#it for sure wasn't spite leveling

[wtf-amiru]

when the hubs helps you try to get over your tank anxiety <3

#ffxiv #a'miru #catpix #yes #gpose #ashern vee #miqote #female miqo'te #male miqo'te #it for sure wasn't spite leveling #definitely not #lmao

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: Wrong Number

Bruce prides himself in keeping all of his networks secured. If he didn't make it himself, he had the funds and connections to get him the best working on his systems.

He had backup plans in case the systems were ever hacked, of course, but he had yet to encounter a cyber attack that wasn't beaten away by his firewalls or his team.

Babs and Tim were far more feral when booting out unwanted guests. The level of protection was also transferred to his other systems that weren't Batman-related, just to make sure the connection between Bruce and Batman was never made.

That's why he never really checks his personal phone's caller ID, not the one he gave out as Brucie Wayne, but the one Bruce used for his real life without any masks- civilian or vigilante. The only ones who had the number- and the access- were his children and Alfred.

Not even the Justice League- those who were aware of his identity- knew of this number.

Bruce is in the middle of typing up a report for the next Wayne Board meeting when his personal phone rings. He figures it's Dick giving him a call to update him on his drive home or maybe Jason, as his son was planning on going to college.

"Go for Papa Bruce," He says, knowing his kids hate his phone greeting and doing it deliberately to spite them.

There is a long pause where he can't help but smirk thinking his child is either rolling their eyes or cringing too hard to properly speak. Eventually, a voice cracks over the speaker.

"Hello. I'm selling cookies to raise money for my own star. Would like to buy a box from me?" says a boy, not one he has taken in. The voice is young maybe not even double digits yet. Bruce is alarmed.

"Who are you?! How did you get this number?" He demands, yanking his phone to his face and seeing, with a chill, a phone number out of state.

His system had been compromised. By a child. By accident.

"My name is Danny!" The boy chirps. "I sell cookies. Like the Girl Scouts, but I'm a boy, and I don't scout."

"That's rather fantastic, lad. What kind of cookies are you selling?" Bruce asks to keep the boy on the line while sending an email blast to the others. It's a string of numbers that are code for compromise so they all know to close any communication channel until it's safe to get back on.

"Chocolate chip. Mint Slim. Oatmeal and peanut butter. I made them myself!"

Right. Bruce hooks up his phone, tracing the call. The signal bounces off the call, swinging up to a salute and falling back down to earth. In seconds he has the boy's location. It pings in a small town right outside of Star City.

He sends Barry a private message. His friend is already on the way to the location. He'll get the boy in a few seconds.

"How much for a box of chocolate chips? Those are my favorite." Bruce tells the boy, voice whimsical as his Brucie persona demands.

In an unsure tone, the boy pauses, then whispers, "I don't know. No one ever let me get this far."

"How about twenty for a box of dozen? I'll buy five boxes for each of my kids that live at him," Bruce tells him, and the boy gasps.

"That could buy me one whole night in a hotel!"

Bruce's insides freeze. What did he mean-

"Hey! No! Let go!" Danny suddenly screams. Bruce's heart launches- he hates it when kids get hurt, especially those that sound like Danny- until Barry's voice comes over the speaker.

"I got him, Mr. Wayne. Thank you for alerting the Justice League Hotline." That's code for This is not a threat to you Batman and Bruce allows himself to relax just a little.

"Narc!" The boy shouts, outraged, before the call drops. Barry is likely taking over the situation, which means Bruce can leave it in his capable hands.

After reassuring his kids that he is fine and that they are all safe, he suits up and meets the Flash in the Watch Tower. There, he learns that Danny is only seven years old and has been living on the streets for a while.

The boy had been surviving by baking some cookies to sell on the side of the street- where did he bake them? The boy would not say- until he got the bright idea to try to sell through phone calls like he had seen on TV.

He punched in random numbers at the community center phone and gave his pitch about a star, thinking people would be more willing to buy from him if he had an excellent reason.

Barry had left him with CPS, but he looked devastated about that. It turned out that Danny was a meta and had likely been kicked out of his home once it was found out based on what he said of his parents.

Bruce felt he should assure Barry that Danny was fine and look into his placement to help settle his more sensitive teammate's nerves.

He was unhappy that Danny was not in a good placement; there were far too many reports from a concerned neighbor to make him think it was a safe place. Given the fact that placement had a lot of meta kids that "fell through the cracks," Bruce worried he had just stumbled across a trafficking ring.

He would sick Barry and Jason on them. Just to ensure they wouldn't see the light of day again.

Still, that did not fix his mistake with Danny, the little cookie seller.

Bruce hacked into the system to move Danny. He thought about where he would move the young child but ultimately had him in Wayne Manor.

Just until he could confirm that he would be safe. He certainly didn't think about the adorable little boy who called him with his heart in his hand and got sent to a terrible place for three weeks because of Bruce.

Danny arrived at Wayne Manor with a happy little bounce and a chipper outlook on life than Bruce was expecting. "If it isn't Mr. Narc!"

God, he going to adopt the boy, isn't he?

(Danny has been thrown into a different universe, aged down to a child. He survived by overshadowing people into letting him spend the night baking cookies.

He was thrown into a somewhat typical home, but the nosy neighbor down the street took far too much notice of his overshadowing, and now he was being moved again.

Maybe he can terrorize Mr. Narc now instead? )

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny de-age #Dimension travel #Crack #Basically He overshaowed people and everyone lost their minds about it #Barry will fight Bruce for Danny #Danny will make it his life goal to be Bruce's life hell

[ckret2]

Chapter 40 of human Bill Cipher, in spite of his fondest hopes, still being stuck in the Mystery Shack:

As much as Gideon wants out of the evil magic game, the survival of his father's used car dealership rides on Gideon's help.

And, relatedly, Bill's started receiving psychic car commercials.

1981

Ford had been in his study for what felt like forever, staring at the pile of papers and numbers on his desk, trying to stop the figures from shifting and swimming before his eyes; when something from behind him lit up the dim room with golden light and he a heard a familiar voice behind his shoulder—

"Heeey, Stanford! You've been having a lot of dreams about tax forms lately, what gives?"

Ford was startled out of his thoughts. He turned around, smiling in relief. "Oh, Bill! Hello." Apparently he was dreaming. Thank goodness. It explained why he couldn't seem to get these forms to make sense. "How long have you been watching me?"

"About twenty years."

"What?"

"About twenty minutes," Bill said. "I wasn't going to bug you tonight, but usually your dreams are a little more adventurous! You're starting to worry me, kid." He disintegrated the tax forms with a gesture and floated down to sit on Ford's desk, like a razor-thin glowing paperweight. It was strange to see him cross his legs. "What's on your subconscious?"

Ford hadn't thought his Muse cared that much about his day-to-day human troubles. It was comforting to know someone was worrying about him—someone so far beyond human potential that maybe Ford didn't have to worry he'd be disappointed to learn Ford was struggling a little. "It's my grant money," he sighed. "I feel like my research into Gravity Falls is nowhere near completion, but that money will only last for so long. It won't be long before I'll need to ask for more funding, and I'll have a hard time convincing anyone if I don't have anything to show for it, but I don't want to share incomplete research..."

"Ah, money. The second-worst curse human society's ever inflicted on itself."

"What's the worst one?"

"Marriage."

Ford barked a laugh. It wasn't even that funny a joke; it was just such unexpectedly human cynicism for such an otherworldly entity. It sounded like a joke Ford's dad would make.

"Well, money. What to do..." Bill drummed his fingers on Ford's desk, gazing off into the distance as he thought. Ford realized that, at some point while he was distracted, most of his study had vanished, leaving his desk and chair sitting precariously atop a faint gridded plane in the starry blue void where he usually met Bill. Finally, Bill said, "Have you considered buying gold?"

He hadn't. "Will it help?"

"Sure it will! Eventually!"

"In time to help pay my mortgage?"

"Hmm." Bill thought a moment longer, then snapped his fingers. "Got an idea." He floated off of Ford's desk to eye level, strange sigils appearing in white-blue light around him. "Do you happen to know where the people who decide your funding live?"

"Er... the general area." It had to be near the Backupsmore campus, didn't it?

"Then I might be able to help you!" The symbols solidified around Bill. "I know a little spell to help persuade people. It'll let you plant ideas in their dreams—give 'em a little subliminal nudge. It could make some bigwigs come around on the importance of the research you're doing out here."

A fascinating concept. Ford studied the sigils greedily. He didn't recognize them, but they looked fairly simple. "You're not... talking about mind control?"

"Nah, that's not in my wheelhouse. It'll just let you... talk to them! Like I talk to you! I'm not controlling you, am I?" His eye curved up in a facsimile of a smile. "But you'll find most people have a harder time ignoring you when you're talking to them inside their own heads. What they do with that when they wake up is up to them. Just think of it as a way to schedule an interview where you'll have their undivided attention."

Ford pressed his lips together as he thought; then shook his head. "Thank you, Bill, but no. I wouldn't feel right earning money that way. I'd rather know they were impressed by the scientific and historical value of my work—and if I use magic, I'll never know for sure if they really thought my work measured up."

Bill laughed. "That's what I like about you, Stanford! You really shoot for the stars—and you've got the work ethic to get there! You don't want the fame and fortune unless you earn it!"

Ford was momentarily taken aback. It was rare that his muse openly complimented him; on most nights he dealt with Ford with a sort of cool, detached fondness, something a little too distant to be real affection. When he did voice his approval, it was like the sun coming out after a month of cloud cover. There were nights, when Ford was really feeling his isolation in these woods and he'd half convinced himself all his years of research had been a waste of time, when he was half willing to chase that sunshine to the ends of the earth.

"You'll do whatever it takes to finish your research, won't you?" Bill asked.

Ford gave Bill an awkward, self-conscious smile. "Of course I will. How could I not?"

"Hey, not everyone has your ambition! Most people take the easy way to the top. Cheating, copying, riding on greater men's coattails... Some guys earn the dough to buy their gold, others just want to dig for someone else's." Bill spread his hands in a shrug. "Well, it was an idea." The sigils started to fade.

Ford raised a hand. "Hold on. I don't want to use it, but... do you think I could learn that spell anyway?" He smiled hopefully. "For research?"

"For fun?"

"For fun."

Bill laughed. "I was waiting for you to ask!" The sigils reappeared, and next to them appeared an incantation. "All right, I'll walk you through it. Pay attention, I don't think you've got enough time to go over it twice this REM cycle."

Ford nodded, focusing fully on Bill, determined to remember the spell well enough to record it in Journal 2 when he woke up.

####

Spring, 2013

Tentatively, Bud Gleeful said, "Son... now, I know you lost that spooky grimoire of yours. But... don't you have anything left that might help out the dealership?"

Gideon growled in irritation. "I told you, father! Everything I knew was in Journal 2! It's gone! Anyway, I'm just trying to be a normal kid now. I don't want to get mixed up in any more magic. I'm through with it."

"I understand," Bud said, nodding. "And I think that's mighty admirable of you, turning over a new leaf like that. Shows real maturity." He hesitated, wringing his hands together. He pre-emptively winced and said, "But it's just that... business hasn't exactly been booming, ever since your little tenure as Bill's sheriff. And you know I love the fellas you made friends with in the penitentiary, they're all such... colorful characters; but having them hang around does make folks a little wary to drive into the parking lot..."

Volume doubling, Gideon snapped, "Are you saying it's my fault?!"

"No, son, no. You know I'd never." Bud knelt down, and—cautiously, like he was trying to pet a feral cat—put a hand on Gideon's shoulder. "But, well... business is slumping, that's all. We'll be fine as long as we live within our means, don't you worry about that—but our means might not cover luxuries like those fancy suits and fine new boots you like so much, you understand."

Gideon lowered his gaze, tugging self-consciously on the sleeve of his favorite suit jacket. It was already just a little too short to be fashionable; he probably didn't have long until he outgrew it completely.

"Your mother and I are doing all we can," Bud said. "If there's anything you can do... well, you don't have to, of course. But—it'd be a mighty big help."

Gideon grit his teeth, glaring at his feet. (How long until he outgrew all his shoes? He had a growth spurt coming "any day now," he'd been told. The prospect didn't excite him.) He balled his hands into fists; and then muttered, "There... might be one spell I remember... the sigils were pretty simple..."

####

June 2013

Bill could see it in his mind's eye: if he kept pushing and pushing eventually there'd be no more room in two dimensional space for his mother to fill, and then she'd be forced to bend UP, up into the third dimension, all that open free space. Then she'd see the dark, she'd see the far points of light—

"STOP!" His mother howled in pain. He kept pushing. She was out of room. She didn't bend up. He shoved—and she splintered. Bone snapping, cartilage tearing, he could see inside her thin body as things broke and ruptured. He didn't know what to do.

And for several long, long seconds—he couldn't remember what was happening. The world seemed to bend wrong, and he couldn't remember.

At least, he couldn't have remembered a few weeks ago. He hadn't wanted to. But he'd been studying a book on lucid dreaming since then; and the first things it taught was how to remember more of his dreams. And now, he recalled exactly what happened next when he pushed his mother and she splintered and ruptured:

He pushed harder.

Her skin fractured and peeled off, strand after strand. It filled the spaces between his fingertips, wrapped up his arms. He could shut his eye but he still saw it through his eyelid, still felt it tickling at the corners of his mouth. 

"You want me to tell everyone the third dimension's full of dead shapes?! Huh?!" All he could see was blood and bone and peeling skin. "Then why don't you go find them for me!" He let out an angry, hysterical, broken laugh.

Her hand grabbed weakly at his.

He let go and jolted back, gasping—and almost retched. What had he done? He hadn't meant to. But he'd kept pushing—but it was too late by then. It was too late by then, wasn't it?

"What have you done?"

Bill whirled around to face— "Dad?"

The green trapezoid looked as sick as Bill felt, eye darting in horror across the crumpled line in the corner. He couldn't even see most of it from where he was—his eye didn't work like Bill's, he couldn't look through the mess of skin to the gore beneath.

"It was an accident," Bill whispered. (He'd kept pushing.) "It really was, I promise."

His father tore his eye from the corpse to Bill's face. "What are we going to tell your followers?"

Bill looked past his father. Through a wall so thin Bill almost couldn't see it, hundreds upon hundreds of shapes were settled, waiting—to see him. He was sure: somehow, somehow, they could see him too. They knew what he'd done. His life was over.

A thunderous voice boomed, "Whooee, what a fix! Boy, you look like you could use a getaway car, couldn't you?"

Bill blinked. He blinked again. He looked up-but-not-north.

A human in a pink Hawaiian shirt, standing on top of the universe, looked down at him.

Bill said, "What."

"Here, let me just—getcha right—" The human plunged his hand through the second dimension, scooped beneath Bill, and popped him right up off the surface of the universe. "Now, if you'll pardon my saying so, you look like you could use a little help getting somewhere far, far away from here!"

Bill stared at him. "What."

"And I've got just the thing to help you!" the human declared. "Aren't you feeling stuck? Trapped? Just can't take your obligations anymore? Miserable you can't hit the road and see all of—well—" he gestured vaguely out at the flat surface of the universe stretching into the distance "—whatever this is? Then you need to visit your buddy Bud Gleeful—(that's me)—at Gleeful's Auto Sales, the finest used car dealership in Roadkill County! We'll get you a set of wheels that'll carry you on the cross-country police-evading tour of your dreams!" He dropped his voice and murmured to Bill from behind his hand, "Warranty expires at the state line."

"What." Bill looked down at the universe—and was disappointed but not surprised to see he wasn't a triangle anymore, but a human. He looked at Bud again. "Are you advertising to me. Is this an advertisement. Am I getting advertised to in my sleep."

"And if you sign before you leave, we'll throw in a free air freshener," Bud added.

Bill stared at him in horrified amazement. "I am going to kill you," he said. "And then I'm going to wake up and kill you in real life."

"Ah, well. That's a right shame."

####

Bill shot straight up with a roar of rage. "Oh, when I get my hands on...!"

"Whoa. Bad dream?"

Bill whirled around with a murderous glare. Dipper's spirit, ghastly and pale, was hovering in the middle of the attic. Bill snapped, "You're a bad dream!" He scrambled after the spirit.

"Whoa! Hey!" Dipper tried to swoop away from Bill toward the stairs.

Bill caught him by the back of the neck. "You are going back in your bo—bed, you're getting in, and you're not getting back out."

"Ow, let go!" Dipper squirmed in Bill's grip, kicking his feet in the air. "I was just going to turn off the TV! I heard it playing an advertisement, I think that's what put me in... you know." He gestured at himself. "The sleepwalking dream."

Bill hesitated in front of the kids' door. "What advertisement?"

"I don't know, it was too far away to tell. But I know it was an advertisement, it sounded... advertise-y."

"Hmm." Bill considered that. And then he flung Dipper's soul through the door.

"HEY!"

"I'll turn off the TV," Bill said. "Go back to sleep!"

Ugh. Everything ached, his stomach was trying to turn itself inside out in an attempt to escape and go forage for food independently, and the world held a vindictive grudge against Bill personally. He trudged downstairs, muttering crabbily to himself.

He wasn't surprised to discover the TV was off.

####

"I'm conducting a survey," Bill said. "Did you hear any advertisements from the TV last night? Maybe have any dreams that might have been influenced by hearing an ad?"

"Uh..." Soos slowed at the bottom of the stairs as he thought. "Nope. Slept like a baby all night."

"Interesting." He waved at Melody to try to catch her attention. "Hey, how about you?"

"Nope!" Already dressed for work, she hurried from the stairs to the living room without even glancing Bill's way. She tended not to linger when he was nearby. He told himself he was flattered.

"Dude," Soos said, "What happened to your arm?"

Bill looked down. On the underside of his forearm were two thick lines set at an angle, burned so dark brown they were nearly black. "Leaned on the stove after someone used the burner. Oops."

"Do you need...?"

"Don't worry about it, it's already healing." Bill rolled down his hoodie's sleeves as he leaned into the kitchen, "How 'bout you, Stan? Hear any phantom ads last night?"

"Nuh-uh. But I sleep with my hearing aids out," Stan said. "The only things loud and grating enough to wake me are a car horn or your voice."

"Ha!" Bill looked from Stan's side of the table to Ford's—and Ford wasn't facing him, but he was glancing from the corner of his eye toward Bill's arms.

Bill turned away without asking anything. No point. Obviously, Ford had been too far underground to have picked up anything. Bill told himself Ford was seething at getting the cold shoulder.

"What're we talking about?" Mabel asked, coming downstairs with Dipper close behind.

Bill looked at her—and then let his gaze sweep past her with the same cold disinterest he'd favored Ford with. He brushed past her to head upstairs. "Hey, somnambulist." He shoved Dipper's hat down over his eyes as he passed. "TV was off. No one else heard anything. You dreamed your stupid ad."

"Hey." Dipper pulled his hat back up. "Jerk."

Mabel called, "Bill?"

He ignored her and kept walking.

####

"What was that all about?"

Bill was curled up in the attic window seat, flipping covetously through an issue of Gold Chains For Old Men; at the sound of Mabel's irritated voice, he merely said, "Oh, hello." He turned another page. "Here to try to make a fool of me some more?"

She planted her hands on her hips. "Bill, what are you talking about?"

"Tell me about those 'Mysteries' of yours. Did you plan your story any deeper than that? Were you going to arrange for me to catch you with a cloak and dagger just to make me wonder?"

Mabel paused. "Oh." She laughed weakly.

"So how many people were in on it, huh? Was it just you and Stanford, or did you have the whole house laughing at me behind my back?"

"It—it was just us two." She leaned on the wall by Bill's feet. "Um, so... are you actually mad?"

He shot her a venomous look, then lifted his magazine so he couldn't see her any more.

"Come on!" She poked his knee. "It was a harmless prank! And you lie to everyone all the time."

"No I don't."

"You're so sensitive."

"I am not," Bill said indignantly. "I'm proud. I have pride. And lately pride's about the only thing I have going for me. And I didn't think a friend would try to undermine it."

Mabel heaved a sigh. "Okay, all right. Sorry."

Bill lowered his magazine to peer at her skeptically. "Are you really?"

"Well, yeah." She leaned against the window seat. "It was just a joke, I don't wanna hurt your feelings."

He stared her down a moment longer, assessing her sincerity. And then he sat up and pulled her into a hug.

She squawked in surprise, but returned the embrace. "Bill! What—?"

"You're sweet, you know that, star girl?" He gave her one last squeeze and let her go. "When you aren't trying to make me look dumb. But you don't rub salt in the wounds, that's what matters."

"Pfff. I kinda think you'd try to kill me if I did."

"Mmyeah, I might." He wouldn't. Only person in this entire dull rotten world who was willing to apologize for wronging him. He wasn't giving her up easily. "Hey—did you happen to hear any commercials last night? Maybe have any dreams that might've been caused by one?"

"Nope! I had a dream about cats fighting a war against an octopus."

"Oh, that one. Did the octopus win or did the lions show up in time?"

Mabel paused. "It's always creepy when you do that. But the octopus won this time."

"Aww. That poor picturesque beach town."

"I tried to get between the octopus and the town when the cats failed."

"Did you stop it?"

Mabel shrugged. "Dunno. I woke up before it reached me."

"Too bad! But hey—you've been making big progress with your lucid dreaming. You'll get it next time!" No salesmen offering cars as war chariots for the cats, though. It was almost a pity. Bill would've liked to hear about Bud getting eaten by a giant octopus.

"So I guess Dipper was the only one who thought he heard a commercial."

Dipper and Bill. "Guess so."

####

The large, empty floor room, down the main hallway at the far end of the house, was among the few places Bill was allowed to go. Except when the humans had some big event like a dance or a museum exhibit planned, there was nothing in it but a flat old sofa, a fireplace he couldn't turn on, and Soos's electric piano taunting him. In spite of its relative isolation from the rest of the household, Bill rarely had reason to visit it.

But when he wanted space to pace and think, there was no better room.

Last night's advertisement was magic, no doubt. And he suspected he knew the exact spell. The Mystery Shack was way on the outskirts of Gravity Falls; probably nobody else here was affected because they were just out of range of the signal. The only reason Dipper had nearly picked it up was because he didn't have his thick skull in the way when his spirit was out of his body.

But Bill's psychic abilities had been heavily suppressed since he was put in this body. How was he channeling the signal so much more clearly than anyone else?

He thoughtfully ran his tongue over his new golden tooth. "Hmm."

####

Bud entered the Gleeful house flipping through a pile of mail. "Junk, junk, bills, junk... Here's your subscription, honeybunch." He held out an issue of Nervous Wrecks Weekly magazine. His wife paused her cycle of polishing the front window to stiffly take it.

"Junk, coupons... Gideon! You've got a fan letter!" He checked for a stamp indicating the tiny envelope had passed through a state correctional facility. "And it isn't even from the prison, isn't that nice!"

"Coming!" Gideon ran out of his room, snatched the letter from Bud's hand with a little grunt, ran back to his room giggling, and slammed the door.

Bud chuckled. "Joy, sweetie, you remember when that boy got so much fanmail he used to throw it out? These days he's excited for every single letter." The corners of his mouth turned down. "Suppose it's good for him, learning to appreciate the little things."

"Mhm." She looked down at the roses outside the window. She'd need to trim those soon. "I suppose it is."

In his room, Gideon studied the odd envelope. It was tiny—barely large enough for the address and the stamp, no return address—and when he turned it over he discovered lines of text printed on the paper. The flap was tucked carefully into a fold in the envelope that held it tight.

As he pulled out the flap, he realized that the envelope wasn't held together with glue; it was some sort of cleverly-folded origami craft that began to unfold in his hands as he pulled out the flap. The letter was written on the inside of the envelope. "Why—what a delightful little creation!" He sat at his dressing table to focus on unfolding the letter, careful not to damage it so he could re-fold it later.

Once he'd smoothed it out, he could see that the paper was carefully torn from a book. The outside of the envelope was made from the last page of a chapter, with only a few lines of text at the top of the page and the rest left conveniently blank. It talked about telling the difference between waking and dreaming.

He turned the page over to read the letter.

GIDEON–

IT'S ADORABLE THAT YOU'RE USING A DREAM COUNTERFEITING SPELL FOR CAPITALISM! I BET YOUR PARENTS ARE PROUD! HOWEVER, MY FILLINGS ARE PICKING UP AUTO DEALERSHIP ADS ALL NIGHT. IT'S REALLY ANNOYING. CUT IT OUT.

In place of a signature, there was a triangle with an eye.

Gideon's blood ran cold.

He read the letter again, then studied the words themselves. He didn't recognize the tall, thin, crooked handwriting. He flipped over the envelope. No return address. He noticed for the first time that the letter wasn't addressed to "Gideon". It said "STAR BOY". Fan mail. Right.

The postmark was from Gravity Falls.

"It can't be Bill," Gideon muttered to himself. "Bill's dead. It's got to be some prankster with a twisted sense of humor..."

But then, how could some prankster know he was doing dream magic? Did anyone else even know that Bill had called him "Star Boy"?

No. It had to be a prankster. If Bill were alive, he'd be doing much worse than sending letters and complaining about fillings.

He crumpled up the letter and threw it away. His father's business needed Gideon to do whatever he could to help. Gideon's own financial future depended on it. He wasn't about to let some prankster stop him.

####

There was a rumble of several motorcycles and a revving car engine outside the Gleeful house, disturbing the late evening still. Gideon came in the front door wearing a little backpack, waving behind himself as he came in. "Thanks for the ride, Ghost-Eyes! Good talk today! I'll see y'all this weekend for brunch!" He shut the door as the engines receded into the distance.

"Welcome home, son," Bud said from the couch. "How were the ex-convicts this week?"

"Oh, great, just great. Graybeard's daughter is gonna let him meet his grandson and Spiderwebs got a new job."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear. I know you were real concerned for Spiderwebs."

"I shouldn't have worried! He got work at an alpaca ranch on the other side of town, did you know there's an alpaca ranch 'round here?"

"Can't say I did!"

"I think it's a good fit for him. Being out in nature calms him down."

An uneasy silence fell over the room as they waited a polite amount of time to change the topic. In the kitchen, Joy cleaned the same dish for the third time.

Bud cleared his throat. "Well, uh—you know, it's been a couple of days since we've run a 'nighttime ad.' Do you think it's a good time to...?"

Gideon squeezed his backpack's straps. He could still see that spindly text reading "STAR BOY". "Do you think? I don't want to put 'em too close together, folks might notice..."

Bud grimaced. "It can't hurt. It's been almost two weeks since I sold a car."

Gideon scowled. But he nodded. "Yeah, all right. I'll go set up."

"You know how much your mother and I appreciate it," Bud said. "I'll go heat up dinner."

Gideon went to his room, tossed his backpack on his bed, rolled out the tarp on which he'd drawn the circle and sigils in permanent marker, and set up the candlesticks and candles around the perimeter. His father called him to dinner; they watched an evening talk show; and after a little more dawdling, they figured it was late enough that most folks would be asleep, and went to Gideon's room to get to work.

As Bud awkwardly lowered himself to sit in the circle and Gideon lit the candles, Gideon asked, "Father, do you ever... remember who you talk to? I mean, whose dreams you're in?"

Bud considered that, pursing his lips. "No, can't say I do. It's a bit like I'm dreaming myself," he said. "And it's sort of a jumble of a few hundred dreams, too. Like I'm visiting the whole town at once. All I can recall is a blur!"

Gideon frowned. "I see."

"You sure you don't want to be sitting in the circle this time?" Bud asked. "I'd bet if folks saw you in their dreams telling them to buy a car, why, they'd just rush right down."

These days, Gideon wasn't so sure. Sourly, he said, "I don't want to get involved." He'd gotten enough of starring in his father's car commercials when he was younger. He'd thought he'd escaped that completely when he picked up the telepathy act; he didn't relish the thought of using telepathy to star in another car commercial.

"All right, suit yourself. Just keep it in mind." Bud got as comfortable as he could on the floor and shut his eyes.

Gideon took a deep breath and began chanting: "Dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away; tonight you'll dream of what I say; dreamers, hear me, from far far away..."

The flames flickered and turned bright blue. A purplish shimmery light surrounded Bud; and as Gideon kept chanting, the light expanded to the edge of the circle and beyond, creeping across the floor, over the bed—

A shrill wail filled the room. They both started, losing their concentration. The wail persisted several seconds before it resolved into a eardrum-bursting roar of words: "HI I'M SCOUT YOUNGER AND I'M IN A PICKLE SO YOU CAN DRIVE FOR A NICKEL! I'VE GOT SO MANY CARS I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO PUT 'EM! SO WE'RE GIVING THEM AWAY FOR FIVE CENTS, THAT'S RIGHT FIVE CENTS! SCOUT YOUNGER, I'M A DEALER BY THE PEOPLE FOR THE PEOPLE—"

"Dagnabbit," Bud shouted, "that's the man undermining my no-barter-for-a-quarter deal and getting all my business! He's halfway to Portland—but darn it, his commercials are so catchy!"

"—THAT'S YOUNGER PATRIOT CARS, ON THE NORTH SIDE OF INTERSTATE—" The commercial was cut off with a clap of thunder that made them both jump again.

And before the dying rumbles of the thunder had fully faded, a second voice spoke—a high-pitched, furious shriek that Gideon hadn't heard in nearly a year but instantly recognized: "SEE HOW YOU LIKE GETTING USED CAR ADS SHOVED DOWN YOUR THROAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, YOU LITTLE TWERP. THIS IS MY FINAL WARNING!"

There was another crack of thunder; and then nothing.

Nothing but a faint, muffled, mechanical whir coming from Gideon's bed.

Slowly, Bud said, "Is that...?"

Gideon looked under his bed; then on top, tugging over his backpack and unzipping it; and he pulled out a still-running cassette tape player. A complicated sigil was painted on top of the player and stretched over the play button, glowing shimmery purple as though it had absorbed the magic from Gideon's spell.

Bud took the tape player, stopped it, rewound a bit, turned down the volume dial, and hit play: "—your throat in the middle of the night, you little—"

He stopped the tape. He and Gideon looked at each other.

Bud said, "Don't tell your mother."

####

"Third lap!" Dipper crowed as his car zoomed over the line on the digital racetrack. "You'd better catch up fast!"

"Aw, c'mon," Mabel groaned. She tilted her body along with her game controller as she steered her car around a tricky curve, as though that would help her go a little faster. "No fair, I'd be winning if you didn't throw a goose at me—"

"Pff, shut up, you always use the goose."

Bill was sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching the fish tank—as far as either Dipper or Mabel could tell, having a staring contest with the axolotl—but without breaking eye contact with the tank, he leaned over to elbow Dipper's knee. "Hey kid. Go left."

"What? No, shut up." Dipper tried to kick Bill's arm away.

"Go left. Trust me, it's a hidden shortcut."

"No! You're not even watching."

"I'm psychic. Go left."

"No." Dipper jerked his car to the right. It drove off the track and landed in quicksand. "Aw, man—"

"YES!" Mabel sailed past him. A fanfare played as she crossed the finish line. "The winner! Woo-woooo!"

Bill beamed as Dipper glared at the side of his face.

Somebody knocked on the door—and kept knocking, frantically hammering for attention. Dipper and Mabel looked over.

Bill glanced over, rolled his eyes, said, "You don't want to answer that," and looked back at the fish tank.

Dipper glared at him again, stood, and went to answer the door, Mabel close behind. "Hel— Gideon?"

"Told you," Bill muttered.

Gideon was sweating, panting, and wild-eyed with panic. "Mabel! Dipper!" He paused to give Mabel a sweet smile. "Hi Mabel~♡" And straight back to panic. "We've got a problem! I know y'all don't want me 'round here, but—but this is an emergency!"

Dipper glanced at Mabel. She sighed, but reluctantly stepped back to let Gideon in. "All right. What is it?"

"I know I sound insane, but—but you have to trust me," Gideon said. "I don't know how, and I don't know why, but Bill Cipher's back! I'm sure it's Bill, it can't be anyone else, he... he knows things only somebody with his powers could know!" He paced anxiously in front of the twins, "He's been sending me threatening mail and harassing me and—and I don't know what he's up to, but we've got to find him and stop him! You've gotta help me!" He grabbed Dipper's arms. "I think he might be trying to kill my family!"

Dipper and Mabel turned to glare at Bill.

He was determinedly studying the fish tank.

"Hey, Goldie," Dipper snapped.

Bill glanced over with an expression of mild interest. "Hm?"

"Gideon here says that Bill's been harassing him," Dipper said. "What do you think about that."

"Oh wow," Bill said, extremely unconvincingly. "That's so crazy. I can't even believe it."

Gideon's anxious gaze darted past Dipper and Mabel. "Who's...?" He thought he remembered seeing that stranger around Wendy.

Dipper stepped between their line of sight. "Thanks, Gideon. We'll handle this... problem."

The stranger got to his feet and sauntered to the entryway. "Hey Gideon. Just out of curiosity, what were y—"

Mabel cut in, "Bye, Gideon!" She tried to push him toward the door. "We'll see you later!"

The stranger leaned over Gideon, planting a hand on the doorframe. "—what were you doing that got on Bill's nerves so much, I wonder—"

"Shhh!" Mabel tried to push Bill away.

Had Gideon not heard the voice so recently, he might not have noticed anything odd about the stranger in front of him. But as it was, a chill instantly ran up his spine. He slowly looked up. The menacing smile was unfamiliar, but the eye... something was wrong with that eye. The longer he stared into it, the more he could see the cruel, mad, golden inhumanity.

Gideon squealed in terror and bolted out the door. 

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut and groaned. "Seriously?"

Mabel chased after him. "Gideon! Gideon wait!" She caught up with him rounding in front of the gift shop and had to tackle him into the dirt.

"Get offa me! You're working for him, you traitor—"

"Gideon, listen! We're not working for him, he's our prisoner!"

"Oh." Gideon stopped struggling. "Well, that's a different kettle of corn, isn't it."

Mabel sighed in relief. She backed off Gideon, but had to hold his ankle to make sure he wouldn't bolt again. "Okay, look. We don't know how, but Bill's stuck in a human body, and he's got no powers."

"How do y'all know he isn't faking it?"

"Because he tried to kill us and we beat him up." She winced. "We've... kind of beat him up a lot."

Gideon nodded. "O... okay."

"But you can't tell anybody," Mabel said. "If there's an angry mob or something and he gets executed, the real Bill might hatch from his body like an egg and he'll take over the town again!"

Gideon shuddered. He could almost still feel ache in his legs and the blisters on his feet under the adorable sparkly pink shoes.

"So he's fine here with us. We've got everything under control, he's not dangerous like this—" Mabel turned around to shout, "—and HE SHOULDN'T BE SENDING THREATENING LETTERS, BILL."

Bill's voice drifted from around the corner of the house: "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!"

Dipper said, "What did Gideon do to warrant that, anyway?"

Bill glowered into the distance. "He knows what he did."

"Okay, I-I won't tell anyone. I promise." Pitifully, Gideon asked, "Can I go home now?"

"Yeah, you can go home now." Mabel let him go. He got up and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him.

####

They reconvened in the living room. Dipper and Mabel stood in front of Bill, glaring. Bill sat on the sofa, smiling innocently.

"Bill," Mabel said. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Oh, yeah?" Lots of people thought he should be ashamed of himself, but not many had the guts to say so.

"Bullying Gideon like that!"

"I have an excuse," Bill said. "I've been crabby this week. Body made me crabby. Some kind of human neurotransmitter imbalance. I didn't sign up to have neurotransmitters, it's completely out of my hands."

"That's not an excuse," Dipper said.

"Plus, you're an entire adult thing!" Mabel said. "You're picking on a little kid! He's like, eleven!"

"So? There's not a lot of difference between eleven and a hundred eleven when you're a million million years old."

"Then maybe you're too old to bully anybody."

Bill blinked in mild surprise. "Huh."

Dipper said, "Plus, you're gonna blow your cover and get everyone in trouble!"

Bill shrugged. "He can't prove anything! Anyone could have sent a letter pretending to be me."

Mabel asked, "How did you send a letter, anyway?"

####

"Hey, Soos," Mabel yelled, "Can you send a letter for me?"

"Sure thing, hambone! Just stick it on the pile in the kitchen."

Mabel licked a stamp, haphazardly slapped it on the envelope to her parents, tossed it on the other mail, and ran back upstairs.

Bill crept into the kitchen, peeled the stamp off Mabel's envelope before it dried, stuck it on his tiny origami letter, and stuffed them both into the middle of the mail pile. "Sorry, kid," he muttered. "You'll just have to resend this one."

####

"I have my ways," Bill said.

"And how did you 'harass' Gideon?" Dipper asked. "What could you possibly do from in here to harass him?"

####

Bill sat on the sofa in the floor room with Mabel's boombox radio on the floor, a cassette tape player/recorder he'd salvaged from the museum held up to the speaker with his thumb hovering over the record button, his other hand hovering over the key with the thunder sound effect on Soos's keyboard, an air horn between his knees, and a nearly-dead marker he'd fished out of Mabel's trash and revitalized with rubbing alcohol waiting next to him for drawing a magic-activated sigil. He glared at the boombox as the local radio station played an advertisement for air conditioning installation. "Come on," he muttered at the boombox. "Play the stupid car commercial."

The next ad started. "Bargain alert, bargain alert! I've got more used cars than I know what to do with! Hi, I'm Scout—"

"Yes," Bill hissed. He hit the record button, squeezed the air horn between his knees, held the tape recorder up to the boombox until the end of the commercial, kicked the boombox's power button, quickly held the tape recorder up to the piano, and triumphantly hit the key that produced the sound of a flushing toilet.

"NO!" He kicked the electric piano's leg, flung the tape recorder to the other end of the sofa, and flopped face down on the cushions. After permitting himself a moment of grief at the injustice of it all, he dragged over the tape recorder, stopped it, rewound it back to the start, hit the lightning key several times to make sure he had it, and then set up again to wait for the next time the car commercial played.

####

"Hey Wendy, could you get this door for me?"

Wendy gave Bill a puzzled look. "That's the wrong hallway. Rainbow Club's down that one." She pointed at the door across the room.

"I know, I'm just looking for the restroom! I need to dooo... girl hygiene things?"

Wendy looked at the tape player-shaped lump under Bill's shirt, looked at his face, and raised her brow.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna prank Lil Gideon."

Wendy opened the door, leaned through, and opened a second door to a coat closet. "Good luck. We're all counting on you."

Bill saluted her, and rummaged through the leather biker jackets in search of Gideon's little backpack.

####

"You've got no idea what kind of dark powers I still have at my disposal," Bill boasted, leaning back and lacing his hands behind his head.

Dipper turned to Mabel. "Yeah, he's got nothing. He probably bribed a tourist to call Gideon's house or something."

Bill scowled, but didn't dignify Dipper with a response. "Anyway, the game's over now that Gideon knows where I am. I won't do it again."

Dipper scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Why should we trust you?"

"Because," Bill said calmly, "if I do it again, you'll have to tell your uncles, and I'll be in serious trouble. So I won't... and therefore, you won't. Right?"

Dipper frowned, but looked at Mabel. Mabel was considering Bill with her hands on her hips. She prompted, "Aaand...?"

It took Bill a moment to figure out what she was aiming for. "And I've realized I was mean and I'm very remorseful for my hurtful actions."

Mabel pointed at him. "That's what I wanna hear!" She looked at Dipper. "I think we can let him off with a warning."

Dipper shook his head in resignation.

Mabel said, "But you're not stopping there, Bill."

"How's that?"

"Come on, man, think!" She poked her finger against her temple. "You know the answer! We just watched this episode yesterday!"

"Episode?" Dipper asked.

"I've been using Color Critters to teach him social skills."

Bill said, "I have social skills, all you're doing is showing me what'll be on the test."

"That's how learning works, dummy! I wanna hear you regurgitate that textbook answer!"

Bill opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and pantomimed sticking his finger down his throat and gagging; but then he said, with a blatantly artificial chipper tone, "'If we hurt our friends, we should try to find a way to make it up to them and make sure it can't happen again.'" 

"That's right! 98 points! I'm taking two off for attitude."

"So how do you expect me to make it up to him? I can't exactly un-send him a letter. Unless you're gonna loan me that time tape—"

"Stop asking for the time tape," Dipper said, "it'll never happen."

Bill shrugged. "Then what do you suggest."

"Figure it out yourself," Mabel said. "You're the one who's gotta make it up to Gideon, not us."

Bill rolled his eye. "Is this part of the terms to buy your silence?"

"Yeah, it is."

"All right, fine." Bill sighed and stood up. "Give me a bit to brainstorm. I'll be upstairs." He meandered out of the room.

Mabel called after him, "You better not think you're wiggling out of this!"

"Relax! I won't disappoint you, Shooting Star. Promise."

Once he was out of earshot, Dipper turned to Mabel. "How do you expect him to make it up to Gideon?"

"He should say 'sorry.'"

Dipper nodded. Okay, sure, that sounded reasonable. "How long do you think it'll take for him to think of apologizing?"

"I'd give it a couple of hours."

####

(If you recognize the dealership being parodied, we now share a warrior's bond. Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, I've been looking forward to introducing Gideon for a long time! As always, I'd love to hear y'all's thoughts and comments on the chapter!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gideon gleeful #mabel pines #dipper pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(i got impatient I'm posting this a few hours early)

[onesidedradiostatic]

swerving off topic to word-vomit about vox’s hypothetic delusional poly relationship with val and al asdfhc he’d call it business and pleasure dhsjdfj but what was vox even expecting to happen if alastor said yes???? like did he think some kinda lady marmalade scene was gonna go down ?? (labelle version! I never knew that lady marmalade was creole and set in New Orleans?)

Vox is so good at cultlike manipulation that he deluded himself into believing he was in a world where Alastor would ever want to share a spotlight. Let alone prolonged eye contact. He’s really drinking his own cool aid. /affectionate

lmao what if that’s how Vox died: (squashed by a tv joke theory my beloved) he drank his cult’s poisoned communion juice by accident, embarrassing… it would parallel so nicely with the theory that Alastor’s death was also accidental and embarrassing: possibly the “best” serial killer of the 20th century; meticulous planner, double life aficionado, (best of both worlds hannah montana transformation twirl) stealth extraordinaire. and he gets mistakenly taken out by local billy-bob-elmer-fudd who can’t see for shit and his dog fido. I mean. I’d be embarrassed.

Dang now I want Valentino to have an ironic embarrassing death. Maybe he was distracted by a bright light while crossing the street and hit a windshield like a bug

Maybe their initial demonic power level is partly determined by how pissed off they were when they died. Powered by spite

wdym what was he expecting to happen KLSDGKSHK he probably expected exactly what he was asking, for his fantasy business polycule to happen. but the world doesn't revolve around him like that so it didn't. considering how he apparently got pissy over alastr saying "no", being rejected clearly wasn't what he was expecting. well he got one of them does that count for anything

I'm not sure if I follow the rest of the ask, I don't really have big death hcs but that's funny LMAOOO, the alastor one isn't even fully a hc though cause being mistaken for a deer and shot by a hunter was something stated by ex-staff who used to work closely with vivzie, but it's not fully canon either so I guess you could still call it a hc

#ask #osrs.txt #sometimes it takes me an unnecessary amount of time to mentally process asks sorry sometimes my brain doesn't work #radiostatic #staticradio #onewaybroadcast #staticmoth #voxval #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino

[margaretoakgrove]

Taking care of Heisenberg

If once you decide to open an old huge dictionary and find the word ''workaholic'' within this book, i bet the name of this handsome man certainly will be its definition.

It is just incredible that each day Heisenberg finds so many hours to build his metal army of mechanical undead soldiers and, unfortunately, such a small amount of time for taking care of himself.

The lord tends to put his own self-care and state of health aside, but you, on the very contrary, put them on the first place along with yours.

Actually, it will be fair enough to say, that you enjoy taking care of your loved one, and the undeniable fact that you are able to make his life easier and better turns you into one of the happiest people in the world.

Heisenberg is definitely a man of a good appetite, but in spite of that he prefers a simple food over rare exquisite dishes. Therefore if you just cook a fried meat with boiled potatoes and a simple vegetable salad, be doubtlessly sure that your pretty hands will be covered with little kisses of his endless gratitude.

Oftentimes, the old worn clothes of the lord become dirty and damaged as he usually works with motor oil and different metal scraps with rather sharp edges, but you are always ready to remove any oil stain from his trousers and sew up every hole in his shirt.

One needs to mention that your loved one's work is not only physically hard, but it's also hazardous, and, at times, sharp tools, metal scraps or even his own creation that, all of a sudden, went totally crazy can injure him. After such unpleasant situations you carefully patch his bleeding wounds up, and Karl, seeing a concerned look on your face, every time gives you a reassuring smile and tells that you shouldn't be so worried because of just another scratch. (Well yeah, just another scratch which, in the afterwards, turns into another deep scar.)

As Heisenberg strictly forbids you to wander the lowest levels of the factory completely all alone, warning that it's super dangerous, you cannot go down there and check on him when he burns the midnight oil, creating one more addition to his army.

But when the lord sits in his workshop on the highest and safest floor of the building, designing and improving scatches or writing down important notes, you always bring him a healthy snack and a mug of aromatic strong coffee even in the middle of the night which is not a problem for you at all.

When your loved one, after working hard during all day almost in nonstop regime, tirely flops down on your shared cozy bed, you don't ever mind to provide him with a wonderfully relaxing massage. The caring hands of yours slowly and gently rub his weary neck and shoulders, and Karl doesn't even try to hold slight moans of an absolute pleasure, letting you understand like this how unbelievably good you make him feel.

By the havoc which practically daily happens in his life Heisenberg, rather often, feels very stressed out, and you perfectely know that at these gloomy days of his Karl needs the comfort of your company more than usual. You caringly offer him to drink a nice cup of hot relaxing herbal infusion and take a slow walk on the fresh air somewhere in the woods, trying to speak on positive themes in the process of your little trip, at the same time listening to the calming ambient sounds of the nature.

In winter you are especially worried about the health state of your dearest man, noticing that despite a cold weather he is quite lightly dressed, and his neck is perpetually open to the strong gusts of freezing northern and western winds. Does one need to say how surprised the lord was when you timidly gifted him a simply-looking yet so soft and warm scarf knitted with your own golden hands? No, the man wasn't just pleasantly surprised, he was baffled, even shocked by this gesture because literally nobody in his entire life has ever done such a nice thing for him.

Having the new accessory wrapped around his neck (which fits him well, by the way), Karl attends special occasions by the name of family meetings where he with a smug-ass smile on his face lively brags to the siblings (especially to Lady D) about what a kind, caring and attentive person his precious darling really is, unlike someone's annoyingly buzzing bloodthirsty bugs.

Heisenberg is sure as hell that he will never be grateful enough to you for everything you do for him every single day, understanding very well that without your divine presence in his life he would never ever feel so truly loved and cared for.

But the lord does not even imagine that the short sincere ''thank you, Buttercup'' of his makes you melt like a sweet sugar cube in a hot fragrant tea.

And each new day you are willing to keep tirelessly surrounding him with your priceless love and tender care because this so close to your heart man means the world for you and, surely, even more.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil 8 village #resident evil village #re8 #re8 village #re village #Lord Heisenberg #Karl Heisenberg #Heisenberg #House Heisenberg #Lord Heisenberg headcanons #Karl Heisenberg headcanons #Heisenberg headcanons #Lord Heisenberg x reader #Karl Heisenberg x reader #Heisenberg x reader #Lord Heisenberg x you #Karl Heisenberg x you #Heisenberg x you

[quartzalynlove]

Nervous

Pairing: teen! gojo x black fem reader

Summary: gojo was a cocky son of a gun but for some reason that changed whenever you were around

A/N: I've got too much tumblr stuff I'm tryna juggle😞

Geto just wanted a little one-on-one with Gojo, but that idiot was too occupied with staring at you as you finished stretching for combat training. He'd been going on like this for two weeks, if he wasn't staring at you, he was thinking about you and nothing else. Geto sighed as he threw the ball at Gojo. He didn't even have his infinity on.

"What the hell, man?" He grabbed his arm where the ball hit

Geto went to grab the ball himself, throwing shade as he passed Gojo.

"If you're not gonna focus at least find the balls to talk to her."

"The hell are you talking about?"

Geto held the ball at his side as he stood next to Gojo. "You stare at Y/N like she's a piece of meat."

Gojo scoffed, "No, I don't." He said as he watched your arms flex while you stretched them behind your back.

Next were hamstring stretches, Gojo watched your dark curls and toned legs for a moment until he realized you were doing toe touches. He finally looked at Geto.

"At least you're not a pervert." Geto walked off as he dribbled the ball, Gojo following behind.

"Shut up."

For a while, Gojo was actually focused. It was anyone's game as usual, both of them staying evenly matched. Gojo scored another point, but caught a glimpse of you sparring with Shoko. He tried to keep his head in the game, but that split second he caught of you felt like an eternity. Your strength was just so captivating, not to mention your beauty to match.

Gojo tried to handle his ball but missed his shot despite how close it was. Finally, the bell rang, and Geto sighed. Coming next to Gojo, he watched his best friend continue to stare at your backside.

"Tell her, Satoru," he said. "I hate winning because you aren't engaged."

There was no way he'd say it out loud, but there was no way Gojo could confess to you. He was intimidated by you. It was stupid that he was, you were so nice, but you were also so cool, so pretty, so strong. What could he possibly have to offer you? Sure, he wanted to be with you, but would you want to be with him?

"Hold on," Geto said, suddenly. "Are you scared to talk to her?"

The expression Gojo's face twisted into said no, but the blush over his cheeks proved otherwise.

"Huh! Of course not; she's just a girl."

"A girl you like," Geto added. "I'm not making fun of you, Satoru, but it's not like she'll rip your head off."

Gojo sighed, his gaze shyly returning back to you. "Yeah, but...who wouldn't be scared to talk to her. Have you seen her? She's..."

Geto nudged Gojo who was so lost in your image that he wasn't paying attention. "Coming this way."

Gojo's eyes widened; Geto was right. With a towel in hand, wiping the sweat from your glistening face and chest you approached them. No. You approached Gojo. He looked to Geto with his mouth hanging open, but he simply hit Gojo on the shoulder with a smile.

"See you in class, Satoru." Geto walked away.

Gojo was ready to kill Geto right in the gym, but he froze as you stopped right in front of him.

"Yo, Gojo."

He thought he'd melt right there at the sight of the towel draped over your shoulder and the small smile on your face.

"Y-yo, Y/N." He kicked himself for the way he stuttered, but thankfully, you didn't seem to notice.

Gojo was struggling to pay attention to your words, more focused on each of your muscles that flexed as you pulled your hair back in a ponytail.

"Could you spar with me next time," you asked. "Shoko says I've started to surpass her. I doubt I'll be able to keep up with you, but it's either you or Geto."

Gojo's brows rose at the humble laugh you gave. He had no idea what your strength levels were, but for all he knew the two of you could be on the same level. Was that why he liked you? No, it was because in spite of all that, you still lifted up those that were weak, by his standards. You looked after the innocent on missions and assisted your fellow sorcerers. You were everything Gojo wasn't. Gojo could feel himself blushing.

"You alright?" You tilted your head with concern as you noticed Gojo's flushed cheeks.

"Yeah!" Gojo said quickly, his voice cracking slightly. Swallowing that extra embarrassment, he cleared his throat and finally answered your question. "Yeah...I'll train with you."

A bright smile spread across your face, "Thank you," you beamed. "I've almost perfected my reverse cursed technique, and if I get it right I'll be able to help so many people."

Your compassion was astounding. Gojo had seen you obliterate curses without breaking a sweat, but they weren't even your main concern. It warmed something in him. Your passion was admirable, and that smile...he wanted to make you smile like that all the time.

You started to turn on your heels, waving goodbye to Gojo, "I guess I'll see you in class," you said. "Don't be late. You're still not back on Yaga sensei's good side."

Gojo wanted to move, but he was stuck in place as you started walking away. How long could he let this go on? Would he even be at his 'A' game when you started training? You were so many things he couldn't define, and he didn't even feel worthy enough to ask you out. Still, it was now or never. He either faced rejection now or let you figure it out after you beat him way too easily.

Gojo sighed before catching right as you opened the gym door, "Y/N," he called.

As you turned back, Gojo started to catch up with you. Before he knew it, he was right in front of you. Your beautiful dark eyes gazing softly at him was enough to want to make him chicken out, but there was not turning back now. After a moment of hesitation, Gojo spoke.

"After school, did you want to see that movie you've been talking about?" Despite his best efforts, Gojo couldn't look at you. He glanced around before struggling to meet your eyes.

You smiled again, softly and definitely catching on, "Zombie Catchers 3," you chuckled lightly. "But I thought you said zombie movies suck?"

Gojo bit the inside of his cheek. Not too long ago, you, him, Shoko, and Geto got into a debate over the best movie monsters. Gojo believed that aliens were undefeated.

"I did, but...you really like them."

You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. You didn't think Gojo would remember how you've been waiting for that movie to come out, but he did. Gojo remembered so many things about you. Even if they were things he disagreed with, they were your traits and quirks. They only made him fall harder for you.

It was your turn to get a little nervous and hesitate before you answered. "Then I guess it's a date."

You and Gojo shared a glance before you left the gym, and he followed not too far behind.

#gojo x reader fluff #gojo scenario #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo saturo #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x black reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo is alive #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #jujutsu kaisen shoko #jujutsu shoko #black reader #fluff #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fandom #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[robinmage]

It's curious to me, how the general consensus among others when it comes to Chise's curses are "bad; we need to get rid of it (we just don't know how.)" Which, considering they are both curses made of pain and suffering, makes sense why someone wouldn't want to keep those around.

We (the audience) know vaguely how the curses interact with each other. The dragon's curse: made from strong emotions of anger and despair, provides Chise with her strength and durability against both magical and physical elements, at the cost of her own strength one day tearing herself apart. Cartaphilus' curse prevents her from dying, but offers no protection against injury or decay. Together they "keep each other in check"-- Cartaphilus will keep her alive, the dragon will keep her strong.

A lot of things have happened in the past arc that make it easy to forget the fundamentals of the first season. When the series started, Chise was a few steps away from walking off a roof. Even after she arrived in England, it took a long time before she decided that maybe life wasn't so bad. Her entire life up until that point had been nothing but misery; abandoned and alone, she had no one to protect her from the constant targeting and harassment by both fae and humans alike. She believed that the only way to escape her torment was through death... I think its a facet of her character that goes unfairly unrecognized a lot (especially after the first arc).

When she's in England and is going through her mental/psychological character development, she is still facing the imminent threat of her weak sleigh beggey body constantly failing her. Using magic exacerbates her condition, causing her to be sick and/or incapacitated for significant stretches of time. It's painful, it's uncomfortable, it's frustrating. By the time she realizes she wants to live, her clock is already running quite short.

Her solution is handed to her on a rusted platter. To be "just like everyone else", for once. Finally.

Going to school, hanging out with friends, using magic without it killing her-- all things shes never been able to do before. All thanks to the curses trapped in her. These things that should be considered a horribly tragic fate have now become her salvation. Both physically and mentally, she's the strongest and most resilient she's ever been. Yet, when faced with the idea of liberating herself from her curses...

The curses only work the way they do because they're in sync with each other. Taking away either curse would leave her vulnerable to the other-- the dragon's curse would slowly overwhelm her into a brutally agonizing death, while Cartaphilus' curse would leave her to live and suffer through the constant breaking down of her sleigh beggey body.

When told about the reality of her curses and just how severe they are (not just to her, but to the people around her), she doesn't seem to completely understand what that may mean for herself and her future. Or perhaps, she just doesn't care. After a life where pain and suffering was her "normal", she finally has the means to create something meaningful and positive out of herself. How could that possibly be a bad thing?

She understands on some level that these curses were only ever meant to be temporary. Elias' original goal, to keep Chise alive in spite of her sleigh beggey curse, has not changed. Tacking on two more curses was not a part of the plan, and though they've offered a temporary solution and some time, curses are called curses for a reason. They cannot be relied upon. They've got to go.

But getting rid of those curses (both, or either) essentially puts her back at square one. Back to the pain, discomfort, and illness. She probably won't be able to use magic without hurting herself, too. She's gained freedom in both mind and body for the first time in her life. Sure, she encounters a few hiccups, but considering what she's used to, this is a big step up.

Something has finally given her the power and freedom to spread her wings and fly. Would she be able to clip her own feathers just because that power is "supposed" to be "bad"?

Could she? Could you?

Through it all, everyone she's come across has appointed her curses as a problem. Everyone, except...

#i just find it inchresting. i like this guy i think hes cool but i also think his student is a sociopath #<- things that can also be said about elias and chise i suppose #i just KNOW elias is kicking himself for not knowing the existence of this mage when his student was on deaths door last season #sorry this turned out a lot longer than i thought it would #mahoyome essay writers anonymous lets goooooooooo #tamb #the ancient magus bride #mahoutsukai no yome #mahoyome #chise hatori #im not tagging spoilers anymore go read it whores its FREE !!!!!

[heroes-among-us-all]

Maybe shigaraki having a crush on a league member and he gets her to sit in his lap while he plays video games?

Cute. You were way too goddamn cute. As much as Shigaraki hated to admit it, he'd turned into a lovestruck fool from the moment he laid eyes on you.

When Dabi had first suggested inviting another member into the League, he'd had his doubts. Shigaraki had since grown comfortable with the allies he'd accrued. He didn't want to expand his circle too much. He had a hard enough time trusting people as it was.

Needless to say, when you turned up to the hideout with that adorable smile of yours, he found it difficult to refuse. Obviously, he didn't trust you right from the start - you had to earn his trust, the way everyone else had. But slowly and surely, you made it clear that you were faithful to the League and proved time and time again that your ambitions and desires aligned with his.

Now that it had gotten to this point, Shigaraki could safely say that he had a massive crush on you.

And quite frankly, he hated it. It was an unfamiliar feeling, the likes of which made his stomach clench up uncomfortably. He was used to being in a perpetually shitty mood, but this was different somehow. Even though his chest got all tight when he stared at you for too long, the sensation wasn't wholly unpleasant.

As a result of being in constant turmoil and struggling to make sense of his own warped feelings, he ended up lashing out at you unintentionally.

"Get out of my way," he would snap on one occasion.

"Why do you keep staring at me? If you've got something to say, just say it," he might also sneer.

Put simply, he found it difficult to interact with you, because you brought out weakness in him. You made him feel shaky and uncertain. Timid and withdrawn.

But in spite of all that, you weren't deterred. You were always constantly smiling during every one of your interactions. If his words hurt you, then you certainly didn't let it show. You kept on treating him with kindness and consideration, which was quite frankly more than he deserved.

Shigaraki wanted to act on his feelings, but given that he had no experience in this department, he didn't know how.

So, he decided to stick with what he was comfortable with and use it to break the ice.

"Come in here," Shigaraki demanded. He was your boss, so technically speaking, you had to listen to most of what he said.

You were completely unfazed to have been summoned to his room. As always, you were smiling. Fucking hell, how was it possible for someone to be that cute?

"I'm here," you beamed. "What's up?"

Shigaraki pointed to the spot beside him. "Sit down. Stay here while I play my game."

"Oh. Is that all?"

"Yes," he frowned. "Is there a problem?"

"Not at all!" you chirped, happily bounding over to his side. Just as he'd insisted, you plopped down right beside him, getting awfully close. Shigaraki couldn't deny the fact that his heart was going crazy right now.

He gripped his controller a bit tighter. "Okay. Just stay there. Watch me beat this level."

His red eyes flickered towards the screen of his TV instead of staring at you. It was better this way. It was better for him to have something to focus on while the two of you interacted, otherwise he would risk making a fool out of himself.

Unfortunately, even his endless video game prowess couldn't quite compensate for how distracting you were. You were sitting so close that your shoulders kept brushing up against his, and apart from the low volume of the TV, the room was almost deathly quiet, allowing him to hear every soft exhale you let out.

Even worse, he started feeling stupidly self-conscious for some reason. He suddenly worried that you might not think he was good enough at the game and judge him for it. These self-deprecating thoughts ate away at him, and he could feel himself playing worse and worse as the minutes dragged on.

Shigaraki swallowed, fingers trembling against the controller. "I can't focus," he admitted. "I don't usually play this bad."

"What are you talking about?" you laughed. "You're a million times better than I could ever hope to be. It would have taken me more than a week to clear that last boss fight."

There it was again. You were comforting him, the way you always did. Normally, he hated feeling like he was being offered superficial pity. After all, people pretending to give a shit was the whole reason this hero society was a sham. But from you, strangely enough, it always felt genuine. He never had to doubt your intentions or read into things too much.

You actually cared about him. That thought alone was enough to overwhelm him with emotion.

Feeling emboldened by your encouraging words, Shigaraki mustered up the nerve to utter his next sentence.

"I think I'd play better if you were sitting on my lap," he mumbled.

Shit. Why'd I go and say that? She'll definitely think I'm creeping on her now.

But it seemed that you just kept on surprising him. That smile of yours that he'd since come to love didn't falter in the slightest. If anything, it just grew even wider.

"Sure thing," you grinned, and without wasting a beat, seated yourself right in his lap.

Now Shigaraki was panicking for a different reason altogether. He hadn't really thought things through this far. You were actually sitting on his lap. He could feel the curve of your ass pressing flush against his lower half, and already, his face was a mess of crimson hues.

You turned towards him. He noticed that your grin had become a bit more coy. "What's wrong?" you teased. "Isn't this what you asked for? Come on. I want to see you play some more."

"Shut up," Shigaraki grimaced, having to bite back the strangled gasp that threatened to leave his lips. He decided to rise to your challenge and keep on playing, not that it even mattered anymore. He'd already won big-time by getting to be this close to you.

Unsurprisingly, his gaming performance deteriorated even further from that point onwards. You knew exactly what you were doing to him, letting out giggles and wiggling your butt under the pretense of 'trying to get more comfortable'. Shigaraki was trying his damn best to keep his excitement from showing, but he imagined he was probably failing terribly.

"Hey, Tomura," you said suddenly. You placed a hand on top of his and slowly moved the controller out of the way. Your eyes sparkled with mischief. "Is playing video games really all you wanted to do? Before you answer, you should know that I can feel how hard you are."

Shigaraki's blush deepened. Right. You were many things, but an idiot wasn't one of them. Not that he'd really been subtle in the first place.

"I guess not," he admitted, awkwardly avoiding your gaze. "So, then... what else would we do?"

"We could make out," you grinned. Your face moved closer to his, and he had to remind himself not to get too excited and accidentally grab hold of you with all five of his fingers.

"I've never done anything like that before," he said, feeling a touch ashamed by the admission.

But he should have known better. He should have known you wouldn't care, not when you'd treated him more warmly than anyone else in his life.

"It's okay," you hummed, shifting your position on his lip so that you were now fully facing him. You let your arms dangle over his shoulders. "I'll teach you," was the last thing you said, pressing your lips against his.

#shigaraki tomura #bnha #bnha shigaraki #bnha imagines #fluff #bnha x reader #my hero academia #mha imagines #boku no hero academia #bnha villains #mha x reader #bnha headcanons #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #my hero academia imagines

[oceanlipgloss]

27.1.2024

—nsfw + chapter 5 spoilers (+ a dash of dark humour)

*Spongebob narrator voice* ah, Bikini Bottom Leviathan's H-scene. One I've been looking forward to, excitedly so. And since this chapter had a fair slice of tragedy, it was sealed with an H-scene as a treat. That's not going to heal the angsty feelings, but into it I shall dive. Look, it rhymes lots of aquatic vocabulary

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

intro: the scene's intro screen shows that Leviathan still has his shirt on. And you know what? WHAT A TURN-ON, THAT'S WHAT

update I: Hades Studios present 'The Sick Chicken' no but I like him SO MUCH. His attitude is a breath of fresh air pun intended but the reasons that played a role in forming it are so sad

update II: MWAHAHAHA GO HARDER ON HER

update III: *clapping like a madwoman* BRAVO, BRAVO! That's really hot of him, you know. Everything about this is sending me to heaven except for the fact that someone like me obviously can't so much as set a toe on the grounds of Paradise because it doesn't exist but I mean, COME. ON. The way he let his hand move from her neck to her chin? 'Glowering at you as though he would burn the mark off with his gaze alone'? HOLY FUCKKKK <3

update IV: GOD NO THIS IS TOO HOT GOD WOOHOOOOOO

update V: man oh man he's so MMMM

update VI: RAAAAAA

update VII: he speaks to me on a spiritual level trying not to inject angst into this by bringing up what caused him to feel this way So, Leviathan. You, me, parking lot, 'who hates people more' contest, 5PM. I'm not hanging anyone tho maybe actually, scratch that. We're hanging horrible people together like we're Harley Quinn and the Joker, baby

update VIII: pfff 'how fair of you' His reaction, though? So confident. So fucking sexy. Yours truly is already a dead girl, but at the moment she's dying, dying, dying beyond death And wdym 'he smirked, but even then he was so beautiful yada yada' like dude, he's more beautiful BECAUSE he's smirking, BECAUSE of his arrogant spite

update IX: I'm really glad she considered his feelings and didn't immediately agree to have sex with him. Truth be told, this came as quite the pleasant surprise, because while she does have moments in which she's considerate, I don't view this particular MC as someone who's truly capable of being sensitive to others that much. Sure, she didn't directly agree to sleep with Belial when he offered because she thought he was still unwell, but here I honestly still expected her to just jump right in and not think twice about Leviathan's feelings, so I was very happy when she said this instead; she didn't focus on the fact that he dislikes her, but rather on not risking hurting him should he not want to do this with her. He's definitely attracted to you though, MC. He's just not on good terms with the concept of expressing his feelings relatable as fuck I know how this may have sounded harsh or mean of me—and it's not meant to be offend anyone—but the truth is that this MC wasn't created with 'gentle and sweet' in mind; the way her brain is hardwired to tirelessly daydream about sexual things has lead her to be insensitive at times (with painfully questionable intelligence to top it off, sorry) as seen in certain instances.

update X: kinda cute. Juuuust a little bit. ...that straightforwardness is edible

update XI: he's brutally honest and his gestures are subtle, and that makes them so sensual. In other words, THIS TICKLES MY FANCY

update XII: he says something like this with an expression like that. YEEEES he looks so sweetly smug too godddd Also: lol @ 'you MAY turn me on' = [access permitted]

update XIII: my point exactly

update XIV: his attitude is so good. SO good. He's domineering and deliberately giving her a hard time lol sufferrrr, MC on a sadder note, he also won't talk about himself because it's really hard for him to give his trust after what happened to him...

update XV: I can stand behind that. I LIKE it. Vibe with it, agree with it. I REALLY DOOO

update XVI: he...really just asked her to hit and choke him, didn't he? [MASOCHISTIC TARGET LOCATED] sometimes physical pain feels nice, Leviathan, I getchu, but being hit and strangled isn't a brand of pain I would, um, choose for myself. Whatever makes u hard happy tho, ig. Rock on, king

update XVII: the jealousyyyyy <3

update XVIII: 'Leviathan thought he was going crazy' You know who's also going to go crazy reading this? ME. My God, this many screenshots and the railing hasn't started yet

update XIX: to be honest, I'm not fond of choking, slapping, spanking, and the like, so I'm most likely not going to like what's coming next much lol but let's move on, shall we now?

update XX: damn, he's provoking her so hard to make her beat the fuck out of him, and lo and behold, he's getting what he wants. She might as well just tear his soul out at this rate or send him to his maker but where the hell is God? jk jk this chapter made it clear that Leviathan can take a shit ton of hits trauma and stay alive good god it's the blackness of my soul my dark humour speaking forgive me omfg it's not me I swear I s—I SAID WHAT I SAID This part is kinda funny so far, what with how MC has gone batshit insane on him. That being said, it's really nice how she cares about Minhyeok so much that it's the foundation of her rage and the reason Satan's wrath burns in her, urging her to harm Leviathan in a frenzy after he said ruthless things about Minhyeok. Meanwhile, Leviathan is so busy trying to get turned on that he's neither jealous nor envious of that lmao

update XXI: this is going to sound weird coming from me when I'm somewhat of a sadist who likes dark themes, loves horror and gore, and enjoys seeing torture in certain scenarios do I sound like the freak I am yet? and when I just made such a fucked up joke with good intentions too, but...MC hurting Leviathan over and over like this summons a feeling of discomfort and remorse in my heart even if I completely put away my dislike for consensual violence in sexual acts. Leviathan's past and the possible psychological implications behind his fondness of undergoing physical harm make this part somewhat painful to read, because perhaps his arousal from being hurt has something to do with what he went through as a child (i.e. it may be a coping mechanism of a sort). When I think of it that way, coupled with the horrific aspects of his childhood—the pain being inflicted on him messes with my emotions. Then again, this could just be his personal preference and not have deeper meanings. Either way, the game holds true to its themes and maintains excellent dark perspectives, and as I always say, I'll never dislike that. In fact, PB better keep these founding concepts intact.

update XXII: oh god DON'T STOMP HIS PP NOT THE PP STAY AWAY FROM PP HE NEEDS IT YOU NEED IT

update XXIII: no but EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MOSTLY THE DRIPPING HORNS (AS ALWAYS) AND HIM UNBUCKLING HIS OWN PANTS (AS SHE WATCHES TOO LORD MY KINK'S DEVOURING THIS) AND THE PRE AND— GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Why is his horns' liquid not white like the others, though?

update XXIV: THAT EXPRESSION THE CONTRAST WITH HIS NORMAL SELF MC, GIRLLLLLL BITE THAT TONGUE

update XXV: "HOW DARE YOU FEEL PLEASED?!"—MC to Leviathan of Hades, 2024 She's going to choke him to death rip him apart piece after piece, limb by limb, shred upon shred Ronové would back her up nicely oh god it's the dark humour again excuse me But it's so damn sexy how he's the one controlling her, yet she's the one wrecking him

update XXVI: YOOOO I'M GONNA DIE THIS IS SO GOOD THIS IS SO—

update XXVII: PP goes 'fwop'

update XXVIII: he is SUCH a mess YESSSS u should get even messier, Leviathan, you MUST

update XXIX: he insists on making eye contact no matter what. FUCK YES. And the teasing? FUCK YEAHHHHH

update XXX: I LOVE I SAID I LOVE—

update XXXI: so, so hot YAAAAAA

update XXXII: her wrapping her arms around his neck and then both of them just being so dazed out of their minds that the no-more-strangling move is not bothersome anymore...*sigh* pls feed me moreeeeee

update XXXIII: bro 'frantically licked' sent me. MC, slurping on Leviathan's horn like her life depends on it: boy am I thirsty The horns are a blessing, they're everything. And he's so messed up by the lick lick what she's doing that he can't even form a sentence (likely an insult to hide how fucked out of his mind that made him feel)

update XXXIV: THIS JUST FED ME MORE FR FR MY STOMACH HURTSSS HE'S DESPERATE and dang, I didn't know even hearts could reach climax. You learn something new everyday lol nah, I get what they mean So fucking hot how they kept kissing until they couldn't breathe my kind of thing a VERY pleasing display of Leviathan's kink, yes

update XXXV: squelch...squelch...squish squish, slurp slurp, anyone? Guess this writing style wasn't reserved for Tartaros's boys after all :( Bimet and I are fake-crying in the distance

update XXXVI: does he mean the tormenting or the fucking? Because if he's referring to sex, I offer Minhyeok my condolences. MC's never going to fuck you senseless or at all, hon. Sorry, but u should've known better, BFF boy :( I know no mercy

update XXXVII: Leviathan feeling happy because of her reply and him replying with "good. It should stay like that"? So possessiveeee <3 no more images fit Kinda melting over how his envy didn't flare up and anger him like it did in the beginning 'cause the brutality sex softened him for the moment

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

+notes: I was violently wishing for a Leviathan's-clothes-are-still-on-during-sex CG, so when the CG came up and there was no MC on top of him, I was disappointed for a short minute short because then I looked at his face and his godly position spread legs and how he's on the ground like that...mmm lol

It's a change of pace, new. For WHB, at least—since it isn't like previous CGs—but it's heart-throbbing in its own way; seeing cold, pretty Leviathan on the floor like that, meek with his red cheeks...slurp a delicacy.

Ahem, anyways. The CG took me down memory lane somewhat, back to my first otome-playing-days from about 10+ years ago. Whenever the 'Happy Ending' CG was of the male lead alone, I always disliked that because I WANTED TO SEE *THE COUPLE* DOING THINGS, DAMMIT (even though the wildest things players saw characters do in CGs back in those days were mostly kisses lol until they got more daring, that is).

So yeah, while I did feel sort of disappointed when I first saw this CG, while I do prefer CGs like those of previous H-scenes, and while I still wish I could've seen Leviathan and MC in action, at the same time this CG is *chef's kiss* for obvious reasons and also due to how I feel like it suits Leviathan very well in a way. He's built walls about his heart and boundaries around himself, so it's as though the game won't let players see him like they did the men before him (in the main story), if that makes sense. I'm also hoping his shirt stayed on during sex

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

edit: I just inspected opened the CG in the album for a, um, better view and...MC is grabbing Leviathan's PP? Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaah that's so YESSSS RAAAAAA

#what in “hell” is bad #what in hell is bad #whb #whb leviathan #what in hell is bad diaries

[meear]

I hate how the consensus in the fandom is disliking Romione because "Ron isn't good enough for her". lmfaoo y'all, Hermione isn't good enough for HIM.

Remember guys, she got jealous that he was dating someone else and physically assaulted him until he bled. He had scratches. What the fuck was that and how did anyone read this scene and not think Hermione was a disgusting, abusive piece of trash? No because if Ron had been the one beating up Hermione like that you can BET people would've remembered it and held it against him forever (as they should!).

And I saw so many people defend Hermione saying shit like "oh i don't excuse her but it was understandable". She was just acting like "an irrational teenage girl"! Yeah uh no that was not just irrational teenager behaviour. Teenagers are emotional yes but most teenagers don't beat up their crush when they kiss someone else unless they have some serious disorder. Like, St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys level of disorder. She actually needs to be locked up, asap. The most understandable depiction of violent teenage behaviour in HP was OotP, and Harry was literally traumatised. Rowling wants you to believe that Hermione, on the other hand, is supposed to be a well-adjusted teenager.

"oh but Ron was rude to her too wah wah" yeah I don't give a fuck. Nothing Ron did to Hermione was on this level of violence, I genuinely do not give a fuck.

You know who angerly retaliates to Ron's rude remarks without acting like fucking Vernon Dursley? Ginny. And I don't even like Ginny. But when Ron acts like a jerk towards her, she understandably shoots back, she gets spiteful and mean, in an actual teenage girl way. No way y'all are trying to normalize the shit Hermione pulled.

"but", I hear you say, "it's normal for characters to have flaws :((( you just want every character to be flawless! It just shows that in HP no one is perfect! It's realistic!"

First of all, Harry Potter characters have the depth of a wet tissue, be fucking for real, second of all, that argument might hold water if the narrative held Hermione accountable and criticised her for what she did. but it didn't. The narrative blamed Ron. Ron is written as a flawed character, but Hermione isn't.

I love flawed characters, but I don't love flawed characters whose shit behaviour constantly get excused/validated by the author at all. They are actually the type of characters I despise the most. they become very unlikable and not in a fun way. If there's one thing in a story I can't stand it's inconsistent morality and the author playing favourites (looking at you Isayama)

Also, I'm pretty sure there's a world between "not being perfect" and being a genuinely abusive, bad person. HP1-3 Hermione is the former. HP6 Hermione is the latter. Ultimately, Rowling does intend for Hermione to be a good person. She kinda failed at portraying that. Hermione wasn't even shown as the bad guy for what she did! Harry felt a bit awkward 'cause he saw her cry and the narrative treated Ron like a jerk for daring to be interested in anyone other than Hermione and not realising she wanted him. How dare he! Nevermind that Hermione dated Viktor and Cormac. It's okay when she does it, but how dare he! Even when Rowling talks about these two, she thinks Ron is the one who needs to grow up and get himself together. He needs better friends. And a better author.

#anti romione #ron weasley defense squad #anti hermione granger #ron weasley

[ihearnocomplaints]

Could you write about Moon helping Y/N (who is stubborn about sleeping since they are afraid of nightmares) to sleep? Carrying them, putting them to bed, music box, blankets, cozy time, sleepy vibes. Since Moon is, well, Moon, he will probably stay awake and watch over y/n, making sure they have no bad dreams.

That was super specific, yeah... Just make my dreams come true and I'll give you this candy: 🍬 Deal?

(I'm super happy that you're super bubbly too! BUBBLY TEAM!!)

Hello! Welcome! I will be glad to fulfill your request hehe! thank you for the candy!!!

Enjoy this little drabble :] I liked writing it.

Another yawn escapes your lip. You catch Moon's flinch out of the corner of your eye. "You're tired," He grumbles. Shrugging, you go back to what you were doing before, putting pen to paper to express your creativity. You don't have any rebuttal, so you just give a noncommittal grunt.

A clawed blue hand gently plucks the pen from your hand and sets it aside. You groan and look up at the animatronic. Moon's faceplate rotates to look upright at you as he bends over you. "It's not even bedtime yet," you respond, nodding to the analogue clock on the wall.

6pm.

Moon gently traces a dark circle under your eye. "Dinner, then bed." He pulls your chair away from the desk you were sat at, making it clear that he was not going to argue. You begrudgingly stand and make your way to the kitchen.

You couldn't deny how exhausted you felt. It was difficult to walk. To even think. Of course you're tired. Yet, the mere thought of closing your eyes for even a second makes you sick to your stomach with anxiety. You could feel your chest constrict, making it harder to breathe.

Moon follows you to the kitchen, making sure you stay on task. You take a few deep breaths and rummage through the fridge. There are some leftovers that you don't really want to eat, but it's the best option for you at the moment. You open the microwave and place the food in, punching in the time to heat it up.

As you wait for your food to cook, you lean on the counter and try to ignore the way Moon watches your movements. You know you're tired and you know that your movements reflect that. You can't help the way that you yawn or how gravity seems to try to force your eyelids closed.

The beeps of the microwave make you jump, awake and aware. You pull your food out of the microwave and suck a sharp breath of air as you hold the hot dish in your hands. It wasn't your smartest move, but out of pure spite you stick to it. You can feel the way Moon rolls his eyes at your stubbornness.

You set your food down at the table and eat. Moon opts to clean the kitchen while he waits, letting you eat in peace. When you're finished, you take your dishes to the kitchen and clean them on the sink. You hesitate to leave.

"Are you ready?" Moon holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it before slowly shaking your head. Your nerves get the best of you. You know what's waiting for you when you go to sleep. You don't want to deal with that anymore. Not tonight. You can't handle it tonight.

Moon sighs, pinching where the bridge of his nose would be were he human. "C'mon, I'll carry you." He kneels to your level and holds his arms out to you. You know you're not getting away with refusing to sleep tonight, so you let out a sigh and hesitantly step into his arms. You hold onto him as he picks you up, securing you in his arms.

You rest your head on Moon's shoulder as he carries you to your room, feeling the anxiety bubble within you. He hums gently, rubbing your back to soothe you for a moment. When he gets to your room, he carries you in and gently shuts the door behind the two of you. It's dark.

Moon turns on the lamp that rests on your nightstand and pulls back the covers of your bed. You cling to him as he bends to set you down. "Come now, don't be like this," His raspy voice calls as he runs his fingers through your hair. "I know that you are scared, but it's okay. I am here. I won't leave your side." With his reassurance, you slowly let go of him and lay back on the bed.

Moon's optics brighten with delight now that you are cooperating. He covers you up with plenty of blankets, making sure you're nice and comfortable. You take a few breaths and let your eyes fall shut. The bed dips as Moon takes a seat right on the end of it where he usually sits.

The gentle lullaby of his internal music box begins, and you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep. It's comforting knowing that Moon is there to watch over you in your sleep. You feel... safe. He begins to quietly hum along to the music box and you finally drift off to sleep.

You don't have any nightmares that night, nor a hint of a bad dream. There's just warmth and comfort.

#Silas Writes Stuff #Slimes asks #complaintsconcepts #auughjghjhrtgherui I do not much like my own writing #As much as I enjoy writing- I am not a writer. I don't know how to write well. #But I hope you enjoy this regardless

[heich0e]

tags: smut, f!reader, oral (f!receiving), slight exhibitionism, slight coercion (reader is reluctant but easily swayed), mentions of slightly toxic relationship dynamic, this was inspired by @andypantsx3 and @mydiluc so credit where credit is due!!, word count 2.4k, 18+ MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

the door to the spare bedroom in your apartment (that in the past few years has doubled as a makeshift office, a storage room, and has very seldom actually hosted a guest) creaks open, and out of pure instinct you temporarily turn off the video feed from your end of the zoom call. 

"i'm bored," eren pouts, slumping against the doorframe with his hands shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie.

"eren, i'm in a meeting," you whisper, even though your microphone has been muted for the majority of the video conference (and will likely remain that way until it concludes.)

"you're always in meetings," he complains, slinking a little bit further into the spare room and closer to you.

"eren, that's because i have a job," you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, "meetings are part of being employed."

eren makes an indignant little sound. his lips flattening in what you recognize as offence. 

"baby, i didn't mean it like that," you say softly, remorse seeping into your words. 

eren doesn't work. he's supported by his family, old old money, and has been picking away at a master's degree for the past few years that with every passing day you wonder if he'll ever actually finish--not that you'd ever tell him that, and not that it really matters considering he technically never has to work a day in his life and he'll still have more wealth to his name than most people could ever hope to accumulate. 

you didn't grow up in a family like eren's. didn't have the same privileges and safeguards and assurances that he's had all his life. you went to university on a scholarship. worked your ass off to maintain it. fought for competitive internships that would make you more appealing to prospective employers, and graduated with a good GPA that sweetened the deal. 

you met eren in your sophomore year, though his reputation absolutely preceded him–he was well known among the students not only for his family's name (the same name on multiple buildings across campus), but his good looks and his charm made him a bit notorious. you knew he didn't take school particularly seriously, but loved partying. and after a long (relentless) pursuit on his part that spanned the better part of the fall term, you finally agreed to a date after he half-jokingly threatened to enrol in all the same courses as you the following semester (a threat which, to this day, you're uncertain was really much of a joke at all.)

and now it's been years since the two of you got together. to the point that it's hard to remember a time without him at all. 

but those differences in your upbringings, in your work ethics, are still something that the two of you often have to work through. eren would prefer you didn't work at all--or at least didn't work quite so hard, or quite so much--but you enjoy working. sure the job you'd snagged as a new grad wasn't the most lucrative position, but it was entry level at a great company and there was opportunity for advancement which you planned to take full advantaged of. it was a competitive opening in your field and you'd managed to get the job all on your own--even in spite of eren begging you to let him ask his dad to call in a favour on your behalf.

eren sees no issue in using his family name in his (and those closest to him's) best interest. you'd prefer to earn things on your own merit.

the fundamental divide between the two of you.

eren eyes you mistrustfully from the edge of your desk, still sulking from your comment. 

"i really didn't mean it like that," you insist, reaching out towards him. "i just meant that there are parts of having a job you can't change."

eren slinks into your grasp, letting you wind your arms around his waist and burrow your face into his tummy from your seat in your desk chair. the video call in the background hasn't made much progress since you tuned it out, so you're not overly worried about what you might be missing. 

the soft material of eren's hoodie brushes against your cheeks, and his hands cradle the back of your head to hold you against him. 

"i know you didn't mean it like that," eren hums above you, and you tilt your face up so your chin rests just above his navel so you can peek up at him. "i just feel like i never see you anymore."

"eren we see each other every day," you reply, brow furrowing in confusion. you work hybrid in-office/work from home, and with eren picking away leisurely at his masters dissertation his days are mostly spent at home "researching" (playing video games.)

"but you're always so busy," eren pouts, his large hands cupping your cheeks. his thumbs stroke the hollows below your eyes. "you work so hard."

you tilt your face into his touch, your cheek squishing against his palm. he presses a little firmer against either one of your cheeks until your lips pucker, and chuckles softly to himself -- a quiet little 'heh'.

"is your call boring?" eren asks, his eyes sliding to the computer screen in front of you where the call is continuing. 

"ah widd'l," you say, your cheeks still smushed together in his hands. he eases up his grip, brushing some hair back from your face. you sigh, turning in your desk chair and looking back to your computer. "i haven't even really said much. i never do in these meetings since it's mainly advertising and marketing execs, but attendance is mandatory for my team." 

"so you don't have to say anything?"

you hum, reaching forward and clicking on the chat box to see what new messages have popped up since you've been distracted. there are a few links in the conversation and you click to open them in a new window to review after the call concludes. 

eren crouches down beside you, dragging your chair back slightly from the desk. 

"eren, what are you doing?" you ask him, flushing as he pushes your knees apart and squeezes his broad frame in between them. from the waist up you’re dressed in normal work clothes, but you hadn’t bothered to put on proper bottoms that morning so all you have on your lower half is a silky pair of pyjama shorts (one of the perks of working from home.)

“i wanna give you head,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. he reaches for the waistband of your shorts but you stop him with a hand on either wrist.

“eren!” you hiss, your eyes flickering to your screen again just to double—triple—check that your mic is muted and your camera is really properly off. it is, but it still brings you little comfort with the faces of your company’s executives plastered across your computer screen.

“what?” he asks, pouting. he rests his cheek against the plushness of your thigh. “why can’t i?” 

“i’m working. i’m in a meeting.”

“that you don’t need to talk in, and that your camera is off for,” he counters, his lithe fingers snaking up the leg of your teeny tiny shorts—he grins when he realizes you’re not wearing panties underneath. his breath is hot and humid on your skin, and the look in his eyes makes your stomach feel tight. 

“eren, i can’t—” 

“you don’t have to do anything,” he smoothly interrupts, the tip of his finger stroking softly up your slit underneath your shorts. “just let me take care of you, my professional, hardworking girl.”

eren was blessed with a silver tongue to go along with the silver spoon he’d been raised with in his mouth. you know you shouldn’t. that it would be an egregious act of misconduct to go along with what he’s saying. but before you can even think to refuse him your silky shorts are hanging off your ankle and your legs are looped over his broad shoulders, slumped back in your desk chair as eren licks long, broad stripes through the sopping wet petals of your pussy. 

“eren, eren—!“ you choke on a pealing moan, your fingers tangling in his soft hair and tugging firmly against the strands. he’s always so slow to take you apart, so dilligent in the way he presses his tongue against you, so methodical about the way that he skirts around your clit—brushing it but never giving it quite the stimulation you want—which only makes you more desperate and needy for him.

just the way he likes you.

“you taste so good,” he murmurs against your cunt, wet and sloppy as he drags his tongue up to collect your slick and his spit along it. he swallows animatedly, like he’s making a big show of it. “do you know how good you taste?”

you shake your head in a trembling little show of dissent. 

he hums. “so good. sweetest little pussy on earth.”

he dips his fingertips inside of you, letting you get just a taste of the stretch before he’s pulling them out again. he holds them up to your face so you can see the shine of fluid clinging to his skin, down to the first knuckle. 

“taste it, baby.”

he presses against your lips and you welcome the digits in. you wouldn’t call the taste sweet by any stretch of the imagination. there’s a headiness to it. a tang. something familiar to the taste that’s not unpleasant. 

eren pushes his fingers back so far in your mouth that you almost choke, but there’s something familiar in this too—you’re used to the prodding at the back of your tongue, the sudden intrusion just at the opening of your throat. he likes teasing you like this. dominating you in such a subtle way it feels like more of a game. you moan, and as your head tips back eren finally sucks hard against your neglected clit. 

your toes curl as they hover over the planes of his back, your spine bending and lifting your chest up towards the ceiling as it bows. eren slips his fingers, now soaked in your spit, back out from between your lips—leaving a little trail of saliva down your chin. eren rubs his slick fingertips against the swell of your clit, rubbing quick circles against it. 

the heat in the pit of your stomach kindles, the knot tightening in your core. 

“you gonna cum?” eren asks, pressing a contrastingly chaste kiss to your trembling thigh. “you gonna cum for me—“

“miss reader?” 

your last name shocks you like a splash of ice water across a circuit board.

both you and eren freeze, your eyes snapping to the computer in front of you. 

the call has gone quiet, and the senior ad executive is looking expectantly to the screen. 

“miss reader are you still there?” the executive repeats. 

frantically you push eren away from you, snapping your legs closed and pulling yourself up to the computer in your chair. you unmute your microphone after clearing your throat. 

“hello?” you say, your voice fluttery and flustered. “i’m here!”

the executive relaxes slightly, chuckling. “thought we’d lost you there!” 

“sorry, sorry,” you apologize, your shaking hands pressed over your eyes. “i’m having, um, some issues with my internet connection. keeping my camera off is helping but the call is still a little laggy on my end.”

the executive hums. “no worries, it happens to us all. just wondering if you have any updates on this quarter’s numbers?” 

you swallow, eyes flickering to eren who’s seated on the ground next to you, leaning against your desk with a sly grin on his face, palming at his cock through his sweatpants. 

“yes, of course,”—you nod even though your camera is still off, instinct more than logic—“the data is still raw, and we haven’t had a chance to properly analyze it yet since it’s still early, but i can forward the spreadsheet to everyone after the call?” 

you watch your colleagues all nod or make small noises of agreement from their sides of the screen.

“ok, sounds good. we’ll keep an eye out for it,” the advertising manager nods, and you see the end of his pen swivelling in the corner of the screen as he makes a note out of frame of his webcam. “now, moving onto the issue from last week’s meeting—“

you slam you mute button on once more, slumping back in your chair in relief. you toss your arm over your eyes, a throbbing between your temples the echoes the dull, unsatisfied ache between your legs. 

“good job, baby,” eren laughs, running a comforting hand up your bare thigh, fingertips kneading into the flesh. “you barely sounded like you were just about to cum.”

“eren, that wasn’t funny.”

eren pulls your chair back from your desk again, pressing a kiss to one knee and then the other. 

“i’m sorry,” he says softly, you pull your arm away from your eyes to peek down at him. he’s looking up at you with a wide-eyed, beseeching gaze. he rests his chin in the valley between your knees. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you sigh lightly. 

“i’m not upset,” you murmur, touching his cheek gently. he reaches up and places his hand over yours as it cups his face. “it was just stressful.”

eren tilts his face so he can press a kiss to your palm, then pulls your hand a little closer so he can press another to your wrist where your pulse pounds arrhythmically. 

“i know,—” 

eren nods as he peeks up at you through his lashes, the green of his gaze cool and comforting. the hand that’s not holding yours to his lips snakes easily between your knees, easing them ever so slightly apart. 

your breath hitches as the cool air catches on the remnants of spit and arousal that have smeared messily along your upper thighs. your stomach clenches. 

“—so just sit back and let me make it up to you.”

#eren x reader #eren x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #aot writing #aot fic #writing

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

Leave Me

Part 3 of Leaving Me Behind

Requested: can you please make a part three of Leaving her because of his father I am literally crying for them for Orm and Reader

Genre: angst (heartbreak), clashing conversation between father and son

(For Orm’s father I had to google his name. It said that his name was Orvax. Not sure if it’s correct but 🤷🏼‍♀️)

Enjoy!

Orm began to dive into the water; he felt a tug in his heart, a strong pull, making his brain calculate how to get back to the shore. He continued swimming. He felt the way of unhappiness as he swam against the moving currents and wave strokes. 

His heartbreak was nothing he could describe or even perceive with words. A feeling he knew was going to last.

Y/n was standing there, crying, pleading to the sky, the sea, and the land for him to return. Her hands shoveled and held the sand as if she was holding a lifeline and was trying to pull him back into her arms where she felt safe and protected. 

But now gone, descending deeper into the water, he felt his eyes gaze upon his kingdom, Atlantis. He meant to rule and guard, although it wasn't something he wanted to be anymore, his heart holding back, and yet his lineage, his bloodline, called him back, and now he doesn't want to go. 

The father's wrath was felt at the castle's entrance, and the defining silence was the only positive presence between the father and son.

'What are you doing?!' His father roared from the throne, 

'I was in love; I love someone. Someone loves me.' the young prince admitted with a broken, delicate tone trying to get a better sense of everything.

'You don't love! A ruler, a future king, doesn't have sentiments. He has his mastership and education to stand behind and not something nonsensical and breakable like love...' he spoke with disgust polluting each word. 

'Are you going to go on an identical path like your mother?!' His father banged his fisted hand on the throne handles, the brute force shaking the throne, the wrathful aftershock slithering around and towards Orm, bringing him to his knees, his face pulled down. The sheer bubbling anger Orm felt, he suppressed it, knowing how wrathful his father was, still feeling the snaps and punches on his body from years prior.

Orvax swam down to his son's level, witnessing his son, a future ruler usually full of dignity, brilliance, and regal venom dripping from his mouth and now spending a couple of months with a surface dweller transforming him. Orvax presumed Orm was just having enjoyment; he did not expect his son to come disfigured as a... disgrace.

Orvax touched his son's shoulder, feeling the quick pull back from Orm, Orm's eyes shooting up in pure fear and shock. Orm never saw his father so close. His father wasn't that type of person, the type of person he was...

'Since you are back, I do hope you won't be going back up. Unless you intend to rain upon waves of hurt to...surface dwellers.'

With the intentional pause on the last two words, Orm saw a mischief gleam in his father's eyes, a gleam he also had, a gleam of revenge.

After all, he was this type of person, vengeful and spiteful.

Orm felt his weight shift back from his feet and entirely on the floor. His future he didn't know he deserved with Y/n, was now gone completely. Replaced by ruling the kingdom, only having a feeling of fear of his father. His thoughts ran with the memories he made with Y/n locking them in the safest place, so nothing could tarnish them, not even his father and his cruel ways. Orm looks up at his blood and asks, knowing very well the answer. 

'So I don't even deserve to be happy, father?'

His father began to walk away as he answered, 'No.'

Y/n looked at the waves still crashing and moving, the scenery shades with a dark blue sky, the full moon, and starts being the only bright thing in Y/n view. Her eyes, red and swollen from crying, were fixed onto the waves, her ears picking up the soft footsteps near her.

'Y/n.' a soft tone spoke, the tone she had heard numerous times. 

'Arthur, what should I do? I thought that he was happy.'

Arthur takes a small letter handing it to her, offering a missing piece of the puzzle.

'Unfortunately, it is power beyond our measures.'

Opening the letter Y/n, she gazed upon the rich handwriting.

'Dearest,

I love you. I do not wish to think this is our last communication, but it is. I hope to Gods that it is not. You gave me something no one ever did: to live happily. To enjoy. And my heart breaks over the thought of you crying, wasting your tears on someone like me. Therefore, I will continue to live as a future ruler, and you should continue your life without me. I will always cherish our moments in my cold heart.

-Orm.'                  

Y/n glimpses at Arthur and speaks, 'What should I do, Art?'

'Take one day at a time. Let's get you into the house.'

Standing up after hours of sitting, Y/n ambled back home, turning around, trying to see one last time if Orm was there, waiting for her. 

There wasn't much on the sea, only rocks and waves and a heartbroken king looking from the far distance, his love walking away.

#king orm imagine #orm marius x reader #orm #orm imagine #orm x reader #aquaman one shot #aquaman x you #aquaman x reader #aquaman #dcmultiverse #dc one shot #dc x reader #dc imagine #justice leauge imagine #justice leauge x reader #justice league #patrick wilson #imagine #requested imagine #aquaman imagine #dceu #dc fanart

[cyrusclouds]

nobody asked for this one either but idc, my head canons are for the world to enjoy not just me. as a part 2 to my dsaf headcanons, tsp headcanons for the soul :33 (maybe angst warning at some point?)

stanley is completely mute!! he knows sign language very well, but he refuses to use it with the narrator most of the time out of nothing but pure spite (and also because the narrator likes to be the talker 4 sure...)

the narrator is a low-level, fairly young god that was gifted with his own little 'passion project', per say. the curator is a much older and much more powerful god that was sent to keep his ass in check and make sure he wasn't doing some stupid shit 💀

going back to point one, after the time skip ending stanley tries to be a lot more talkative to cheer up the narrator (who is fucking traumatized), and signs to him a lot more than usual until things go back to normal :D (i gift you with fluff, children)

no matter how hard he tries, the narrator is completely unable to prevent stanley's slow descent into pure disassociation and derealization. it happens gradually, and even if he resets things, it never truly stops or goes away. he has to watch on knowing he absolutely destroyed stanley's mental state for a little fun game!!!<3 (yeah i knew the angst was coming from me eventually)

the narrator and stanley are BOTH autistic. SORRY NOT SORRY (i am autistic btw)

#tsp #tsp narrator #tsp stanley #tspud #the stanley parable #the stanley parable ultra deluxe #headcanon #headcanons #angst #light angst #fluff #YEAAHHHH I LOVE TSP

[thegoldencontracts]

Do you think Azul is capable of falling in love? I mean, the way he sees love as transactions and weakness to be exploited makes me question this thought.

Oh my god anon I'm so happy you asked about the transaction thing because I have SO many thoughts...

Can Azul Love?

This is just a quick analysis my brain spurred off into.

First there's this scenario I made specifically about this concept - Azul Falls In Love And Can't Handle It (Just wanted to link it instead of repeating everything in this post)

But even in other fics, I love exploring that concept! Because - to me, at least - love isn't always a choice. It becomes a choice later on. That sounds confusing but allow me to clarify.

There are two types of feelings commonly known as "love" that I'm referring to - Infatuation, and love. These two have nothing to do with age, or even a person's maturity level. Infatuation is the first part of a relationship or a pre-relationship stage, where every interaction gives you butterflies, you feel like you're on fire every second you spend, and all that good stuff.

Love is a choice you make. You're not getting butterflies anymore. You are choosing to build a life with someone, to be there for them even without the boost of infatuation.

Infatuation can come and go - it's pretty short-lived, in all honesty. Love, on the other hand, is stable and much longer-lasting when requited. You care deeply about a person, in spite of all their flaws or weaknesses.

Very few people can't feel infatuated - even Aromantic people can end up experiencing the same thing, just from a platonic angle, where you really admire someone to the point of glossing over their flaws.

Azul is no exception. He can get infatuated with someone too. He's not immune, and god, he hates it. Seeing you gives him butterflies, he wants to do everything in his power to make you happy, but why? This isn't supposed to be how he acts!

Love is a separate matter. Love requires a level of emotional maturity that - let's face it - not many Night Raven students have. Azul would have to care for you in spite of your flaws and choose to invest his time into a relationship with you despite potential losses like time for his business. He'll have to choose you despite the lack of chemicals in his brain encouraging him to do so. And, in his current state, I'm not quite sure if Azul is capable of that.

But the thing is, Azul isn't stagnant. It may not seem like it, but he is gradually growing. And he's definitely capable of love - even if it isn't romantic - just look at the way he talks about his family! I meant it when I said I wasn't sure. Though there's a chance he might not be able to make that choice, there's a chance he can, too.

And hopefully, when the time comes, and Azul and whoever his partner is are a good way in their relationship, and the chemicals finally wear off, he can make that choice.

#azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #not a fic #twst analysis #twst azul #twst #disney twisted wonderland #azul #btw just wanted to mention #this applied to platonic love too ^^ #friendships take work #and they can also often have the kinda honeymoon phase #before it starts to fall apart bc you don't really know what to do once the dopamine rush wears off #you know their flaws too well #anyways this was all just my take #feel free to discourse as always

[george-weasleys-girl]

Ok but I need part 2 where reader has made a full recovery, and is back to work when Fred visits her at work. 😌 https://www.tumblr.com/george-weasleys-girl/714182415276441600/hi-could-you-write-a-little-something-on-the-war

The Next Level

Sequel to Aftermath

~•~

"Lunch delivery!" Fred announced as he stepped into Shacklebolt's office, holding up a pizza from their favorite pizzeria. Y/N looked up from her work, and the smile that spread across her face lit up the room.

"What a wonderful surprise! You didn't tell me you were stopping by," she said, rising to greet him, a noticeable limp in her step.

Fred's smile faltered for only a second, but Y/N still noticed the shift.

"I'm fine, love, the pain's minimal today. It's nothing I can't handle," she put a hand around the nape of his neck, pulling him in for a brief, gentle kiss. "Now c'mon, I'm starved, and that pizza smells divine."

Fred followed her over to her desk, where she cleared off a stack of paperwork and then, with a flick of her wand, produced two plates and two Butterbeers. It was good to have some time alone together. Or, really, any time at all. For three months, Fred had been glued to Y/N's side as she healed and relearned to walk. He'd even moved back to the Burrow just so he could help take care of her. It was one of the happiest times of his life, in spite of everything else going on.

But things changed after Y/N returned to work, and then a couple weeks later, Fred and George reopened the shop, prompting him to move back into the apartment. Now, they barely saw each other anymore, and being apart proved to be far more difficult than the older twin expected. He missed her more than he thought possible, and, of course, he still worried about her. How was her pain? Was she sleeping well? Was she making sure she didn't overexert herself? But, most of all, this had been the longest they'd been apart since they became friends all those years ago, and he was going crazy without her. So, after a great deal of thought and discussing things with George, he decided it was time to take their relationship to the next level.

Y/N reached out and squeezed Fred's hand. "I'm so glad you came by. I miss you. I feel like we never get to see each other these days."

"You just read my mind, babe," Fred smiled. "And I've been thinking--," he paused, chewing on his lip. He'd not intended to bring the subject up until he was over at the Burrow for dinner on Friday night, but now that the moment had presented itself, he decided to just go for it.

"Yes?" Y/N's head was titled with her eyebrows scrunched together, giving him the most adorable quizzical look.

Fred couldn't help but chuckle. "Y/N, you're the cutest person on the planet."

"Oh, um, thanks," she giggled. "Is that what you've been thinking about?"

"Every time I see you," Fred smiled, then kissed her hand. "But it's not what I wanted to talk to you about right now."

Y/N grinned. "Didn't think so."

Fred took a sip of butterbeer before continuing. "So, yeah. I've been thinking. I don't really fancy not seeing you every day anymore. And I wanted to talk to you about changing that."

"Okay," Y/N said. "I'm game. What did you have in mind?"

"I want you to move in with me."

Y/N was about to take a bite of pizza but froze at his words.

"Me?"

Fred looked around the room. "I don't see anyone else here. Yes, of course you, love."

"Move in with you?"

Fred nodded. "Uh huh, what do you think?"

Y/N smiled from ear to ear. "I think I need to take the rest of the afternoon off so I can start packing up my stuff."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes!"

Fred lept up over the desk and pulled her into a kiss just seconds before Shacklebolt's deep voice startled them apart, both their faces turning a brilliant crimson.

"Ah, young love," he said, stepping into the room.

"Oh hi," Y/N fumbled. "I wasn't expecting you until later this afternoon."

Shacklebolt chuckled. "I gathered that."

"You know, I should probably be going," Fred said, turning to Y/N's boss. "Sorry, it's all my f--"

"Nonsense," Shacklebolt, interjected, waving away Fred's comment. "Enjoy your lunch, I'm only here because I forgot the Edgecombe file."

"Oh! You'll definitely be needing that," Y/N said and went to pull it from the filing cabinet while Fred sat back down on his side of the desk.

"Thank you, my dear," Shacklebolt said, moving to leave, but then, paused in the doorway and turned back to them. "Oh, and congrats on moving into together."

They both turned to stare at him.

"H-how long were you listening?" Y/N asked.

"Long enough," he replied with a wink before disappearing out the door.

Y/N and Fred gave her boss just enough time to get out of earshot before they looked back at each other and burst out laughing.

~•~

@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @imshiningjustforyou @nighttimemoonlover @jsjcue @wzrd-wheezes @fredweasleyyyyy @hufflepuffie @alexistonks @princess-paramour @anvaaryn @lastwandastan @samshifts @asuperconfusedgirl @superduckmilkshake @mysticsheepsoul @gemofthenight @1lellykins @junerprsh @sierraluvz

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley headcanon