#~gamma writing~

[hishighnesstheprincess]

I feel like one of the things that gets missed a lot about Sonic and Amy's dynamic is that he isn't running because he's scared of Amy or hates her: Sonic runs because he loves running, and Amy chases because she loves Sonic and all he represents. She also clearly doesn't spend all her time chasing him: in Adventure 1 she's just lounging around in a city missing him and then he runs into her, in Heroes she's spending time with other friends of hers, etc.

Yes, she is more active in pursuing him than even other characters like Tails can be, and he can occasionally be overwhelmed by her pushy personality, but that doesn't equate to stalking or harassment. Sonic enjoys having her around- they're friends. To a certain extent, Sonic also clearly enjoys being chased by Amy.

Almost every moment that gets tossed around as her being abusive or terrible is some looney toons ass gag. Y'all can't seriously think she intended to kidnap and physically drag Sonic into a church to marry her just based off one awkward line in Heroes, can you? Regardless of whether you ship them or want them to be canon or not or find the jokes cringe or #problematic, their intended dynamic is not and has never been that of stalker and victim.

Also, another misconception about her is that people think her life revolves just around Sonic. Now, she was certainly created with him in mind (the creators wanted her to be a Minnie Mouse to Sonic's Mickey Mouse) but that's true of almost every character in the classic era. I'm not going to pretend CD presented a great dynamic between them, but starting as early as Adventure Amy had stories about standing up to Sonic, befriending other characters, actively redeeming multiple other characters/being one of the ones to help them, etc.

She's got multiple hobbies and friends outside of Sonic, she will stand up to him when she thinks he's doing something wrong: she has a life outside of Sonic.

Just because she wants her life to include him as well doesn't make her a one-note, lovesick fangirl stalker like she was so commonly seen as for so long!

Anyway. I just really love Amy Rose and also her dynamic with Sonic. It's been portrayed imperfectly at times, and there are definitely some moments where she was characterized horribly, but a) that's true of basically every major Sonic character and b) that doesn't wipe out all the good characterization and moments she's had over the years. She's always been a good character, and she's been growing and evolving over the years, just like a good character should. Her problem is mostly that she's been underutilized in games, and the solution to this is simply just to show more than one facet of her personality, not bashing that part of her or trying to take it away.

[girlmetalsonic]

something that is like the baseline of amys entire character to me is that shes lonely. shes clingy and physically affectionate in a way none of her friends really are, shes always getting pushed aside and left behind. yeah, she helps out people she doesnt know because shes a nice person, but also, she sees part of herself in them. she wont leave someone else behind because she knows the feeling —and more importantly, hates the feeling. if she doesnt have somebody to stand by her and be there for her, then shes going to be that person for everybody else. something something her obsession with sonic is really just like a manifestation of that desire for closeness with someone, and she thinks that romance is the only way to get that. idk... this hedgehog can have so many abandonment issues.

[sarahblueskyyyy]

Frames

Romance, MaxBradley, Fluff, Slow Burn, Tension, Post Canon, Future Setting, Happy Ending, Reunion, etc.

Bradley Uppercrust the Third, has always been and always will be someone who’s minding his own business. At least—that’s what he has learned throughout the years, ever since his university life.

“Oh, God—are you seriously saying that? I can’t believe you!”

He lets out a yawn. His head is filled with what he should eat when he finally gets home. A takeaway from that one Chinese diner might be nice—or he could just bring home something. The owner of this restaurant is kind enough to share any remaining food with his employees anyway.

“Bradley, you seein’ this?” One of the waiters nudges him with his elbow. He cocks his head towards the center of the freshly-made exhibition. “That guy is gonna get dumped. It’s a painful sight.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Really, as if there isn’t anything worth watching.”

“At this moment? No, not exactly.”

A kitchen staff member rings a bell—an implicit order for a server to fetch the cooked meal to its customer. Bradley picks a tray, puts that plate onto it, and his blue eyes scrutinize the number of the table that is attached to a bill besides the plate.

How lucky. It’s the table with that couple that has been on each other's throats for the last 10 minutes. Well, to be more specific, the lady dog is the one who’s berating him, and the poor guy is just accepting it in silence.

Eh. Maybe he deserves it.

Bradley shrugs and brings that tray towards the table, unwavering. It’s not really his problem, but perhaps he should meddle, for other customers have been whispering and trading looks. Certainly concerning to the restaurant’s reputation. And, who knows, he might get some appreciation from his boss if he could break lovers’ quarrels.

However, when he arrives at the table—even before he could part his lips to say a word—the lady dog stands abruptly. Without him realizing it, her fingers wrap around that glass of whiskey, and her arm swings in a forward motion, transferring all the liquid inside to drench the other person on that table.

The other man is still looking down. His hair, pitch black like a pair of a raven’s wings, is damp and shiny under the light. Droplets form rivulets on that head before they fall free from the pointy end of his hair.

Bradley sure hopes it was the climax of her wrath, and perhaps God answers his hidden thought because, in the next second, that lady dog storms away until she is no longer inside the building.

Alright. At least one problem has ceased for now. Bradley sighs. His job still requires him not to be a dick, so he calls out delicately to the poor guy, offering his condolences and help.

“I’m sorry for what has happened. May I offer you our hospitality, and get you some dry towels—”

When the other guy lifts his face, this time Bradley manages to have a good look. He can’t prevent the smirk that creeps into his cheeks, carving an absolutely snarky expression.

“Ha!” His scoff surprises almost everyone in that room. “Long time no see, freshman.”

Maximilian Goof groans, and the frown on his forehead is apparent. “I miss you too.”

It looks like both of them developed a sense of humor over the years.

.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

As sharp as it might sound, the sentence lost its bite completely. Max receives the towel Bradley gives him and places the fluffy fabric on top of his head. His ears sag on the sides of his face like usual, but this time they look even more slumpy because of the whiskey.

“My boss pities you.” It sounds like a plain mockery, but no—Max notices it’s just how Bradley talks. How has he always been. “Besides, my shift is gonna be over soon. So, dry yourself up, be a doll, and go home.”

Max doesn’t answer that. Instead, he rubs his own hair with a tad too much force, finding the rocky pavement more interesting to pay attention to.

Bradley breaks the uncomfortable stillness with a question, “So—what went wrong? I didn’t take you to be the cheating type. Or a jerk—oh, wait, you maybe are one.”

“Perhaps take a look into a mirror for once.” Max is pressing the back of his head. Then, after that, the tone of his voice gets gentler a notch. “Nothing, really. I just admitted I’ve lost my feeling for her, and I thought it’s best to break it up now than prolong it into something worse.”

“Lost?” Bradley isn’t sure why he needs a confirmation, but he asks it anyway, “Or never had it in the first place?”

That makes Max snap his neck towards Bradley, his expression almost unidentifiable. But for some reasons—for Bradley, it is quite clear what’s going on inside his mind. Max wears his heart on his sleeve; it is easy to see and even easier to break. Max looks hurt and betrayed—like a child who’s caught red-handed doing something he shouldn’t do, and now he can’t lie through his teeth about it.

Aha. Bradley shakes his head and smiles. "You've got to train your poker face more.”

“That’s not funny, Brad.”

“It's Bradley, and I wasn’t trying to be a jester.” Bradley thinks for a few seconds before he proceeds with his words, “Big chances are that lady knew you were lying to her. She probably figured out you never really loved her, and yet, like a fool, you keep being kind to her until you realize it’s futile. You let her make you the bad guy.”

Max’s lips grow apart. His eyes are fixated on the figure in front of him, incredulously.

“What? Bull’s eye?”

“How do you know that?”

“What don't I know?” Bradley mentally takes note of how—maybe some things aren’t meant to change. Case in point: Max Goof’s naivete. A wave of innocence blankets his personality and protects him from the world’s vile truths, and they against his optimism. A combo match made in heaven. “Anyway, are you done? I need to get ready to go home; it’s getting chilly.”

Bradley is greeted by faint cricket sounds and the night wind.

Max takes a deep breath and empties his lungs before he answers, “I share an apartment with her. I can’t exactly waltz into my home right now.”

“Are you serious?”—that’s what Bradley was going to ask. That, and probably followed by, “How is that my problem? I ain’t your babysitters; figure things out yourselves, hon.”

Unfortunately for him, as he matures in age, empathy seeps inside him now more than ever, and the intensity magnifies compared to when he was still an adolescent. And also, all the hardship he encounters perhaps contributes to the sentiment.

Bradley knows he’s going to regret this, but the last thing he wants is to find the possibility of tomorrow’s newspaper filled with information about a missing dog or a dead one. Exaggerating it might sound.

“Do you want to stay at my place?”

.

.

.

Bradley isn’t kind, compassionate, or polite enough to sputter out the courtesy, “Make yourself at home.” He doesn’t need to, anyway, because the younger Goof marches inside the apartment with such confidence.

“Sit.” Bradley’s forefinger is aimed at his couch. “I’ll give you my unused shirt and towel.” Before he himself goes into the bedroom, the corners of his eyes catch Max's unusual excitement towards the living space. Bradley alarms him with an order—which he’s quite sure will be disregarded completely. “Don’t look, don’t touch, nothin’.”

Max gives him a half-hearted thumbs up. He can hear Bradley’s grumble as he walks inside his room. Then, the black-haired canine, as expected, starts looking around the place. Order and rules are meant to be broken—or however the saying goes.

If there is one thing he realizes once he steps foot inside the house, it’s how inhumanely tidy this place is. Small paintings are framed and nailed to the wall with such precision that they rival the strictness of Britain’s royal regulations. Mugs, accessory bowls, and ornaments are placed in their own designated area. There is no dirty laundry or random briefs on the corners of the room, which, by Max’s standard, is preposterous. Who doesn’t throw their shirt somewhere on the floor once in a while? There are many times when Max is exhausted and just overwhelmed by his work; his limbs feel like they’re falling out, and he can’t be bothered by doing laundry.

However, his mind’s focus shifts almost instantly when he sees three framed photos on the TV table.

The first frame is a photo of Bradley and his—Gamma Mu Mu. He had his usual arrogant lines on his expression, while the rest of the members were wearing this silly laugh. It looks surprisingly endearing.

The second one is his graduation photo. A formal one where he wore a mortarboard and the college’s distinct cloak. In that picture, he stands tall with his chin up, yet he’s alone. The display alone raises Max’s memory of his own graduation photos—and there are a ton of them. Of course, his father, Goofy, insisted on such an idea to make sure they have something to remind them of home—no matter how far the world may take them. And Max, albeit being surged by the complexity of embarrassment and elation, is forever thankful to his dad. He remembers the series of photos of him, Bobby, and P.J., then some others of him, his dad, and Sylvia.

So why did Bradley take the photo alone?

Before the cogs of his head could turn and arrive at a conclusion, his eyes had already moved to the third frame, and it's empty. There is nothing in it.

Why bother setting up the frame, then?

“Having fun diving your nose into my business, Max?”

“How come the third frame is empty?”

Crass, brash—Bradley didn’t know Max could showcase two insufferable traits in one go. But he’s been proven wrong, hasn’t he?

Bradley’s refusal to answer is prominent. He shoves a set of comfortable clothes into Max’s arms, which readily cradle them. That, and a clean towel. The silky smell of fabric softener is gently spewed out of those cloths, and the electric synapse in Max’s brain works fast to associate the fragrance with Bradley.

“Take a shower, stinky.”

Max offers a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

When he finally steps inside the bathroom, Bradley sighs deeply. Wondering what he’s gotten himself to.

.

Bradley has taken his own bath when he enters his room with a towel hanging on top of his head. His sky-colored eyes look at Max, who’s now leisurely lying down on a mattress he provided before. There is a scrunch between Max’s eyebrows and his fingers typing fast on the thin screen of his phone—Bradley can guess several reasons for such behavior.

The Uppercrust sits down on the edge of his bed. He blinks—once, twice. Perhaps he’s really drained because his eyelids struggle to keep them lifted. And the effect of the warm bath that relaxed his whole body is surely pumping the melatonin even more.

He still observes the young Goof. The way his own shirt fits on his toned body, sharp blade shoulders, and a little too tight on his biceps and the curves of his muscles are obvious behind the cloth. Huh. Brandley wonders if Max has always leaning on the sturdy side, even back in the day.

“Are you sleepy yet?”

Bradley snatches the towel off, then spreads it on the hanger to ensure its dryness the following day.

“Unlike you, I worked all day. So, in a matter of fact—yes, I am. Goodnight.”

“I worked all day, too.”

“And getting dumped by the end of it? God really hates you, Goof.”

Max scoffs and smiles. He puts down his phone, eliminating a source of dim light in that room. “So, tell me. What a rich guy like you doin’ in a restaurant as a server nonetheless?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Bradley flicks off the switch of his table lamp, and instantly, the room is engulfed by the dark. “I got disowned right after the X Games. Cash is an old friend.”

Max can feel his furrow go even deeper. A little more of that, and it’ll dig into his skull. “I thought that was just a—rumor.”

“Why would it be?” Bradley yawns, and as a result, a drop of tears prickles out of his eyes. He rubs it away. The timbre of his voice insinuates that this is no more than a weather talk—it’s concerning for Max personally. “Uppercrust never jokes when it comes to the things that matter the most.” 

“…. I can see that now.” A silence. “Is that why I practically never saw you anymore after the games?”

“More or less.” Bradley speculates how many more questions he needs to answer before the curiosity weans off. But then he realizes it feels good to talk about himself occasionally. And to be fair, it’s been a long time since he did that. “Gotta focus on graduating, then job-seeking. It wasn’t so bad. It took me fast enough to comprehend that the money you gain yourself is far more satisfying than being given.”

“But that’s …,” Max’s words dissipate in the air before it comes back to its track, “… crazy. I mean, why would parents abandon their own child? I know my father wouldn’t.”

“Good for you.” Bradley can’t see Max since he’s lying on his back, but he’s pretty sure that empty head is tilting in confusion. He continues, “People are just different. You of all people should’ve known that.”

“You did almost kill me. And Tank. And the others.”

“…. That I did. If my memory serves me correctly, I have properly apologized."

"You have." Max huffs quietly. His vision scans the strange ceiling, almost alienating since he’s gotten used to his own. “You’ve mellowed.”

Bradley almost lost his drowsiness. “Are you calling me old?”

“Well, I mean—I am 29 this year. That makes you … what, 40?”

“Your perception of others is fucked. I’m 33.”

“Oh. Well. It wasn’t an insult.”

“Sure, it wasn’t.”

Max chuckles. His laugh is light and airy, oozing across the room in a tender way. And at the end of that giggle, there is a unique hiccup—something only the Goofs have. It throws Bradley off for a moment. Is he deranged, or somehow, he does miss that laugh? Something he hasn’t heard since a decade ago.

“It’s good, really,” Max tries to convince him. “I mean, how to put this … you are still—you. But you’ve matured and are not as annoying as before—”

“Maxmillian Goof.”

“—but you know. All grown up. Hey, look! Shitty parents don’t always produce shitty kids. So, there is that.”

“I was a shitty kid.”

“Not anymore. If you were, I wouldn’t have been here.”

Bradley pursed his lips in defeat. He wants to retaliate, but then it’ll look ridiculous. So instead, there is an attempt to change the topic, “How about you? No luck with girls, ever, huh?”

“Oh, c’mon ….” Max scratches his nape. “I just haven’t found the right one, I guess.”

Bradley hums. “The right one. That’s a broad description.”

Max ponders for a few seconds before he verbalizes his thoughts, “Well, someone that you’d get married to. The one that stays in your life for the better or worse. Cliché, I know, but—that’s the goal.”

Bradley forgets that not everyone is as laid-back as he is. People tangle themselves in relationships and a series of interlaced emotions so they can have a friend that’ll walk with them until the end of the line. Truth be told, if he wanted to satisfy his primal, compulsory needs, he'd just rub it out or hire someone.

“What if you never find one?”

Max blinks in his direction. “It can’t be helped, then. My dad probably will be more devastated than I am, but—you can’t force a feeling.”

“Look at you. All grown up, huh?”

Max feels a heat crawl into his face, and he groans. “We should sleep.”

“Thank God, I’ve been saying.”

Reticence comes back with the absence of conversation. Just a mild whirling sound from the air conditioner and an even muted ticking from the clock.

“…. Bradley?”

An exasperated sigh. “What, Max?”

“The third photo frames. Why didn’t you put anything in it?”

Bradley closes his eyes.

“The third is not important. Go to sleep.”

Max goes quiet. It doesn’t take him long to drown in his own unconsciousness, pulled by an immense strength that renders him unable to stay awake.

When tomorrow comes, he knows it’s time to say goodbye.

.

The next morning, Bradley wakes up at 6—just like he always does. Apparently, Max woke up even earlier, seeing that his used mattress had been neatly folded. Bradley notices a small note that was put on top of it, with handwriting that he recognizes as Max’s.

Thank you!

M. G. 

That’s what was written.

That’s it, huh? Bradley closes his eyes, reminding himself internally to stay alert, and only after then is he startled by his own thoughts.

That’s it—of course. What am I hoping for?

.

.

.

.

.

“Oh—hey, Maxie.”

Max’s arm freezes in the air, just by the time his fingers are holding a warm cup of latte. His head turns to the side, where he finds a lady dog smiling gently towards him. Max goes agape before his voice resurfaces, “Oh. Hi.”

It’s his ex. The lady dog’s chin perks up in another direction—an invitation to talk. Max’s stomach is filled with a ball of worry as his footstep follows her—and he suddenly remembers that the two of them never really had a chance to talk it out.

That morning, after the one-sided fight and an awful breakup, Max found his apartment already cleared of her stuff. There is no remnant of it except what’s left in memory. If Max didn’t know better, he’d have doubted her existence.

However—he was sure she was real because the feeling was there, no matter how minuscule it was. There were comforting moments between them, a shared fleeting happiness. So, it was real.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t say anything.” The lady dog speaks in a serene demeanor. A contradiction of what she was displaying that night. But Max knows this is how she usually is. “I was just … too distracted, and my emotions got ahead of me, and I selfishly pulled myself away.”

“No—,” Max quickly interrupts her. He parts his lips, trying to say something, and his guilt is weaved along with his explanation, “I’m the one who should’ve been apologized. You’re right; I don’t deserve you, and I shouldn’t stay longer than I did. I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

The lady smiles. No faux geniality, and her heart swells. “You are kind, Maxie. You’ve always been. I took advantage of that. I knew you never loved me, yet I still try to convince you that you do—because I was craving the affection. It was foolish of me, because then I realized that the compassion you had, the kindness you served me with—were never mine in the first place.”

Max’s head slants to one side, and his loopy ears follow the gravitation and sway softly. It is expectedly adorable, and the lady is confident there are other people who’d think the same.

“I don’t know, Max,” she says once again with firm authority, but she doesn’t lose the tenderness. “You love someone, that’s certain. If you’re confused by it, I suggest you better start finding out, for you don’t want something similar like this to happen again.”

Those words root and glide into the slopes of his heart. The lady bids farewell and walks away, and still, Max doesn’t move from where his feet are nestled. Eventually, he drags his limbs outside the café. He isn’t sure where his legs are bringing him forward, but there is an indescribable relief when he stumbles upon someone he knows on the bench near the central town.

A smile instinctively sculpts itself on Max’s face.

“Bradley.”

Bradley grimaces at the sudden sound. Not for long, because he finds a familiarity in that intonation.

“Is this town getting shrunk or what?”

“What are the chances, am I right?” Max sits beside his former upper-class man, ignoring the look of disapproval that is shot towards him. A beat of silence. “I met my ex just now.”

“Congratulation!” Bradley bites back quickly. He takes a furtive glimpse at the Goof and notices how fidgety the man is. “There wasn’t any incident involving liquid, I assume, since the content inside that cup is still whole?”

Max shrugs. “No, there wasn’t.” He looks at Bradly, who mutters a low hum. “What are you doing here, anyway? No work? How about that restaurant?”

“Easy, Max.” He shakes his head. “I’m just taking a walk. Besides, that wasn’t my fixed job. It was part-time until I landed on a permanent one, and I have, so I quit.”

“Oh … good for you.”

“Yep.”

“So, what are you going to do? I mean—what’s your job now?”

“Just simple supervising in a garment factory. The idea is, I’ll get promoted to manager after 2 years.”

“That’s cool. I can’t imagine doing corporate work, though. Being a sports coach feels right for me. A lot of movements and all.”

“Well, each to their own, I guess.”

Max nods, almost in slow motion. His dark eyes stray to glance at something else, but it’s ineffective since his thoughts are reverberating, pleading to get unraveled verbally.

“I’m not good at this. Can I just say whatever's on my mind?”

Bradley exhales in a dramatic manner. “Finally, yes—stop beating around the bush.”

Max’s grin widens from ear to ear. He takes out his phone, and with a somehow crafty look, he tells Bradley, “Look here.”

Bradley automatically slants towards Max, just for him to be met with Max’s phone camera, and the younger guy wastes no time to hit the red button in the middle.

“Hey! What gives?”

���You said the third frame is not important, right?” Max is filled with glee that Bradley doesn’t understand. Max’s goofy teeth peek up from the lips, and there are lines near his eyes, an undeniable proof that the flow of time waits for no one, yet it feels like the same smile he wore when they first met. “Then I claim its spot, and it’s up to me to fill it with whatever.”

“Excuse me? What even are you yappin’ about?”

“Oh! Or maybe you want to settle this on the skateboards, like old times? I don’t mind—it’s our style after all.”

The look on Bradley’s face is one of disbelief. His jaw falls, almost comically. He suspects Max is toying with him. His thoughts dart around, bouncing inside the space in his skull, and he tries to make sense of the situation. However, he sees the grin on Max’s lips and how the evening sun outlines his unruly hair, and he caves in.

“What? You scared?”

“Okay, whatever, Max.” And he'll be a hypocrite if he says he doesn't feel the same thrill. “What do I get if I win?”

“Me vanish from your life forever.”

Bradley raises both of his eyebrows. How fuckin' arrogant and confident! “You’re so full of yourself, you know that?”

“I’d win. So don’t fret about it.”

Max stretches his arm out for Bradley to reach.

And when Bradley does reach for it, his inner voice tells him that it’s probably a bad idea.

But he has nothing to lose, doesn’t he?

.

.

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EPILOG

“Have you ever expected this?”

P. J. squints at Bobby through the sides of his eyes. He doesn’t need to ask for an answer, because he too knows full well that it was a rhetorical question. He turns his head back to the view in front of him: Max and Bradley are exchanging words with Goofy and Sylvia.

“No,” P. J. says anyway. “Have you?”

Bobby examines the house with his sight. There are photo frames all over it, neatly planted in their own spaces. This is Max’s style and personality talking. However, the precision of every placed object is undoubtedly Bradley’s.

“I know Max swings both ways. I never thought it’d be Bradley at the end of the day.”

“Is that so wrong?”

Bobby grins. His teeth present themselves, and P. J is positive; that’s the biggest beam Bobby can muster.

“No,” the buzz-cut man answers. “Not at all.”

P. J. smiles. Yeah. Of course not.

[helloiamadrawer]

Mixed DBS character NSFW Imagines

Warnings: smut, degradation, mirror sex, oral fixation (for gamma 2), voice kink, dirty talk !!MINORS DNI!!

Boyfriend! Gamma 2, who has a oral fixation for you and you only, his mouth attached to your pussy each chance he gets, his tongue flicking at your clit making jolts of pleasure course through your body. Keeps edging you until he's chooses to make you cum. After that he'll make sure to clean you up with his grey smooth tongue.

"B-but Two~i want..moreee," you whined longingly. The androids' eyes shoot back up at you in thee process of putting his shirt on, a cocky smirk taking form on his face, you bite your lower lip, regretting a slight bit of what you just said but he was already pouncing on top of you again throwing your legs on his broad shoulders. "Oh yeah? Is that right baby~then i'll just have to fuck all the precious energy out of your pretty little body cause baby, I can go all day if i have to." Keeps edging you until you reach your nth high, slurping up up your sweet juices when you're overstimulating all over his face, his yellow chrome eyes taking in the view of your flushed frame trembling for only him alone.

Boyfriend Goku Black LOVES mirror sex, he adores the mage of your pathetic mortal body being the perfect godly threshold for his cock, forcing you to look at how he takes you so well, making your face burn like fire. "Look at you, such a dumb little slut for your master, if you dare take your eyes off this beautiful imagery of me for a second I won't hesitate to slow down once more." Big orgasm denial boi as well, constantly wanting to assault your guts. Bonus points if you turn into a incoherent mess for him Kami have mercy 😫 Boyfriend Goku being a little too noisy in the bed, thrusting into you in a medium pace and hitting that small bundle of nerves that drives you crazy, causing you to moan his name over and over again. "ah~you sound so good baby~keep squeezing me like that..'m gonna come so hard." He moaned. HIs pace starts to escalate quickly making you gasp out,"G-Goku~you sound -so good~". He chuckles darkly, "Really now?-hah~my moans turn you on huh?" the saiyan leans over to your ear and begins to moan lewdly. You have never been so blessed to hear him that close because after that first one, your vision clouded white by your climax as a choked,"Fuck!~" rushed out of you. Boyfriend Dyspo, the cocky bastard could not go a day without fucking the mess out of you, has pushed against the mattress slamming his dick between your gummy walls while he pulls your hair to face him from behind. "ah~all dumbed out senseless from me and can't even speak, huh?...That's what i thought." he smirks. Your tits bouncing from his malicious thrusts making a delightful sight to behold for the ego-filled rabbit. You could feel his labored, hot breath against your ear only fueling your arousal more, pussy clenching onto him. YOu couldn't even make a comeback at all it just felt so good and that's all you could think about was getting fucking railed ever since he got home from a mission. "Always so fuckin' tight for me aren't ya babe?". Literally will drag the tip of his dick across your soaked folds just to watch you squirm in pleasure. But it's all worth it in the end, he just likes making it last.

[cxptainthree]

Mancando Doloroso

It was his fifth, maybe sixth attempt at climbing the Spire.

The shooter in his hands felt weighty and unwieldy; he knew his way around a splattershot, sure, but this one was hard to manage. Every shot left him feeling drained.

"It's a part of their soul," Marina had supplied so helpfully when Sen confided the heaviness the weapon provided.

He didn't think Delta had had so much to weigh on them to make this sleek white shooter feel like lead in his hands. It made him feel...actually, he wasn't sure how to feel. So, he doubled down and didn't let himself dwell on it.

The floor ahead loomed, cast in harsh flourescent light; even from behind the bars of a silver cage, Sen could see his opponent waited on the opposite side of the room.

There were two to start, this time. The twentieth floor was never kind, the fragmentation more severe. It made Sen's chest ache. The cage dropped out from under him, and Pearl caught him without hesitation.

She rambled off something he wasn't listening to and must have realized his attention lie elsewhere because she fell silent halfway through her sentence. The unusual stop almost jerked Sen back to the present, but he was determined.

The first of the masked inklings dropped in, wielding a brush. Its shiny metal face flashed as it swung at Sen, red eyes faulting for a moment as they searched for where he'd dropped into his own ink.

Swiftly, Sen lunged up from the muted orange ink, grappling one-handedly with the opposing inkling. He stuck his foot out; they tripped over it, stumbling, and it gave Sen purchase to wrench the brush out of their hands.

"Delta," he said firmly, pulling the inkling out of the sickly black ink they were standing in and into his own. The masked inkling tilted their head, trying to shove him away.

"Stop," Sen pleaded, low voice insistent. "Delta, I want to help you."

The inkling shook their head, voice warped by the smooth metal mask on their face. The heavy ink coating their body wavered, damaged by Sen's own. The octoling squeezed their wrist, mouth ajar to say something else, when they fell apart into a puddle of ink that stuck to his palm and oozed between his fingers, into the white of his shoes.

Sen jolted back, returning his grip to the shooter in his hands. The weight of it made him want to cringe, as the second of his opponents finally caught up to him. The ex-agent didn't hesitate to strike the roller down; the expression on his face easily read as disturbed.

Pearl whizzed close to his ear, making Sen tilt his head to avoid the blades of the drone's propeller.

"Hey!" She bumped into his shoulder purposefully. "Eight, c'mon. Get your head in the game!"

Sen opened his mouth and shut it again, widening his stand. The next wave was starting. He had to get through to at least one of them.

A blaster-wielding copy of the inklings from before rushed him, it's shots popping in the space between them and spattering slick black ink across the empty ground. Sen had neglected to claim any turf between waves; he was paying for it now.

The blaster gave him no room to get in close, and Sen shot them down without a second thought. It didn't get any easier to watch them succumb to the onslaught and their body liquefy into an unrecognizable stain on the floor.

Sen peppered off a few shots, hiding the evidence of the kill. He rounded on the next - a slosher insistent on trying to cover as much ground as possible. The octoling gritted his beak, grinding his fangs together. He threw caution to the wind and rushed the slosher.

The cloying black ink sprayed over him, seeping through his armor and shattering some pieces of the holographic tech. Regardless, Sen got what he wanted; he raised his knee quickly, jostling the slosher out of his adversary's hands. It clattered uselessly to the ground.

The inkling paused and drew their hands to their chest. They ran.

"No!" Sen lunged after them, giving chase, but the inkling pitched over the side of the platform and into the endless abyss below. Sen went off the side after them.

His hand caught in the deployed handle Pearl had to offer, and with some difficulty, she righted him on the platform of the room again. The drone deployed a bomb, which bounced to the feet of an approaching brella. It got caught in the brella's shield and exploded, spraying orange ink into the face of another masked inkling.

That one pitched backward, sinking unceremoniously into a puddle of ink.

"Eight," Pearl's projected eyes narrowed. "What's going on? Come on, take care of this!"

Sen waved the drone off. He was running out of chances.

"I have to get one of them alone," he looked up at Pearl, who wavered in midair; she was unsure of where he was going with this.

Pearl tilted up in the direction of the enemy cage, already bringing along another brush. "You got it."

Sen nodded. The octoling was glad to have her support.

The brush was another bust; this one never even made it to him, caught in his ink. Briefly, Sen wished he hadn't invested in those poison ink chips, wanting to tear them right out of the palette if it meant he could get his hands on one of these masked inklings.

The roller gave him more trouble than he'd admit, tracking wide swaths of black ink across the floor that had Sen frustrated. He gunned them down out of impulse and moved on.

Pearl, to her credit, tried to get the blaster in a corner. Unfortunately, she lost track of them under a swarm of jelletons that the enemy drone deployed. Occupying herself as a sprinkler to try and cover ground, Pearl didn't notice the blaster until it had already fallen prey under a poorly-placed bomb. Sen watched the altercation out of the corner of his eye and resolved to forgive her botched effort.

He was down to the dualies and the shooter; the latter seemed to have perched at the top platform, watching Sen's desperate display from the safety of its ledge. He had no doubt they'd come down and face him when they were good and ready.

The dualies certainly were eager to take a shot at him, and their mobility gave Sen a real run for his money. He struggled to keep up.

The octoling frowned to himself, sidestepping as the inkling came rolling right past him. He lunged at them, knocking one dualie out of their hand and pushing them down on uninked ground.

Pearl hovered nearby, spinning nervous circles. The shooter-wielding inkling watched from above.

Sen pinned his target's chest under his hips, knee dug painfully into their wrist.

"Delta," he pleaded for what felt the dozenth time since he started this endeavor. "Please, I don't want to fight you."

He dropped his shooter aside. The absence of weight as it left his hands had Sen feeling more confident. His fingertips traced the edge of the inkling's mask, and they stopped struggling.

Sen's hearts sank in his chest. The seam of the mask was completely smooth, as if the shiny metal had been fused into their face.

"No," he mumbled, trying to dig his claws down. The inkling under him writhed as thin beads of black ink pushed up around his sharp nails. "No, no, no. Delta, please."

The inkling tried to kick him off, and Sen nearly let them. He tried again to pry up the mask, and it was starting to give. The octoling slid his fingertips under the edge as it rose. His mouth watered unpleasantly as more black ink oozed out from under the mask, frighteningly warm. It stuck to the inside of the mask as he pried it off.

There was nothing underneath. The inkling splattered into a puddle under his knees.

"Eight!" Pearl warned, deploying a suction bomb.

Instantly, Sen grabbed his shooter and rolled to the side. The enemy shooter had joined the fight with a massive splashdown.

Sen's vision blurred. He wanted to be sick. He didn't have time.

"Looking for me?" The inkling's voice warbled.

Sen got to his feet. The shooter was approaching casually; unsure, Sen's body tensed as he waited for the inevitable attack. It didn't come. Pearl puttered nervously nearby.

"Sen," the voice went on, as the inkling toed the line of Sen's orange ink. "Come here."

He shook his head and gripped tight on his shooter so much that he nearly squeezed the trigger on accident. A part of him wasn't sure if he was refusing the order or warning them not to step into his ink in its poisoned state.

The inkling pressed on, beginning to struggle through the ink towards Sen. It was clear they were taking damage.

"Delta," he breathed as the inkling adversary suddenly dropped their weapon. This had never happened before. Why now? "Please, let me - let me help you."

"Sen," Delta's voice skipped and pitched in weird ways, "Sen it hurts, please - make it stop - where's Gamma?"

Then sharp static cut through their voice, and Delta's head rolled to the side limply. They fell to their knees, silvery mask beginning to slide off their face. Tarlike ink oozed against it as the metal clattered to the floor, still connected by thick ropes of viscous ink.

Delta's body dropped limply to the floor. Sen sank to their side, weapon discarded; his hands pulled fistfuls of their blackened jacket into his grasp.

He begged, quietly, for them not to disappear; even if he knew that they'd fight again. He wouldn't be able to explain it to Gamma: that he'd failed, that he was going to fail again and again and again.

Over, and over, and over and over again.

Delta's body was quickly liquefying under his touch, a thin veneer of semi-transparent ink floating atop the thick black. Sen's stomach churned as he recognized it as blood.

[ramayantika]

–✦– 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙍𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣 –✦–

Usha's tale

Lakshmi

It's Diwali today. Maa got me a beautiful blue-pink lehenga which also sports peacock feather designs on it. I look so pretty! I whisper at myself in the mirror, admiring the lehenga, my golden bangles and the small bindi on my forehead. Lakshmi pooja will begin in the next fifteen minutes. I hear my mother's bangles rustle as she arranges the pooja thali with diyas, sweets and laal tika. Papa is decorating the small mandir with flowers and my brother as usual is sitting on the sofa being utterly clueless about everything.

But I look so good. I feel like Radha from that Krishna cartoon on Cartoon Network. Blushing, I take one last look at myself before heading for pooja, my mind busy thinking about that cute Krishna cartoon I watch obsessively every weekend. Don't tell my mother, okay? I wrote a song for Krishna. Will you read?

Maa is reading Lakshmi stuti now. My brother is staring at the ladoo bowl. Papa is ringing the bell and I well -- I kept my eyes open all the time. I want to see Lakshmi enter my house. If I close my eyes, then I will miss her arrival. Who knows she might share ladoos with me from the thali?

My bangles jingle and somehow my dupatta gets stuck on the shiny stones. I look at the window pane to fix the dupatta and the bangles in case I jerk too hard and tear my pretty dupatta. That's when I see a mist form over my reflection. Rubbing my eyes, I squint to check if I was hallucinating or it really happened.

It was all real! The hazy mist cleared and with the reflection stood the Goddess of Wealth, Lakshmi. I knew her from that cartoon and a TV show after I secretly peeped behind a wall to catch a glimpse of the scene. Don't tell Maa that due to me trying to catch glimpse of the scene on TV, I got a sum wrong.

Dressed in a richly embroidered saree in shades of red and pink, the goddess stood right there in front. She had a beautiful smile which made me grin. She doesn't look as old as the badi didis who are working in an office. She appears the same age as me. I love her saree and say, "Hi, Lakshmi! Your saree is so beautiful." The goddess replies, "Thank you sakhi! Your dress looks lovely too. It even has peacock feathers, my favourite."

I am twenty now. As a very young girl, I thought of the goddess as my dear friend. She is nature, the ultimate wealth of this world, yours and mine. She is nurturing, loving and kind. For days, I felt low and my sparkle dimmed, she, my dear goddess turned friend stood by my side and she will always be.

Right sakhi??

[doom-dreaming]

good news: the characterization analysis i'm writing is longer than the snowball fight fic

bad news: ^ + i'm only about a third of the way finished with it

[kensanwrites]

40 Hz Creative Life Series: Writer Affirmations Gamma "Focus" Wave Binaural Beats | LOA

 Welcome to our empowering video, "40Hz Gamma Wave Binaural Beat Affirmations for Writers" – Elevate Your Focus, Unleash Your Creativity, and Harness the Power of Manifestation! 📝🌟

 In this transformative session, we've harmonized the concentration-enhancing frequency of 40Hz Gamma Waves with motivational affirmations crafted for writers. Join us on a journey where we explore the principles of the Law of Attraction, Law of Assumption, and writer motivations, all backed by the uplifting influence of positive affirmations.

 🧠 **40Hz Gamma Wave Binaural Beats** - Immerse yourself in the heightened cognitive frequencies of 40Hz Gamma Waves, optimizing your focus and creativity as you embark on your writing journey. 

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 Remember, consistency is key. Choose the listening style that resonates most with you, and make these affirmations a regular part of your routine. Whether in the background, during meditation, or actively affirming, these positive messages are designed to uplift and empower you on your journey. Enjoy the transformative experience! 🌟

[sabotourist]

Fanfiction writers we stay silly

[ramjam-jamming]

A dynamic I enjoy....

[thegameartist03]

@cryptidcaper I'd love to talk about them! This is gonna be a pretty long post, so I put in a couple tl;dr's for those who just want to get the gist of it.

I have no idea what to call this, so I'll keep running with it being a Phantom of the Paradise au. There are some changes to the themes and content of the original story based on what I felt comfortable writing about and discussing, but everything else is pretty much intact. If you have any questions, suggestions, or comments, feel free to throw them my way! I'll be happy to talk more about it.

(overall tl;dr: the au is set in the 2020s, the supernatural is part of everyday life, Swan is the head of media conglomerate Death Studios and working for an Entity known as Sparrow to collect souls, zombies and ghosts make for cheap labor, Winslow is trying to get his stage production of Faust seen, Phoenix has a YouTube channel for explaining the paranormal and wants her own show, Beef is a writer, actor, and director who gets an arguably worse fate than the movie, Swan took the band name Undeads too literally and now the Juicy Fruits are trapped working for him forever, Philbin is a stone construct disguised as a human)

A little context about the world to start. (tl;dr, it's the 2020s, paranormal beings like zombies exist and are well known but not talked about, Swan made a deal with a powerful Entity called Sparrow to stay young forever and collects souls for Sparrow in exchange, now Swan is head of the Death Studios media conglomerate, he's incredibly influential and successful, meanwhile he's using contracts to exploit and control his workforce which benefits both him and Sparrow, most workers are Undead or constructs because their labor is cheaper.)

This version of the story is set in the 2020s (partly because I didn't want to do a ton of research on the 70s, partly because I thought it'd be funny if Winslow started dissing Swan on twitter). The supernatural is very present and well known by people but not often acknowledged. Ghosts and zombies exist, spirits can decide to help your houseplants grow or give you bad luck, hand-carved constructs are used for jobs that would be too dangerous for humans, and fae-like beings known as Entities walk the lines between worlds and lure people into contracts to increase their power. Talking about these paranormal parts of the world is taboo for most so there's a lot of fear and misunderstanding surrounding them. It's also kept hush-hush by certain people who rely on the supernatural to profit.

Swan is one of these people. In the 50s, an Entity known as Sparrow approached him at his lowest and convinced him to sign a contract. In exchange for eternal youth and power, Swan would collect more souls for Sparrow. Swan has been largely successful with this through his company Death Studios (upgraded from Death Records) and has expanded from the music industry into general entertainment. He now directs a media conglomerate and makes use of social media to promote his definitely not stolen or exploited productions. Think Mr. Beast meets Disney meets Netflix. He's wildly popular, and partly due to the influence and power granted by Sparrow, almost no one questions how he's still so young and successful and those who do ask questions are quickly silenced. Every artist, writer, actor, singer, musician, producer, etc dreams of one day working for Swan.

Behind the scenes, Swan uses his sweeping control of the entertainment industry to hire fresh faces, sign them onto exploitative contracts, and then drain them of all they're worth. This benefits both him and Sparrow. And, if someone tries to leave or raise the alarm, they simply have a little 'accident' and are brought back as an Undead who can be exploited even more and paid even less. The majority of Swan's employees are actually Undead who have been trapped by their contracts and unable to move on as long as Swan finds them useful.

With that lengthy explanation over, onto the characters!

Winslow Leach is about the same, he's a composer and writer who's been working on a musical stage production of Faust for most of his life. He's not well known and dreams that his work will one day be seen by the world. He has a knack for getting into places he shouldn't be, he's bad with computers and writes most things out by hand, and at this point he's naive and almost blindly optimistic. I'm also giving him The Tism and reclaiming those vibes from the movie because Projection and Yes.

Phoenix never got into singing, though her voice is still terrific. Instead, she's a paranormal investigator and has her own small YouTube channel talking about the supernatural and its presence in their world. She's not as afraid of the unnatural as most people are, and she hopes that exposing these things that people try to sweep under the rug will help them understand the paranormal better and be less afraid of it. She dreams of having her own show one day with the budget to do proper explorations of lesser-known paranormal sites and beings. She's determined to reach this goal to the point of recklessness and risking her own safety, especially since some of these beings can be incredibly dangerous. She's waiting for her shot to get out of her dead end job and chase her goals, and she's not letting anything get in the way.

Swan is Swan, the only big difference is he has a bit more obvious supernatural-ness to him. His Entity-given power relies on perception, making people perceive him however he wants them to. He can extend this power to others and disguise his more inhuman staff so they blend in with the natural world. He plans to open a new major studio location/online streaming service called Paradise+ and is looking for the right content to do it. He's also on TikTok, which is horrifying enough.

Beef! He's a professional actor and writer who's directed and taken part in plenty of stage productions and films in his time. He's also a guitarist, which doesn't come into play in his work as often as he'd like. He suffers the same fate as he does in the movie, but that's far from the end of his story.

The Juicy Fruits are Swan's swiss army knife of an entertainment group, and of course they've all signed contracts with him. Whatever the trends are, the Juicy Fruits will adapt to them. They've gone from songs to gaming to children's entertainment. At one point, the group decided they wanted to move on from Death Studios and tried to exit their contract. Unfortunately, there was an 'accident' during one of the rehearsals, and now they're permanently trapped under Swan's thumb unable to escape or reenter society. The 'accident' also affected their looks, so when they perform they're either animated with motion capture or disguised by Swan or heavy makeup and prosthetics to hide the fact they are no longer alive.

Sometime in the 60s, Swan purchased an older property that included a number of stone gargoyles. In need of some body guards that wouldn't ask questions and weren't as fragile as the usual human grunts, he had them removed from the building and then brought them to life. Thus, Philbin was created. He's Swan's right hand man and does all the dirty work. He doesn't have much to complain about; Swan gave him a disguise so he can appear as human, he gets paid enough and treated better than most of the other employees, and he's got relative freedom in his job. Most contracts are signed through Philbin on behalf of Swan.

This is already really long, so I'll go in depth about the plot in a separate post. But, to give a short summary, the plot of the movie still happens (with a few twists and a different ending), and then the characters go through a few arcs trying to figure themselves out and how to escape Swan's influence. Winslow in particular struggles with his identity and who and what he is after getting Phantom'd. There's laughs to be had, horrors to be witnessed, and not everyone is going to be making it out alive (or un-alive). As a final note, if anyone has any ideas for what this should be called, lmk!

[dzthenerd490]

File: The Wyoming Incident

SCP#: AEJ

Code Name: The Wyoming Incident

Object Class: Neutralized

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-AEJ has not been reported since its manifestation. Furthermore, those responsible were apprehended but eventually died as a result of the incident. As such, the chances of it happening again and low, but just to be safe, the Telecommunications Monitoring Office - Internet Division and Broadcast Division are to alert Foundation administrative staff in the event of SCP-AEJ or something similar happening again.

Description: SCP-AEJ was an incident where several TV stations were hacked by cyber terrorists determined to cause chaos for laughs. However, what they displayed was not disgusting or disturbing imagery, though it did appear as such, but in reality, was much worse. It's unknown exactly how, but the hackers were able to obtain rejected memetic images created by Group of Interest: PENTAGRAM.

For those that don't know, PENTAGRAM is a division of the United States Department of Defense. While the FBI: UIU was created to investigate anomalous threats within the US, PENTAGRAN was made specifically to combat anomalous threats to the ALL of the US. It has been approved of existence by the SCP Foundation and is funded by the Global Occult Coalition. Unfortunately, PENTAGRAM is not as protected as either organization and thus, was how this situation happened.

The hackers obtained the memetics which were rejected because they failed to do as PENTAGRAM wanted. Instead of proper brainwashing or memory wipe; they often causing seizers, headaches, stroke, nausea, and other forms of mental deterioration. These symptoms easily got worse as time went on often leading to their bodies flying in the air while they entered a comatose state, their eyes glowing in a blinding light, their skin suddenly rotting out of nowhere, or their heads just bloating until they explode. It should be noted that anomalous symptoms are always a risk with exposure to multiple memetics in a short period of time. It's for this reason why memetic training and therapy, though effective, is considered dangerous as it can overload the brain and damage it beyond repair.

SCP-AEJ was discovered in 2006 within [data expunged], [data expunged], [data expunged], and a few other cities, all of which are in Wyoming. The event nearly led to an MK Class Broken Masquerade Scenario had the Foundation not reacted in time.

Mobile Task Force Dionysus-1 "Fake News" was entrusted to feed the media a story of a sudden outbreak of a new pathogen within the state of Wyoming. Afterwards Mobile Task Force Gamma-5 "Red Herrings" was deployed to distribute amnestics to anyone who wasn't affected but witness the incident. Meanwhile Foundation agents and MTF units disguised as CDC agents found those who were affected and used amnestic treatment on those that could be saved and quarantined the rest. The hackers involved in the incident suffered the same fate as those who saw the broadcasting of the amnestics. They were used as test subjects to see how to properly subside and even reverse the effects before actual treatment was taken to the affected public. This action was approved by the Ethics Committee, "A fitting punishment" in their own words.

The cover story worked with the public believing those that could be saved were cured and those that were mutated were killed by the plague. The incident was unfortunately known forever in history as "The Wyoming Ghost Plague" or as "The Wyoming Incident". Though the Foundation can take pride in knowing that no civilian will ever know the true nature of the SCP-AEJ incident.

Side Note: PENTAGRAM vouched to the ACPA council to take responsibility for the SCP-AEJ incident. However, the ACPA did not listen with Foundation representatives even claiming, "a lesser organization cannot be expected to handle such consequences". Just words but considered quite the insult to those in the anomalous world that desire to protect the interests and innocence of the public.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[st-dorothy-minority]

Random "Know Your Enemy" Cell/Two Scene

Setup: Two's memory has been erased of everting prior to his original kidnapping. Before that, as you can start to see in the main fic, Two and Cell got to be very close - even to the point of sleeping with each other.

Now that Two's memory is gone, Cell is struggling to grieve the loss.

Standing alone at the edge of the pond, secluded away from the mansion and away from anyone, was the person he reluctantly knew he needed the most. He hadn’t paid much mind to Cell’s increased skittishness around him, explaining it away by believing it was nothing more than another way Cell showcased his dislike of the Gammas; however, knowing what he did now and deliberately observing whenever the behavior happened, he noticed One didn’t elicit the same reaction out of Cell. It was only him.

Approaching the tall, shadowy figure, Two didn’t waste any time getting down to business. He was sure Cell heard his footsteps anyway, negating the need for any sort of formal greeting. “Piccolo told me you were around quite a bit in my recovery. I didn’t believe him until One confirmed it. What’s that about?”

Despite it being dark from night and Cell keeping his back to him, Two caught the nearly imperceptible change in posture of the other android. It was a whole-body tenseness that even had his fingers curling ever so slightly.

“They said you were the one who decided to keep everything a secret,” Two went on. “….and if there was anyone who could fill in the blanks for me and tell me why….it’s you.”

In an instant, Cell shot upward into the sky, soaring to the upper limits of the atmosphere at a break-neck speed.

“HEY!” Two shouted and took after him. “Where are you going?! What the hell?! I’m trying to have a conversation!”

It wasn’t until he was nearly fifty miles above the Earth in the blackness of space that Cell stopped. Two arrived beside him shortly after.

“What the hell was that about?! What’s your problem?! Why are you being such a jerk?!”

For the first time in what felt like an exceptionally long time, Cell turned and looked directly at him. The storm of emotions present in his eyes and expression were palpable, his entire aura giving off a heaviness that signaled a burden he’d been carrying that had Two shocked and intrigued.

“What do you feel being here in this moment?” Cell eventually asked.

Finally hearing the sound of his voice had Two fumbling for an answer; it was certainly not a question he was expecting after this weird encounter so far. “Uh, well….” He glanced around as if he was meant to see something among the stars before settling on, “Nothing special.”

“Exactly. You don’t feel anything from being up here now. There is nothing to associate it with anymore. No one down there knows what happened to you, except for me. And no one in this whole universe knew what happened to me, except for you. You did. And now, that’s gone. There was a bond to be had, something no one else could understand – but we could. And now it’s gone.”

“Cell….what are you talking about? Tell me what happened. Please. I need to know.”

“Consider it my one and only gift to you, Two. In fact, I envy you for it.”

[moopermoment]

hey guys i wrote a oneshot fanfic for a fanfic. and on a rarepair nonetheless.

needless to say i'm insane </3

also bonus art related to fanfic (spoilers)

[lynnetendo]

in celebration of uproar's first anni, here's a gif i made of them last october where i drew each member 4 times for maximum unnecessary effort. i love them so much they're such funky dudes

[doom-dreaming]

recent out-of-context beach house sentences, in no particular order. guess what this fic is about, wrong answers only

(hiding some under the cut. one is definitely nsfw)