of the sweetened fizzy energon. Tanks feeling a little more satiated, he mulled over what to eat next. He decided on the macaroni and cheese. He popped open the lid of the plastic to-go container and sighed open-mouthed at the smell. He dug in with the plastic spoon. The macaroni and cheese squelched with each stirring motion. The cheese sauce was so thick it was hard to remove the spoon when he was ready to eat. Maximus then carefully put a spoonful into his mouth. The sauce coated the inside of his mouth intimately and his denta stuck together while he chewed. He vented shallowly through his nose. He nearly missed the next bite. His spoon was going faster than his mouth, and some of the food dribbled onto his chest plating. Fort Max quickly swiped it up with a napkin but cleaned his lips with his glossa. He wolfed down the last few bites of the dish and set it aside.

He then started on the mozzarella sticks. He broke the first one apart with his hands and watched the steam rise. After he ate that first one, he realized he forgot the marinara sauce so he cracked that open too. Max tried to savor them. He was still disappointed they gave him so few…

Fortress was starting to feel weighed down by the grease so he took a break by eating his caesar salad. He had no urgency, as his tanks finally were above the empty level but not completely full yet. He took the first couple bites, cringing at the unpleasant dryness of the salad even with the dressing. But he knew it was healthy so he continued through, eyeing the bucket of fried chicken strips. The music in his habisuite droned on in the background. He picked the last few lettuce pieces out of the salad that his fork couldn’t get and swallowed them quickly, tossing the container into the can next to him. Fortress took a few more sips of fizzy energon before starting on the salt-heavy fried pieces. 

It was unfortunate that the chicken was room temperature at that point, but the taste was still amazing. He went through two or three little to-go containers of BBQ sauce, ranch, and ketchup each. He was feeling a little overwhelmed by the delicious taste, but half of the bucket remained and he was out of sauce. His eyes wandered up to the second container of macaroni and cheese that was left. He had to reach far to grab the last container, feeling his nearly topped off tank put pressure on his insides, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable yet. He was able to finish off both containers by using the rest of the chicken strips to scoop up the macaroni. The explosion of flavors and the comfort of the cheese and protein in his tank felt like it was warming his spark. His HUD popped up a suggestion to recharge, but Fortress Maximus didn’t feel like going to recharge just yet. He turned on the TV again to catch up on the news for the day finally.

```

Fortress Maximus fell asleep with the TV still on.

```

He woke up with condensation from his frame pooling underneath him. He panted and swiped a servo on his forehelm. It came away wet. Even worse, his tank was rumbling again, even after his larger dinner. Checking the time, he saw it was a couple hours past the night mid-cycle. The Point-One-Percenter got up, went to the kitchen again, and poured something to drink. His frame felt like it hadn’t eaten in vorns, his processor acted like it was starved of nutrients. I should get that checked out by First Aid or Ratchet tomorrow… He thought to himself. He was so mad and ashamed and confused about what had transpired in the last 24 hours. He forgot two simple meals and now his frame was breaking down like a malnourished illegal miner mech. 

He couldn’t help his survival coding. He grabbed an emergency ration stick from his day kit for emergencies and sat on his habisuite floor with his datapad. Maximus barely registered the total of his purchase. Hopefully no one would question the charge. After punching in his delivery information with shaking servos, he curled up in the fetal position on the floor of his kitchen. His processor was woozy and his optics swam in exhaustion. His whole frame shook and he felt like his internals were digesting each other to get any scraps that had semblance with nutrients. Tears leaked out of his optics at the pain. 

Honestly, Fortress Maximus was scared.

The delivery mech, as per his directions, knocked and left the food at the door. Fortress laughed in relief. He pulled himself off the floor and pulled the food inside.

He didn’t even make it to the table in his suite. He ripped open the first of the many paper bags with his order in it. It was a large extra pepperoni pizza. He reached into the bag again, finding the extra ranch sides he requested with the order. He ripped open several packs with his denta and squirted them all over the pizza. He frantically used his servos to spread it onto multiple slices before grabbing two slices and shoving them into his mouth. He wasn’t even tasting the food as he chewed and swallowed as fast as he could. He grabbed another fistful of pizza and opened his jaw as wide as possible to stuff as much of the food he could into his mouth. He sniffled and swiped up more ranch to put on the pizza. He felt as if he couldn’t eat fast enough. He ate two, three, four pieces at a time until the whole family sized pizza was gone. 

He moaned and lay face down on the floor. His body shivered as it struggled to digest the large meal he ate. He ate too fast but that wasn’t enough to stop him from grabbing the next bag full of party size chip bags, bread and mayonnaise. He took out the toast pieces and slathered them in mayo, crushing chips in between and making a ‘sandwich’. The soft, soggy bread contrasted with the crunch of the chips and the mayo stuck to his glossa heavily. Some of the mayo oozed out of the bread and covered his servos. Without a second thought he shoved each finger into his mouth and licked his palms clean. What he couldn't clean off with his glossa he simply wiped onto his own thighs, leaving a sticky, greasy mess in its wake. All the while, his processor screamed at him to stop, to take control of himself. But his body refused to listen, determined to gorge itself in desperation. Maximus knew he was self-destructing.

Next was the pastries. Oh mmph…pastries… The tray of cinnamon rolls with the glistening, viscous sugar slathered on them was almost erotic in a way. He felt perverted just looking at them. He curiously stuck a singular servo into the center of one, and it made a slick shck! noise when he pulled it out to lick it clean. He tenderly raised the one with the fingered hole in it up to his face.

He took a bite. Immediately he received that dopamine shot from the sugar, sobbing with relief. He was already envisioning the next cinnamon roll he would consume. As he finished off the final pastry, the feeling of guilt began to set in. But it was too late. He had already fallen off the wagon.

Maximus reached for another unknown pastry box. He flopped back to lean against the kitchen wall, spreading his legs wide to make room for his overfilled tank with the box of donuts in his lap. He opened the box, smelling the copious amounts of sugar, smelling the signature fried butterfly dough. Max heard a muffled Ping! from his lower panels. He felt his belly strain against his armor and rub against internal nodal wiring unnaturally but pleasurably. Just at the smell and his cooling fans clicked on, blasting at their highest speed. Even though he was uncomfortably stuffed, Fort Max began to polish off the donuts.

He had an eating ritual for all 12 donuts. He would nibble the edge a little, then stick his glossa through the center hole, eating it without the help of his hands from there. He slurped up the sticky maple, chocolate, strawberry, and frosting cream off of his servos and chin lazily. He was slowing down. He was getting tired, but his frame was still raging for fuel. Fort Max looked at the empty boxes around him. He still had more in his order. He had to continue.

He whimpered and strained to reach the next box. He went through a loaf of garlic bread, chocolate bars, sugary cereal, cheesecake, popcorn, hot wings, triple chocolate cookies, cheese burgers with fries, ice cream and-

His frame stopped.

Max's processor returned to him and finally all his emotions bubbled to the surface. At first, tears silently leaked out of his optics as he looked around his habisuite's kitchen. He hardly remembered eating all of that but, checking the time, he realized it was possible that this was his doing. He had to have been eating for three hours straight. At least the early rising bots were already walking around the ship. The pain from Fortresses' stomach registered next, he couldn't get up and was bloated beyond belief. He tenderly held his stomach with shaky servos, slouching back farther against the wall nearly lying on the floor, and rubbing slightly to ease the stiff pain.

At first it was a sniffle, then a short cut-off sob, a weak cry, before he was completely wailing at his predicament and anguish. He let go of his bloated belly to cover his face with his servos, laying on his side in the middle of all the food scraps and wrappers and other trash on the floor. His frame shook and armor jiggled as he cried. It was a complete nightmare. He felt angry. Sad. Pointless. Disgusted, guilty, shameful and everything in between. He had never experienced such self hatred towards himself. He'd never felt so…ugly. Max hiccuped. Beating one fisted servo against the floor, and biting the other, he screamed in torment.

          Why does this always happen to me!?

          What is even the point?!

          Fortress Maximus felt his tanks clench in being over-full this time. He continued crying like a lost child as he sat up again, looking around the habisuite hopelessly.

          No one can know…

But why was he so anxious about being caught? It was just fuel, wasn’t it? After his day off his bloating would be mostly gone and messes could always be cleaned. It’s not like he broke any rules of the ship…

Everyone makes mistakes everyone makes-

The door handle turned with a click!

Fortress Maximus could only stare directly as the bright, phosphorescent light from the Lost Light’s halls poured into his habisuite, cascading over him exposingly. Dust stood still in the air, illuminated sacredly in the dark kitchen.

“Maxie? What’s happened to you?”

He recognized that silhouette anywhere. First Aid was standing in his doorway, and when Max’s optics adjusted to the searing light, he could see the terror upon the medic’s face. The tension was thick and charged with grief, confusion, disgust, concern, indifference… 

Embarrassingly, the Point-One-Percenter tried in vain to stand up without the use of his servos and arms, to prove he was still capable. He failed.

“I-it’s not what you think!” He wailed.

The medic just shook his helm.

“I just don’t know what to do, Max.” First said grimly.

“Please! I can fix this!” The panicking bot uselessly swiped away wrappers, only uncovering more crumbs and trash piled on the floor.

“You need help, Fortress. This is…horrific!” First Aid gestured wildly at the state of the habisuite. The medic stepped in and grabbed receipts off the dining table. As he read the numbers of the cost of each order, his optics widened.

Maximus, overwhelmed with sadness and shame, drops his head to the floor. First Aid just stands there, his EM field tightly restricted, his arms folded in disappointment as he watches the sad spectacle unfold.

"First Aid...I...I...I just don't know what went wrong," He sobs. "This isn't me...you know that!"

First Aid's voice dropped to an alarming whisper. Maximus had never seen such anger in First Aid's optics before.

"You ate everything... again? I've heard this so many times."

Max's voice grew desperate. 

“Please, don't tell anyone!”

“Fortress Maximus, you are beyond help,” First Aid said, his tone stony. “Get it together, frag it all! You can't just eat everything in sight every time you feel emotions.”

The large mech whimpered.

"I... I know... I thought I was doing better..."

“For frag’s sake Fortress!? It’s been nearly a year of therapy; it’s been two years since you were rescued from Garrus 9.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think…” 

Fortress Maximus felt betrayed.

First Aid took a step inside and surveyed the mess. His optics scanned over everything, and then his scanners caught a glimpse of the discarded boxes scattered around the room. Max, still on the floor, tried to cover himself up with his servos. He was ashamed, but he knew his efforts were useless.

"I can explain," he tried. "Please believe me-"

The medic's hand clenched the receipts tightly, shaking as the point-one-percenter's heart rate began to accelerate. The medic looked up from the receipts, and their optics met. Maximus' optics widened, knowing the time had come. His optics lowered to his chest panel in a silent, defeated sigh as he realized there was simply nothing he could do to hide the evidence. The damage had been done.

"I know, I know! It's just... I can't stop. Everything I taste is amazing at the time, but after..."

Maximus trailed off as First Aid began reading the total cost of his multiple orders. He was speechless. It was an inconceivable amount of shanix. Maximus just watched in anguish as the medic picked up each receipt and added up the total. He wanted to cry again.

"Just a rough patch, First! I'm in perfect control!" Fortress Maximus waved away the medic's concerns even as he took rapid shallow breaths, gasping and panting in front of him. The medic could see deep stains in the Point-One-Percenter's armor that suggested this binge-eating episode was not the first.

Fortress Maximus froze at First Aid's words, a cold realization settling on him like a blanket. He was utterly helpless to control himself, and he knew it. How many times would he repeat this same cycle before he lost everything? Maximus knew in his spark that he had hit a rock bottom, but how would he ever climb out? The Point-One-Percenter felt First Aid's judging gaze pierce the deepest part of his spark, and he had no response.

"But I'm doing better! I am. The binges aren't as bad as they were, at least not physically. I just... I need to keep myself entertained, distracted. If not, I get bored. Then I get depressed. Then I eat until I've become this... this embarrassment." The sad bot looked up at First Aid, his optics pleading for understanding.

"But it's all I have, Aid.”

First Aid shook his head one last time in disgust, opened a comm to Rung, spun on his heel and slammed the door behind him, locking Max in his habisuite with his mess. He was alone to wallow in his shame and the evidence of his binge-eating. Maximus was at a loss for words as he heard First Aid walk away. He felt so helpless, a feeling he wished he’d never have to know again. He stared around his habisuite for a moment, breathing deeply to try and calm himself down. 

He knew what he had to do next, but he couldn't summon the strength to leave the mess he had made. Eventually, he closed his optics and laid motionless on the floor.

~~~~~~~~

A/N

First off, I’m sorry I wrote this. Uhhh points for creativity? Eheh >.<

Thanks for reading though! Just remember, that even though I write about heavy topics doesn’t mean I'm struggling. ;)

[scattered-winter]

well. update for the quintenary stars folks.

my friend just passed away irl and I don't really know when I'll be able to write again. it might be a week. it might be a month. it might be six. I don't know and I wanted to give y'all a heads up that the next update will probably be delayed indefinitely. I love u guys and I appreciate all the support and engagement qs has gotten so far and I hope I'll be able to come back to it soon 💚🤍🖤

[nomsfaultau]

Animatic for Fault part 1: Conviction

tw: blood, gore, general abuses of the Foundation, minor needles

[sortofanobsession]

Of Hunters, Gods, and Hooded Vigilantes (Moon Knight/TVA Hunter Reader)

Author's Note: I have been sitting on this one since (and a few other loki ri) since Loki ended. @selfryed suggested I post it . Hopefully it doesn't disappoint. I know not everyone likes Reader Inserts. But you all know how much I love Moon Knight crossovers. I'll write those boys into anything. Suggest away if you wish. Unbeta'd and Posted on mobile so please forgive any errors.

Sylvie, B-15, Casey, and OB pop up but no Loki or Mobius in this one. Sorry guys. Random letter and number combos for non important hunters.

Content warning: canon typical violence, some swearing, mentions of death, crying,

You track the rogue variant that had been messing with time, not quite as dangerous as He Who Remains. But somehow this guy had an artifact that he couldn't be allowed to keep. B-15 had sent a team that consisted of you and two other hunters.

It turns into more of a scuffle than expected. Hunter L-24 was calling for backup as you gave chase. You hated the fact you weren't in your actual armor. You had been trying to blend in. But you regret that now with the cut on your temple, dangerously close to your eye, and probably bruised rib. It hurt but that's the job. And you had the guy in the ropes until… until you didn't. Time was iffy with what this guy had taken and one second you were running through a side road through the highly populated area, but thankfully sparsely-filled street in what you knew of consisted of public housing. Next, you are cut off from your team in an alley. A manic laugh has you turn on your heels. You had really hoped you wouldn't have to use the pruning stick. This was supposed to be easier. Your hands move as if on their own with practiced movement of charging the weapon.

“Listen, buddy,” you said with false confidence to hide your unease. “We tried doing this the nice way, but you’ve forced my hand.”

“You still think you have the upper hand,” the man laughed, pulling a pistol. Oh that was not good. Those weren't even allowed in this country, you knew that. You hear the click of the weapon. But out of nowhere, the gun is knocked out of his hand by a metallic object. You lunge towards the weapon. And you can't reach it, but you do the next best thing. You pruned it. It disappears. Let the Void Lokis or Alioth have it. You turn towards the scuffle behind you, expecting to see your team. You are surprised to see a masked figure easily taking down the variant. You watch as the figure knocks the guy out.

“Uh…thanks,” you say as the vigilante turns to you as you power down your weapon.

You can feel eyes on you as you go over and pick up the artifact. The masked figure hasn't said a word. Just watching you. The wind kicks up as you place a pair of cuffs on the variant.

You grab your tempad and report in. “Variant secured, B-15,” you say. You look back and the hooded hero is gone. You hear the sound of rushed boot falls as your teammates meet you. You pick up the curved blade that had saved your life. You admire it as a timedoor appears.

None of you noticed Moon Knight in the shadows watching you.

— ◍☾ —

Marc couldn't believe what he was seeing. You were supposed to be dead. Everyone had said you were dead. It had torn him up not knowing what happened to you. What you went through. He always wondered if you suffered. If you had missed him. If he could have saved you if he hadn't left. But he had pushed that pain away and forced himself to move on. But that pain tended to pop up at random moments. He did not expect it to come up now. And it had Marc pulling back and letting Jake take over. But he kept watching. You looked so young. Like he remembered. Like time had barely touched you. How was that possible? Then again, they hadn't really aged much since Khonshu. But you weren't an avatar. He would have known or the bird would have.

And any doubt Marc had was gone when he heard your voice again. It was one he still heard in his dreams. One he couldn't forget. But Jake was wise enough to be cautious. If something seemed impossible and too good to be true, it probably was. So Jake removed them from the situation.

The next time Moon Knight was better prepared. There were too many questions they needed answered. So he started by seeing if you were you in the simplest way first. He called your name. And something in Marc shifted when you reacted by turning towards them. But his heart aches when you look at him and ask if they knew you. Even more so when you said you didn't even know you. And that was enough.

— ◍☾ —

The next time you are in that part of the timeline after you spent a few days working with the others at the TVA. You were in Eastern Europe tracking down a secondary artifact that was created alongside the one you collected in London. The same group of rogues. The same branch. Your ribs still ache from the last time. You were in full gear this time with a larger team. But you weren’t the only one with increased numbers. The variant had friends with the new artifact you were pursuing. Mid-fight again, out of the night drops the figure you now knew was called the Moon Knight. You hadn't read the hero’s file but you knew where he got his powers now. What you hadn't expected was what the caped hero did next.

He called your name. Well, not your name. It was what had been your name before you were taken from the timeline. You knew it was your name, but it didn't really feel like yours. Most everyone just called you by your hunter designation.

“You know me?” You ask because when you had skimmed your file to make an informed decision on staying at the TVA you think you would have noticed if it had mentioned a hooded hero with the power of a literal god. Then you laugh at your own statement. “I don't even really know me.” And before you know it you feel arms around you and with speed you couldn't even comprehend you find yourself somewhere else. You stumble back as you look at your new surroundings.

“What…what did you do that for?” You reach for your weapon.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Moon Knight says, his mask disappearing to reveal a face. One that seems oddly familiar, but you didn't know for sure.

“Then why did you take me from my team?” You glare.

“I just want to talk,” he says.

You say nothing as you reach for where your tempad is secured.

“Don't you remember me?” he says. The whole suit vanishing now. He stands in front of you in jeans and a henley.

“I'm sorry,” you tell him but for some reason there are tears in your eyes. You don't know why but the look on the man's face breaks your heart. “I’m not…I'm not who you are looking for. I'm…I'm just a hunter.”

“But you are, you answered to her name, you're-” He's cut off as a slight woosh and shimmer of a timedoor appears. Moon Knight’s suit is back and he moves between you and the door. You actually find it rather amusing. As if he was protecting you. Too bad he is protecting you from your team. Your friends. Your work.

The timedoor opens and you are stunned to see Sylvie walks out in the god's fully armed glory.

“Sylvie,” you say in shock. Last you knew she had returned to her fast food life.

“B-15 called,” Sylvie states. And that tracks.

“How long?” You ask wondering how long had actually passed at the TVA if Sylvie was called in.

“Long enough,” Sylvie says and you sigh.

“Who the hell are you?” Moon Knight snaps at Sylvie.

“She already said who I was. I'm Sylvie. And you took my friend here against her will and I hoped that avian god of yours would know better. Stupid bird,” she spits as she summons her sword.

“What the-”

“He didn't mean it, Sylvie. He's confused he-”

“You defend this broken puppet?” Sylvie asks in amusement. And Moon Knight clearly didn't like that because you notice a slight shift in his stance and suit as a fight breaks out. And it's an interesting fight.

“Your bird god is weak, his hold is pitiful,” The silver tongued variant snides, “To need a human puppet.”

“Avatar,” Moon Knight corrects.

“Same thing, a human shield to hide behind,” Sylvie grins.

You gasp as Sylvie gets close enough to put a hand against Moon Knight's chest. And she sees it.

You hear a deep growl and Sylvie is shoved back. “Stay the fuck out of my head!” Moon Knight snaps.

You expect Sylvie to return to the fight but instead she appears next to you.

“Now, now, lover boy, no one is going to hurt anyone.”

“Speak for yourself,” he hisses.

“Your anger is misplaced, puppet,” she says before looking at you. “He does know you, knew you, the timeline you.”

“What?” You look between the female god and the hero. You see the masked hero’s shoulders go tense.

“I can show you,” Sylvie grins.

“Wait, hang on-” Moon Knight says, his mask dropping.

Sylvie takes your lack of a refusal an answer, her hand touches your temple.

You gasp as your mind is flooded with images. A history you didn't remember. It brings tears to your eyes and steals the breath from your lungs.

Moon Knight shouts your name again as you stumble back against the wall.

You’re overwhelmed. You hear shouting and the recognizable sound of Sylvie’s laugh.

“I did you a favor,” the female god of mischief says, her focus back on the unmasked man.

“No one asked you to,” a voice you now recognized as a version of one you knew lifetimes ago. You knew his name.

“Marc,” you don't even realize you say it out loud. You really did know him. His head snaps to look at you as you say it.

“You're welcome,” Sylvie says before she and the timedoor vanish. Marc curses Sylvie as he moves beside you in an instant.

“You're okay,” he says, his eyes full of an emotion you can't pinpoint. “We’ve got you.”

“Marc?” you say again, needing confirmation. Your hand raises but is hesitant to touch.

“Do you remember me now?” he asks, a slightly hopeful look on his face. His gloved hand grips yours.

“I…I do,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he says. “Good.” The suit drops away. His hand squeezes yours and he leads you into a building. An apartment building you realize. You follow him into a studio apartment with a large fish tank drawing your attention. Two goldfish swimming around. You approach it with amusement. You almost forgot that people really do keep pets. Pets aren’t really a thing at the TVA. No time. Not really.

You hear Marc moving around behind you, then his voice, hushed as if talking to someone. But when you glance at him through your periphery he doesn't seem to be talking to you.

“Make yourself at home,” he calls over to you, but his accent is different. You look at him with amusement. All your years, centuries, eons maybe, of hunter training has you fully turning to observe him. You had seen him change in flashes as Sylvie showed you what she deemed important. Conversations with mirrors. Changes. Shifts. He was like a variant with variants of his own in his mind. This is what she had meant by him having a broken mind.

“You're not Marc, are you?”

The man looks momentarily stricken. And you wonder if you should have phrased that differently. “Sorry, that sounded accusatory.” You carefully remove your helmet and move to set it on a nearby table. Your weapon too. “Sylvie didn't show me everything, so I…I don't know your name.”

“Steven,” he says without hesitation, now knowing that you aren't too afraid. Knowing that him fronting hadn't ruined things.

“Okay,” you nod. You activate your tempad and send a message to B-15 that you were okay and that if they needed you to just let you know. You contemplated leaving it with your weapon and helmet but you were still unsure what to expect. So you kept it secured in its spot.

“What do you remember?” Steven asks.

“Bits and pieces,” you admit. “But honestly, it's more like watching an old movie with some of it. It doesn't feel real.”

“I know the feeling,” his voice is kind and there is a sympathetic look on his face.

“I'm sure you do,” you nod.

“You're not afraid?” He asks.

“I mean, I have spent an unknown number of years, maybe millennia, lifetimes, as a hunter. No name, just a letter and a number. Reporting to superiors that worked for a lie. Made to believe I was always like this.” You say. “It's more jarring than anything to have real memories again. To think I had childhood. A real life.”

You sense a shift and his old, more familiar accent is back.

“What happened to you?” He asks.

“It's a very long story,” you say. “What's the last thing you remember of me?”

“While I was gone. You vanished, they said you ran away, but that was bullshit. You would have told me. Left a letter. Something. Then I come back to missing persons posters all over the city. But it's Chicago. No one was confident they'd find you. I couldn't find you. They wrote you off as dead when no traces of you were found anywhere. It was like there was nothing to find.”

“They wouldn't have, still won't,” you say sadly.

“What?” He frowns. “The hell does that mean?”

“It means I read my file, well, skimmed it. My nexus event was before that point. But the sacred timeline me. The me you knew, I'm sorry Marc but she’s gone.”

“But you're right here,” he states.

“Like I told you, I'm not actually her. I'm…from a different point in time. Before you left. Before…”

“What do you mean a different point in time? How is that possible?”

“Because the people I work for, the place I was, it's like a city outside of time.”

“How can anything exist outside of time?”

“How can a man fly and survive death?” You ask. “The details are complicated and honestly, I understand it less now than I thought I did before. We exist to protect time from those who tamper with it.”

“So you can time travel?” He asks.

“Yes, but,” you know you need to draw the line in the sand now. “But whatever you are thinking, please don't.” And he studies you. You look so tired. And sad. Very sad.

“It's not as easy as you would think. Changing time has horrible consequences. The things I've done. The people I sent to that monster. I thought what I was doing was right. That I was protecting the timeline. Preventing something terrible. Turns out. We were the terrible ones. All those branches. All those people. Feed to Alioth.” You were crying now. It was the first time you ever let yourself think about the all devouring monster you had sent so many to face.

“Oh darling,” you hear the British accent back. “You didn't know. We’ve all done things we regret. Especially us,” he glances at the reflextion of Marc. “You didn't know what you were doing, you said so-”

“You don't get it,” you tell him. You dug out the engraved token and placed it on the table. A coin, a momento Dox had given you once as a reward after a partially difficult mission. It looked like a souvenir coin. Embossed edges. You ran your fingers over the seal and motto.

“For all time. Always,” you repeat the motto you had molded your life to follow. The atrocities you helped orchestrate. “Anything any of you have done in your life is a fraction of what I was part of. I shouldn't be here. I don’t deserve to have this.” You grab your weapon and open a timedoor, you rush though. The door closes behind you.

Steven walks over and picks up the helmet you left behind and the coin you had placed on the table. Time Variance Authority. He looked at the others in their reflections. They all agree. They were determined to find out everything they can about time, especially time travel.

— ◍☾ —

Marc was angry. That woman just showed up, literally out of nowhere, and then nearly ruined everything. First she fights them. Then she gets in their mind, and Jake had violently objected to that. Having Khonshu in their head was bad enough. And it was already crowded with three of them in there already. But the real line was crossed when the woman that you considered a friend showed you the painful history you guys had. You had been so mad at him for leaving. Your tears were like ice picks in their heart. And he just got more angry with himself as you broke down over what you had been through. Everything he couldn't save you from. He didn't know what a nexus was but if it was anything like the turning point in their life, namely slowly dying in the desert until Khonshu stepped in, it couldn’t have been pleasant. So Steven takes over to let Marc process while someone tries to help you. The British alter had tried to comfort you but it hadn't worked. You explain a bit more and then like a switch flips, you panic. And you leave. Marc pulls further away to brood. They can't let this be the end.

— ◍☾ —

Time passes and your heart hurts less but you cannot forget them. You are helping look through pages of readings you were still not the best at analyzing. You were a hunter, not an analyst. But with fewer people now that many had left to live in the timeline, you had offered to help. To stay busy. You looked up from the file as Casey hurried towards you.

“We have a problem,” he says.

“Let me grab my gear,” you say.

“No need, no time anyway,” he says as he opens a timedoor. You follow him into the main monitoring bay. And the monitor is tracking a branch growing dangerously fast.

“I thought we didn't prune branches anymore,” you say.

“This isn't your normal branch,” OB says.

“Then I should get my gear, where's the team,” you look at B-15.

“You’ll be fine,” OB says as he opens a timedoor. You make sure your tempad is in its place. “Hold on, a solo mission but i-”

“Only you can handle this one,” OB says and guides you to the door. “You'll do great.” A gentle push and you are through the door. There is a large open tunnel before you.

“Oh, Loki, what did I get into this time,” you mutter looking up at the sky. “You'd probably enjoy this mess.” A woman walks towards you in the tunnel. You had seen pictures of her when you had been at Marc’s.

“I'm Lilah, come with me,” she says. You look at her outfit.

“You’re an avatar, right?”

“I am, and a friend of Marc and Steven,” she says.

“Are they okay?” You ask.

“Why don't you see for yourself.”

You follow her until you are in a giant temple. Statues and hieroglyphics surround you. You see Marc in front of a number of people on a dais.

Your footsteps are louder than you would want them as all attention turns to you.

Marc's eyes go wide for a moment and he calls your name. But before you can answer him. You are greeted by name by the woman in the middle.

She introduced herself as the goddess Isis. And you do your best to bury your nerves and act appropriately. You lower your gaze out of respect.

“At least this one knows respect,” a man says. He is scolded by another.

You are made to kneel beside Marc.

“I'm sorry,” he says.

“You did this? You made the branch?” You whisper. You can't believe it.

“You must be curious why you are here,” Isis states. You lower your head again and stare at the floor. She seemed to be expecting an answer.

“I…was sent to the timeline by my superiors, they said that I was the only one.”

“Your companions are not wrong, but it was more we believed it was only fair you had a say in your fate.”

“My fate, your grace?” You cringed. The only god you knew was Loki, and he hasn't made you act in servitude.

The goddess hums in amusement. “Spector here cares very dearly for you it would seem. Even willing to travel forbidden planes to find you again.” You look over at Marc but he is starting a hole in the floor.

“Why?” you ask him.

“You left, and we didn't want to lose you again,” he admits.

“Osiris, Thoth and Horus are not pleased with your meddling, Spector,” the goddess says. “Be glad it is me before you and not my beloved.” She grins. “The passage of time is not yours to hold, Marc Spector, Khonshu knows better.”

“He wanted no part of it,” Marc admitted.

“The only reason you are not facing harsher penalties for your actions is because you have honestly done worse. And your heart was in the right place. Love makes fools of most mortals.” The goddess grins. “But you step outside your station, Marc Spector, once more and your punishment will not be so lenient.”

She dismissed everyone.

You turn to find Lilah is gone.

“I'm sorry,” the recognizable voice of Steven says. “I am so sorry. I didn't know they would care so much. It wasn't like we moved the stars again. Not that noticeable.”

You turn to look at him. “I told you guys that messing with time is dangerous. Then what do you do, you go and mess with time. Have you lost your mind?!”

“Well, by typical diagnostic specifications, technically we did a long time ago, when I came into existence,” Steven notes.

“Steven!” You shout. “You can't just change reality because you missed me. That’s not-”

His expression changes. His tone and accent too. “And you can? Do you have any idea what it was like to have you show up years after being told you were dead and then you just leave. Gone to somewhere we couldn’t follow. And you thought we would just let you go? A heart can only break so many times. We failed last time. We weren't going to fail again, not when we could actually-”

You silence him with a kiss.

“Take me home,” you tell him when you separate for air. They don't have to be told twice.

— ◍☾ —

Marc hadn't thought he could have happiness like this again. Even after he had found you again. The three of them had agreed that having you in their life was important, but he couldn't have anticipated having you literally in their bed.

You snuggle closer and bury your face in the warmth of his neck. Whining at being woken. So abruptly. You feel the laugh from the body beneath you as he turns off the alarm.

“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” Marc says.

You grumble incoherently as you try to bury yourself in his warmth.

“You keep squirming like that, sweetheart and we are going to have a problem.” You giggle. “I'm serious, baby.” He moves the hair off your face so he can see you. “Donna will kill Steven if he's late again.”

You weigh your options. You shift your weight again earning a groan from Marc. “I could just use a timedoor and get him there on time.”

“Lo siento, mi amor,” Jake says as he takes over. “But you always say we shouldn't mess with time.”

You groan but don't stop him as he gets out of bed. You settle for stealing his pillow.

You yelp at the playful swat to your sheet covered behind. His hand rubs the now stinging skin through the sheet as Jake laughs. You glare at him but the face that greets you is one far too soft to be Jake Lockley.

“We’ll make it up to you, darling,” Steven says as he leans in and kisses your forehead. You pull him in for a proper kiss.

“Do we have time for pancakes?” You ask against his lips. And how could he say no to that?

You let him go and he looks at you like you hung the moon. Extra funny considering the lunar deity they serve. “We can make time for pancakes,” he assures you.

“You still want to watch that movie tonight?” Steven asks from the kitchen as you get dressed. You didn't have much other than your uniform so you had really just stolen a shirt that was far too big on you, his clean boxers, and a pair of socks so your feet wouldn't get cold on the hard floors.

You laugh as you remember you had stumbled upon one of Brad Wolfe’s schlocky films on a streaming service.

“Gods yes,” you laugh again. “X-5 was such a prick. Mobius said I have to watch them. They are hilarious, and they aren't supposed to be.”

“Are they scary?” Steven asks and you know in some reflection Marc or Jake is probably rolling their eyes, or laughing. You couldn't be sure.

“I'm sure Jakey will take over if it's too scary,” you wrap your arms around him as he cooks. He scoffs slightly but grins as you kiss his shoulder. “We've both fought worse than whatever monster Brad deals with in this one.” You grin. “Besides, we could take ‘em.”

“I'm sure we could, love,” Steven grins.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Riot Kings AU, Page 1

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