#yeah this is a thing now and it’s Consumed my writing brain

[circesays]

{Alright so this AU (I’m going to call it the Cursed Toy AU and tag it as such- this started this AU, and this is the continuation of it) has affected my thoughts and now I have More Ideas so here’s another one. I’m already drafting a sequel to this one and maybe gonna put these on Ao3, so if you have any ideas or something like that, feel free to tag it in a reblog or notes or dms or anything like that :D}

{also, sorry not sorry. ;)}

The day everything truly began to go downhill was calm, at first. The inhabitants of Tumble Town were loud, going about their daily routines in the usual chaotic manner. Horses raced and whinnied, their hooves beating against the ground and kicking up pale dust. The barn animals called out as they were brushed or sheared or fed. Casual chatter and laughter rose from couples and friends and rivals as they mined gold, herded creepers, and worked on expanding another house. All of it echoed in the bowl, a cacophony of joy and teasing outrage and life.

(Of course, they couldn’t have known that it wouldn’t last.)

Jimmy watched from his office, the window still stained and dusty, despite having cleaned it several times just hours earlier. He idly twirled his wooden pen, adorned with a carved horse head, a gift from the first settlers to arrive to their new home.

Despite the laughter from below, the Sheriff had a sinking feeling in his gut. It wasn’t the familiar thrum of the God of Lore’s arrival, nor the cold pounding of anxiety that consumed him whenever he saw his eyes (not his not his not his) in the mirror or narrowly avoided snagging his the pull-string on his back.

No, this was unfamiliar. Unusual. But he had a feeling that it wasn’t anything good.

(And he knew the joy wasn’t to last, because he was cursed and abandoned and seemingly ignored by his friend. And it was so, so odd, because his friends knew his limits, and they know him, so how could they not see-?)

As the sun steadily made its way toward the horizon, time progressed as usual. The inhabitants met at the saloon in the evening to relax and play games. The stables were locked up for the night, the animals settled in their stalls. Jimmy sat at his usual seat, listening to the eager ramblings of a new settler, a young woman gesturing wildly as she described the designs for her new forge setup.

He fiddled with the empty glass in front of him, happily nodding along and offering ideas.

(Jimmy had quickly stopped feeling hungry or thirsty, when he’d finally turned fully. He could no longer sleep, or blink, or bleed. He turned to glue and potions instead of bandages and bread.)

In the corner of the room, a group playing poker created a ruckus as one of the players cheered jubilantly, the rest groaning or playfully punching their arm.

(And the feeling spiked.)

The Sheriff sat up straight, immediately on edge. The blacksmith frowned, her amber eyes shooting to scan the room for any threats. Within only a few moments, the saloon was on high alert, people peering out windows and climbing into the rafters with practiced ease to aim out of the higher vantage points.

(Because the entire town respected their Sheriff, trusted him. He was entwined with the magic of their home and the lives of his people. He’d never let them down, not even when an intruder changed him.)

An elderly stablehand was the first to break the stillness. “There’s a boy running over from the barnyard.”

Sure enough, a brunette, no older than 16, burst into the room, huffing and panting, his hands on his dusty jeans as he tried to recover as fast as possible. “Trouble- in- the- stables!” he gasped, pointing shakingly back out the door. “Come quick! They’re- the horses-”

The Sheriff strode over and gave him a glass of water, which he drank as quickly as possible without making himself sick.

“I was just going in to double check the water supply for the morning. The horses are restless- I’m not sure- they’re-” he stumbled over his words and paused, frustrated, before trying again. “The horses are turning into plastic. I can’t make it stop.”

(Little did they know that it was just the beginning.)

As days went by, more problems arose. The Sheriff ran himself ragged, not needing sleep or rest. The horses were fully plastic within a few days, their flanks smooth and dull. They could no longer run quickly or even keep at a solid trot, their joints having too much friction.

(Their steeds lived, fueled by the very magic infecting them. But it came with a heavy toll.)

(Within a week, Tumble Town lost their main method of transportation.)

The houses were next, the walls changing and morphing. Instead of wood streaked with yellow and scarlet dust, they were pale mints and sunshine yellows and pastel pinks, completely untouched by the surroundings.

(One cowboy tried to brighten the situation, jokingly complaining that the aesthetic was lost, that that darned god was completely destroying their nice, dirty, chaotic-energy town.)

(Another grimaced, because their precious home was built completely by hand, taking days of cutting wood and painting walls. Now their house looked like every other house in the town, a two-bit dollhouse with no love put into its creation.)

Anything alive in the town began to shift quickly after. Fur and wool and down turned to fluff and stuffing, the entire barn becoming a plushie overnight. Every pet was still, the faint pit pat of a stuffed heart keeping them alive.

(The Sheriff carefully adjusted Deputies Flick and Norman in their beds, the fire in his heart raging, because not even their companions or their food was spared.)

Everything came to its breaking point the very next morning. Jimmy lifted his dull eyes from the letters he’d been writing.

(Pleading for aide, for help, for mercy. The trash can was overflowing with imperfect drafts, because nothing could quite convey the message of “you’ve ruined my life and my people’s lives and my home and you’re fools and traitors and why are you ignoring me” kindly.)

Since Tumble Town’s founding, the Sheriff would begin his day earlier than every other inhabitant. Every morning, Jimmy would listen to the noise of his town waking up, from the laughter of parents bringing their children to the stables for the ride to school, to the whinnies of horses and the crowing of roosters.

(Even as their home changed around them, from loud and chaotic and alive to plastic and plush and dull, the people of Tumble Town began their mornings with noise, because it was a constant that held them together.)

This morning, the town was silent. The roosters could no longer croak. The horses slept, unable to move.

The townspeople didn’t emerge from their homes.

(The Sheriff felt true fear, a bolt of white-cold terror down his spine.)

He took off, scrambling down the steps and to the houses nearby, his once-shining golden badge (now cheap plastic, tarnished by the magic that cursed him and cursed his home) left on his desk.

Movement caught his eye, the Sheriff rapidly spinning on his heel. The brunette, the young boy from the stables, stumbled towards him. Jimmy barely managed to reach him before he fell.

“Heya, Sheriff,” he croaked. His skin was wooden, and his eyes were fading to paint even as he spoke. “Guess I’m the last one left. Ma’ and Mum were already frozen.”

Jimmy couldn’t speak, his horror causing his throat to tighten and his words to catch (the string, the string, the string-).

“Hey, Uncle Jimmy?”

(That nickname, given fondly, because this little scrap of a brunette was the first child in Tumble Town, the honorary leader of the stables-)

(On his desk, a wooden horse pen left a trail of ink on an unfinished letter.)

“Give them hell for us, would’ja?”

(And the boy smiled, his eyes dulling.)

Jimmy scrambled to place his head to his heart, unable to feel a pulse because his neck was made of wood-

(The steady thump of another plush heart was the only thing keeping the Sheriff grounded.)

Jimmy had never wished he could cry more.

(Around him, Tumble Town gave a final wisp of a sigh as his home and his people and his friends turned into toys.)

[acaesic]

man. i wanna get back into multifandom stuff but at the same time i cannot feel anything for things that arent idkhow anymore :,)

[dahldahlbills]

juggling three different writing projects in my head rn i feel like im going insane

[crest-of-gautier]

played a very brief session of pq tonight (90 minutes) 👍

[thebibliosphere]

In case you were wondering how deep down the Batfam fixation hole I am, it's something I've actually been talking about in therapy a lot.

Not like, in a worried way, more just when my therapist asks me what I'm doing in my downtime, my answer always used to be either "sleeping" or "I don't have downtime. I have too much work to do."

Now my answer is "playing my Batman game" or "watching Batman show/reading comics/writing unhinged Batman x Muppet fanfic."

And my therapist is delighted. She's fucking ecstatic. She's like, "You have interests again!" and I'm like !!!! Because here's the thing.

Almost dying in 2019 kinda irrevocably fucked up my brain, like, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. And I've been grieving over that for the last few years as well as recovering from the physical aspects of it. And to cope with it, I threw myself into work even though I wasn't physically or mentally well enough, and that made everything worse, and well, if you've been here, you know.

My brain has not been kind to me for a long time. It still isn't. But I do the work. I do multiple types of therapy a week. I piece myself back together on the daily and try to remember what it means to be human and not just this numb static void that sometimes sounds like shrieking if you listen too closely.

And then randomly, a few months ago a friend bought me Gotham Knights on Steam, and it was like a light turned back on. The engine that'd been refusing to turn over for years suddenly sputtered back to life, and something in my brain went, "Hey, I remember this... this is fun?"

And then I started tentatively searching the tags here on Tumblr, and yeah, actually. I remember this. I remember enjoying this. I can dip my toes into this. This is safe. This is a childhood interest from Before the almost-dying-trauma. And besides, it won't get in the way of my work. This isn't going to consume me. Nothing consumes me like it used to. I'm too broken for that.

Except, haha, jokes on me because, for some fucking reason, Brucie fucking Wayne and his gaggle of chaotic crime-fighting children is what reached into my brain, picked up my trauma, and started shaking it loose like a category 7 earthquake.

I actually laughed about that with my therapist a few weeks ago. Of all characters, of all pieces of media, it's Batman that's helping me process a significant chunk of my emotional trauma in a healthy way.

The most emotionally constipated vigilante in superhero existence, and I'm weeping like a child every time I get an achievement in Gotham Knights, and it says some bullshit like this:

ID: a purple steam achievement icon that says: He'd Be So Proud Of You. Reach the maximum level as any member of the Batman Family. 6.3% of players have this achievement. /end ID.

(for context, Batman is dead in this game, and you are playing as his emotionally devastated children trying to keep it together. Wailing, gnashing, crying, throwing up etc, etc.)

And my therapist, who has sat with me through EMDR sessions and a multitude of other shit designed to rewire your brain, just shrugs and says, "Sometimes we need to externalize our emotions through safe media. For you, right now, that safety is Batman having a relationship with the Muppets."

And like... okay, yeah. I'll take the win on that one.

[loaksky]

— 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴

the lowdown — the one where neteyam is shackled by appearances, but you couldn’t care less. 

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 2.2k

the tags & warnings — language ,, misunderstandings (i love this trope and this is a hill i’ll die on i’m SORRY) ,, neteyam’s friends can be shitty, but mean well ,, reader just wants to love up on her boy :(

the notes — based off of this request! this is another addition to my neteyam content, but ik some of you guys are itching for some other characters, so i'm probably gonna steer in another direction & write for kiri & tsireya so if that interests you, stay tuned! <3

(not proofread well lmao)

masterlist

Neteyam is many things; a kind spirit, a fierce warrior, a loving brother, a diligent son. But Neteyam is also new to love. Not quite new to being in love, but learning the act of loving you. 

He’d found so many ways to express his heart’s desire; written notes on scraps, gentle smiles, searing eyes. It was one thing in particular, though, that made his mouth dry, made his brain nearly short circuit, and it was your need to be in his space. 

Even after many days that bleed into weeks and meld into months, you make his cheeks warm with every lingering pass of your fingertips, make his stomach knot with every fluttering kiss to his skin. 

It’d been a pleasant surprise at first, but now it was a need, an absolute necessity to have you fused to him like a second skin. Your touch was a tacit word and he was learning to speak your language. 

The two of you together was normalcy and the clan members were more than delighted to know that the olo’eyktan’s son was lucky in love. But there were teasing whispers, lilting voices in the background that made something uncomfortable pinch the back of his brain. 

His skin would light up with equal parts want and embarrassment when you’d hang loosely around him during evening meals and the villagers his age would giggle and murmur behind their palms about the two of you. Didn’t help that you were an oblivious thing, or maybe you didn’t care, when you’d hold his hand in your own, occasionally bringing his fingertips to your lips during casual conversation. 

And he didn’t mind loving you endlessly when you were just two souls enjoying each other, but he can’t help but tense when his eyes wander and he sees watchful gazes. 

“Mighty warrior is a needy one, huh?” 

His friends, comrades since childhood, surround him on a sunny afternoon. Neteyam pauses his actions, arrow in the midst of a sharpening. 

His spine goes rigid and his eyes narrow. 

“What are you on about?” he asks, jaw locking. 

“Even in the moments you aren’t with her, you’re thinking about her,” his friend Marin says with a shiteating grin. 

“Don’t even,” Neteyam warns, eyes rolling as he continues with sharpening his arrows. 

“Oh, come on,” another one of his friends guffaws, twining a new bow string. “You haven’t said a word since we sat down.” 

And he wishes he could form a solid argument, but you are on his mind, all-consuming as always. Can’t help it when he’s pined after you for years and only recently found the courage to act on his heart. 

“Maybe I just don’t want to engage with you assholes,” Neteyam bites, fist tightening around his dagger. 

“Yeah, because if you open your mouth, all you’ll be able to talk about is my girl this and my girl that,” Marin teases. “Who knew future olo’eyktan was so clingy.” 

“Yeah, like it’s me who’s clingy,” he grunts, resuming the task at hand with much more fervor. 

“Is it not?” Marin challenges. “Oh, ________, my love, look at these flowers I picked for you.” 

The blood is rushing to his ears as his friends howl with laughter. 

“Syulang, I wrote you twelve pages declaring my love even though we’ve seen each other thrice since last eclipse.” The taunting makes him seethe, makes the feeling of discomfort surface all over again and the words are spilling before he can plug the dam. 

“Of course it’s not me,” Neteyam scoffs. “I keep my composure, but it’s her that insists on constantly reminding the village that we’re together. If I had it my way, nothing would have changed from when we were friends.”

It’s a lie and he knows it, his friends know it. But you, you who staggers outside of the training circle at the sound of multiple voices don’t know it. 

It’s like a swift strike to the gut, one that squashes every butterfly that tickled the lining of your stomach on your way to fetch the very man who’d held your heart and crushed it all the same. 

Your satchel, heavy with fruits and snacks for after your evening swim with Neteyam, weighs heavy across your front as you debate whether or not you should be listening to a conversation that is obviously not meant for your ear. But it’s like you’re rooted to the soil beneath you. 

“Yeah, okay,” Marin chuffs, obviously not convinced. “If you’re so bothered by your dynamic now, there isn’t any reason why you wouldn’t say anything. She’s your second skin and you love it.” 

He does, he thinks to himself. 

Of course he doesn’t, you realize, horrified, the thousand and one times your hands would find his body and he’d tense or shy away replaying like a horror reel in your brain. 

“I potentially hold the future of this clan in my hands,” Neteyam says. “It is my duty to endure all things whether or not I enjoy it.”

It’s like you’re doused with water so cold at the violent shiver that shakes your spine. 

Just another thing to endure, you mull over in your brain as the barge of emotions brims dangerously near the surface. 

You break from the edge of the clearing and you’re off. 

Something is off. 

And Neteyam is ashamed to admit that it takes him obnoxiously long to notice. Maybe it’s because he’s caught up in his duties, or maybe for once in his life, he isn’t worrying about meddlesome gazing, but the shift is imperceptible. 

You’re still you, so aching beautiful and devastatingly radiant, but something is different. He doesn’t pinpoint it until he’s bidding you a farewell, leaning into your space to plant a kiss on your lips when you ease away to beam at him nervously instead. 

His brows furrow when you wave, breaking away from him to scurry home. 

He thinks it’s a one off, something he shouldn’t read too much into, but he can’t help it. Not when he’s so used to your touch, so used to feeling the pads of your fingers denting his skin and the scald of your lips. 

He tries again a few nights later, after finally getting you alone. He’d been busy assisting his father in planning a raid at the end of the month and you were busy trying to put as much distance between the two of you.

“You’re awfully quiet, bug,” Neteyam observes softly, chin dipping under the water as he swims closer to where you float on the surface, eyes closed. 

You only hum, pleading silently that he’ll let it pass. But when his fingers skim your navel, you’re jerking away from him, settling so that a berth of glittering blue separates the two of you. 

He forces a laugh, wading closer to you as you seemingly shrink. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks when he sees something like discomfort flitting over your expression, concern eclipsing his features as he reaches forward to grab you by your arm. 

“Nothing…” you swallow, staring at the rounded stones beaded through the necklace you made him early on in your budding relationship.

He doesn’t buy it, tilting your chin up with deft fingers. 

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, searching your face for a tell. “Talk to me.” 

“Nothing,” you breathe, peeling away from him to wade back towards the embankment. “It’s nothing.” 

He watches as you hoist yourself up from the river, heart in his throat. 

He cracks when the others seem to notice, slowly catching onto the fact that the usually doting and loving partner of the olo’eyktan’s son is surprisingly distant. It’s during an evening meal, villagers surrounding the multiple fires, when it comes to a head. 

There’s an unusual space between your bodies as you chat with Kiri and a few others and he can’t help but close the gap as something akin to desperation washes over him. His fingers brush the span of your shoulders to pull you into his chest, lips a hairsbreadth from your temple before your palm snakes between your bodies and plants on his chest to nudge him away. 

He bites the inside of his cheek in annoyance as Marin and his other friends share knowing glances. 

While he boils silently, you ache to tell him that you don’t mean it, that there’s nothing more you’d want than to spend every waking moment in his arms, but that day in the clearing is a humiliating reminder that Neteyam is shackled to his honor and if it means making you happy despite his discomfort, he’d endure it all. 

You hate it, hate that he’d let you feel like things were alright leading up to this moment, that he’d suffer at the expense of mocking and badgering from his friends. Makes you feel embarrassed, sorry, that you’d read the two of you all wrong. 

You feel his fingers inching towards yours, pinkie overlapping with yours. Your hands involuntarily close into fists and that’s all it takes for Neteyam to shoot up from his perch on the log and take you by the elbow. 

There’s a hush as his friends and yours watch the two of you part ways with the group, the nearly feral look in their leader’s son suggestively mistaken. 

“Why won’t you touch me?” Neteyam asks fiercely, once enough distance lies between the two of you and the rest of the clan. 

His words make your cheeks warm, but he looks troubled, hurt. 

“I-” 

“Did I do something to disgust you? Did I…” 

His words melt into the background as you watch him with teary eyes. 

“You don’t have to pretend with me, Teyam,” you whisper. “You can tell me the truth. I’m a big girl.” 

“What are you talking about?” he asks, frustrated. “You’re the one hiding something. These past few weeks I’ve been trying to be with you, trying to love you and you keep pushing me away.” 

A twinge of annoyance erupts in the pit of your belly as you frown. 

“That’s rich coming from you,” you murmur hoarsely. 

“I’m so lost right now, ________,” he admits desperately. “We were fine, everything was great, and suddenly I feel like I’m losing you. Did I do something? Are you–” 

“Just be honest with me!” you cry out. “Why do you have to put on this front all the time? It’s just me, Neteyam! If I overwhelm you, if I embarrass you, just say it! It hurts worse when you act like it’s nothing.” 

And Christ, his friends were right. He is needy. Because you’re not a want but a lifeline. A dire necessity that he feels the need to cling to in this moment. This feels a lot like you two are splintering, and he’s about to open his mouth to ask what would compel you to say such a thing, but then it clicks. 

The final piece of the puzzle that he’d been agonizing over falls into place and his eyes are widening. 

“No,” he says vehemently. “That wasn’t–” 

“Is it not?” you cut him off as you dash the threatening tears away. 

“God, no,” he breathes. “I was– They were…”

You watch him with wet lashes and his heart aches as he takes the leap and pulls you into his chest with a shuddering breath. 

“I’m so stupid.” His chest rumbles as your ear presses to his heart, arms winding tightly around your figure to buoy you to place. “Fuck.” 

You hiccup and his hand cradles your head, peppering kisses against your hair as he sways your bodies like it’ll disorient the miscommunication and send it spiraling away. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I didn’t mean to be embarrassing. I–” 

“No, no, bug,” he swallows, hugging you so tight, you struggle to suck a breath into your lungs. “You’re not, I promise. I could never be embarrassed by you.” 

You shudder so hard his grip loosens, parting with you to cup your flushed cheeks in his hands. 

“They were ripping me a new one,” he says shakily. “Told me I was needy, clingy, and I was embarrassed because they’re right.” 

Your throat bobs and Neteyam’s thumb brushes over the apple of your cheeks. 

“You make me so weak, you don’t even understand,” he laughs humorlessly, body wracked with nerves, with want, with need. “I said it to save face because I never know what to do with myself around you.”

“You—”

“And I know it was wrong, talking out of my ass to get them to shut the fuck up,” his language is a crass reminder that he’s a former marine’s son, “but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being yours.” 

Yours. 

It’s a sound declaration, one that makes you crumple like a baby because you’ve missed your person, and Neteyam hugs you close again. 

“I’m sorry I’m so clueless sometimes, bug,” he whispers, cheek nuzzling the top of your head. “Love you more than anything, I mean it.”

You hiccup again. 

“Love you, too, stupid” you mumble, arms wrapping around the narrow of his waist. 

It’s your first meaningful touch in weeks and Neteyam melts under the heat of your body, under the heat of your warm hands. 

neng © 2023

taglist; @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts , @athenachu

[matrixbearer2024]

not a request but i just wanna get an idea that i absolutely MUST get out of my brain before it consumes my entire being. So, your “get off my screen series”. You know that trend where ppl put that one vox vid of his face on their tv and put like hus hat and/or body attached to the tv. Imagine vox somehow finds a way to do that and y/n just does this.

THATS IT LMAO ABSOLUTELY LOVE AND ADORE YOUR SERIES. ANYTIME I SEE IT’S UPDATED IT MAKES MY DAY<3

TikTok Trending, Posts and Memes

Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader

A/N: With how many ideas you guys have at this point I might just continue to write short scenarios for this AU with all the ideas you guys are giving me- it's absolutely amazing seeing what y'all come up with and I'm just living for it hahahaha! Thank you guys so much!

The week you had was... interesting to say the least.

Vox had challenged you to at least take up basic programming, claiming you were too impatient to learn.

So you, being the persistent and stubborn you-

Decided to prove him wrong.

Besides, it can't be that bad if he knows how to do it.

You wouldn't tell him because it'd probably make him butthurt-

But you were sure Vox was 1000% more impatient than you.

You took up computer science for extra credit, quickly learning the ins and outs of basic coding.

It was just a world of syntax and numbers but you definitely found it fun.

And useful too-

Especially when you wanted to explicitly screw with others.

Vox may or may not have slightly taught you how to hack.

But you weren't using it for anything bad!

Just to change the final grade of some asshole students so they'd have to repeat the class.

That's what they get for just randomly tripping you in the hall the other day.

Vox was slightly proud but also kind of concerned-

You'd definitely end up where he was at this rate.

Thankfully though, you decided not to do anything too crazy since.

Instead you've been messing around on your devices alongside the tech overlord.

From practicing how to send him encrypted messages-

To straight up just shitposting all over his monitors.

It's not so fun now is it Voxxy?

You would sometimes try to transfer him around to other devices that weren't your own to see if he could actually do anything.

Well, he could- but it only worked if he was directly connected to it.

Meaning he had to be plugged in.

How he was able to connect to all your devices wirelessly without limitation?

Neither of you had a clue.

You both first tested it on your best friend's phone, only for Vox to immediately go back to your computer and blow up your notifications.

"Nope nope nope nope, that's the last time I let you plug me into some random fucking phone-"

"What?? What happened??? And it's not random, it's (Friend Name)'s Phone."

"Dollface, you know Valentino right? The one I told you about?"

"The pornstar? What about?"

You didn't exactly like where this conversation was going.

You had an inkling where it would end and you were already cringing.

"Yeeaaaah, I've known him for quite some time so I would think I've seen nearly everything."

"Get to the point Vox-"

"And yet I am somehow utterly disgusted by your friend's search history."

"Yeah, uh... I'd rather you don't tell me."

"I figured. Though it makes me curious about what yours looks like."

That gave you pause, given how Vox had practically invaded your entire computer-

Hell, he even gave your files a new sorting system-

You were surprised he hadn't gone through your search history.

Of all the things you'd think that was what he'd ransack first.

"You haven't checked my search history yet?"

"Why would I? It's not like I'm trying to find your secret porn stash or something."

"Bruh, why would I even have that."

"Your friend had one, I just guessed."

"Touché."

You were a little touched that Vox cared about you enough not to really dig into your secrets.

Or well, the things you wanted to keep secret.

For a big bad overlord, he was kind of a sweetheart.

"Okay now I definitely wanna see what you've got hidden in there-"

"FUCK OFF YOU STUPID OLD PICTUREBOX-"

"YOU CAN'T STOP ME BITCH-"

You know what, you retracted your previous statement.

He's a fucking jerk.

Vox quickly dug through your search history while the tiny desktop companion in his likeness refused to give you control over the cursor.

You couldn't stop him even if you tried.

His phone blew up from notifications with you cursing at him or just calling him names.

He just laughed at your dismay and continued to dig through.

Okay- wow.

While he didn't initially expect it from you, Vox reckoned he probably should've.

Much like how people had celebrity crushes, he figured you would have your own.

It just so happened that it wasn't a celebrity and it was a fictional character instead.

He kind of felt like someone slapped him in the face actually, even if he didn't know why.

"Soooooo- (Favorite Character Name) huh?"

"Shaddup-"

"This? This is your type???"

"IT'S A FICTIONAL CRUSH GET OVER IT-"

While you were practically steaming from the ears in embarrassment, Vox was just laughing and dealing with his mixed feelings.

On one hand, he found your reactions absolutely entertaining and hilarious.

On the other hand, he didn't even know who or what this character was and he already disliked them.

Just a gut feeling.

He continued to tease you for it though, bringing up more cringe parts of your search history much to your chagrin.

It wasn't really anything bad that you couldn't take, it was just so embarrassing that you'd rather he didn't dig any of it up.

So in the heat of the moment, wanting to get Vox off your computer- you plugged it into the only other active device he wasn't connected.

Your TV.

It was nearly instant, he went from teasing and texting to you to a befuddled face on the larger screen.

But what was more surprising, was he could actually see you this time.

It wasn't filtered over with static like when he'd first met you.

The live feed even had audio, which was just entirely unexpected too.

Who knew, plug a TV demon into his specific medium and he could actually operate properly?

But that's how you guys ended up figuring out how to connect his digital presence to your TV.

By entire surprise and from just fucking around.

"Oh my god that worked-"

"(Y/N)? Holy hell! I can actually see you!"

"I did not think that would work-"

"Wow, are you really that short or is your TV just perched up that high?"

You just flipped him the bird and Vox laughed at you again.

Though, you couldn't help but smile because of it.

Well, at least now he could converse with you "properly" like he'd wanted to for a while.

Even if it did mean he'd need to take up your entire TV.

"Oh- OH WAIT- I've got an idea!"

Vox couldn't even question what you were doing before you ran out of the room and out of his sight.

So while waiting, he took a gander at the room you left him in.

It became abundantly clear that this was your living space too.

From the colors to the patterns, Vox smiled fondly as he recalled your old conversations where you would just tell him things about the things you liked.

Yeah, he could definitely see your touch in how the room was designed.

He raised an eyebrow when you giddily came back into the room with some colored paper, scissors and tape.

What-?

"Okay Doll, just what are you planning?"

"You'll see~!"

Your excitement kept him curious.

What were you drawing over there?

Weird timing for an arts and crafts project if you asked him.

It was only until you approached him and taped something to the screen did he actually grow confused.

He couldn't see what you did despite you doubling over in laughter.

What could've possibly been so funny that had you keeling from it?

By the time you could finally look at Vox without laughing your ass off, you used your phone to take a picture of how he looked.

Approaching the TV to show him just so he could see the photo as well.

Ah.

So that's what you found so funny.

You'd fashioned his outfit-

Poorly made but still recognizable-

Out of paper and taped it to the screen.

His hat on top and his suit dangling off the bottom.

Admittedly, it looked downright silly.

Especially with the proportions being so off thanks to the size of the TV screen.

"Haha, very funny (Y/N). Very funny."

"I'm making this shit my wallpaper, you look so goofy."

Vox just playfully rolled his eyes at you with a smile.

If that was seriously all it took to make you laugh?

He'd do it again no questions asked.

Taking a peek at his internal clock though, he held back his disappointment that he had to leave when you were on such an elated high.

"Sorry to cut this short doll, but I need to disconnect. I've got a meeting in a few minutes."

"Hm? Then go and do what you need to do, I can always just plug you back in later. Good luck!"

The overlord chuckled when you raised a hand to pat the screen, he couldn't feel it but he wished he did.

"I don't need luck, but... thanks. See you."

"See you."

And just like that the screen fizzled out and returned to the smart TV homepage.

You'd sent the picture to Vox through your chats and he replied with a TV emoticon.

You giggled, course he would do that.

At least he didn't take offense to what you did-

Despite your poor art skills-

Maybe he found it as entertaining as you did?

Whatever, you switched the wallpaper on your phone to the new photo you had of Vox and laughed.

His confused expression really sealed the deal with how silly the picture was.

But imagine your surprise come morning when you realized he didn't switch the wallpaper back to his trademark grin.

You sort of expected him to, especially given that he'd done so with all your past attempts to change your wallpaper.

The fact he left it alone made you smile.

And as the day began and Vox left you a morning greeting-

You just shot him one back and got up to prepare for the day.

You figured the day would be just fine.

Yeah, you guys would be just fine.

A/N: Ooough this was a long one but I had a lot of fun writing it! I'll post the masterlist afterwards when I grab all the links to the posts and I'll just be continuing the other interludes before I post the chapter with Reader's death. Either way, I hope you guys enjoyed this one!

[evmrellie]

Labyrinth | s.r x gn!reader

summary: You're scared about your feelings for Spencer. Insp by labyrinth from Taylor Swift.

genre: fluffly and hurt/comfort. pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader (I'm a girl so I wrote going on this way, but I think I didn't gave any descriptions abt being one, so it's totally safe for gn!readers <333 if I did, I'm sorry, I didn't notice.) words: 1,3K warnings: family issues, inexperienced!reader, reader never being in a relationship before, insecurity, anxiety, mention of toxic relationships (not between reader and anyone else) notes: hiii, this is my first oneshot so plss be nice 😭✋🏻 im not used to write like this, but I'm so obsessed with Spencer and I had this idea and I couldn't just let go. English it's not my first language, so forgive me if any mistakes or if u guys don't understand smth. not proofread. hope you guys like it !! <3

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

You've never trusted relationships, not that you had experienced any, but what you saw growing up? What you were used to? Didn't make you want to get into one in the first place.

You never denied that you've dreamed about that; finding a true love and a nice, healthy relationship since you saw all your friends living it. That hurted you a little, but you learned how to live with it.

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You tried to catch your breath, adjusting it as much as possible. You were used to unlearn the ability of breathing when you were around people who made you nervous, especially if you had a slightly crush on them. Actually, you unlearn every normal thing that humans do when they interact, it's like a part of your brain stops working and refused to turn it on again. He loved to make you embarrassed, especially in front of pretty nerd ish boys.

The first time you met Spencer it consumed all of your brain chemistry. Day and night making fantasies of how it would be meeting the boy again with the help of destiny, falling in love and maybe being obsessed with you the same way you were with him. But you knew that it was just a fantasy and it would never happen, it was just your brain trying to distract you from the real world and your real problems.

It was a nice escape though.

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Everything happened so fast in your time vision, it terrified you of how easy he was able to get through it. You were always scared of relationships because, yeah, it was nice and easy to fantasy about it, but to actually live it? That scared the shit out of you. All your Inexperience, insecurities and traumas couldn't be fixed from one day to another.

Everything that you learned from your parents was that if you dived in too quickly, it would be a mistake. Not only from your parents, but also from people you were close to, seeing their relationship rise too fast and going effortlessly and awfully down.

You never understood why they keept doing it, sinking into the same situation over and over again, sometimes with the same or a different guy. How they kept being pulled and compelled by it? You didn't understand because you never felt it.

It was so scary how relationships could rise so fast and sink at the same speed.

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

You understood why they kept like that in the worst — best— way possible.

When it first hit you that you were falling in love with Spencer felt like a harsh slap in your face, leaving red bruises and a terrible burning in. You didn't want to accept it, it was frightening to actually let it in.

Was getting hard with the passing time, he wasn't getting any easier and neither were his loving and caring acts. I mean, how could someone like him be so.. careful with you? You felt like a broken piece who would never be loved and receive this kinda of treatment, it was starting to confuse you.

You knew he wasn't the type of person who liked being touched or touching other ones, but with you? Every possibility of being close to you, hugging you, touching your hand and giving a sweet cuddle in that same spot was driving you insane. He made sure that any free time he had, he spent with you. Or even at work, in his free time that he used to call you.

Reid talked to you about his mom and his abandonment issues with his father so openly that made you open yourself with him too. You didn't want to scare him telling him about your family situation or make him think you're a weird, problematic person, but you couldn't let him vent to you and not say a thing. He hasn't change with you. In fact, it only bought you both closer.

You ended up accepting what you felt for him, you didn't want to fight against it, deep down was a comfort feeling. For the first time you felt what everyone around you always talked about. And oh god, it really was an amazing feeling. But no, you would never tell him that. The thought of how this could end so fast after telling him that because probably it wasn't reciprocal, hurted you so bad that keeping it to yourself was the best decision you could make.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice called you off of your own thoughts, his Cheshire Cat smile growing as he saw your face turning into a shade of burgundy.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like a deer lost in the headlights.” He snorted a laugh.

“What?! I'm not-“

He interrupted you, getting up from the chair where he was lost doing his usual puzzles. Spencer walked over to you, resting one of his hands on your face while the other one brushed away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You automatically snuggled your face between Spencer's hands, smirking and closing your eyes, enjoying the gentle caress his fingers made on your cheeks.

“Tell me, please.” He begged you, you could easily hear the smile into his words. He was always so polite, it made you want to scream into a pillow and kick your feets in the air.

You sighed, tired to hide how you felt.

“Honestly? About you. I think I already fell for you.”

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

You were scared of his reaction, to look at him and see his eyes falling in pity for you; About him suddenly telling you to go home because he didn't felt the same and saying that this wouldn't work between you two. But to be honest, you couldn't hide anymore, not for him and not for yourself. You needed to break free from this labyrinth you created on your mind, there's no way you could keep up with this and stay cool like it didn't made your chest burn everytime you looked at him.

He surprised you by just laughing softly.

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

“Well, i’m pretty sure i am terriefiedly in love with you.”

You swore that if this was a joke you would combust and turn into a million pieces of yourself, no one would ever find you again.

Your eyes caught up at his sparkling hazel irises that conveyed how much he begged for the same answer. You always felt something carving like a dagger inside your chest when he looked at you like that, like you could break him with any wrong do.

It was absolutely terrifying how easy he broke you to this, to this situation where you could never lie and deny that you felt the exactly same for him. You were head over heels for him. Not in a million of worlds you could imagine that Spencer Reid felt the same thing you did for him, but you were also pretty sure that you were the one who would end up with the heart completely shattered if this ever come to an end.

“I love you so much, Spence.” You said, and then his lips parted open and you were able to feel his sweet taste coming into yours.

[tired-biscuit]

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: subtle mention of spit. reader is wearing glasses.

↳ i wrote this as an apology to likelilacwine because i couldn’t help but bash her man a little bit, lmao… i can’t write fluff for the life of me, so i hope you don’t mind something dirty, kendy. kisses!

this thought has been cooking inside my brain for a little while now, but i keep thinking about gojo and his weird, somewhat dirty infatuation with your glasses.

what i mean is that he likes to cum on them. quite often. when you’re on your knees in front of him, naked and panting and trying to contain the drool that’s treatening to spill past your kiss-bruised bottom lip, he tells you to keep your glasses on instead of persuading you to open your mouth a little wider and sticking your tongue out like most men would do if they were in his place.

i think it would have some sort of connection to how he wears glasses as well. after all, gojo is, well… gojo. he can come across as very self-absorbed sometimes, perhaps even a bit conceited. when he sees you doing or wearing something that resembles him, it makes him feel kind of funny and warm inside. pride has never felt so good before and it makes him thrive.

so yeah, the glasses are like a link that connects you to him. he finds himself hot, so he cums on the part of you that he thinks you share with him. it spurs him on — especially if he manages to convince you to put his glasses on from time to time.

and oh boy, this specific thing is like edging to him. so good that it consumes him entirely, his entire being. a pink blush coats his face during it, his neck, his naked chest, as well as the tip of his stupidly pretty cock that he just can’t stop stroking right above your awaiting face. even his hand moves at such a fast pace that it causes his body to be coated with a thick layer of sweat, something you rarely get to see when it comes to him.

he’s just so hard, so ready, so in love; both with you and himself.

and how couldn’t he be? the lenses of his glasses may be dark, yes, but he can still see how watery your eyes have turned behind them from the way he’d gotten a little too excited and had pushed his dick down your throat a smidge too fast as soon as his wish had been fulfilled. he can still see the streaks the tears have left behind as they travelled down your cheeks. he can still see himself in the reflection.

mascara smudges the corners of your eyes as a result, however it doesn’t seem to be bothering you. no, you’re simply way too busy to be annoyed by it; looking up at him with that frustratingly knowing glint lighting up inside your pupils as his glasses slide down the bridge of your nose ever so slightly and you — at long last — manage to make direct eye contact with him.

and as soon as that happens, poor satoru is absolutely done for.

[evidenceof]

Winnix Country, I'll take you there.

Winnix fic recs finally! I clawed through pages 1-61 on AO3 and then scoured through Dreamwidth because I just need this ship injected into my brain.

Just so we're all aligned, I'm very much into "Classic" Winnix. And while generally I do still read AUs, much of what I keep close are the ones that are entrenched in, before, and after the war. Still enjoy a bit of the supernatural though. So please forgive the lack of non-WWII AUs. :') Ok onward.

Note: All links in blue are restricted to logged-in AO3 users! So hopefully you have an account so you can read some gold.

5+1 tag

The Way I Wear Your Hat by Muccamukk - I will consume anything Mucca writes and live in it for at least two weeks.

Let Me Be Close by armyofbees - So tooth achingly sweet, tender in post-war. Nix combing Dick's hair? I'm so.

I'm Alright Now You're Here by @stopstopstopit - A.k.a. Dick and Nix going, "Was I truly that blind???" about each other and everyone in Easy Company saying, "Yeah." So good, so, so fun. Giggled like a maniac all throughout.

Pre-War

Before the World Begins by rilla (@flomps)- The first time I read this, I cried. Then again the second, third, fourth, etc. Lew and Dick meet in NY before Benning, before everything, and it's under very different circumstances. I love the characterization of Nix and Dick in this so much and the gentleness in the midst of all the smut. A TALENT!

Lancaster County by rachelelpillo - Technically not pre-war because this is an AU where it happens without them. It's bittersweet, but emphasis on the sweet. Teenage Dick and Nix and a whole summertime of falling in love.

Bicostal by dancinguniverse - I am a sucker for anything that starts at OCS. I love this and the telegrams and letters tucked within it.

Wartime

Bird Wedding by rachelelpillo - The way she writes anything really sounds like a summer day to me. This one is very understated and just wonderful if you want something that leaves you smiling. (Highly recommend you go through her work, last she posted was in 2010. :') )

And at Your Touch, I Burn by Muccamukk- CHRIST. A SICK!FIC. God I love this for so many reasons, one of them being just the incredible way Mucca describes the field exercise, the crawl and length of it. And Dick getting sick. Nix doing what he does. It's wonderful. It's perfect.

Vampire Overhead! by joissant - There's a little Vampire!Nix AU for you. In the midst of Bastogne and hunger, there is this and it's fucking fantastic.

love divine, all loves excelling by @flanneryoconnorfanfiction - The way my heart soared all throughout this fic. Religion, for many reasons is often the point of friction for Dick, and this one turns it over its head. It's reverent and (so) joyful and honestly, probably what God should feel like. There are not enough kudos-es in the world.

Post-War

Head Trip by @ezlebe - Two lines from this fic ring in my head daily, that's how much I loved every bit of it. And I mean who isn't a sucker for Operation Varsity-adjacent fics? Harry's in this so it's automatically just extra wonderful for me. I LOVE!! I absolutely love.

Like a Bird on the Wire by semperama - Them coming home without an established relationship is always a trope enjoy. Blanche Nixon is here being cheeky, and Dick is all smiley, Lewis is stressed the fuck out. It all makes for a wonderful get-together.

More than a Team by @mercurygray - I love reading about Ann Winters and I love seeing Nix and Dick navigate those familial relationships after the war. This is short and so, so sweet. Every bit as wonderful as the ice cream.

thyme and rosemary by @oatflatwhite - Yet another one where Ann Winters makes a wonderful cameo. Dick is trying not to be miserable and he keeps writing all these unsent letters to Lew. Featuring the cutest kitten ever.

Series

What Things We Have Heard Together by joissant (4 works) - Quite possibly required reading for Winnix enthusiasts. Feels like such a gift to be able to thread through so many points in their relationship and everyone else tangled in their orbit.

Winnix from the POV of other people Oh my god I love outsiders-looking in fics of the two of them.

Transcript by Corvid Cordelia - LISTEN. If you love Easy Company, you love Winnix, Webgott, Spierton, etc, they're all here. It's such a treat for people who fell in love with everyone's personalities in BoB.

Women in Conversation by shiveringpinkala - Ann Winters tries to surprise her brother and it doesn't go quite as planned. Blanche is in this too so it makes it extra delightful. Love this fic.

Entendre by @thrillingdetectivetales - Harry Welsh has no fucking clue what Buck Compton is implying about Winters and Nixon but he's gonna find out. Again, I love Harry Welsh with all of me.

A special mention to String Quartet No. 14 by @oatflatwhite for a HS AU that had me kicking my feet and smiling all the way to the very last word.

If you have similar favorites, PLEASE LET'S TALK ABOUT THEM. There's still a lot I'd like to re-read and revisit so this will highly likely be updated in the future. I'd love to hear your favorites too. <3

[so-mordor-itis]

Jealous + Leon

;)

Also for @some-insomniac-writes because pouty, jealous Leon is always a yes

--

Leon sometimes worried he would drown in his own emotions. Allowed them to consume his very being and have them control his actions as if he were a puppet to his own brain.

Empathy was something Krauser used to tease him about. He'd poke Leon with that stick and told him he shouldn’t let himself feel what others were feeling unless he wanted to create a permanent blind spot others could easily see and utilize.

Now, watching you converse with the newest rookie in the department, watching them look at you with awe, eyes sparkling in a way that reminded him of his younger self, he wondered what his late commander would've spat at him if he saw this. Perhaps the man would roll his eyes and mutter, "Dumbass," when Leon couldn't hear him. (If he was honest, he hated how often he thought of Krauser after the events in Spain. Maybe this was a way for his mind to cope.)

Leon knew this feeling, but it was still so foreign. Jealousy was a human thing to feel, was normal, and expected even. Though, just because someone expected themselves to feel jealous about a future event didn't mean Leon did. It felt wrong. To be scared of this rookie flirting with you, to allow himself to doubt you and concern himself to the point he felt ill.

He must've been staring. Eventually, you had nudged the rookie in a different direction, eyes meeting his with a concerned look. He hated this more now. Could feel a burning sensation in his chest.

You approached him, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. You crossed your arms. "You alright? You look like you're about to be sick."

He wouldn't have been surprised if his skin was green.

"Yeah, must've been something I ate." The lie slipped through his teeth so fast he wondered if you caught it.

You raised an eyebrow, and suddenly, he felt more sick than earlier.

"You sure?"

"Positive. I'll be fine. I've dealt with worse, anyway." It was not entirely untrue, though this certainly took its own place on the pedestal.

You regarded him one more time, still holding a curious gaze. "Was it Peterson?"

Leon blinked. "Who?"

You let out a huff of laughter. "The new kid. Did you not listen to anything I said this morning?"

No, if he was being entirely honest. God, he was so worried, worried about his feelings, his jealousy, what he would do if he let it explode that he forgot the kid had a name.

"No."

He said it too fast.

Your brows furrowed. "Lee, you can be honest with me. He was flirting a bit, and honestly, too much for my own liking."

Leon huffed a little, partly out of relief. He placed one hand to his hip. "He was shuffling closer to you every chance he could."

"So you were getting jealous."

"I hate that word."

Your lip quirked, and suddenly, his heart melted into jelly. You gave his cheek a peck, and his mouth formed a pout. "Don't worry, he's not my type. Though it seems my type falls around awkward, protective blonds."

Leon's pout deepened. He truly was overthinking.

[sapphic-gardn]

i will

ellie williams x f!reader

summary: grief is complex and painful, ellie comforts you.

warnings: mentions of grief, nudity, ellie and reader take a bath together, mentions of boogers (yk when u have a runny nose from crying? yeah), no specific descriptions of reader other than having boobies and flesh, i dont think there is anything else but let me know!

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi! i’ve returned from my hundred year long hiatus to torment you all. i started writing this comfort piece while i was experiencing life at Rock Bottom. i also found a lot of inspiration from the song i will by mitski <3 also thank you to @hier--soir for helping me with this one 💓 your writing inspires me, truly—i appreciate you tons & tons.

You find yourself curled up on the floor, the crisp breeze sweeping in from the crack under your front door. Chills dance over your skin, seeping into your body, coating your organs in a thin layer of ice. Your tears shed with a blue hue, painting your lips in a sheer lapis tint. Teeth chatter, bone against bone, reminders of the skeleton that is burrowed beneath layers of adipose tissue. Each exhale is accompanied by a dull ache.

Nights bring you here, disentangling your limbs from the warm confines of cotton sheets, calculated movements so as to not wake your girlfriend from slumber. The numbness creeps in through obscured dreams, visions of faces, now ghosts that haunt every distant memory. You emerge from the darkness, featherlight footsteps over creaky floors, loitering around the house amidst bewitching hours. You converse with the night sky, a one-sided interaction that mostly consists of your pleas—tell me why. Grief consumes you like tidal waves swallowing the shoreline. A mere particle of sand engulfed in foam, getting propelled further, further away from dry land.

The vibrations of Ellie’s bare feet padding on the wooden floor rumble through you. Her rasp breaks the silence. Baby—the only word that leaves her chapped lips, a pitiful tone leaking from her honeyed voice. Her hand caresses your tear stained cheek. Upon contact, a shrill sob rips through your larynx. You choke on anguish that rises like bile, it burns your esophagus as it creeps up.

Gentle hands guide your tenuous form to your feet, securing themselves at your sides. Subtle squeezes to the meat of your hips, wordlessly speaking—I’m here.

In your hazy state, you’re waltzed to the bathroom. One of Ellie’s hands fumbles with the light switch while she delicately maneuvers your entirety to sit upon the closed toilet seat. Cold porcelain hits the backs of your thighs, you hiss at the contact, a wince paints your expression. Ellie coos your name, a hushed thing that warms you from the inside. You study her features, a line forms between her furrowed brows, her green eyes searching for your own. Her gaze brings a settling feeling, something like a merciful wake up call. Ellie’s earthy scent mingles with the air. You inhale, the musky essence settles in your lungs, growing limbs and reaching for your heart; wrapping itself around the muscle in a tight embrace.

A tear slips past your waterline, her calloused thumb swiftly catches it as it trails down your cheek. A smile tugs at Ellie’s lips, “You’ve got boogers,” she gestures to your mucin coated upper lip with her pointer finger. An involuntary chortle escapes your mouth, alighting your saddened expression, “There she is, my pretty girl.”

Her focus shifts to the tub beside you, leaving the spot in front of you to turn the faucet on. Ellie peers over her shoulder to look back at you, “Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?”

Her digits fiddle with the running water as it warms, you examine the way her tendons tug at her knuckles, the freckled skin pulled taut with each swipe under the stream of water. Your eyes land on her side profile, you trace the shape of her nose and the protrusion of her pout like an etch a sketch to your brain. You count the freckles on her face, connecting them like constellations. Admiration blooms in your chest, you clutch your shirt where your heart beats faster.

Once the tub fills halfway, Ellie is undressing you—delicately tugging at the hem of your sleep shirt, pulling the thin material over the peaks and valleys of your body. Her touch is silken, it tickles your nerve endings, chills awaken beneath her fingertips. With each sliver of skin revealed, she whispers, beautiful, you’re so beautiful. And in these moments, you believe her, she utters the words with such conviction. You breathe with ease, allowing yourself to surrender to the woman disarming you.

She guides you towards the tub. Soft hands on your arm, your waist. That low, rasping voice in your ear, one foot, now the other… easy now, until you’re over the lip of the tub and being lowered into warm water. You let yourself sink a little lower, feel the water lap over your neck, your hair. You tilt your head back until everything is submerged except your face. Your eyes close, listening. You let the pressure of the water beat against your eardrums. Oceanic sounds bounce around inside your skull. For a split moment you are the sand and the sea, a shell burrowed in the earth.

When your eyes open, you meet the longing gaze of your partner. She admires the halo-shape your hair forms as it floats, the curve of your breasts breaking the surface, the way your tummy moves in waves with each steady inhale and exhale.

Your eyes wander to where Ellie is stepping out of her boxers, peeling her worn tank top over her auburn bed head, discarding the article in the tile. Her focus never falters from you. She looks so beautiful like this, the soft white light casting an illuminating glow to her supple skin. You sit up, folding your legs in, scooting forward—silent invitations. With two long strides, Ellie’s lanky limbs are climbing into the tub behind you. Your bodies mingle, arms and legs tangle and untangle, an uncoordinated tango.

Ellie surrounds you, she is everywhere. The warmth radiating from her coats every inch of your flesh like a blanket. Her thighs are pressed up against the sides of your own, caging you in, the physical security plucking away at your guardedness. Slippery arms snake around your middle, a vice grip pressing you against her front. You feel her heartbeat thump against your ribcage, feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. A connection so primal, so powerful, tethering you to her. Her lips graze the crook of your neck, a sigh escapes you, releasing the tension held in your abdomen. Taught muscles unfurl; a calmness washes over your senses.

Ellie begins to hum, short breaths tickling the shell of your ear. You recognize the song, familiar but just out of reach.

“What are you singing, baby?”

Ellie hushes you, “Shh, shh, just listen to me.”

Her gravelly tone recites the lyrics, “When all my hair turns grey, enter our twilight years,” you listen intently, the song bubbling at the forefront of your mind. A memory plays, placing a fragile disc in your record player, the needle spinning in its grooves, Ellie excitedly rehashing how she found it on patrol.

Both of you sat on the couch that night and tuned in, entwined and entranced. During the fourth song, Ellie stood, offering a hand—dance with me. And so, your bodies swayed around the living room as one entity. “And our friendships slip away, finding it hard to hear.”

Ellie memorized the lyrics, serenading you for weeks, “No I’ll never be afraid, as long as I still have you,” confessing her feelings through the Alessi Brothers.

And now, she croons the same song, “Together in an ocean of life / Just yours and mine / Motionless time / Love is the answer to eternal life.” Easing your mind, caroling the words that never come easy to her in conversation. Reminders of the fire you alight within her, the tenderness you pull out of her.

She is the breeze, the fierce wind that wrestles with the water. She reels you in from the deep end, a lifeline cast before you take your final breath. Her presence is a sanctuary, your vulnerability takes refuge in her arms—your safe haven.

[end]

a/n: hiii!! if you read this all the way through, thank you! it’s my first time posting an ellie fic so i’m a liiiitle nervous eeee! also im a little rusty on my writing so forgive me if this sucks 🧍🏽‍♀️ and i gave up on editing my last read through bc i need to get this fic out or i will never post it

i have an ellie series and a one shot planned out so hopefully it won’t take me a lifetime to post those!!! okieee byeeee 💓

tagging moots: @ilovepedro @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @daydreamingmiller @chaotic-mystery @cavillscurls @amanitacowboy (idk who else to tag i dont have an official taglist lol why is this so embarrassing)

[alexsoenomel]

Chokehold (Sam Winchester x Reader smut)

Request: Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but I was reading Adrenlize Me and I had an idea for a part 2? Sam and reader have been getting at it for a bit but this time they finally say “I love you” to each other? Rough smut with a little dash of fluff? 🥰

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: sexy times and I love you’s, mentions of addiction 

Word count: 2.1k

Note: I apologize for being so slow (school+work+ADHD). Writing this made me realize how single I actually am.

 Enjoy! Like/Reblog or both if you like it! :)

PART 1

Addiction. First, it feels like a warm hug, sucking you in, disguising itself as something familiar, something beautiful, and finally, you feel like you filled that hole in your soul. Then it starts taking, it takes and takes until there is nothing left to take, until you cannot give anymore – until you’re dead. You find out, a little too late, that the warm hug was just a one-way ticket to your inevitable demise.

This started as a deep-seated need but turned into a full-blown addiction sooner than I thought, but the only difference was this was a blissful one, with no reaper waiting for you at the end. It only brought endless pleasure. 

Sam was no better than me. We couldn’t stop ourselves; every touch, every kiss would send us into a euphoric state, and it was better than any drug known to man. 

After our little adventure in Dean’s beloved Baby, we tried to keep our dirty little secret hidden. Sam would come to my room only during the night when he could hear Dean snoring in his room, and even then, we had to be careful since Dean was a light sleeper. He would muffle my moans with his hand whenever he was on top of me, he would sometimes even let me bite his shoulder, but it was impossible to be quiet, especially when we both liked listening to each other come undone. Long story short, Dean found out.

“Good thing you two lovebirds finally got together! The bad thing is now I cannot sleep.” He told us one morning while sipping his black coffee, clearly tired and cranky. 

Lovebirds.

That word was stuck in my brain that day. It still would pop up occasionally. It reminded me that we never labeled our little arrangement. When it happened, we would carry on, pretend like this thing was meaningless, and then we would do it all over again. We would cover every topic under the Sun apart from this one. We completely ignored it, but it was there, just around the corner, something more than just a meaningless hookup. 

Sure, he was able to make my legs shake, make me forget my existence, and his touch would set me on fire every damn time, but the way he would look at me right before I would come, the way we would look at each other…  I knew I was falling for him. 

We were birds of a feather –we connected through art, books, and music. We liked the same things but were far different characters. I was more of a 'Shoot first, ask questions later' kind of girl, like his older brother, and he was far from that. He was my voice of reason when I would let my emotions consume me; he was the one who would tell Dean and me to get our shit together whenever we would jump the gun (and that would often happen because we were both hotheads). We worked perfectly together. 

***

"God, I'm exhausted!" I said and put my bag on the table. 

We just got back from a hunt in Omaha, Nebraska, and it was a wild one. It dragged to no end until we finally ganked the ghost that was killing unfaithful men. I almost got thrown off the balcony, Dean almost got stabbed, and Sam, well he took care of it. Overall, I was just happy the case was over and, that I could sleep in my/Sam's bed. 

"Me too! Gonna hit the hay!" Dean said taking his shoes off. 

"Already? It's only 10 pm." Sam said. On a rare occasion, Dean would sleep early, he was the worst night bird in the flock. For him, 2 am was too early for bed, and mornings started at noon. 

"Sammy, I almost got stabbed today! Yeah, already." Dean said and disappeared into the hallway. 

"Night, Dean!" I said. 

"Night, night!" I heard him say. 

I was immediately hit with the realization that I was alone with Sam. There was something so alluring about him that made me nervous in the best way possible. It would boost my dopamine and adrenaline – like a drug. I swallowed nervously as I turned to see he was staring back at me and I immediately recognized the look – the look of devotion. 

"What?" I asked. He looked tired, with messy hair, and bags under his eyes. I was a tired mess too. During these days caffeine kept me awake and sharp since we were working night and day trying to solve the gruesome mystery. 

"Shower?" He asked.

"Please!" 

We went to his room since I would spend most of my nights there. What started as casual, grew to be a routine. I started hating sleeping alone in cold sheets – his warmth kept me safe. 

When we entered his room, pleasant silence joined us. We stripped down our dirty clothes and sins as we went to the bathroom. We didn’t say a word until warm water touched our tired bodies.

“Warm enough?” Sam asked me.

I nodded. He shampooed my hair, and I did my body while letting my muscles relax under the shower, feeling every part of me slowly shutting down from exhaustion.  Once my hair was nice and cleaned and I turned to face Sam, kissing where his heart was as I balanced myself on my tiptoes since he was much taller than me. 

“My turn?” I asked and got on his knees, like he usually would do when I wanted to wash his hair, and wrapped his hands around my waist, cupping my ass. It wasn’t the first time we showered together, the aftercare was as important for him as it was for me, but this time it felt far more intimate and real. The aftercare would usually turn into rough shower sex, leaving me breathless and sometimes even covered in bruises, but this time I saw true intimacy and meaning of showering together. 

Sam kissed my stomach as I washed his hair, sending light shivers all over my body. His hand went between my legs, and a light moan escaped from my lips. 

“All done!” My voice trembled. Sam stood up and kissed me hungrily. I could never get enough of his kisses, his lips were soft, kisses sweet kinda like cherries in spring, nothing like I’ve ever tasted before. He broke the kiss as our eyes met, water still running down our bodies. I could feel his breath on my lips. The air, even though hot and heavy, got a little bit chilly for a second – or was I getting nervous? I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. I didn’t know why I was getting nervous. Everything that seemed familiar was now foreign to me. Even though we fucked a million times, even though we both had seen each other naked, I was still feeling that tickling sensation in the pit of my stomach. 

Sam turned off the shower. We did our night routine in blissful silence. Skincare, haircare, the whole nine yards…in blissful pleasant silence. Sam even started using my Vitamin C serum, when I told him how good it is for the skin. 

I was pleasantly surprised when he took a little bit of my hydrating cream after the serum. I would always use that after having a rough day on the job, it did wonders for my tired skin. 

“You’re learning,” I told him as I brushed my teeth. 

“From the best.” He simply said. 

***

I didn’t remember the last time I did my night routine in my bathroom – and it all started when Dean caught me leaving his room to get my toothbrush. 

“You two are louder than a jackhammer!” He told me as he opened the door of his room, messy hair, eyes barely open, clearly feeling creaky from lack of sleep…again. “Keep it down, or I swear I’ll kill you both!”

“Sorry!” I was embarrassed but trying hard not to laugh.

Ever since then, I decided not to leave his room during the night. So, naturally, I started leaving my stuff in Sam’s room. 

***

After we got in our pajamas; Sam in his gray sweatpants and me in my oversized blue T-shirt I “borrowed” from him, got under the covers. I could feel my whole body relaxing, as I let my mind drift God knows where…I was ready to fall asleep, but Sam had other plans. He wrapped his hand around my waist pulling me closer to him. His semi-hard cock was pressed against my ass, and I felt his lips on my neck. 

“Yeah, Sammy?” I bit my lower lip. 

“I don’t wanna sleep.” He mumbled between kisses. 

I turned around, missing the softness of his lips on mine. I kissed him, feeling the minty taste on his lips. My hand went in his hair, pulling him closer to me. He moaned when I pulled his locks, sending shivers all over his body. He pushed me back onto the mattress as he climbed on top of me, leaving kisses all over my jaw and neck. I loved his lips on my skin, I loved everything about them; the softness, the taste, the ability to make me wet in seconds… 

“You got me worried today,” Sam whispered between kisses. 

“Sorry, I was a hot-headed dumbass.”

I thought I could take down the ghost by myself. I didn’t stick to the plan and almost got thrown off the balcony when the damn thing attacked me – my mistake.

“Like always.”

And that’s why you love me. I bit my tongue. I felt my walls completely coming down under him. I didn’t care about labels, I didn’t care what we were, I just knew my heart was struggling to stay silent. I wanted to say those words as much as I desperately wanted to hear them from him. 

“Shut up and kiss me!” I told him instead. 

Sam pressed his lips on mine, this time his hand went down my stomach between my legs. His fingers were cold, making my skin shiver, but his touch bought endless pleasure. 

I could feel his two fingers in me for a few seconds before he pulled away. 

“Tease,” I said annoyed. He loved making me beg and feel desperate and I loved every second of it. 

He licked his fingers clean and kissed me letting me have a taste as well. 

“You are delicious.”

Everything about this seemed different. He was sweeter and far more gentle. Usually, he would tell me to be quiet, his good girl, he would be rough, but this time…he wasn’t? He had a gentle side, but I’d rarely see it. I felt something was different. I felt my heart connecting with his and my soul feeling closer to his own. 

“And you’re a tease.” 

He laughed, showing off those cute little dimples I adored so much. 

"Just a little. " He smirked before kissing me again. I was growing impatient, and it was like he heard me. He wasted no time, he moved my panties to the side as I helped him lower his sweatpants. He entered me slowly, letting me adjust to his size, letting me bask in the pleasure his cock was giving me. I buried my fingers into his damp hair, arching my back slightly. 

"You feel so good!" 

He would always tell me that. Every time. No exception. He knew his words made me needy, horny, and desperate…He knew what buttons to push. 

He started to move and that was when my heart decided to work against me…or it did me a favor? My eyes were lost in his, not wanting to break the contract. I was feeling every inch of him, slowly moving in and out, skin to skin….

"I love you!" 

I heard myself say. My heart was pounding, I could see his expression change as his hair was falling on my cheeks…he smiled and kissed me.

"I love you too!" 

I didn't expect this answer from him. At the moment it didn't seem real but I think we both knew it was coming. Between the constant staring, and flirting just to gross out Dean and the genuine connection we had, we knew…

Sam's pace became faster, and I was slowly losing it. His face was inches away from mine, feeling each other's breaths as my climax was getting closer. I could feel my body shaking, my nails digging into his back as I couldn’t get his name out of my mouth. 

“Come on, baby!” He whispered in my ear. 

I loved his voice, I loved his touch, his kiss. I loved him.

I came hard, biting his shoulder (Sam didn’t even flinch), not wanting to be too loud because of Dean and his “Next time I’m gonna kill you both” sentence. 

He kissed me before collapsing next to me. We were both panting, waiting for someone to say something, to break the ice that had already been broken when I told him I love you. But no one did. Instead, we fell asleep, my head on his chest, safe and sound. 

[spideyzgirl]

love’s magic 🪄

A/N: are we feeling this? lmk

summary: you cook up a potion to get peter to fall in love with you; why isn’t he falling for you like he should?

warnings: a lot of sciency talk (i died writing it), witch!reader??? angst, fluff, a tiny tiny bit of stony

pairing: peter parker x reader

wc: 2578

masterlist | taglist

peter enters the lab to find you at your regular spot at your table. you look up and smile upon his arrival. “hi peter, i made love!”

“you did what now?” peters eyebrows shoot up at your statement.

“i made a love potion!” you squealed, holding up a tiny vial filled to the brim with a reddish-pink hue. you shook the vial and watched with pride as the glittery liquid swirled around.

right off the bat, peter had a million questions. none of which he would ask, because he didn’t want to come off as jealous.

“that’s… wow! does it work?” peter forced a smile.

“don’t you see the two rats making out on my desk?” you gesture towards the clear container that sure enough, held smooching rats.

“yes i do, and it’s really unnerving.” peter frowned.

“we should probably turn around and give them some privacy.” you nod.

you shake the vial once again and smile at peter. “well? what do you think? you haven’t said anything yet…”

peter takes it from you to shake it around for himself, watching concoction swish inside. he can feel the jealousy growing stronger. “yeah, it’s cool.” peter gives a small smile, trying his best not to infringe on your achievement.

“just cool? peter, i’ve been through months of trial and error to finally perfect this thing. “cool” is all you have for me? i mean, this is super intense! when consumed, it’ll flood your brain with pleasure inducing chemicals. i’m talking dopamine, oxytocin- any love hormone you can think of. not only does it affect the neurotransmitter process, but it also has a powerful affect on the brains reward system.”

“i have a reward system in my brain? that sounds awesome, what is that? what does it do?” he beamed. peter loves when you get enthusiastic about science. he doesn’t understand half of what you’re saying, yet he listens and nods intently anyway. he adored seeing you so excited about your passion.

“the reward system is what drives us to seek out food, water, and other necessary things for survival. when someone ingests the love potion, the brain starts to recognize the object of their affection as a necessary part of their survival, which causes them to crave that person in a similar way to how they would crave food or water. so, is it still just cool?” you smirk, knowing you’ve piqued his curiosity.

“no, it’s amazing! it’s also kind of scary. i’m really happy you had your breakthrough.” peter offers a smile and looks off to the side.

“but what? i’m open to criticism.”

“well, i’m just wondering who you made it for. you must really like this person, if these are the lengths you’ll go for them…” he scratches his head.

“i made it for me.” you reply simply.

peters heart drops at your answer. “why, are you trying to fall in love or something?” he nervously chuckled.

“i’m already in love. i’m just not so sure he’s in love with me.” you sigh dejectedly.

really, you made it for peter, but you weren’t about to tell him that. you’ve had feelings for him for far too long now, and the need for him to be yours was overbearing. your subtle hints might’ve been too subtle for peter, and you didn’t have a drop of courage for you to be forward either. so you did what you do best.

“you couldn’t have just… talked to him? did you really have to go to such an extreme measure?”

your eyes widen slightly, the tone of his question threw you off. “wait you don’t think this is weird do you?”

“no! i’m just saying, all those months you spent creating a potion could’ve been used to actually talk to this person, you know?”

“i guess you’re right.. maybe i shouldn’t have done this then?” you look at the potion as you think.

“no you totally should’ve! you’ve done something incredible here, don’t be ashamed!”

“no, it’s okay. i know i’m probably way in over my head. but, there’s just so many times you can drop hints to someone so oblivious.” you shrug with a smile.

“who is this idiot anyway? i can’t believe he pushed you to such a point.”

“oh, you know. just a guy. he’s usually not so dumb.” you stifle a laugh as you answer.

“oh come on, i don’t get to know who it is? that’s lame.” he playfully shoved you.

“you’ll find out when we’re together.” you smile in a way that told peter your lips are sealed.

“alright, i’m holding you to that,” he hands you the vial “i’ve gotta run soon, but good luck with your.. guy.”

“thanks,” you pull him into a hug, which he gladly reciprocates. you’re not sure why you did it, but it felt right. you get butterflies when his hand gradually moves to your lower back. you wanted to think he was testing the waters, seeing how far he could get before you stopped him.

“oh god.” peter gasped, his hold on you slightly loosening.

“what? what is it?” you pull away while your hands rest on his forearms.

“the rats are having sex, y/n. why are they doing that?”

“i feel like that’s pretty self explanatory. they don’t call it a love potion for nothing you know.” you wink.

“you didn’t know that would happen, did you?” he laughed.

“nope. i did not. but it’ll be fine! i’m not gonna go that far, if that’s what you’re worried about.” you tried to hide your smile at his concern.

“good. but what if your potion works a little too well? what if this guy can’t control himself? what if he goes so crazy over you he’ll try to hurt you?” peters grip on you tightened as he spoke, you didn’t even know he was still holding on.

“oh, he’d never. he would never hurt me in a million years. there’s nothing to worry about, this is safe, i promise. but thank you for worrying about me.”

“you know i always got you.” and it’s true. peter cares you so much, he’s willing to push you into the arms of another guy if it makes you happy, even if it kills him inside.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

later that night, peter found himself being lured into the kitchen by the sweet smell of freshly baked cookies. just as you set a fresh tray of them on the counter, peter was instantly behind you.

“ooh, cookies? don’t mind if i do!” peter quickly snatches a cookie and bites into it, humming at the delicious taste.

“peter no! those cookies are…” you trailed off, wondering why you were warning him, when the cookies were for him after all. “are… fresh out of the oven! they’re piping hot, don’t you wanna wait for them to cool?” you smile nervously, watching him carefully for any minor changes.

“sorry, i couldn’t help myself. they’re just too good. are they homemade?”

you nod, watching with worried eyes as he shoveled two more into his mouth. “okay, maybe you should slow down? i don’t want you to get a tummy ache..”

“i’ll be alright,” he shrugged. “besides, i’ll have you to take care of me.”

your heart flutters at the statement, and you try your best to hide your smile.

peter frowns slightly and hums. “hey, these kind of taste sparkly.”

“it must be starting to kick in,” you mumble to yourself. “are you feeling alright? come here.” you place your hands on his cheeks on his face to check his temperature, but he feels normal. while you wanted the spell to work, you still wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to hurt him.

“please, just don’t eat anymore cookies? you’ve had more than the necessary amount of doses.”

“doses?” his head slightly fell to the side.

“uh, why don’t we let the cookies cool? i bet they’ll taste even better then.” you ignored him.

“oh, okay. so tell me. what’s the secret ingredient?”

you smile, seizing your opportunity. “love.”

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

it didn’t take long for you to doubt the success of your potion. it should’ve taken effect within the first few minutes consumed. it’d been 4 hours since peter ate the cookies, and you haven’t seen him since.

either the spell wasn’t working, or it killed him.

if the spell was working though, the effects didn't seem to be as powerful as you’d anticipated. you began to wonder if all of your hard work had been for nothing.

“peter, you better be dead,” you huffed as you checked the time on your phone again. “i knew i should’ve tested this on steve and tony.”

then you decided, maybe all hope wasn’t lost. perhaps you needed to put in a bit of effort on your end. you were a bit on the shy side, it wouldn’t hurt to take initiative from time to time.

you texted peter to meet you in your room and in no time, he strolled inside taking a seat by you on your bed.

“what’s up?” he greets you.

“nothing, just look at me.” you stare into his eyes, searching for any hint of interest in you.

peter blinks and rubs his eyes. “shit, i lost. you never let me win.”

“what? we weren’t- you know, what never mind. just come closer.”

peter obliged, and you embraced him in a tight hug. “how does this feel? pretty intimate, right?”

“warm, cozy, everything a y/n hug should be.” he sighed

you groan and let go of him. “so you don’t feel anything at all?”

peter looks at you for a moment and thinks. your heart beats faster. this is it, he’s going to say everything you’ve been dying to hear for the past year.

“well… i’ve had this awful cramp in my calf lately. i’m just not sure what to do. what do you suggest?” he asked simply.

your heart sank. it seemed that all your efforts had been in vain. you spent so much time and energy making this potion, and for what? it didn't seem to have any effect on peter.

“that’s not what i mean! why didn’t it work? i’ve been trying for months!” you rest your forehead on your knees, unable to stop the tears from rolling.

“woah, what’s going on?” peter frowned, placing a hand on your back. but you don’t answer.

you couldn't help but feel defeated. you put so much of yourself into this project, and now it seemed like a complete failure. not only were you unsuccessful with your potion, but the boy you were hopelessly in love with didn’t take even a slight romantic interest in you. the realization was like a punch to the gut.

“what’s it gonna take for you to want me? i’m asking you now, because i can’t seem to figure it out for the life of me! i go as far as making a love potion just to get you to like me and it still won’t fucking work? i can’t do this for much longer! i spent months working on that potion,” you spat out, your voice quivering with rage. “i researched every ingredient, every spell, and every technique. so i would love for you to tell me, what it is about me that repels you?”

you’re almost panting from the anger, though it wasn’t directed towards peter. you wiped at the tears, but they kept coming.

peter was stunned with your outburst. it was definitely a lot to process. selfishly, the only thing he took from that was that you liked him. the same girl he’d been pining after for years was finally reciprocating. peter spent so much time dreaming about this moment but he never thought it would actually happen.

he mouth went ajar as he stammered, failing to form a coherent sentence. you never yelled at him before, he didn’t know how to react. all he could manage was, “you made that potion… for me?”

“yes,” you utter feebly, avoiding his eyes. “but it doesn’t matter anymore. we can just pretend this didn’t happen. my potion didn’t work, and you’re just not into me.”

“no. i can’t do that,” he shook his head, a grin plastered on his face. “not when i finally know you feel the same way about me.”

you look at him, confusion evident on your face.

“i’ve been working up the courage to ask you on a date, but i couldn’t after you told me you were making a love potion for someone else. do you know how much that crushed me?”

“and you didn’t stop me?” you fought a smile.

“i couldn’t. you were so excited about the spell working, about the person you were gonna use it on. i didn’t wanna ruin it for you because i love you.”

“i love you too,” you smile shyly, toying with the bottom of your shirt. “we’re so stupid.”

“no kidding. i can’t believe you made a potion instead of telling me you like me.”

“i can’t believe you told me to go be happy with someone who isn’t you.” you playfully bump into him, and he takes your arm gently, keeping you close.

“you’ll never hear it again.” his eyes are locked on your lips while his other hand delicately grips your chin, pulling you closer and closer until your lips meet.

your eyes flutter shut as you lose yourself in the moment. it was an explosion of sensation, your bodies coming together in a perfect harmony that felt like it had been brewing for months. it wasn't just a kiss, but an emotional release that had been building for years. you couldn't get enough of each other, your lips moving against the others in perfect union.

you both reluctantly pulled apart, breathless, knowing that nothing between you would ever be the same again; you were perfectly fine with that.

“holy shit.” you gasp.

“what happened?”

“i think i know why my potion didn’t work on you. you were already in love with me, so of course it wouldn’t work on you! i’m not a failure after all.”

“of course you’re not. i can’t get those rats out of my mind. i think in pictures, so you can imagine how horrible this is for me.” he shook his head.

you gasp again, standing up so fast you see spots. “i left the cookies out!”

“it’ll be fine. just stay here with me. we need to make up for lost time, don’t you think?” he winked.

“you haven’t figured it out yet? the love potion is in the cookies!”

“wait, are you serious?” he frowned.

you rolled your eyes and dragged him towards the kitchen. you cursed when you found that all of the cookies were gone.

“oh god. this could be bad.” you wince.

just then, steve sprinted through the kitchen with tony hot on his trail. “come back you coward! you can’t escape my love, no matter how fast you run!” tony yelled after him.

peter covered his mouth as he laughed, and your jaw dropped.

“that right there was an immediate call for an antidote.” you immediately turned to leave.

peter looked to the side in horror, to see thor in a full heated make out with his hammer. “please hurry,” he shuddered. “that’s image number three unfortunately seared into my brain today.”

you turn your attention to thor and shrug. “i honestly think that would’ve happened with or without the potion.”

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[shiftylinguini]

Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack:

@phoebe-delia asked in response to this fun lil ask game:

Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back? . (for the ask anything) Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back?

Now THIS. This is a good question, and something that is very much on my mind and has been for a while, as I am currently absolutely in the midst of this and trying to army crawl my way out. I don't have any magic bullets (is that the saying? idk) but I have been here before and i do have a small arsenal of tips or methods that I find can help me. 

Here is my Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack (In no particular order):

Write anything 

This is hardly groundbreaking advice, and it's also the hardest thing to actually do (imo) so do not beat yourself up if it takes a while to get to this. Basically, write ANYTHING―it can be aimless, it can be pointless, it can be crap (crap is subjective!! don't let the brain gremlins win!!). 

Don't think about posting it, don't worry about anyone else ever reading it, just fling a few words onto a page and feel the rusty faucet turn on, proving to yourself that it still works. 

Try and sus out what it is that's blocking you 

Again this one is hard and annoying but functional. Once you can put your finger on the particular reason you're staring at a flashing black line on a blank page it can help you kick that reason off your lawn and into the bin. 

And then, take it out of the bin and be kind to yourself about whatever that reason is. Maybe you feel shit because you're comparing yourself to others, your last fic felt like a lead balloon, you can't muster enthusiasm for what you once loved doing and fear that it's gone forever, you're projecting in a Tumblr post―whatever it is, it's something all the writers you admire and aspire to be like have felt, and been annoyed with themselves for, and so you can wrap it up in a blanket and put it on a shelf and be kind to it so it, (respectfully) shuts the fuck up. 

(and remember, everyone feels insecure about their stuff. Like literally everyone, at some stage, feels like their stuff is rubbish)

Cheat on your OTP 

Okay this one might not work for everyone, but it really does for me lol. Ruts (not the sexy kind) can often come with not wanting to engage in my usual ships, being annoyed by my lack of ability to fucking write them/anything/all my ideas taste like cardboard/bleh, and stepping out on them and reading something new can snap me out of it. Just, an injection of new ideas or scenarios or words or even just a little reprieve from being fed up with myself, which ideally, is why we're all here anyway. 

(And then I come crawling back, and am welcomed with open arms haha)

In a similar vein:

Engage in media 

This subtitle is genuinely terrible, i am sorry, LMAO, but essentially: find a piece of media that makes you go "oh, helLO sailor", unhinge your jaw like a snake, and consume it whole. 

Let it nourish you, inspire you, excite you, making you feel SOMETHING, and then take that and think "fuck, what if i wrote bleepbloopblarp" and even if you write nary a single word, you've thought about it and that fucking counts. 

It might be an album, a book, a song, a show, gifs of a hot person, the wikipedia summary of a movie, literally anything counts here if it makes you feel a twinge of creativity. 

Ask yourself, what would Astolat do? 

No for real. @candybarrnerd and I genuinely use this haha.  

Worried your idea is stupid? Astolat would say write it. 

Worried it's too weird? Nah, just write it. 

It's dumb and no one will read it? Just write it for you *waggles eyebrows* (and then find out that yeah, nah, someone else will absolutely read this and be real fucking happy about it haha.)

Worried you're a one trick pony and have already written this fic before, like, and not even once before, and also you're projecting again in Tumblr post? WRITE IT AGAIN! As Astolat once said, "it's a fic so nice, I wrote it thrice". 

It's good advice. 

Make a friend or lean hard on the ones you have here

Misery loves company because it knows they'll come out of this together :). I know, I know, that's fucking NAFF, but fandom is all about finding like-minded freaks and blowing up their DMs because you saw a gif and now feel a kind of ways about it. 

And lastly: 

FUCK STATS! 

I mean I love stats (yay validation!), but god can they make you feel like a worthless shit (hey where did my validation go :((( ). It can be really insidious, so piss that right off when it starts to fuck with your confidence or outlook on your own writing.

Hopefully there is something useful here, even if it's just looking at this advice and thinking "no that's shit, it's writing POISON" cos then you can maybe do the version you think is NOT shit, and that might work. 

Good luck, fellow travelers!!

[derseprinceoftbd]

This is a rant I've been meaning to get off my chest for a while, but the conception on Tumblr, AO3, and sometimes here, that Jake is capable of "teasing" Dirk, and all that implies, irks me deeply.

Let me be clear: Jake English is not self-aware. He, in Canon, never does anything resembling self-awareness, maturity, emotional boldness, or anything else that requires a spinal column. This includes apologizing to anyone, talking about his problems in a way that doesn't end up being selfish, teasing someone, particularly Dirk, or transitioning. (I maintain this especially; he does not have the boldness, maturity, self-awareness, or nerve to have transitioned his gender presentation pre-Act-6.)

He has an *understanding* of pranks, if we allow Paradox Space as evidence, but that's it. He makes *Tavros* look like a fully-roleplayed-into-Class-shift Lord.

You know what the popular Fandom perception of Jake, as a member of a DirkJake relationship, lines up with? *John*, before his main writing trait became a deep, all-consuming depression and repression thing.

Like, John’s original Act 5 and earlier characterization before his underreaction to his dad's death and the spiral that sent him down towards his current "transition would not save her" characterization is what people use for Jake (charming, funny, actually seems to have his shit together enough to maybe be transmasc (man, remember *transmasc John*?), and, most importantly, seemingly capable of dealing with the levels of vaguely sociopathic bullshit that an even-close-to-accurate Dirk would throw at him), but DirkJohn/JohnDirk is less popular, to the point of not having a consensus order, simply because Jake and Dirk are *coded* as liking each other.

I think a lot of people miss that DirkJake is fundamentally the Equius of relationships; Hussie isn't one of those writers that feels pride in finding pathos in the ridiculous, but spiteful glee and humor. He genuinely does not care if he accidentally touches people's hearts in a way that doesn't involve Dave, or *maybe* Vriska. The fact is, DirkJake is a joke relationship, which is spelled out very clearly in their conversation.

You know, their conversation. The one they have together. The time we see someone who is actual Dirk Strider, not Hal pretending, not Aranea co-opting a memory, not a Brain Ghost, talking to Jake. That time.

Yeah, that doesn't exist. DirkJohn has as much conversational basis as DirkJake.

Edit:

LESS! GAME OVER! "I FAILED"! LESS!!!

DirkJake is a joke, a long, subtle one being made on everyone who saw Dirk's affections and immediately wanted him to get together with his disabled(?) ongoing harassment victim. Hussie was having a lot of fun making it seem like Jake found it important in the Masterpiece, I'll tell you that much.

@thelifetimechannel/@geejaysmith/@clonerightsagenda did magnificently wringing blood from this stone, I really do mean that, their Alphas are genuinely written better than Canon for 3/4, but that's all it ever was; every DirkJake writer is the YouTube comments under [this video](https://youtu.be/B7bpv5xyrOY?si=wYTCFDHM5ZzOY8fp) saying Equius could ever have been more than what he was.

TL:DR

1, Jake is pathetic, and we should remember this.

2, Hussie is a jackass who hates us one and all for the sin of caring and everything he has done with this franchise since maybe EOY2 has had an ulterior motive, and we should remember this.

3, Most people who write longfics set in SBURBless AUs, whether normalcy or fantasy, and want to ship Dirk and Jake should really be shipping Dirk with John, since now that history of Dirk-Jake interactions that justifies the ship in-Universe is gone at the Author's leasure, John would have the dynamic they want, and they talk *exactly as much*.

4, If you want to trans Jake, [there's a sensible way to do that](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8619856), but there's no in-character way to make him transmasc.

5, Read DDOTA, I beseecheth of you. Like yeah the Striders are emotional to a kinda weird degree but apart from that they really got everyone down right.