#Ink really said ':3 /threat'

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

so Dust really doesn't have a head?? what happened to him??

(first the handplates, then this...)

Past Dust: aw… missing something? Past Ink: you're gonna be missing teeth if you don't give that back Past Dust: heh… if you want me to give this back so bad, why don't you MAKE ME. Past Ink: … (meanwhile) Past Nightmare: Don't you understand? Everything you're doing is fruitless. There is no aim to your actions. What's the point in sparing me when you know I'm not really your brother anymore? I don't care for you. Past Dream: There is aim to my actions. There is a reason. I- Nightmare. Please understand when I say- Past Dust, in the distance: (SCREAMING)

#dust sans #ink sans #nightmare sans #dream sans #implied violence #threats #eye strain #eye contact #past events #apparently Ink decided that since teeth are bones the rest of Dust's skull was free game #idk maybe Dust should've stolen the red vial instead (joke) #Ink really said ':3 /threat' #also imagine being such an eyesore that you need an eye strain tag on every post you're in LMAO #queue

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Only for you

Emo!Wanda Maximoff x FemReader

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: Just the above, but I also added some reader backstory

Warning: Reader backstory including: physical pain, arguing, bullying, mental instability, manipulation, R being held against her will Present time storyline: mutual pining, Unestablished lesbian relationship, slight teasing by the team, jealousy, posessiveness, love confessions, fluff, Happy!Ending <3

Joining the Avengers was a challenge. It wasn’t the constant work outs and strict diet to keep you healthy and strong, it wasn’t even the danger or the threats to your life, even the annoying attempts of the media to follow you and snap pictures of you didn’t bother you that much. They all got buried by the government before they saw the light of day anyway. It was the people. Not that you weren’t grateful to them. They had saved your life after all. Gave you a purpose in life. But… The Avengers were a tough group to get to know and even tougher to live with sometimes. Of course, some preferred having their own homes, like Clint and his family, or the notorious Captain Marvel, that didn’t even live on Earth, and just as expected, those that did live in the tower had their own floors, rooms, offices, so you didn’t even meet them that much, but that just made it even harder to really connect. That’s why Steve insisted on team building activities, training together, even attending Tony’s stupid parties, all in the name of bonding. The man meant well and he really had a big heart, but he just couldn’t see that some of the Avengers had very little in common.

The thing is… You were born a witch. Not from a powerful clan, or with deeply rooted ancestry, and you probably would have stayed that way, had you not made a terrible mistake. Truly, you were just angry at the time. Barely a teenager, who thought she had all the answers. You were arguing with your mother about something, not that you could even remember what for. It was probably so stupid. But you both lost your temper, screaming at each other, until she had sent you to your room. She thought she was de-escalating the situation, giving you both time to calm down. What she didn’t know is that you had been through her collection of spell books and brought them all to your room. So when you slammed the door behind you, stupidly, unthinkingly, you grabbed the books. You weren’t sure what kind of spell you were hoping to find. Just something to make all the emotions inside you stop raging. But you found an absorption spell instead. In your head, you thought that if you just learned this spell and then performed it, you’ll search through the books much faster and then you’d able to do… What? God, you had no idea. Thinking back now, that was such a ridiculous thing to do. But you learned the spell, grabbed the candles you had in your drawer, surrounded yourself with all the books you had taken and just started the chant, hands touching the pages of the books and starting to feel their content seeping into your skin. It stung! That’s what you remember most. The feeling of that black ink seeping into your skin, as if splitting it open to make its way inside, clawing its way in your veins. It hurt so bad, but it wouldn’t stop. You had said the words, and now the spell was doing its work, emptying the pages of the books around you. You tried to pull your hands away, struggled to get it to stop, but it wouldn’t. Every painful second felt like hours. The panic inside you was rising, watching the inky blotches making their way up your arms, crawling like black maggots under your skin, up your shoulders and neck… You were so scared, heart pumping wildly in your chest as you watched it happen, begging for it to finally stop.

But with the end of the spell, you found yourself facing a greater torment. You had taken too much, too fast for your brain to fully comprehend. All the words swirled in your head like a hurricane, making it impossible to distinguish your own thoughts. You tried to calm down, tried to put those racing thoughts in order, trying to meditate, just like your mother had thought you, but it was useless. It wouldn’t stop. In the end, it was your screams that attracted your mother to your room, panicked and scared, just as you were, trying to get you to tell her what you had done, but you couldn’t even put a sentence in order. Your brain was so scrambled, growing more incoherent by the second. Maybe that’s when you passed out? You couldn’t tell. You had very little recollections from that time. The next days were a blur. You don’t remember much. Just your room. Your mother told you that you were consumed by madness. Spewing lines from spells, incoherent and jumbled together. But sometimes you would get one right. She’d had to confine you to your room and bind you with runes, so you wouldn’t start casting without even knowing it. She told you it took you two weeks, before you started to come back to yourself. It was a miracle you even managed it. Some witches never recovered from such a thing. By the time you came back to your school, there were so many rumours about you, people whispering behind your back. You were changed. Thinner, more withdrawn, trying to keep to yourself. But kids were cruel and curious. They teased you, tried to get you to admit why you were missing from school all this time, attacking you, when you tried to ignore them. You should have known it was inevitable that you snapped and did something you’d regret.

It was just before summer break, you thought you had gotten through the worst of it, that you had your emotions under control, practicing every day, just so you could keep all the magic from spilling out. Many people didn’t know, but grimoires weren’t just books full of spells. Each spell, written within the pages was also a tiny bit of magic, leaving its imprint and taking root. You hadn’t just absorbed the knowledge, but the magic too. It was more than you’d ever felt, more than you knew how to control, so you practiced relentlessly. But when pushed, it bubbled to the surface. Fucking Madeleine Dupont, daughter of the Patric Dupont – owner of the biggest, most profitable manufacturing business in town, was obnoxious, spoiled, annoying and with a mean streak wider than her daddy’s newly acquired 23 acres of land for their grand mansion. The girl loved to pick on everyone, but recently, she had set her sights on you and in that fateful day, she and her friends cornered you into an empty classroom, taking drugs out of their pockets and trying to get you to take them. When “gentle” persuasion failed, one of them grabbed you, holding you by the hair and trying to force your face onto a desk, where they had spilled some powder. You didn’t even know what it is. But they started to overpower you, and the tears spilling down your cheeks as you tried to tell them that you didn’t want this, that you needed them to stop, only added to their exhilaration.

They eventually pinned you down, laughing menacingly as they tried to get you to breathe it in and you lost control, pushing them back with your magic, a wave of energy blasting through the whole room, making desks and chairs fly to the ground, just like the girls had done. You tried to reign yourself in, to stop the emotions from taking over, but you were mumbling spells already. You remember just a blast. You remember waking up in a cell, body strapped to a small hospital bed, being pumped full of something. And the woman. She was your “handler” and on most days, the only person you saw or spoke with. She told you what happened. You’d killed those girls. Part of the building collapsed because of what you had done and the rubble crushed them. You must have protected yourself on instinct. Survived it somehow. They were giving you medication, making sure you heal properly. And then your training could begin. They were HYDRA. And they had a special interest in people like you. They made it clear that they weren’t just your supposed saviours, but also your captors. They weren’t going to just let you leave their facility. Instead, they aimed to train you. You were one of the lucky ones. You learned that after you were rescued from that HYDRA base. They never tortured you physically. Instead, they decided that they could break your mind, already weakened by what you’d done to yourself. They aimed to convert you. Half your training was spells and magic, endurance, strength… The other part… That was indoctrination. And they used everything they knew about you just to do it. When you refused to say the right things, they withheld food, when you refused to train, they withheld water… When that didn’t work, they would use threats. Your mother. They weren’t above hurting her to make you behave. They weren’t above killing her, if you didn’t do what you’re told.

You often held out hope that she was looking for you. That she’d find you and save you. But she didn’t have half as much power as you did. And you couldn’t escape them. What luck would she have? Eventually, your only hope of escape was to save yourself and after a few failed attempts, you formed a plan. You did as you were told, said what they needed to hear and you trained. You trained every waking moment, making sure your body and mind would be strong enough to take on all the magic you invited into yourself. That absorption spell? You used it more often, although, you limited the amount of information this time. It always hurt, the headaches after each use were monstrous. But it was all worth it. You were going to get yourself out of there one day. Even if you had to take down the whole base to do it. But it was the Avengers who took it down and helped you out of there. They reunited you with your mother, your family, and after some time, they also offered you a job. A calling. To help people. Those who weren’t as fortunate as you. Those in need. And you said yes. That’s how you ended up in the Avengers tower. Despite the people, it was a lonely place. Few understood what you had been though, fewer still cared for what it had done to you. But you couldn’t blame them. They all had their own lives, their own problems to deal with, their own personal pain to wallow in. Natasha understood. She knew what being a prisoner was like, what it felt like to be forced to do things just to survive. Steve empathised. His big heart and his puppy dog eyes were unbelievably charming and he won you over easily. Clint brought normalcy to everyone’s lives. But most of the others were hard to relate to. Tony meant well, but he had a big mouth and he loved putting his foot in it. Bruce was always in his lab. Vision was kind, but he was also marked by the characteristics of his origin and hard to make a connection with. Thor… Where do you even start with Thor? But there was also Wanda.

She had joined before you, her story similar to yours, yet so different, marked by loss and heartache. She was a kindred spirit and easily a friend. She was a little older than you, her eyeliner thick, her black nail polish often chipped, her hair in a tight ponytail as she walked around the compound and she always smiled when she saw you. As the months passed, the two of you were inseparable, spending every waking moment together. You were one of the two people who wasn’t scared that she’d read your mind, who trusted her good intentions and good heart completely. The other was Vision. They had a bond, an understanding that you didn’t know how to share in. But you were happy that she had him in her corner, because the other Avengers always looked at her suspiciously, or avoided her and you never knew why. Wanda was a sweetheart. Her favorite way to watch sitcoms was with her cuddled up into your side, your fingers playing with her silky hair, that she always let down, when it was just the two of you in the room. And sure, she was a little emo, but you found that adorable. Her smile would only widen, when you’d use one of your many pet names for her and she would blush, when you complimented her cooking. And you used those all the time, because, the thing is, you were in love with her. You were desperately in love with Wanda Maximoff and you were ready to do just about anything to have her smile at you or shower you with her affection. Something she did practically all the time anyway. If the woman wasn’t also fiercely protective and an extremely powerful witch, you’d say she’s a puppy. But none of the others ever agreed, when you said so. They would cower, when she stepped into the room, avoid her eyes, when they needed to speak to her, they would step out of training rooms, when she walked in. You found it baffling. And somehow the treatment extended to you as well. The closer you got to her, the more they kept their distance.

Gone were the days when they would tease you playfully, when they would give you pointers on your techniques, when they would approach you for small gatherings that didn’t involve the whole team and you never knew why. Until today. You walked in the common room, only to find most of the team already there and you greeted them, before you made your way to the adjacent kitchen, listening to their banter as you made breakfast for yourself and Wanda. It was the dynamic you were used to and you were ready to join them, holding the bowls of food in your hands, when you noticed that the noise suddenly died down, replaced by tense silence. “Wanda.” Natasha greeted with a nod. “Natasha.” The younger woman acknowledged, stepping further into the room and scanning it for something. Not that she ever told them what she needs. She looked pissed. Her aura was dark and almost menacing, her shoulders squared, like she was ready for a fight, making everyone on edge and you couldn’t figure out why. “Hi, sweetheart!” You decide to finally greet her, showing yourself from behind the wall you had been standing, while you observed all this. “Sweetheart?” Tony lifted an eyebrow, an amused smile creeping up his lips. Wanda only threw him a glare, but she accepted your hug happily, taking you into her arms and when you pulled away, she only let you turn into her hold, facing the group, while her hands stayed firmly around you. “Let’s go have breakfast in my room.” She suggested in your ear, ready to practically drag you out of there. “Why not join all of us for breakfast?” Steve raised his voice, gesturing to the big table he was already sitting at. “That’d be nice.” You nodded, before Wanda had any chance to refuse. “Come on, Wands, I already fixed you a bowl.” You told her. “Yes, Wands, we haven’t seen you in ages.” Tony agrees, emphasising the nickname you had used.

Feeling like she didn’t have much of a choice, Wanda agreed, sitting next to you and pulling your chair practically into her side, so she’d have you as close to her as she could, while she ate quietly. But the team felt like they had stumbled onto something. They had felt the shift in mood within her, as soon as she saw you and they weren’t going to let it go so easily. At first they tried their playful banter on her, asking her about her day, about her interests, about her training, just anything to see a reaction, but none actually came. It was only when you spoke that she would light up. She would smile, when she listened to you, when she forgot that it wasn’t just the two of you in the room. But it was the little blush that showed on her cheeks, when you called her “darling” that first sparked an idea within them. “Hey, Y/N, I hear you tried your hand against Cap here.” Bucky stared off, attracting your attention. “Tried being the key word. Hand to hand I don’t stand a chance, but with a little magic…” You trailed off, shrugging. “Who knows…” “Yeah?” His smile widens. “Well, if you’re looking for a challenge, join me for a spar this afternoon.” He invited. “She’s training with me this afternoon.” Wanda practically growled, looking up from her bowl for just a second, to stare down Bucky. Her glare was murderous. “That’s too bad, I was hoping for a little magic.” The man said, obviously bating Wanda. “Then perhaps you should train with me. I have magic.” Wanda snarled, summoning a ball of energy between her fingers for a moment, just to get her point across and luckily, the man was smart enough to back off. “Well, if you’re busy training, perhaps I can finally take dear Y/N to get a proper costume. The two of you can’t keep borrowing my leather jackets and pretend that it’s a real suit.” Natasha interjected. “What do you say dear?” She asked, her voice dropping an octave. “I already have some ideas in mind. You can try them on for me.” She suggested, noting the way Wanda’s knuckles turned white around her spoon. “And I’m sure Tony can make some improvements.” “Oh yeah.” The man chimed in, happy to take his own turn teasing Wanda. “I’ll have to get your measurements of course. To make sure it fits perfectly.” He says casually, but the idea of it makes Wanda’s blood boil. “She’s busy today.” Wanda retorts, before you even get a chance to open your mouth and you find yourself surprised to see her so tense. “Tomorrow perhaps.” Tony shrugs, taking on Wanda’s glare. “I’ll make time for her.” He adds. “She’s mine.” Wanda snaps, raising from her seat and balling her fists. “What was that?” Tony pretends not to hear her, smirking at the pissed off witch. “I said, she’s mine.” Wanda grits out, turning to you, ready to drag you out of the room.

It’s then that she realizes what she had said. That you were right there next to her, looking at her with a mixture of disbelief and hopefulness. The thing is, Wanda was desperately in love with you too. She was also, as the team quickly started to realize, extremely possessive, and she wasn’t going to watch every man and woman in the room flirt with you. The only problem was that she hadn’t told you all that. Scared to ruin your friendship and loose you for good, she opted for hiding her feelings, which only intensified her jealousy. She hadn’t staked her claim on you and it made her scared that someone else might. So every time you weren’t with her, she’d be on edge, lurking in corners, sending people glares whenever they spoke to you, hoping to keep them away until she could finally tell you how she felt. Such behaviour had earned her a reputation in the Tower as grumpy, and since everyone knew how dangerous she could be, they tried to stay away. Now, however, cornered and taken by surprise, she had let it slip. And you were right next to her, so it was impossible that you didn’t hear her earlier words. “Y/N…” She stutters, taken aback. “I didn’t mean… I…” She stumbled over her words. And the audience didn’t help in the slightest. She felt crowded. Tony’s smug smirk seemed to taunt her, Bucky and Steave sharing a knowing giggle between them, Natasha, who somehow looked unphased and simply amused at the whole scene, it was all overwhelming. And then, there was you. Shocked at what you’d heard and looking at her in disbelief. God, she needed to get out of there… Before she had a chance to say much else, before she could think it all through, she stormed out. She didn’t even know how she ended up in the hallway, her legs carrying her on their own, when she heard your voice. “Wanda!” You were calling out her name, jogging slightly to catch up to her. “Wanda, please wait!” You called out again, seemingly not for the first time. “Please, we should talk about this.” You said, watching her stop, so she could wait for you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I had to get out of there.” She tried to say, her voice shaking a little with all the emotions that were raging inside her. “It’s ok. I understand.” You nodded, taking her hand, so you could help her feel more grounded.

The small touch between you, just the feeling of your hand in hers felt electrifying and she easily took the other one as well, pulling you close, until she could have you in her arms, securing you in a tight embrace and making you look up at her. “You don’t understand.” She said, hands shaking. “I’m so in love with you. I have been for months now. And I was so scared to tell you, so scared of loosing you, that I just…” She paused, struggling to find the right words. “And the way they were talking to you, the way they all looked at you… I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you. I want you to be mine. I want you all to myself. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up with you in my arms, I want to spend every day showing you that I love you. I want… You!” She confessed, her arms tightening around you, as if you’d escape her grasp somehow. “Oh, Wanda…” You whispered, a gentle smile farming on your lips as you watched her eyes sparkle. “I’ve been in love with you too. And I didn’t know how to tell you…” You said, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. The moment felt heavy, thick with emotions as you both stood frozen in time, eyes glued to the other, when suddenly a voice, startled you both. “Maximoff, kiss the girl already!” Tony said smugly, followed by cheers from the people around him. Were they watching you on the hallway cameras this whole time? Not that you had time to think about that, when Wanda was leaning closer, her eyes flashing red, before she shortened the distance between you both, until she was only a breath away. Her features were so different now, she was smiling as she held you, biting her lips, eyes full of adoration and longing.

When she finally placed her lips on yours, a gentle caress at first, it felt like you were in heaven. You had wished for this moment for so long, imagined it every night, before you fell asleep, dreamt of it and longed for it and it was finally happening and you just couldn’t get enough. When she felt your eager lips on hers, Wanda didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, tongue darting out, asking for permission to taste you further and mingling with yours, once you allowed her access. It was only when she pushed you against the nearest wall, trapping your body with hers, that you finally paused. “We’re giving everyone a show.” You reminded her, head pointing to the camera in the corner. “Never.” Wanda smirked, her magic flashing once more, to show you that she had disabled the feed, before you even kissed. “Only I’m allowed to see you like this. I would never share you with anyone else.” She said with a note of possessiveness that you were growing to love, the more you saw it. She kissed you again. And then again, greedy hands squeezing your hips. She could never get enough of you. She felt drunk on you and only reluctantly pulled away when you both needed to breathe. “We should get back.” You said reluctantly. “Let’s go to my room instead. We’ll take it slow. We don’t have to do anything. I just want you all to myself.” She suggested. “I don’t want to share you.” “Wait… Is that why everyone thinks you’re so grumpy?” You suddenly realized, remembering countless times, when Wanda has wanted your undivided attention, skipping events and avoiding people. She didn’t say anything, but at this point you didn’t need her to. “We should show them how wrong they are. You’re amazing and warm and loving and sweet and I want everyone to know that.” You told her honestly. “But we’ll go to my room after?” She held you firmly, refusing to let you go just yet. “Yes, we’ll go to your room after.” You nodded happily. “I’ll even let you pick what we’re watching.” You added teasingly. Wanda smiled, pulling away just enough to let you straighten yourself and she held your hand, letting you guide her back to the common room, watching your hips sway seductively. It was sweet, she thought, that you believed she’d be wasting her time with sitcoms, when she could finally have you the way she’s wanted you for so long… _______________________________________________________ Hi, dear anon. I hope that you are happy with the story you got for your request! <3

#writing #lesbian #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch #fanfiction request

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend to be interrogated by the 141 (2.9k words, part 3)

Summary: Valeria prepares to take you back at all costs and she thinks back to the days of your happy love. Alejandro's jealous interest turns into something more sinister as he continues to intimidate you. The tables turn as Valeria makes her first move.

TW: threat of (sexual) violence. (Also Google Translated Spanish)

I didn't expect to write Alejandro so darkly, sorry! I'm also working on the next part! I'm aiming to finish this fic before the 10th because that's when I'm flying to my home country for the rest of August, and I won't have the space to be as active or to write with privacy. Also thank you for all the love you've sent my way, I really appreciate all the attention and it makes me very happy. Enjoy part 3!! :D Link to A03 Part 1 and Part 2

Valeria was a well-inked woman, her tattoos were typical for someone who made their living within the hostile environment of a cartel. Her ink was in many ways traditional; a rose on her upper arm, a classic snake circling the blade of a knife, references hidden within elusive Roman numbers, an image of Death looming behind a scorpio on her bicep. Images strategically placed in obvious places, a courtesy call for all who came across her. And then there were the private ones, that only you had ever witnessed; that only you had trailed your finger upon, following the lines down her skin, making her shiver underneath your touch. The matching hearts stamped very low on her back, the quote of your favourite song etched on her skin. And right below her tummy, just underneath her underwear line, this was written:"Love is as strong as death, as deep as the grave." A secret romantic, she got that tattooed after you rubbed her lower tummy to relieve her painful period. You had been together for quite a while by that point, had already exchanged 'i love you's, had already explored each other's bodies to the core, and had been living together. She knew you loved her and you made a point of showing it every day. And yet, it still caught her by surprise sometimes, your tender touch caressing her when she wasn't expecting it; in the sparkles that came alive in your eyes when she walked into the room. But what moved her most of all was how you responded to her weakness. Not the same weakness that men look down on - the open displays of her love, the open hurt in one's eyes when their loved one said something that cut deep. No, what really mattered to her was the physical weakness, how you would respond when her strength failed her and she was bedridden. Valeria had the unpleasant habit of sleeping alone when on her period, saying that it was because she got angry easily and didn't want to bother you. But really, she didn't want you to hear her small whimpers, to see her body curl inwards as she sought relief from the pain. On one of those days, as she was napping in the spare bedroom, and just as she was winning her struggle with sleep and about to enter the land of dreams, the bed gave in to your weight as you crawled behind her and put your body against hers.

"Go away, mi amor. I'm not in the mood." She grumbled in response and tried moving away from your touch. Paying no mind to her protests, you kissed the top of her head as you slid behind her, placing your arm below her neck and bringing your bodies close. You left a trail of tiny kisses along her neck and your other hand roamed beneath her shirt, then moved lower, passing the elastic band of her underwear.

"I said go away, I can't do it today," she protested but stopped because instead of going lower, your hand simply just rested on that spot. You drew circles on her soft lower tummy with your thumb. As your hand warmed up her skin, it brought relief to her pain. "I'm your personal water bottle, baby," you cooed as you placed more small, chaste kisses on her skin. Valeria relaxed into your skin, basking in the warmth as she let out a relieved sigh. Valeria had always known she'd kill for you, but at that very moment, she vowed to die before she let anything harm you. She needed to mark her devoted love for you on her skin permanently, and so got that tattoo in the very spot that you massaged every month.

And now she stared at that tattoo as she buttoned her trousers and tightened her weapons belt, hiding it.

There was a stiffness within Valeria that made her hard to break, but that, nonetheless, would one day surely be broken. She feared that this day had now come. She always knew you'd be part of her undoing, but if that undoing was ever to happen, she anticipated it in the form of betrayal. There were certain wounds that your love would soothe, but not erase, and her fear of losing you was one of them. Although she knew there was always the risk of losing you in her operations - spouses were frequent targets of attack in her profession - she could never fathom that this would ever happen. And now that it finally did, her undoing felt imminent. But before she fell, she would undo the lives of every person involved in your abduction.

Valeria walked down the halls of her estate which was now busy as a bee's colony. Personnel ran up and down the halls, transferring arms and themselves to vehicles and aircraft, putting everyone down to the guard dogs into use. Everything was readied to perfection before they descended upon the headquarters of the Mexcian Army with blood and fire. This was unlike Sin Nombre's usual pattern of behaviour. El Sin Nombre worked in the shadows and did the most to prevent bloodshed. El Sin Nombre brushed shoulders with the Mexican Army frequently, but nonetheless maintained a respectful distance. They kept to their turf, and she kept to hers. She was the blade that shone in the shadows, an elusive blade that had to be looked for, but now she would carry her knife in the open. And she would burn the world to the ground, the whole lot of them be damned. Let it be known that Valeria Garza loves a woman to death. And she will ride the forces of death to the battlefield even if just to reunite with her love. She thought of you right now, kept somewhere cold and grimy, afraid and lost in the world of armies and men, in the world of violence and destruction. A world she tried hard to keep separate from your own.

And yet still, she did not regret ever bringing you to her life; not for a second. Binding your lives may have caused your ruin and hers, but she was still glad to have known happiness with you before the bitterness descended.

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"Tell me, Y/N. Have you ever been with a man?" Alejandro looked right into your eyes with his dark ones, and you just stared at him, shocked and embarrassed. Your anxiety turned into stone-cold fear. What kind of question was that? This was not where the conversation was going, nor did you ever expect to be asked this - especially by someone like him. You painfully craved Valeria's presence in that moment, so much that it hurt. Ever since she entered your life, no one dared to intimidate or harass you. She became your protector and your guardian. It had been years since you had to defend yourself, verbally or physically, and the realisation almost brought tears to your eyes. You became painfully aware of your predicament as the Colonel stared you down impatiently.

You willed yourself to say something, anything, but your words would not come out no matter how hard you tried. "I asked you a question," he said. "I don't know what to say," your voice trailed off to near silence by the end. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your ring. "It's a yes or no answer," he said. "I don't want to talk anymore," you said, louder than you spoke before. "That's not how interrogations work. I ask, you answer." Alejandro stepped forward and leaned down to your level. "So answer the question - ahora." "¿Qué quieres de mí?" You asked. ("What do you want from me?")

He moved uncomfortably close and whispered: "I want her to suffer. I want her to know what betrayal feels like. Quiero arruinarte." ("I want to ruin you.") His eyes trailed below your tearful eyes and to your lips, then lower to your neck. His breath caught at the sight of bruises forming on your soft skin in the shape of his fingers. He wondered what the rest of you would like decorated like that, what it would feel like to grab all the soft parts of you and make them hurt. He gloated at the idea that Valeria would see you like that; destroyed and afraid, marked all over by him. For her to feel what it is like to have what she loves tattered into pieces. To feel the betrayal that he felt when she left him. He, the leader of Los Vaqueros, one of the most promising soldiers of his generation, abandoned for a random girl that nobody had even heard of; a nobody. A girl who did nothing more than help out in her Abuela's kitchen. As Alejandro's eyes leered across your body, he wondered what it was that attracted Valeria to you. Was it your pretty eyes? Large and round puppy eyes that he bet could beg so prettily. Was it your soft and glistening skin? Or was it your inoculated innocence? The innocence of someone who didn't know what it was like to kill, who had never taken a life. The innocence of someone who didn't make their living alongside Death. The innocence of someone you came home to after a long day, who nursed the wounds the world inflicted upon you and sent you out there stronger than before. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that parts of you filled out where his didn't. The parts of your body that were soft where his were hard, that you were delicate where he was strong, that your skin was smooth when his was scarred. That where he yielded, you broke. That you could crumble in love and he wouldn't. That he and Valeria belonged with the destroyers of the world, and you were of the destroyed. That there was an inevitable attraction between these opposites, and resistance when two of the same met, an instinctive aversion to that which was made of the same stuff as you.

"You as much as lay a hand on me, cabrón, and it'll be the last thing you ever fucking do," you spat your words at him, anger burning in your chest. Upon hearing this, a dark grin stretched across his face. He reached out with his gloved hand and grabbed a strand of your hair.

"You're so stupid, you don't even know it," he mused while rubbing his thumb against your hair. You jerked back to release him from you, but he only held on to your hair, preferring to see you rip it from your scalp than let go.

"You don't know what can happen to women in custody, do you?" He said. You stared back in defiance. "You're just trying to scare me. You wouldn't dare." "I guess Valeria never told you how we do things here." He said, looking down at you. "She told me how much she fucking hated it, and how small you all made her feel," you said, emboldened in your anger. "And whatever you do to me won't change the fact that she loved me and not you, and that she will always choose me." You said, staring up at him. His eyes darkened and he released your hair, only to raise his hand high above you, preparing to bring it down with a force that would knock you off your chair.

He was about to do so but was interrupted when the door opened.

An unknown man entered the room, dressed in the typical kit of the Mexican Army. "Colonel," he said and saluted. "You're wanted in the yard." Alejandro looked behind him lazily. "What's this about? Estoy ocupado." (I'm busy) The man blinked back at him. "El fantasmo, sir." Alejandro grunted and returned his hand to his side, not bothering to hide what he was about to do. He started walking towards the door. "You just think about what I just said," he uttered and shut the door behind him. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you took a moment to comprehend what just happened. His threat hung over you like a rope, tightly coiled like the lump in your throat. How long till he returned? You couldn't stand the idea of being left alone with him again. "Senora."

For a moment, you forgot the other man was still with you. You looked up at him, worry written all over your face, weary of his presence. He stepped closer to you and placed a hand in his pocket. To your surprise, he pulled out a strawberry-flavoured breakfast bar; one of your favourite snacks. "Don't you worry. La jefa viene en camino," he said as he passed it to you. ("The boss is on her way") Stunned, you held the bar in your hands and looked at him with tears in your eyes. Many thoughts rushed through your mind - she knew you were here! You thought of what Commander Graves had said about Valeria having friends with many places, and here was one operating right underneath their noses. You wanted to ask the man so many things, but could only speak one word: "When?" He looked at you with a soft, sympathetic smile on his lips. His fingers reached to the earpiece and he pressed it. "Now," he said and an alarm siren started started screaming.

The sound was unlike anything you'd ever heard before. The siren blared over the speakers of the Mexican Army's headquarters in one long, continuous yell. Immediately, you could hear the thundering footsteps of countless men running up and down the grounds, yells of surprise and panicked instructions that were incomprehensible to you from within the box. The man looked at you calmly. "Stay right here, senora. Don't come out for any reason." And with that, he ran out the door, sealing the door shut behind him. You could hear a chain rattling against the entrance as he locked you in. The breakfast bar sat on your lap and you began peeling the wrapping. You took a big bite out of it, tasting the sweetness of the sugar and the sourness of the strawberry pieces. You swallowed your snack as the first bullet was fired.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alejandro was annoyed at the interruption and hurried to the yard where Ghost was expecting him. He wondered what the urgency was. Perhaps Valeria sent a message. That was what he wanted, but he hoped it would take a bit longer. There was a surprising amount of fun to be had with you. Even if he didn't lay a hand on you, his words alone were enough to terrify you, and he loved every second of it. Your eyes widening in fear when you understood what he meant, your embarrassment at what was implied; it excited him more than he wanted to admit. Had that been Valeria on that chair, he would've been chewed out in a second, if not worse. It was uncommon to come across someone so timid as you in his line of work, someone so easy to pick on. And yet, you showed some spite, too. There were many layers to be uncovered here, and he wanted to take his time unravelling all that you had to offer.

He arrived at the yard. The place was littered with army vehicles transporting cargo and people to and from the facility, and further out, the aircraft was in the process of being retired for the day. To his annoyance, Ghost was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he found Rudolpho helping out with the transport of arms.

"Have you seen Ghost, Rudy?" Alejandro asked. Rudolpho paused and turned to his superior, and longtime friend. "Ghost and Soap are in a meeting with General Sherperd, the Captain, and Graves, sir. I'm not sure when they'll be done." Alejandro raised his eyebrows in surprise. "A meeting with Graves? And why weren't we invited?" Rudolpho shook his head, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know." He partly turned around to continue with his task, but then faced Alejandro again. "Colonel," he said and moved closer to Alejandro so that others couldn't hear. "I'm not doubting your judgement here. But will this help catch El Sin Nombre? We've not heard anything of Valeria since that night." He said.

Alejandro stared back in response. "Of course this will help catch her. I told you this is a necessary evil to weed her out. I know how she works, trust me." He affirmed.

Rudolpho seemed unsure. "I knew her too, Alejandro. And I don't think this was the right move, at all. And I think Commander Graves is having his doubts too." He didn't need to spell it out for Alejandro, he knew the implication behind this. That Graves was doubting Alejandro's judgment. That this meeting they were having could very well be about this operation, calling it a failure. Wanting to change the strategy. Rudy pressed on. "And I really don't think she ought to be left alone in that container. She should be transported to jail, sir."

Alejandro turned to him and spoke slowly, realization hitting him like a wave. "But she's not alone." The alarm in Alejandro's eyes spread to Rudolpho and they both turned to face the building that hosted the container when the emergency alarm was triggered.

Promised tags: @justmare @silas-222 @m0rganit3 @blarba-girl (thank you for all the support!) @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @ashy-kit

#call of duty valeria #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #valeria x female reader #cod valeria #cod imagine #cod mw2 #call of duty #valeria x reader

[houseofhollows]

photograph

pairing: Theodore Nott x reader

genre: angst LOL

notes: haven’t written in so long… sorry if this is bad but i really wanted to upload something. i’ve missed it <3

One week ago Theodore Nott did the worst thing imaginable. One week ago Theodore Nott did something he never thought he would have to do. One week ago he broke up with Y/N. 

It was truly the worst pain he had ever felt. He’d dealt with his father’s attitude and cruel punishments. He had endured the bruises and injuries he’d acquired through Quidditch. He’d suffered broken limbs and concussions. Yet, the worst pain he had ever felt was having to break up with his girlfriend. The one person he deeply trusted, who understood him, who always made him feel like he could do anything–be anything. 

And he had broken her heart to pieces. And he pretended he didn’t care. 

He felt the pain on both an emotional and physical level. He usually prided himself in not showing vulnerability to anyone but Y/N. Still, that night the dorm was filled with the sound of his broken sobs, his stuttered breathing, and the insults he threw not only to himself, but to his father, Voldemort, and even Draco. If it weren’t for them, it wouldn’t have had to happen. He could be sitting beside her in the common room, whispering things to make her giggle. A sound that made him look at her in awe. 

He had unwillingly become a Death Eater, being forced to follow in his father’s footsteps. He tried to object, which only resulted in his father sending him a multitude of angry threats. The Dark Mark was inked into the skin of his forearm the following day. It was done at the Malfoy Manor, where Draco suffered the same. It was clear that Draco would oblige to everything asked of him, but Theo was more reluctant. He skipped the first two meetings, not believing it to be a big deal. But when it was Voldemort instead of his father threatening to kill him, he had no choice. 

What he wasn’t expecting was a lecture from Draco. He went on and on about how important their duty was, how important it would be to have the Dark Lord’s praise. That he mustn’t disobey. 

They were being asked to do dangerous and illegal things; things the entirety of the Death Eaters would be punished for once caught. 

Y/N couldn’t be involved in this mess. He knew ending things was the only solution. The word no kept replaying in his head. He didn’t want to do it. But he had to. To protect her. 

Everything felt cold, dark, absent. It was like the world was being covered in shadows. 

For days she rested in pain, unable to move. She had never felt a loss quite like this. No, he didn’t pass away, but knowing that she couldn’t touch him, kiss him, feel him, was the worst thing she had ever felt. She didn’t sleep. The curtains around her bed were closed, keeping her in a constant state of darkness. She was overwhelmed by the feeling of numbness. The sadness went so deep into her heart that she no longer cried. 

It had been almost two weeks without Theodore when she finally got up. At first, her friends left her alone to be sad. However, they soon began to truly worry about her. She couldn’t stay in bed forever.

“Please Y/N, get up. You have missed so many classes and you’ve barely eaten,” Pansy said softly while pushing a strand of hair from her friend’s face. Despite Pansy’s rude reputation, she was very caring when it came to her friends. 

“Not to mention that she’s only showered once,” Millicent said with a face of disgust. 

Y/N groaned and shifted her position, “I’m tired.”

“Get out of bed before I levitate you to the Great Hall,” Daphne interjected. 

Unsurprisingly, Y/N leapt out of the bed and made her way towards the bathroom. Her pridefulness would never allow her to be seen like that. She also didn’t feel like being the talk of the school when the break up had already surely made its way around. 

After freshening up and getting ready, she began to feel anxious. She knew she’d have tons of work to make up, and unfortunately a break up was not a good enough excuse for missing the amount of classes she did. She wondered if Theo was feeling the same way, and whether or not he missed any classes. 

Her friends said they would meet her in the common room. Packing the last of her things, she noticed the small polaroid photo of her and Theo; it was taken at the Three Broomsticks, and the Y/N was talking while Theo looked at her intently. She had never seen the picture before. Turning it around, Theo’s handwriting sprawled the words, “Wait for me to come home.” 

Her eyes became clouded. How long had that been sitting there? And what did he mean by those words? Taking a deep breath, she pocketed the photo. She didn’t have time to cry now. She left the dorm and made her way down the stairs. 

Upon entering the Great Hall, she could feel the stares of not only her housemates, but those of other houses too. What were they saying about her?

She sat down at the Slytherin table and immediately made eye contact with Theo. She held her breath until he looked away. When he broke up with her, he had told her of his reason; being a Death Eater. She hadn’t been expecting him to be there. There was an ache in her body, one that had been there since that dreadful night. It devoured her, consumed her. It had worsened once she saw him, knowing that he’d been okay the whole time, he’d been going to class, hanging out with friends, while her soul was wearing thin with each passing moment. 

She felt his stare. It was the only one she cared about, the only one that didn’t make her close in on herself. But that was before. Now she wanted him to look away, and that only hurt more. And all of a sudden she felt really tired. Her body felt heavy. Her eyes closed and she felt Pansy shaking her. 

“Come on, Y/N/N, you can’t sleep now,” Pansy said with a hint of desperation. It surprised her. Pansy had never been one to show emotion, or that she cares for that matter. Y/N wanted to be better, if not for herself than for her friends. She opened her eyes and looked to Pansy, whose eyes held so much care it almost brought her to tears. She felt her hand on her back, rubbing it softly. She nodded, and for the first time in days, she smiled. 

The day dragged by. Y/N did her best to avoid Theo and his stupid staring. As expected, she had an overwhelming amount of work to make up, and she was actually thankful for it. Hopefully it would distract her from everything else. As soon as the last class ended, she made her way to the library to start tackling the abnormally large pile of work. 

She sat at her usual spot in the corner, where she was obscured by the bookshelves, blocking her from the prying eyes of other students as they tried to get her side of the story. She just wanted to feel invisible. 

From the corner of her eye, she saw something white amidst the dark shelves. It was another polaroid of her and Theo. This one showed the two cuddling on the dark leather sofa of the Slytherin common room. She wasn’t sure who took the picture, or who left it in that specific part of the library. She turned it around as she had with the first one, and found the words, “We’ll be together again.” 

So much for being distracted. Was it Theo who put the photo there? He knew where she liked to study when she wanted to be left alone. But he had broken up with her, why give her photos of them? It only made her feel worse. Still, she put it in her pocket and returned to her work. 

She felt sad the next day. And the next. It never stopped really. The distance between her and Theo felt physical, as if the universe had bounded them together. 

The war was approaching faster as each day passed. She was scared. Not only for herself but for her friends, whose parents were going to be the ones to kill; for the innocent bodies that will lay throughout the castle, their souls being carried to an unknown place, where they will be told that it wasn’t their fault. Y/N felt lucky that her parents never listened to the Dark Lord and that they didn’t force his ideas onto her. 

More photos landed in her possession, each with hopeful words written on the back. She hated herself for still hoping. Hoping that he’d show up at her dorm one night and apologize, beg her to forgive him and get back together. She would forgive him. She would forgive him a thousands times. She needed to. Because she needed him. 

And she knew he needed her. That’s why she hung onto that hope. She knew there was a chance that once the war was over, he’d come back to her. But there was a chance he wouldn’t come back. Because he might be nothing but another body among the rubble and ash. And it terrified her.

Harry Potter had shown up. That meant it was really time. Time to fight for their lives; for a boy most of Hogwarts doesn’t even know. It was stupid. 

The Slytherins were sent to the dungeons. Y/N was relieved, but then Pansy dragged her out of the common room and through the halls of the castle. 

“Where the hell are we going? Why did you leave the dungeons? We were safe there,” Y/N asked, feeling real fear for the first time in her life. How could she not? There were Death Eaters everywhere. 

“I’m not going to sit in there and be protected while the rest of our classmates die,” Pansy replied angrily. Her hand tightened around Y/N’s. She was afraid too. 

“Since when do you care about everyone else?” 

“Since always. Be quiet.”

They were hidden behind a pillar, multiple Death Eaters striding across the hall. There was a look on their face that Y/N couldn’t point out. They looked almost happy. Happy to be killing children. 

And as Pansy and Y/N walked through the castle, it was made clear that they weren’t only there to kill those who weren’t purebloods. Lavender Brown lay on the stone ground, her face dusty, her eyes open. Y/N didn’t know her well, but she knew that Lavender had one of the purest souls. She didn’t deserve to die like this. No one did. 

Y/N heard a whimper and realized she had made that sound. Her body ached for the loss of everyone. She thought she’d gotten over that feeling. But it had come back so strong that she just needed to sit down. Her knees collided with the stone and she sobbed hard. 

“No, no. What are you doing? Get up, we have to go,” Pansy pleaded, trying to pull her best friend off the floor. Pansy had tears falling as well, but she knew she needed to stay strong, because Y/N couldn’t. 

Y/N breathed hard and nodded her head. Lifting herself up, she was met with Draco, who looked just as horrified as her. His hair was messy and his face was sad. She had never seen him look so vulnerable. 

“Whose side are you really on?” she asked him as she stepped closer. 

“Yours,” he whispered. “I can’t do it anymore.” 

The three of them stood in silence for a while, not sure what to do, what to say. Draco moved first. They followed. The staircases were filled with students running around. She wasn’t sure where they were going. If they were trying to find somewhere safe. Or trying to find one of their friends. She couldn’t imagine losing someone else, even if the first one was technically still alive. Hopefully. 

All she wanted to do was find him. But she knew he might not even be in the castle. Draco had told them he wasn’t supposed to be here, that his parents had left him at home. She hoped Theo was safe. 

They had done it. It was over. Harry Potter had killed Voldemort. 

Y/N and Pansy sat in the Great Hall and watched people come and go. Some found their friends and sighed in relief, others were told news no one wanted to hear. She saw Fred Weasley’s family huddled over him, clutching one another, emitting the saddest sounds. 

Footsteps sounded closer to her and she turned, eyes meeting Theo’s. She didn’t care that they weren’t together anymore. She leapt up and ran to him. She held him tight and cried into his shoulders, grasping him. He returned her hold, stronger than he ever had before. They clung onto each other like their lives depended on it. Because they did. 

“I was so scared, Theo,” she sobbed.

“I know, me too,” he whispered. He was almost hesitant. “I have this for you.” He pulled a photo out of his pocket and handed it to her. They were at a Slytherin party, standing alone in the corner, holding hands and talking. They went to every party but rarely partook in any of the activities. 

She looked on the back, where the words, “We keep this love in a photograph,” were printed in her handwriting. She looked up and saw his sad eyes. 

“I want you to know that I only did it to protect you. To keep you away from everything,” he paused to take a deep breath. “It’s over now. Come back to me. Please.”

“Always,” she replied. 

He kissed like he never had before. Desperation and relief flooded from his lips onto hers. He needed her to know and feel every emotion he has felt for the months he spent without her. He needed her know that she had a place in his heart that no one else has ever or will ever have. It was only her. Forever.  

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter angst #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x fem!reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott x fem!reader #Theodore Nott #angst #fanfic #theodore nott imagine #theo nott imagine #x reader #x fem!reader #harry potter #writing #theo nott x you

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

I'm so proud of this site

for once yall are finally giving a shit and making yourselves heard, (possible, literally i have no proof of this)staff censorship aside.

I can't participate in the strike or be on social media much tonight, but keep strong, this really warms my heart to see.

HOWEVER- though I'm not an authority to speak on Palestine, I am an authority to speak on Tumblr, so here's some advice before I log off and Do My Fucking Homework Already:

-The tags "cats/caturday", "webcomics", "spilled ink/poetry", "kawaii", "art" and "cottagecore" have been trending in the top 3-5 spots a LOT lately, despite not... actually being trending. They seem to do this a lot RIGHT after anything Palestine-related was just taking up those top spots. As I said I have no proof of this- but I've seen it enough that my advice is to treat these tags as the enemy going forward. I really doubt that their popularity rn is organic.

-the Percy Jackson show IS dropping a new ep on Thursday and the fanbase WILL most likely push it to #1. If I can, I will be on tumblr helping w strike efforts that night. I know a lot of you probably have friends in the PJO fandom, and don't want to consider them "bad people", but even if they are pirating it, they are actively promoting and spreading good publicity for both Disney AND Rick Riordan. The strike needs to REALLY show up and come through on Thursday evening/night to yell more and yell louder than the PJO fandom. Whether or not they "intend" it, the weekly PJO trending wave is a huge threat to the strike's presence on tumblr, and it is directly supported by/supporting zionism.

ok I'm off.

#palestine #free palestine #gaza

[rorywritesjunk]

There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

Crocodile brings on a former assistant to manage Buggy and his workload. Buggy realizes he likes it when Taron praises him for the littlest things.

Rating: PG-13 to start. Chapters will be rated depending on content. Warning: Slow burn. AFAB nonbinary character. Buggy is touch starved and a virgin who thrives on praise. He's also a bit of a mess because he's thinking he's going to finally be killed by Crocodile. Set with the Cross Guild but won't be a poly fic (as much as I love that unf). However, mentions of past/somewhat present TaronxCrocodile stuff. Also Buggy is bratty, whining, a little pathetic. He doesn't want to do anything. Word Count: 1,850. A/N: My self indulgent submissive Buggy fic. This came from another fic I wrote for another fandom that I never posted but it was pure self indulgent. I decided to do it with the clown and change it up. Originally thought of making this a dom!Buggy fic but after a poll and how I started writing it, I decided to stick with sub!Buggy.

Title comes from "Take Me To Church" by Hozier.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4

Chapter 2

The first few mornings were rough. Taron was an early riser, already dressed and ready when they would enter Buggy’s room with a cup of coffee for him before waking him up. They would try shaking him awake before kicking the mattress, and when that didn’t work they’d pull the blankets off, ignore his naked body, and shove him out of bed. Each time he landed face down on his nose, startling him awake. As he screamed threats and obscenities at Taron, they’d open up his wardrobe and start picking out his outfit. That usually helped to get Buggy ready faster as he didn’t trust them to pick out the right clothes.

This was the fifth day. Buggy was sitting at breakfast with a swollen nose from his wake up call. He was already dressed for the day, not looking forward to more paperwork Taron would find for him to deal with. They really were good at their job. They didn’t allow him to get distracted, already threatening to use a sea prism stone on him if he tried to use his powers to get away. 

The reward for a job well done was a piece of candy which Buggy hated to admit but he looked forward to the little treat they’d pull from their pocket and set on the table after he signed ten different forms. One time they even put their hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch, but it was followed by a gentle, “Good job, Buggy.” before they went to get him a refill on his drink.

It… was hard to relax around them. In many ways they reminded Buggy of Crocodile, which as he tried to ask questions about Taron, trying to get to know them, there wasn’t much coming out at first. All he knew was that after dinner, Taron would head to Crocodile’s tent for a few hours before coming back to sleep in their own bed. 

Buggy strummed his pen against the stack of papers, looking across the table at Taron as they filled out a planner of Buggy’s meetings and appointments. It was almost lunch time and Buggy had been at this for hours. Taron did let him get up and stretch his legs, even if he whined and fussed the entire time about sitting for long periods of time, how his back hurt, his hand was covered in ink, everything sucked, but Taron tuned him out, pointing at his chair after he walked around the table a few times.

The day dragged on.

After lunch, Buggy was forcing himself to head back to the table to complete another mountain of paper when Taron stopped him.

“Let’s take a few minutes to get some fresh air, okay?” They suggested. “You’ve been working hard today, Buggy.”

He hated how in just a few days having this stranger give him such simple praise made him yearn for it. Mihawk and Crocodile would never say such words to him, yet Taron said he was doing a good job so kindly he thought he'd lose his mind for a moment.

“It's bright outside.” Buggy whined as the two of them walked along. He was dressed in some of his best clothes, wearing his hat and jacket, looking every bit of what a pirate captain should look like. Taron was just… not as eye-catching as Buggy in their clothes. That bothered him. If they were going to remain his assistant then they needed to have a different look. He side-eyed his assistant, looking them up and down. “Why do you dress like Crocodile?”

“I dress like me.” They replied, hands in their pockets and not looking at him. “Does the way I dress bother you?”

“Yes! You work for me, you should dress to impress!” Buggy insisted as he stomped his foot and glared at them. “Where's the color, where’s the glam? You look too much like Crocodile.”

“I like my clothes.” They told him with a glance in his direction; Buggy thought they looked amused, but it was fleeting. “I'm sorry I don't dress to your standards, but remember, I work for Crocodile to help you out.” They kicked a small rock out of their way. “You don't have a say in my appearance, Buggy.”

“Why?! That's not fair!” He huffed, clenching his fists.

“Life isn't fair.” Taron stopped abruptly as Buggy took a few extra steps ahead of them. “Come on, let's get back to the tent. We need to keep on schedule with the paperwork. I imagine you'll be caught up by the end of the week.”

“Why does it even matter?” Buggy grumbled as he reluctantly turned to follow them. This was so frustrating. He wondered what it would take to have Taron add a little flash to their outfits. It was bad enough that Crocodile hired them without asking Buggy, but the fact they dressed like him was terrible.

It wouldn't be too hard to sneak a sparkly cravat into their wardrobe, right?

~

Taron was off to Crocodile’s tent which for Buggy was the perfect time to sneak some flashy things into their wardrobe. He had Cabaji help him look for items in what Buggy thought to be their size, and if he replaced a shirt for a shirt then they would have to wear it.

Usually Taron was gone for a few hours which gave Buggy plenty of time to get into their clothes and change things around. It was worth the risk. He took their clothes out of their wardrobe, tossing them into piles on their bed while Cabaji removed the hangers, swapping their clothes for the ones Buggy picked out.

“These look like Crocodile's hand-me-downs.” Buggy said as he pulled a dark colored vest out, holding it against himself with a disgusted look on his face. “It's ridiculous.”

“That's because they are his hand-me-downs.”

Buggy froze and looked at Cabaji. He looked terrified, staring in the direction of the door. Swallowing nervously, Buggy turned to face the inevitable. Taron was standing at the door, expressionless, thankfully alone but that didn't help soothe Buggy’s fears. They were back earlier than Buggy expected. Why, why did they return so quickly? Why weren’t they with Crocodile? Were they about to kill Buggy?

“Is there something you need from my wardrobe?” Taron asked as they approached Buggy. They looked him over, reaching out to the vest he still felt, their fingers brushing over the fabric. “This isn't your color, you know.”

Buggy nervously watched as Taron leaned forward, hand reaching out but instead of grabbing Buggy by the throat, they took the garment from him. He slumped against the wardrobe. He didn't know what Taron was capable of, they must be strong, and they were finally here to get rid of him. Their other hand reached out and touched his face, causing him to flinch and jerk away.

“Buggy, I'm disappointed by your actions.” They sighed softly. “No candy for the rest of the week, I'm afraid, which is a pity because the paperwork tomorrow is going to be tedious.”

They stepped back and looked over at Cabaji. “Can you help him with this? I'm going to wash up. My clothes better be back on their hangers and in the wardrobe by the time I come out.”

They ignored the two as they grabbed their robe and headed out of the room. The other two stood still, both holding their breath as they waited to be sure they were gone. This… was a bad idea, going through their things, but Buggy was just so frustrated with the situation. He shoved the hanger back into the wardrobe and slammed the door shut.

~

Buggy kept glancing over at Taron during a meeting. They weren't saying anything yet around their neck was a lavender cravat with a shimmer to it, the one Buggy left with their things. They actually wore it and while he felt proud, he still awaited the inevitable.

Four days after rummaging through their clothes he was still alive so far.

He wasn't really listening to what Mihawk was saying, lost in his own world as he kept a nervous eye on Taron. They were taking notes, glancing up every few minutes at Mihawk as he spoke, nodding along with his words. Buggy swallowed nervously and finally glanced over at the other two members of the Cross Guild. Crocodile was looking over some things, a cigar in his mouth as his eyes darted across the papers in his hands. Mihawk was discussing something about whatever, Buggy had honestly tuned him out a while ago, so he didn’t know what the swordsman was going on about and didn’t really care.

Taron was just taking notes.

When the meeting was over and the two of them were released, Taron followed behind Buggy back to the tent. Crocodile had insisted there were more forms that needed Buggy’s signature and the clown didn’t understand where these were all coming from or what they were for. Taron followed behind Buggy, clutching the forms to their body as Buggy wondered if he could get a break. At least with Mihawk and Crocodile he knew when the punishment was coming, but Taron he couldn’t read. Nothing had happened yet, but Buggy knew it was just a matter of time before Taron would punish him for something.

They arrived back at the tent and to Buggy’s office. Taron placed the stack of forms at his seat before they went to make a fresh pot of coffee. Buggy just stared at the small mountain of papers, wondering how he could get out of it. He took a seat, brain trying to think of something.

He opened his mouth with some kind of excuse ready when Taron came over with a hot cup of coffee for him. They set it down before holding a piece of candy out to him. He tried to take it but they closed their hand and pulled back.

“This is an encouragement for you to start working, Buggy.” They told him as they started to unwrap it for him. “I decided the little rewards really do help you and that withholding them may not be the best choice if I want you to be productive.” They reached over for him, taking hold of him by the chin before pressing the sweet to his lips. “But you need to be good, Buggy, can you do that for me?”

There was that unsuspecting gentle touch that had Buggy gasping in surprise, nodding along with their request as they pushed the treat into his mouth carefully, letting their thumb rest against his bottom lip before releasing him and pulling back. Buggy’s heart was pounding, face flushed, and he tried not to choke on the candy as he watched them as they went to their own chair to work. The strawberry flavor of the candy was mellow, just enough to keep him focused on it as he kept an eye on Taron as he signed the papers.

He wondered what other rewards they would have for him.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy #opla buggy x oc #one piece oc #one piece fanfic #one piece original character #nonbinary oc #nonbinary original character #taron x buggy

[inkykeiji]

Those prompts are so cute. 28 with sd-natsuo!Touya -🦒

prompt: time for [blank] series: sugar daddy natsuo warnings: touya is his usual abhorrent, despicable self, toxic relationships, noncon touching, female reader, use of the pet name princess, daddy kink words: 1.1k

i know right!!! i really love them!! thank u so much for requesting sd!nat touya giraffe bb!! <3

Time for… has become one of your least favourite combinations of words. You’ve learned to fear what comes next, the beginning of that sentence always sending splinters of ice shooting through your veins, leaving behind an unsettling chill of dread.  

Because time for is one of Touya’s favourite phrases. 

And nothing good ever follows.

“Oi, wake up,” rough hands curl around your shoulders to shake you from your slumber, dirty fingernails digging into your bare skin. “It’s time for school.” 

“Leave me alone,” you grumble, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp, his grip only tightening in response, callouses decorating his palms sanding against your flesh. “I’m not going anywhere if it’s with you.” 

“Hey now,” he begins, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice, the barely restrained amusement fizzing with anticipation in his tone. “Daddy’s rules, not mine.” 

“I don’t care.” 

This is the fourth morning in a row that you’ve been woken up by someone other than Natsuo, who has apparently been needed at the hospital all fucking week. For the first three days of Daddy’s on-call shifts, Shouto had been there to wake you, to dress you, to feed you and bring you to school and take you back home, with his gentle voice and tender hands and murmured out praises, floating on the tails soft laughs, sandwiched between private smiles and twinkling eyes. 

But it was only a matter of time until it wouldn’t be Shouto.

As it always is when it comes to Touya. 

He’s inescapable, looming in the background of your mind, the everlasting threat of him tinging every interaction, every experience, everything.

“I don’t care if you don’t care, you brat, Daddy says so. And what Daddy says goes, whether you like it or not, whether it’s from my lips or Shouto’s.”

Yeah, sure, except whenever the order is coming from Touya’s lips it is always, without a doubt, tainted—dipped in his own opinions, coated in his own special brand of venom and malice and deranged glee, and it always overrules whatever Daddy actually said. 

“Screw you,” you spit, trying to wrench yourself from his hands, to turn over and roll away from him, face scrunched with the force of your squeezed shut eyes.

But Touya is faster, Touya is smarter, Touya is larger. 

And that means Touya is better. 

He’s on you in a flash, nothing more than a blur of sapphire and ink, yanking you flat on your back, trapped between him and the mattress. Jagged hips squirm between your soft thighs, bones carving into flesh and pinioning your body to the bed, coarse palms collecting your wrists and cuffing them, pinned high above your head. 

“Screw you, huh?” his breath wafts across your face, spicy nicotine stinging your eyes. “That’s cute. Though I know you’d like to supplement that with a dirtier word,” he leans forward, presses his forehead to yours, noses brushing. “And I am just begging you to do it.” 

It bubbles up on your tongue, a caustic curse that erodes your teeth as it tries to escape.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! 

Fury thrashes in your chest, and Touya raises an eyebrow, smirk stretching into a full grin. Your molars mash together, jaw flexing with the action, and you swallow thickly, a desperate attempt to keep those two little words from escaping, letters scraping the walls of your throat as you force them down, leaving a burning ache in their wake. 

You know what game he’s playing. You know how to play it, too.

And you refuse to give him the satisfaction of winning.

Fuck you, you fucker. 

“I’m not going to school with you,” you say instead, the words ground out through clenched teeth. “You’ll have to drag me by my hair.”

“That can be arranged,” Touya says simply, and he looks like he’s genuinely considering the prospect, weighing the pros and cons to determine if it’s truly worth it, when his phone begins to buzz.

He transfers your wrists to one hand, putting pressure on the joints as he leans to the side and fishes the device from his pocket, bones grating together between his palm. 

Your resounding yelp does nothing, doesn’t even seem to phase him at all as he answers the phone, wedged precariously between his shoulder and his ear. Sharp hipbones dig into the flesh of your inner thighs as Touya shoves his hips down harder, an attempt to garner more leverage and steady his arched upper body. 

“Hi, Natsu, what’s up?” 

“Daddy!” you gasp, the word rushing from your mouth in an involuntary gush, Touya throwing you a look of warning. 

“I wish I could say everything’s fine, but I’m having a bit of trouble with your princess.”

And, really, he does sound regretful; you’d mistake him to be genuine had you not been able to see the sharp glint in his eyes, the malicious smile slapped across his face. 

“No, unfortunately she’s being quite uncooperative this morning; no, I don’t think Shouto had any issues,” sapphire eyes glance toward your face, and he winks. 

You glare back at him, steadily holding his stare. Blue flames blaze, licking around his pinprick pupils, and your eyes water a little, beginning to burn. 

It hurts, like gazing directly into the roiling center of a bright inferno, but you will not look away, proud and stubborn as your glassy eyes, now shielded with a thin film of reflexive tears, bore into his. 

Squirming beneath him, you shove your hips into his, a feeble attempt to throw him off your body, and he grunts a little, gruff sound bleeding into a vicious chuckle. 

“No, I’m fine,” he says to Natsuo on the other line, voice just a hint huskier than normal. “Of course,” he becomes a little more serious, features flattening out a bit, eyes glazing over as they focus past your face, suddenly concentrated. “Hey, listen, don’t even worry about it, alright? Nii-san will handle it...Promise. Love you, too.”

And then he’s hanging up, tossing his phone on the mattress beside you, device bouncing a little upon impact. Touya’s eyes refocus, knocked back into kilter as his attention hones in on you again, gaze sharp, crisp, distinct. 

“Daddy isn’t very pleased with your behaviour,” he tells you, mocking pet name dripping off his tongue. “You’re such a stupid little thing, y’know that?” 

His laugh vibrates against your chest, his free hand beginning to creep up your bare thigh, fingers sinking into tissue and dimpling skin as they knead higher and higher and higher, slipping beneath the lace-trimmed silk of your skimpy nightgown. 

“You think you can just act like a disrespectful little bitch with me and get away with it?” his tongue licks at your parted lips, tip tracing the bottom one before dipping inside your mouth to lick at your teeth and gums and you recoil, face screwing up in a soured wince. “It’s time for retribution, baby.”  

#dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #EEEE THANK U SO MUCH GIRAFFE BB #I LOVE WRITING HIM HE'S SO FUNNNN #had an absolute blast with this one hehe i hope u enjoy!! #have a fantastic weekend and pls stay safe n hydrated as always! #sd!nat universe #🦒.anon #clari gets mail

[thegreatlibraryfangirl]

Time to ramble about Khalila's temper. Because she really, really has one, and I think we all forget that sometimes. But if you actually pay attention, you can see that she's got a very quick, very hot temper, which, if she allows it, blossoms into violence.

The key there of course is if she allows it - most of the time she brings that flash under control again because violence isn't the right option. She appears to be very good at that emotional control, but less so at avoiding the initial reaction. Her anger is used as a tool, mostly, but the fact that it's there at all is often overlooked.

Let's go through some book quotes! (Non-exhaustive)

1. Ink and Bone

He made his countermoves, and almost laughed when her expression turned thunderously dark. Had she been Glain's size and temperament, he'd have been right worried, but on Khalila, thwarted ambition looked about as intimidating as a puppy's snarl. "I shouldn't have played fair and warned you, I suppose." "Not if you plan to win," he said. "I do like winning." She smiled, her fit of pique gone in an instant.

Here's Jess hilarious underestimating of Khalila, who later on in this same book will shoot a Burner at point-blank range. But here also is Khalila's temper. All they're doing is playing Go, and she's just realised that she's going to lose. Thwarted ambition and fit of pique indeed. She masters it almost immediately, and rightly so, but the fact that it flares so strongly here for such a minor event is telling, I think.

2. Paper and Fire

Here, we start to see what happens when Khalila doesn't restrain her rage, when she deems it acceptable to react. Hint: it involves violence and death threats.

Just, tbh, the entire bit where she attacks Jess because he won't go after Dario, but here are the highlights:

"And if you ever lay hands on me again, I will kill you, Jess Brightwell! ... Her face was set and terrible, her eyes like dark pits ... "Then let us run," she said, in a voice drained of anything but anger.

To quote myself from this post, emphasis today's:

This is essentially Khalila losing her temper. No-one will help her save Dario, which she takes as a moral failing, and then Jess tries to physically stop her. [...] So she hits him and she shouts that it’s all HIS fault, and then once she’s finished with that she shrugs him off with one well-placed knee. And a death threat.

Next, we have a titbit from the end of P&F when they are in the Iron Tower. This is an immediate reaction to Keria touching Morgan.

Khalila stood up. It was a swift, controlled motion, and although it wasn't threatening, there was a cold look in her eyes that made the Obscurist's focus shift. [...] "if you touch Morgan again, if you try to take her away and lock her up, then you'll have to kill me. I won't make it easy."

She is controlling herself here, because she knows that physically reacting isn't the play right now, but she is ANGRY and broadcasting it. Sadly we don't get to see her simmer down from this, damn Jess.

3. Ash and Quill

Obviously, we have the best scene of all for Khalila beating the shit out of someone because she knows they deserve it

(If you're not as obsessed as me, this is from the scene when they're first imprisoned in Philly, where they're all being frisked and a guard rips off Khalila's headscarf)

Khalila turned whip-fast to grab the man's wrist and extended and twisted his whole arm. She continue the spin and pressed her palm hard into the back of his elbow, reversing it to the breaking point and held him there as he cried out. [...] Her voice was steady but Jess could see her face. She was still angry.

This is a beautiful and amazing scene but it's not quite as useful for my points as some of the others, because the fury is perfectly understandable here (i.e. not quick/sensitive reaction) and she doesn't bother to calm herself down again afterwards. Though actually I suppose that is in and of itself interesting, that Jess notes some time late that she's still angry, maybe indicating that he hadn't expected it.

A quick second quote here, from after Rafa's death:

Khalila swallowed hard, and for a moment there was a shine of tears in her eyes, but then it was gone, as if it had evaporated under the intense heat of the anger she was banking inside. [...] "I can't think of a time I've needed [prayers] so much." A&Q

This is useful for a) suggesting that prayer helps her to regulate herself, and b) assuming that Jess isn't flat-out guessing here, she is externally showing her internal rage. Obviously again, it's an understandable one, but interesting that anger is her overriding reaction here rather than grief, fear, guilt or anything else.

4. Smoke and Iron

"No!" Khalila shook off Glain's restraining hand. "No, it isn't all right. They hurt him. There was blood-[...] There was a great deal of blood, and I want to go find him! Let me go find him!" "Khalila." Santi put his hands on her shoulders, and Wolfe saw the tense fury drain out of her.

Here, we have her 'righteously' losing her temper again and physically reacting. Yes, I am calling something as minor as shaking off Glain's hand as a physical anger response, fight me. But she masters it almost immediately, as soon as it becomes apparent that it won't be useful anymore. (Note, this very much mirrors that P&F scene with equally missing Dario, where she hits Jess but doesn't attack Wolfe. She knows taking out her feelings on the dads won't get her anywhere.)

5. Sword and Pen

I am actually, shocker, not going to address her verbally castrating Dario as the Pharaoh. I have a lot to say about that scene lol, but in Khalila mind she is completely in the right, so can be outwardly angry, and in control, so doesn't need to physically react.

Instead I'm going to use my probably second favourite example of her temper in the whole series, because it's the only time we get the process I'm talking about from her PoV.

"I can hardly blame them, to be honest. There’s panic in the city. They have families to look after. As do I, but my first duty is still here.” Khalila started to fire back a hot reply, but then took a beat to consider. There was no point in being angry; the woman’s point was well made.

Now, in Khalila's defense she's under horrific stress here. But this is just a conversation with a Library cook, who's pointed out that her coworkers might value their safety over making sure the ambassadors get wined and dined. And Khalila's first response is anger, that she shuts down once she realises she's being unreasonable.

Anyway, so, yeah, some examples of Khalila the hothead!

#the great library #khalila seif #long post

[dragonmuse]

When I first read it, Izzy's "turns out that's called clinical depression" line hit me so hard because it was way too relatable (in More to the Story, was mentioned by anon a few asks back). If you'd like, could we see more moments of realisation/ healing/ recovery for Izzy? <3

(you got it! Also inspired by the weather here today. I've never stated it outright, but Izzy does wind up taking antidepressants and that's what this one hinges on. If you were looking for something different, let me know, happy to take another peak in his windows on this as well! This takes place the winter following Laugh with the Sinners)

The morning dawned gray, a threat of snow hanging in the air. Izzy didn’t get out of bed right away. Sweeney was tucked in beside him and was happy to accept a methodical head scratch that he stretched into, purring with gusto. His ragged ear twitched until Izzy took it between his fingertips and rubbed it in tender circles, while the purr intensified until the sound filled the room. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Izzy informed him and Sweeney’s eyes slid closed. 

Without witnesses, Izzy didn’t even feel particularly weird about pressing a kiss to the soft fur between the cat’s ears, catching the faint smell of his fur. Then he rolled out of bed and made it to the bathroom before Sweeney came charging after in his daily attempt to murder Izzy’s feet. 

It was an off day for the gym, but he got in his run, going over his plan for the day. Oatmeal for breakfast, a tablespoon of strawberry jelly stirred through it. Shower, shave and then in a new step in his morning ritual, he shook out one round white pill from the bottle and dry swallowed it. 

Who knew if it was doing anything? Donna had warned him it would take some time. It had been about two months and so far all he’d noticed was that he needed a refill. But fine. He’d promised he’d try it. He hadn’t actually told Lucius, figured he’d wait to see if it was doing anything or if there were side effects. So far, nothing in both accounts and it was pretty far out. He should mention it, probably.

Thinking about him though, reminded Izzy that Lucius would get here before him tonight. He pulled out a pad of legal paper and scrawled, 

L, 

if you want to get started on dinner,  set the oven to  350 and put the pyrex that’s foil-wrapped on the second shelf.  15 minutes should do it.  Should be home by 6, will text. Cat has been fed, ignore him.

-I 

He paused and then with a small smile, added a doodle. He hadn’t doodled much since he was a kid, but he knew Lucius would appreciate the effort even if his skills fell well short of his boyfriend’s. He put in a little stove, heat waves rising from it and stick figure cat with wide eyes and a thought bubble that said ‘I’m a filthy liar’ above it. 

After a moment’s hesitation, ink bleeding into the paper, he made a very small heart between the note and his initial.  

He forced himself to leave it, not scratching it out. 

The leather jacket settled over his shoulders, and then he was out the door. He met Jim at the office and then it was down to business. It started to snow halfway through the morning, the flakes small and infrequent, but definitely present. 

“First one of the winter,” Jim noted, gravitating to the window. 

“You a fan?” 

“Not really,” they watched it with a slight frown. “Prefer it warm. You?” 

He turned and watched the flutter of flakes. For years,  snow had been an annoyance to schedule around. It made flights late, killed visibility and made footing treacherous. What was to like about it? 

The flakes didn’t stick to the windows. They fluttered down like soft cotton.  

“When I was a kid,” he said, molasses slow, “I used to live for it. If we got let out of school early, Jonah would come and get me. Ma and Da would be working, you know? We would kick up so much shit.” 

“You just ran around the city?” Jim pressed fingertips to the window. Their breath ghosted vapor onto the glass. 

“Yeah. Freeze our asses off. Get home and we’d sit next to the radiator to warm up. Thing was a million fucking degrees.” 

“Guess we weren’t too different,” Jim stared blankly out. “Don't really remember."

They both watched the flakes get fatter, a serious attempt at sticking being made. 

“Come on,” he decided, getting to his feet. “Soup kind of day.” 

“You’re eating out?” 

“The deli on the corner is into all that hippie organic shit. I grilled the kid at the counter the other day until he shit himself, it’s clear.” 

It was still too cold to be pleasant outside, but the snow was intent on falling in a picturesque way. Jim’s hat kept it off their face, but halfway there, they tipped back their head and caught a single flake on their tongue. 

They ate matzo ball soup, thick with vegetables and dill. The deli was nearly empty, the chill keeping people home. They both got cups of coffee for the walk back, steam raising from the holes in the lids. 

Their afternoon client was exacting, but between the two of them, they got through it. Jim had notes on hand, Izzy the photos. The man was anxious and fretful, wanting additional information for every thought. It was enough to drive someone to violence, but Izzy felt for him a little. The guy didn’t want to believe his long time business partner was robbing him blind, who would? So he sat, patient as he could, letting Jim take over when his calm ran out. 

All in all, they wound down almost to the minute Izzy thought they would. 

“You want a ride home?” Izzy checked, looking out the window again. Jim followed his gaze. The snow hadn’t intensified, but the wind was gusting now. 

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

It was a little out of his way, but this way Jim went from warm building to warm car to warm building with only a gasp of cool air in between. Wasn’t like they would do him much good if they came down with something in this weather. Anyway, what was a few minutes to him? 

He was still back home just after six, watching the elevator tick through floors until it released him. The hallway smelled like tomato sauce, so Lucius had likely followed his instructions. That was good, he was getting hungry. 

Opening the door intensified the smell and gave him the sight of Lucius leaning against the island, watching the stove like it might explode. He was wearing a thick sweater that Izzy hadn’t seen before, a tightly ribbed thing in a rust color. He had pulled it down over his hands a little. There was water dotting through his hair, evidence of the walk from the subway to the building. 

Izzy didn’t bother saying hello, just stepped in close so he could slid his hand over the sweater, the ridges pleasing against his fingertips though not nearly as much as the solid warmth beneath. Lucius folded his arms around him with a pleased hum. Izzy leaned into him, closing his eyes briefly. 

“Should be ready soon,” Lucius said. “I liked the note.” 

“Mm,” Izzy pulled back enough to press a kiss to Lucius’ jaw. “Want a towel for your hair?” 

“Yeah.” 

Izzy kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket, then went to the bathroom and got a hand towel. He went back to the kitchen, suppressing a smile when Lucius just ducked his head expectantly. Lazy thing. Izzy ran the towel over his hair, flinging icy droplets around. 

The timer went off and they busied themselves with plates and forks for a while. Lucius told him about his day, describing a back and forth with a gallery owner that left Izzy laughing.   

“What about you?” 

“Eh, Roberts this afternoon.” 

“Bummer,” Lucius sighed. “How’d he take it?” 

“Badly. Don’t know if he’s going to believe us no matter what we show him, but he has it and he’s paying, so can’t ask much more than that.” 

“Still,” Lucius wrinkled his nose. “I can’t imagine going through all that evidence and just deciding to ignore it.” 

“He wants to believe his partner.” 

“Yeah. Geez. Hard to hate on that. Anything else?” 

“Nah, quiet morning. Want to put something on?” 

“Yeah okay.” 

Izzy turned over the morning’s passing thought as the television flickered color over them. When the show ended, he hit pause. 

“Listen, I figured I should tell you that I started taking something.” 

“Hm?” Lucius blinked, then tuned into him, the sudden force of his regard something Izzy could feel on his skin. 

“Donna recommended I try it. Just some antidepressants. Started them seven weeks ago.” 

“Oh, huh, thanks for telling me,” Luicus said neutrally. “You going to stay on them?” 

“Don’t know. Haven’t noticed a change.” 

“No?” 

Izzy frowned, turned to face him more fully, “You have?” 

“I mean I didn’t know there was a reason, but...yeah. A little.” 

“How?” 

Lucius pulled one leg up onto the couch, so he could face him more fully. “Okay...I think you’ve been less irritable. Like not in a pod person way or anything, but like noticeably chiller.” 

“I have?” 

“Yeah, I mean, last week when we had to change our plans, you didn’t complain even a little.” 

“Well, it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” he frowned, but turned that over.  “What else?” 

“Just seem...dunno. Little more open, maybe? Willing? Hard to say. But it doesn’t matter what I think. You have to like it, goblin. If it’s not working for you, then you stop.” 

He thought about the snow. How it meant driving more slowly and getting his socks wet. How he’d had to change his route to get Jim home.  How it had always made his life harder.  

“I think I’ll keep up with it for now,” he decided. “See how I go.” 

“Mmkay,” Lucuis took his hand in his, rubbing his thumb over Izzy’s knuckles. “Want to head to bed?” 

And that was the easiest choice he’d made all day.  

Later though, as Luicus snored lightly behind him, Izzy couldn’t quite fall asleep. He slipped out of bed and went to the window. It was really coming down now, blanketing the world. He leaned his forehead against the glass. 

He could easily imagine two boys, no hats, red ears, darting through the snow. Headed home eventually, but for now alone in the peace of cold and no one yelling after them. It had been a giddy feeling, cut loose and soaring.

Later, there was Faith in heavy boots, trying to get up on her tiptoes to draw circles in white powder, her pink earmuffs dense with caught flakes.

And he could just catch the memory of Eddy, beard heavy and white, eyelashes dotted like pearls and their breath coming out in raw pants as they charged down a street in some windblown country. When she realized what she looked like, she had thrown her head back and laughed, that wild sound that reached into Izzy and scrambled him around.

Maybe he'd liked winter. Izzy ghosted his breath of the window, watched the fog build and retreat. Maybe he'd loved it all along. Even with a memory like his, you were bound to forget things, he figured. When he fell asleep at last that night, he dreamed of ice on a clear wide lake and the echoes of laughter in the air.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #goblin king and the pup #izzy hands #lucius black

[sagaverse]

Wait why does Core make the deal with Error, like I know error destroyed half the Au’s thus making it easier to find the omega timeline but that wouldn’t happen since the multiverse is infinite and new Au’s are being created every single day so it wouldn’t change anything at all

Actually why is Error a threat since the multiverse is infinite, and error is just one guy, error is the equivalent of an ant trying the clear a continent of its grass it would be impossible plus that grass regrows just like the Au’s So why is Destroying half the Au’s a big deal since in reality he really just destroyed like 5% (obviously not 5% but you get my point), in fact Nightmare is more of a threat to the multiverse than Error since all nightmare needs to do is corrupt and eat dream soul and he becomes god or all powerful, nightmare job is just to make everyone into despair, nightmare actually avoids killing people because of that, this makes nightmare goal more possible than Error’s

Unless there are rules in this multiverse that makes this wrong

Alright this needs explanation cuz someone's not reading some of these details lmao. Reminder that all of the information below is only canon to SagaVerse as to not contradict the origins themselves.

Hopefully this will also be the last one.

===

First off, SAGA!ERROR DID NOT DESTROY HALF THE MULTIVERSE. He himself said it in one of the panels lmao.

Chapter 1: Aftermath, part 5 "New Mission"

The Halving (That's what we call erasure of half the multiverse) were done by the Creators themselves. They've lost all their inspiration and desire to create more AUs. Typical creators. Thus making creation of AUs impossible and some of them also erased their creations in the meantime. Making Ink desperate as a result and had to concede into making a truce.

This entire Halving sequence are all inspired by Jakei's "Truce" Comic.

===

2. Saga!Core lost their future parts in the time-space continuum due to the halving as well, making them Nigh-Omnipresent instead of full-on Omnipresent. They can no longer be in the "future" anymore. Resulting in them becoming fearful of what's to come now they can no longer see the result of everything. They made the choice to make a truce with Error at least until they can sort their own problem in the meantime.

Chapter 1: Aftermath, part 8 "Chance Encounter#2"

===

3. Saga!Nightmare needs negativity to live on. And while the black apples do provide him with his own power source, he needs external negativity created by the despair around him to make him stronger. Before the Halving he is technically one of if not the strongest being in the multiverse due to how many negativity there are.

But due to the halving, HALF of that negativity source went POOF, gone, extinct, like it never even exist. His overall strength dropped down to just half of his prime power. Making him weaker than some of the Out!Codes.

Chapter 1: Aftermath, part 1

===

4. Error's goal in this series has been way, way different than his origin old self. He's a different person than the one he was before, the glitchy-selfish-manchild. He's not the all-powerful multiverse destroyer like many of you think he is, tho he's still way more powerful and mature than his origin canon self. Can't really say more about him, but it will be revealed more as the comics go on...

===

In conclusion, maybe try to read 'em in entirety and not clip by clip lmao. I know it's asking too much but well, that's just how comics work.

-Rev/Revolvius

#sagaverse #sagaverse ask #i can't tell if you didn't read the dialogues #or just skipped parts lmao #but either way #have a good day #undertale #undertale au #undertale au comic #undertale comic au #undertale comic #undertale fan comic #error!sans #nightmare #core!frisk #saga!error #saga!nightmare #saga!core

[ramcharantitties]

Ch 3- Ram's investigation

bandook meri layla

Ram rocked left and right on his chair, staring at the gun in front of him. In today’s conference, the officials gave him a case- confidential and probably a suicide mission. And to his bliss, he was specially assigned the infamous Art Expo case. Find out why Gangarao died and who killed the two partners. Name, identity, everything about the murderer. 

Babai sat on the edge of his bed, going through magazines and newspapers that might hold information on the organization in the art expo. 

On his personal note, Ram already knew many things. Like a woman is involved in all this, the guarded painting probably had the bomb, there was no “buying” party, and a huge organization will be in spotlight because of this. It could be a terrorist attack, a riot, anything.  

Ram closely dismantled the gun. Nothing out of ordinary, the same metal and hinges. But what caught his site was the ink print on the inside of the frame. A RC was printed in tall fonts with a circle around it.

 “Babai!” Ram called out and Babai scrambled to stand up, hurrying towards Ram. “The gun has RC printed on it.” Ram announced. 

“But, wasn’t the RC name of the organization the art expo was all about?” Babai asked, recollecting the information given to him. 

“And Jenny has been following them for so long- it’s not possible that they were a con, building a fake identity so soon.” Ram muttered, standing up. He crossed the room, a hand on his waist.

“That only means that whatever RC organization had been operating under covers for so long, nobody had a clue how big of a threat they are.” Ram said. “The way they beat you up to protect their secret from being exposed, I am sure it is a big threat,” Babai said, looking at Ram’s scar on his forehead. 

“But shouldn’t they be having tougher security? If the country’s most powerful people are meeting, how could they conduct it at a place where civilians were asked to come?” Babai asked and Ram looked up. 

“Because the plan was something else, the explosion was a casualty.” Ram connected the dots. 

-

Ram got to know a man who might help them with finding out about the print on the gun. 

Across the roads of Delhi, Ram made his way to the crowded streets of Chandni Chowk. The hustle and colors of this market resonates with him- the million stories in every store blurring his own, the crowd making his identity disappear. For a while, he feels out of body, he feels good. Ram feels as if the boulder on his chest melts by the chattering. 

    He feels like that with Akhtar too. The innocent, doe- eyed man has made a home in Ram’s stone heart. Akhtar’s chatter and understanding of the world, his hunger for knowledge and Ram's stories and experiences, Ram smiled thinking about him. As if a fictional cue, he heard the familiar voice of his friend in the crowd. 

“Anna!” Akhtar spotted Ram, running towards him. Ram’s eyes followed the voice, to find the bearded man making his way. “What are you doing here?” Akhtar asked. “I was just here for some work” Ram nodded and Akhtar stared at him. ”Are you going somewhere?” Akhtar asked and Ram nodded. “Can I come with you?” The excited punctuation of Akhtar’s question stopped Ram in tracks. “It’s work related” Ram said and Akhtar’s smile fell. “So what? I won’t bother” Akhtar muttered, and Ram smiled, swinging his arm around Akhtar’s shoulder. “Chalo fir”. 

They went through broken building blocks and empty, shady spaces. Under the bridges and over the stepping stones, the boys entered a grim looking store. Ram knocked on the door, and a man in his 50s appeared out of a room. He was balding from the top, white gray beard making its way till his neck. Ram nodded and leaned on the counter, with the man sitting down on his chair. Ram took the frame out of his pocket and placed the part on wood. The man raised his eyebrow, looking out of the window. Ram stood up, alerted. “You will die, you know” the man said and Ram smiled. “Is it really that bad?” the man chuckled. “Of course it’s bad- it's a woman. They always bring bad news” Ram didn’t have time for all this bullshit.

 “What else do you know?” The man gulped, standing up. “Nothing else” he said, picking up the part. “How do you know that it’s a woman?” Ram asked nonchalantly. “Inside news” the man said, stepping back. “And who gave you the news?” Ram made eye contact with the man, before the said man sprinted towards the front door, pushing Akhtar out who was outside in the process. Akhtar, startled, looked at Ram and followed the man. Ram made his way through the back door and followed the parallel path to reach the man. Before Ram could get his hands on the man, he was already trapped in Akhtar’s strong grasp. Ram smiled, snatching the man’s collar. 

After some beating, Ram took the part of the handle back and the crying man held up his joined hands. “I don’t know anything” he cried, and it only angered Ram more. “Fine” he said, and took the dirty brick lying nearby. “Wait!” the man yelled, already in a defense position. “Near the market of Qutub Minar, there is a shop. It’s on the inside, behind pillar 15. They might know something” 

Ram left the collar of the whimpering man, swiping his bloody knuckles on his trouser. “If someone asks you, or saw us, tell them we are your debtors” The man nodded vigorously, and they left the place with new information on hand.  

About three hours later, Ram stared at the RC sign on the frame, rolling on his chair. If there was an arms deal happening in the expo, no one from both the buying and selling party should know about the outcome- then why was the bomb set? And even if it was decided that the bomb will explode at failing of the deal, as he heard through the walls, it was life threatening for members of RC too. What was the point of the explosion? 

In the middle of Ram’s brainstorm, Babai bursted through the doors in panic. Ram sat up, worried. “You went to that store right? Where the dons get their guns mended?” Ram nodded, and Babai sat down on his bed. “Someone burned him and his store.”  

tagging- @dumdaradumdaradum @voidsteffy @infusedchaos @nerdreader @thewinchestergirl1208 @bishh-kanya @yehsahihai @nyotamalfoy

#bml #ghungru #ram charan #rrr #rrr movie #fanfic #desi tag #rambheem #rrr tarak charan #bandook meri layla

[ravs6709]

All This Love (I'll Show You How It Feels)- Ambiguous Kam

Word count: 2.8k words

To ink @soryasongsaa !!! Happy late birthday! Have some kam fake dating shenanigans because it hit my brain and I couldn't not write it <3 it was fun as hell to write and I hope you enjoy it just as much

Also he/they keefe!!!

Warnings: swearing, and vaguely suggestive scene except it'd also just crack

•~•~•~•~•~•

Tam thought that it'd been a perfectly normal day. It had been a perfectly normal day. It was 11 p.m., he was in his room and had no reason to interact with anyone, so really, the day should have ended completely normal.

And then there was a knock on his window.

(Oh, of course when the window mesh was damaged, that's when all the nonsense happened.)

He grabbed some old, heavy as hell, textbook in one hand and opened the curtains with the other, then the window, ready to knock the intruder to the ground.

When he saw a glimpse of messy blond hair, he nearly smacked the intruder out of instinct, but barely managed to refrain.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked Keefe, who was casually sitting on the narrow ledge of Tam's window. "Give me a reason to not just shove you off."

Keefe guffawed. "Bangs Boy, is this a death threat?"

He rolled his eyes. "It's not a long fall."

(...he would know, he accidentally fell out one time when he was younger.)

He raised an eyebrow. "A favour."

"Ugh, fine, I have a favour. Can't let me be dramatic in peace."

They nodded. "A favour. Unless you want me to go to Linh instead-"

Tam yanked them by the arm and pulled them in. "Do not." Ignoring Keefe's yelp, he continued. "You want me to do some last minute assignment due tomorrow?"

They rolled their eyes. "I wish. I'd have just gone to Fitzy. Unfortunately, I can only ask this of you, because I'm in a much, much more dire-"

"Get on with it. You're interrupting my sleep."

They laughed. "Sleep? You were just gonna stay up until 2am playing a gacha game."

Keefe scowled briefly, then their features shifted into that really annoying expression they got when they were planning something. "Be my boyfriend."

Tam blinked. The expression on their face didn't change. The clock on his wall kept ticking.

"What?"

"Be my boyfriend," Keefe repeated, as if this wasn't the most inane thing they'd ever said, and they'd said some really inane things over the two years that Tam has known them for.

"I know what you said. But let me repeat myself. What."

Their expression schooled into something serious, and Tam decided he wasn't going to throw them out of his window.

"It's fake dating, not a real relationship," they said, "just to clarify."

Never mind. The window was back to being appealing.

"Why."

They shrugged. "To piss off my dad?"

Tam sighed. "Alright, fine, that's understandable. Why the hell are you asking me? You know Sophie would be down for pissing him off."

"I know. But Daddy Dearest himself said I should get a girlfriend."

Tam scrunched his face in disgust. "He actually told you that?"

"It was so awkward, I didn't even know how to snark my way out of what."

"Okay, fine. A boyfriend. Fitz?"

"And interrupt whatever weird Fitzphie pining is going on?" They scoffed. "Another reason I can't date Foster, by the way."

He nodded. "Dex?"

Their expression went serious again. "For... personal reasons, I can't. So really, that leaves you, Bangs Boy, as my final and only candidate." They sighed dramatically. "So. Be my boyfriend?"

He raised an eyebrow. "How does this work? Do I go to your dad's house and hold your hand? Kiss you on the cheek?"

They both grimaced at that. Yeah, no.

"Uhhh, it'd be nice if it were that simple. We gotta like, do a full pretense. Date at school and all that."

He narrowed his eyes. "You want the whole school to know we're dating?"

They nodded. "Yeah, and our friends should believe it too."

"Why the fuck do they have to believe it's real?"

They waved a hand. "They're shit at keeping secrets. You know this. Daddy Dearest is also great at sensing lies, so the less people to lie to him, the better."

This went from mildly annoying to getting on his nerves. "You're annoying."

This was insane. He had to pretend to date Keefe, and make it believable to his friends. He had to fool Linh. "I'm not kissing you."

They gagged. "Ew, hell no. Are you stupid? Who needs to flaunt kissing to prove they're a couple? Bangs Boy, you read too many romance novels."

"Shut up, or I won't date you."

"...you were going to agree this fast?"

"No," he lied.

Obviously he didn't actually want to date Keefe, but they clearly didn't want to do it either, seeing as he was a last (and only) resort. The fact that they actually came to him meant that this was at least kind of serious.

"How long is this supposed to last?"

"I'm gonna move out once I start college. Then give it another month or so, we can break up saying the distance was too much for us."

Tam had to say, for how impulsive and absolutely reckless this fake dating thing sounded, it sounded like they'd thought a lot of this through.

He weighed the pros and cons of this in his head.

Cons: he had to fake date Keefe. He'd have to swallow his pride and be a little affectionate towards them. He'd have to be believable. Keefe would make fun of him. Linh would tease the hell out of him. His parents wouldn't be the happiest with him when they found out.

Pros: He'd have to watch Keefe swallow their pride in order to be affectionate. And they were a very physically affectionate person. He'd get to make fun of them back. He could say he got a boyfriend before Linh could get herself a girlfriend (it was fake and they came to him but that didn't matter). His parents wouldn't actually do anything, might send a few judgemental looks, but he'd long learned to not care about those. He didn't even have to worry about the breakup story.

"How are we going to convince our friends we're in love?" Tam asked. "We hate each other."

To his utter surprise, their face turned red. "Um. There's a non-zero chance that at least one of our friends think I have a thing for you."

"What."

"Weird conversation in a groupchat for that gacha game Linh plays. Denying it made it worse."

"What."

"And since Marella and Biana play it too, they might actually be convinced too-"

"What."

"It is not my fault if I think a fictional character who happens to look like you is hot-"

Tam put a hand over their mouth. "Please," he said, his voice oddly strained to his ears, "shut up."

Keefe nodded, their face growing warm to the touch. Tam removed his hand, and Keefe scowled at him. "We never speak of this again."

Tam nodded sagely.

•~•~•~•~•~•

So that conversation had happened on Sunday night, and now it was Monday morning, and Tam had to go to school. It felt like a blessing now more than ever that they were in different grades, because it meant they only saw each other at lunch or at the school's strings ensemble.

When lunch came, Keefe was at the lunch table already, so he just sat beside him.

Linh raised an eyebrow, and sat opposite of him. "Strange."

Marella, who sat beside her shrugged. "If it means they won't play footsies again, I'll take it."

Tam glanced at Keefe, wondering if this was a good opportunity to say something, but the idea of a public announcement of dating was so weird. How do you even make that kind of announcement when neither of you showed interest in the other?

(Well, ignoring... what Keefe had said. That didn't count.)

He had no desire to kiss him on the lips, a cheek kiss was less weird but still way too excessive. Handholding was probably not a bad idea, but when it came to the two of them, it seemed too quick, too fast.

Keefe kicked his foot. Tam kicked it back. The angle was weird because they were sitting beside each other instead of on opposite sides, but clearly, that wasn't stopping Keefe.

"They're at it again," Biana said, from where she was sitting beside Keefe.

When Keefe's foot knocked into his again, Tam hooked his ankle around Keefe's. He glanced at him from his peripheral vision, and noted the almost wide-eyed look. It was such a minor action, but it seemed to have stunned him.

Linh hummed, looking straight at Tam, before her eyes flicked down as she leaned back, peeking under the table.

Tam hid his smile as he continued eating. Maybe this could be fun.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Well. Unlike Tam, who was going for subtlety with his under the table, before building up to something more, Keefe had no intention on that. Which, he really should have expected.

They'd been a little quiet during their group study session/hangout at the Vackers, but it wasn't until they'd slid a paper onto his notebook did he understand why.

Tam picked up the sheet of paper and looked at it. It was a sketch from a pencil, the lines smooth as it depicted a soft looking picture. A picture of Tam doing some of his work, a slight smile on his face, probably a relieved smile from when he'd managed to figure out an answer to a question earlier.

"This..." Tam began, lost on what to say.

"Felt like drawing you," they replied, as if that was a proper answer.

And if that wasn't enough, they then grabbed his hand and brought it to their cheek. For a moment, he almost thought that they'd bring his hand to their lips, but fortunately, they did not do that. "Your hand's cold," they murmured, "but it feels nice."

"You are... very shameless."

He thought that they'd struggle more to be affectionate with him. Then again, they were always one to defy expectations.

"What?" Sophie asked, and not just her, but the rest of his friends were staring at them. "Since... when?"

"It's not unexpected," Linh said neutrally, looking at Tam. "The more surprising thing is that I didn't get to know beforehand. That being said, I also want to know how long."

"Last night," Tam replied. "Came to my window like they're in some romantic drama, then confessed their undying love for me. The absolute sap."

He hid his smile as he glanced at their briefly scowling face. And because they hated being outdone, they had to add, "Well, you should've seen the look on his face. The cute blush, the wide eyes, the way his voice lowered as he told me how he hated me but still couldn't help loving me."

He glared. It wasn't as chilled as it usually was, which was a testament as to how surprisingly calm he felt. If this had been even yesterday, there was a relatively high chance of this devolving into a fistfight.

•~•~•~•~•~•

During one of Tam's grocery shopping sessions, he'd been browsing through the snack aisle. He usually only came here every once in a while to stock up on some relatively low sugar cookies. As he walked down the aisle, he spotted a certain brand of cookies.

("Bangs Boy," Keefe whined over the phone, because for some reason, Tam decided to accept his call instead of denying it like he normally did. "I'm out of cookies and the store doesn't have more in stock."

"That sounds like a you problem," Tam told him.

"Such a mean boyfriend, you are. I've got the worst boyfriend."

"Sure, sure," he said absently, because he'd been paying more attention to the show that he'd been watching before he got the phone call.)

Without thinking, he grabbed a box and tossed it into the shopping basket. He paid for his stuff and shoved it into his backpack, then walked over to Keefe's house.

He probably could just enter the front door, but at this point it was almost 9:30 p.m. and he didn't feel like coming across Keefe's dad. There was an easy to climb tree, and it was definitely easier than getting to his own window.

The mesh was attached, but the window had been opened slightly, and Tam could hear the sound of a violin playing.

Now, he was no stranger to Keefe's playing, he heard it every time during their strings ensemble club meeting. He was even familiar with Keefe playing to only him. But there had always been an audience, and when there was an audience, there was always the need to play a certain way.

He couldn't see Keefe at this moment, but he could imagine the lack of tension in his posture, could imagine closed eyes as he immersed himself fully.

On your own, when there was no one to hear other than yourself, there was a lack of restraint, there was a vulnerability. He knew it from hearing Linh play cello, but hearing it from Keefe, it was...

The flash of a camera blinded him.

"You look like a creep, staring from my window," Keefe said.

"You play well," Tam blurted.

His mouth parted into a small gape, and Tam had expected a reply of 'obviously' or 'you finally admit it, Bangs Boy?' but he didn't say anything, eyes wide.

"Soo, why are you here?" Despite the words, he took down the mesh and let Tam in. "Surely it wasn't to act like a creepy stalker."

Tam pulled out the box of cookies and threw it at him, annoyed by the ease of which he caught it.

"Oh my god, a present?" Keefe gasped dramatically. "I've changed my mind. You're the best boyfriend!"

"Don't expect this to happen often. I just happened to be shopping."

Still though, Keefe was grinning, ice blue eyes gleaming, as he hastily opened the box and took out a pack. "Thanks, Bangs Boy!" There was a sense of genuine happiness, none of that smugness, none of that bravado, and it wasn't often that Tam was the one to make him that happy.

While Keefe was busy pleasantly eating his cookies, Tam snatched his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey, what the hell—hah, you don't know my password!"

Tam quickly entered his fingerprint—because he'd managed to sneak it on and was saving it for an important moment—and he opened the photos app.

Upon realizing this, Keefe tackled him. They both fell on to the bed.

"When the hell did you get your fingerprint on?"

"I'm not telling you."

They wrestled on the bed for the phone. Their hands fumbled as they aggressively grabbed at each other.

"Delete that picture."

"Hell no!"

They continued wrestling, as Tam managed to pin him down on the bed. It was only when Keefe stopped struggling when he realized the position that they were in.

And then the door opened.

"Keefe—" the sound of Cassius Sencen's voice cut off.

And if that wasn't horrifying enough...

"Oh, dad, can't you see you're interrupting something?" Then he cupped Tam's face in his hand.

Tam didn't dare look back to actually see Cassius's face, but there was an awkward silence and then he could hear footsteps leave.

"Keefe," Tam let out a breath. He was frozen in shock. "What the fuck what that?"

He grinned. "I was planning to pretend to kiss you in front of him anyway, this could not have gone better."

"Your dad thinks you and I are..."

"Tell me it isn't hilarious."

"It is. But I'm going to be horrified anyway because what the fuck. I'm leaving. Also, delete that picture or else I'm telling Sophie about your fictional crush."

"Hey—we agreed we'd never speak of that again!"

•~•~•~•~•~•

When Tam opened his locker at school, he was not expecting a crap on of drawings of him pasted on the walls by magnets, but somehow, he wasn't surprised.

"And you call me the creepy stalker," Tam said to Keefe.

"This is revenge for you getting your fingerprint on my phone."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you've been here before."

They sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

•~•~•~•~•~•

During lunch, Keefe had a physics test soon that they were now whining about.

"I should've dropped out," they wailed. "What if I ditch the test?"

"Hey," Tam said, leaning over to rest a hand on their head, ruffling their hair a little bit. "You'll be fine. You've done better with less studying."

Keefe relaxed into his touch, and he wondered when this became normal. Physical touch wasn't necessarily his thing, but he'd noticed that Keefe was very receptive to it. And he was more fine giving it, comparing to receiving. It even made Keefe less annoying when they got this comfortable.

This whole fake-dating thing was... kind of fun. He found he didn't mind if Keefe dragged him on random outings or showed up at his window at 11 p.m.

He didn't mind keeping up this pretense.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Kotlc taglist: @stellarune @my-swan-song @impostertamsong @subrosasteath

Want to be added/removed from the tag list? Just let me know!

#tam song #keefe sencen #kam #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fanfiction #ravi writes a thing

[starlit-miasmas]

good omens season 2 is real and im insane. thoughts on ep1-3 below the cut B) not full thoughts bc my ass does Not rember

EP1 first off its really effing pretty! stars! nebulae! i keep forgetting nebula is an actual word and not just my screenname but it's cool we ball :)

dont remember it exactly but crowley going like "its beautiful" and zira smiling a lil bit while looking @ crowley nd going like "yea" these bitches rly been in love since before time was a meaningful concept

ALSO THE WING THING! parallels!!! crowley sheltering zira!!!!!!! im in love.

naked man friend. jim reminds me of my sibling tbh. utterly impossible to talk to. ineffable husbands third chance at coparenting! (if you count adam as someone they've coparented)

crowley screaming and sparking lightning in the middle of street, i wish i could handle anger like that tbh.

homeless crowley but at least he still got the plants! just move in together already you know you want to

not the locked in together trope w the cafe + record shop lesbians 😭 does nina's partner write messages on paper in red ink, take pictures of them, and then send them to her or is it just a style choice?? the world may never know????

EP2 crowley's first matchmaking idea is really just their meeting on the wall of eden. rain them in together and force them to take shelter in close proximity?? that was literally you 6000 years ago my guy

also in love with all the past content !! the start of the thing where zira's always the one eating and crowley just drinks and watches !!!!

ineffable husbands first time collaborating to screw over their head offices and think of the humanity <3 i love them. crowley applauding zira's first time being s lying bastard. he's so proud of his boyf.

also. "lonely?" "you said it wasn't :(" "i'm a demon. i lied." im insane im in shambles im sobbing

EP3 ah yes regular human police officer. is this the second angel theyre gonna have to teach how to be a normal earthdweller

also CROWLEY SITTING ON ZIRAS ARMREST. gay as hell seating choice. the physical affection is real. zira just accepting it like Yeah this happens.

i love that the bookshop's warded against all demons except crowley. exception for the boyf :)

zira learns moral complexity through bodysnatching! hell yea! also apparently poison just makes immortal occult beings drunk ?! wild tonal shift there but that was certainly a scene.

also zira taking the bentley and making it more aziraphaleish i love it. crowley just Knows something is wrong with his child. also using actually selling books as a threat is so funny.

crowley says "it's always too late" my only thought is "you go too fast for me" i dont know if theyre meant to be read in tandem but. the brain goes whee!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #gos2 #religion cw

[mwolf0epsilon]

Deployment

Summary: 3 moments during Sponge's service days that shaped them into the stubbornly protective ori'vod that they had no choice but to become.

[2 out of 3 drabbles celebrating Sponge Day (the date of their creation). I hope you all enjoy the Sponge Lore drop!]

---

---

The sound of Jelly's death rattle won't leave their fraying mind. The same can be said for the feeling of his blood soaking through the thick fabric of their body-glove. Their closest brother's life slipping through their fingers and sipping into their bones. Sponge can even swear that they can still taste that coppery tang in the back of their mouth. It snakes down their throat like thick oil, threatening to choke them out.

A guilty conscience pulls no punches.

They let their brother die to save someone else. And now they are completely and utterly alone. Undoubtedly soon to be repudiated by their batch, for causing them nothing but endless troubles with their bizarre peculiarities and selfishness.

Who is Sponge without Jelly? They don't really know.

The idea of finding out on their own is nothing if not terrifying to them. Not to mention absolutely heart-wrenching.

It wasn't ever meant to be like this...

Because they can't sleep without the threat of seeing their brother's broken corpse whenever they close their eyes, Sponge gets into the habit of wandering around aimlessly through out the halls of the Resolute.

They are still in transport. Getting further and further away from the sinkhole where Sponge lost it all. The medic they saved, Kix, is still recovering in the ship's medical wing.

Sometimes they stop at the foot of their cot, making sure he's still breathing evenly. They think if the other didn't make it that it'd be worse. That they'd wasted too much time saving another lost cause instead of focusing on Jelly.

They can't bring themselves to hate this vod. But it hurts to know he has someone to wake up to that will comfort him, when Sponge no longer has that. It's not fair.

They are wandering again tonight. Not really paying attention to where they are going. Eyes unfocused and body moving on autopilot.

Somehow they end up in the armory section of the large venator-class ship. In front of the storage closet where the 501st keeps their paints, to be more specific...

Sponge's dissociative episode ends, and they find themselves holding a can of paint. The label on it is not the iconic 501st blue that they are to use to show their new battalion color. To be quite honest they're not sure why they have this particular shade of pink (#F987C5). Maybe it's an inside joke of some kind they don't know about.

But they do know this was Jelly's favourite color and that he was going to dye his hair once he got the chance. A dream he never got to make come true...

The rookie medic can't help but fall to their knees while clutching the can of paint to their chest. They sob hysterically, the full impact of their grief finally overtaking the feeling of absolute numbness that had kept them going thus far.

Nothing is ever going to be ok ever again. Not without Jelly by their side.

Three hours later, Sponge leaves the armory with a fresh coat of paint on their armour. The right shoulder, arm and hand are completely painted in 501st blue. So is the abdominal platting. Their chest plate and codpiece are adorned with incision indicator, a rather morbid joke on their part.

Their bucket has the same lines going along the forehead, as well as a pair of surgical scissors to further drive in the point (they quite like the design, they might have it inked on their person sometime later). And, aside from a few more minuscule details and the red medical symbol on their left paldroun, the rest of their armour stays relatively bare of color.

They aren't here to make a fashion statement. They are there to serve as a reminder of clone mortality. Most of all they are there to remember Jelly and carry on for him.

No one needs to know about the small pink jellyfish delicately painted on to the inside of their chest plate, just above their heart.

-

Call them a bleeding heart and a bit of a sap for caring for such trivialities, but how could Sponge ever refuse those beady little soulful eyes staring up at them with so much hope?

They hadn't really planned to get a pet anytime soon. At least not in the middle of a raging war that had a tendency to take from them without restraint. But then the pitiful looking adolescent barghest was right there, and they just couldn't ignore how in need of help the poor thing had been...

Obviously they are a medic and not a veterinarian. None of the training modules ever accounted for circumstances where they might be taking care of an animal out in the field. But they were a fast enough learner and they knew how to disinfect and bandage wounds. Could probably even do it with their eyes closed if they really felt like bragging.

The poor creature was underweight, in dire need of a bath, and could certainly do with a bit of bacta here and there. Surely it wouldn't hurt to provide her with such simple care procedures? A simple in and out mission of sorts where no one would even notice her being there for the moment?

Sneaking the barghest aboard isn't the issue in the end. It's parting with her that proves more of a challenge. They should have known, in hindsight, that they would get attached after they had named her.

But then she just responded to Beautiful so naturally...

And she really was such a beautiful thing! So loving and trusting, despite having been in such poor condition when they'd first found her. A frightened ratty thing that had clearly been mistreated by cruel people. Their heart had ached for her.

It ached more at the prospect of seeing her go. Enough so that they resort to falling to their knees and begging their general to let them keep her. It's a momentary show of weakness but it seems to work.

"So long as you have it ship-trained and that it doesn't cause trouble for the crew..." If they didn't have any dignity or good taste in men, Sponge might have caved and kissed their general right there and then.

"She won't be any trouble at all." They had straightened their back, quickly regaining composure after so shamefully begging like a little sad tooka-eyed cadet. Wouldn't do good to have their reputation as an unshakable asshole tarnished by a fleeting instance of weakness. The only one they hoped their superior officer would ever see from them. "I'll make sure to train her myself and everything, general Skywalker sir."

In due time Beautiful becomes an asset to their work as a medic. She's got the intuition of a highly intelligent service beast, and the undying loyalty of a canine.

It reminds Sponge of those holos Jelly had loved so much. The ones where young lads grew up with their dogs, and shared a bond so strong that it kept them safe through out any sort of misadventure. They can almost picture themself as a cadet running in a field with Beautiful right beside them.

A heartwarming fantasy of something that just seemed meant to be.

Out of all the tricks she's taught, not all of them are for use in the field. Some are just learned for fun. Because Beautiful does deserve to do fun things that both enrich and bring her joy (and plenty of treats). And it's also nice that the silliness of some of her repertoire brings others around them some comfort.

They never quite teach her not to eat weird crap off the floor. Nor do they manage to make her learn not to hate her kennel.

Some things just can't be conditioned out of an animal, they ultimately conclude. But who are they to judge? They're also a little set in their ways.

It's certainly a match made in heaven. The perfect friend to have by their side.

-

Up until Coric finally lost patience and dragged them into a vodpile in the medical officers' quarters, it hadn't ever occurred to Sponge that they might be a little touch starved.

It was absurd right? The idea of a touch starved medic...

They were tactile enough with the myriad of vode they cared for, so surely that couldn't ever possibly be the case for them! Well, it turns out it wasn't as simple as it outwardly seemed.

After Umbara, Sponge had stopped touching anyone unless it was in a clinical context.

There was no tenderness to these encounters. Just strict and efficient practices of medical know-how. They were there to provide a service, and their patient was there to get some bacta slapped onto them so that they could get back out and hurt themselves all over again.

The cantankerous medic never let themself linger or get overly attached. Not anymore. And now they were so very in need of physical affection that the mere thought of it made them sick with trepidation. Someone else initiating contact almost felt like burning from just how jarring it felt.

Once they're pulled into the pile of bodies and limbs, they can't help but to shriek and squirm in discomfort. The feelings, smells and textures are too much at that very moment, and their heart is beating so quickly they swear it might explode out of their chest cavity.

Kix and Pitch wrap their limbs around their flailing body. Ride out the struggle despite getting a knee or elbow to the face or groin, because Sponge fights dirty sometimes and isn't petty enough to not admit to it.

Coric grins and bares it when Sponge bites into his shoulder, threatening to draw blood because they feel so stressed and cornered that they disregard their manners completely. The senior medical officer presses a kiss to the crown of their head and whispers words of comfort in their ear.

Sponge's heart continues to hammer away in their chest for 5 more minutes. And then, slowly, they begin to calm down. Begins to melt into the warm embraces of their vode and stop shaking so terribly.

The feeling of burning and wrongness is gone. The aching need for comfort and affection replaces it.

In a show of open vulnerability, they whine softly and press their face into their ori'vod's chest. They choose to ignore the collective sighs of relief that follow. Out of the corner of their eye they can see Twitch searching the storage racks for pilfered blankets none of them had ever bothered returning to the acquisitions division. Beautiful is by the kih'vod's side, looking almost as if she is appraising the material for quality.

Its hard to believe the kid is still standing after everything.

Umbara had left a nasty mark. Not a physical one, but a mark no less. One that had made them push others away and further isolate themself, until there was no other choice but to ambush and subject them to an emergency vodpile.

So many dead and for what? What had Krell hoped to prove by doing what he'd done? Sponge didn't really know.

All that they actually knew was that out of the dozen of squads they'd acquired prior to setting off to Umbara, only a handful of the Shinies had survived the horrors. Among the ranks of lost little kih'vode was Dogma, who was being arrested (and likely executed) for treason.

Treason. What a joke...

Sponge had only just reunited with Tup and Dogma. To lose one of the little brothers they'd taken a shine to so suddenly, before he could even settle down and catch up? Before that little brother could even grow into himself more comfortably now that he was away from Kamino and had that chance?

It was painful. It was unfair. It was war.

No amount of vodepiles, comforting touches, and pretending things would be ok could ever change that.

It certainly made it a terrifying affair for them to love their siblings.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #clone ocs #clone medic sponge #Beautiful the Barghest #clone medic pitch #clone medic twitch #clone medic kix #clone medic coric #anakin skywalker #Hey Rogue and Gaeasun I burrowed your lads for this one hope y'all don't mind!

[thelemoncoffee]

here they are, the rolling nerds saiouma blog concepts i said i made yesterday

Kokichi User: cunningCapper Bio: "|| Capper's the name, making you irate is my game || He/It/Freak || Moriarty Kinnie, Professional Bear-poker and Wasp-nest Batter, IRL Clown || Sorry I'm a Gemini, I just can't help it || I can speak French between your legs || Plagues on Humanity DNI || Ask my age again and I'll make you the reason Area 51 exists ||"

Inbox names: Askbox - Asky Waskies UwU Submissions - *has this shut off*

His pinned: *his most infamous post* *idk what that would look like* *probably something cursed as fuck*

Blog Theme: -Eyestrain hell -Lots of red (cause i hc that's his favorite color) -He spent money to get one of those PC blog themes that are nearly impossible to navigate -His icon is probably some sorts of eyestrain jester/clown he drew -Banner is a super cursed image he dug up from the depths of hell

Ko's Custom Tags: Reblogs - #Refuck you in the ASS Queue - #Queue Continuum Debate - #Bear Caves and Wasp Nests Not real opinion - #Buddy-buddy with Satan Memes- #Clown to Clown commemeication His Pets - #Munkustrap and The Tapeworms Mutuals - #HORRIBLE BEASTS(affectionate) IRL Friends - #Insane Clown Pussies Boyfriend - #BoyToy Tales Life updates - #The 'I am actually a real person' Tag Asks - #A death threat probably Anons - #The Council of Shades Fanbases - #OwO a fandom wandom? Fave Characters - #Skrungly Gulp Plinko my Blorbo

Kind of posts: -The awful kind -He likes playing devil's advocate so much he has a tag to notify people he doesn't actually believe what he's arguing -The kind of tumblr user that fires the rent lowering shots -Actually a very good debate account despite the insane chaos in his debate unrelated posts -doesn't show his face- not for privacy reasons, but because he likes being seen as less of a human and more of an SCP

Shuichi User: pinetree-feathers Bio: "magpie told me i give off christmas season vibes"

Inbox names: Askbox - mail Submissions - share-a-thing

His pinned: [hello!] ~~~~ >call me pine >*age* >he/him but i'll accept any >half-hispanic japanese >snakes <3 >ppl tell im mean/sassy, i don't know why >this post is tagged with all my custom tags for easy access >*his DNI, whatever that may look like* ~~~~ [don't mind me i'm just a debate kid looking for someone to have discussions with. feel free to start debates with me on posts, but i will stop responding if things don't remain civil, and will block you if you harass me or others on any of my posts] ~~~~

Blog Theme: -Muted colors -Favorite shade of yellow -Either doesn't use a costume PC theme or has a really nice one -Icon rotates between various pieces of fanart he found of his favorite characters. -Banner is a cozy aesthetic picture

Shu's Custom Tags: Reblog - #interacting Debate - #debate corner Memes - #senseble chuckes Pets - #freeloaders Friends and Mutuals - #mi amigos Boyfriend - #mi amor magpie Life Updates - #life story Asks - #pine's mailbox Art - #quill and ink Selfies - #pine photos Aesthetic posts - #scrapbook various Interests - #my media catalog

Kind of posts: -Chill and pleasant kind -He likes to debate but also hates drama, so he only debates on stuff that isn't going to make him have to temporally turn asks off, this results in him sometimes getting into weird and niche debates -Unlike Kokichi he doesn't try to rile people up, so his blog is really peaceful and has a ton of debate unrelated stuff on it that is fun to dig through -He's posts selfies cause he feels much more confident online than he does irl. also he enjoys trying to maintain an aesthetic

it's also worth noting that while they both have tags to talk about each other as lovers and are openly mutuals who frequently debate together, neither have told anyone that they are boyfriends. so no one knows Capper's boyfriend he calls "The Boytoy" that he insisted is an emo deity is actually Pine, and no one knows Pine's beloved "Magpie" who he speaks so highly of is the shitshow king Capper

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #danganronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #shuichi saihara #saiouma #au #tumblr #shitposty

[tokiro07]

Cipher Academy ch. 18 thoughts

[Stop the Count!]

So remember how I said that Anonymity has most likely been using her Glasses Weapon to cheat on every assignment up to this point as a foil to Iroha? Well turns out I’m a god damn fool and Anonymity’s Glasses Weapon was much more obvious than I gave it credit for: instead of her censor bar hiding or literally being her Glasses Weapon, it’s the result of her Glasses Weapon, [Personal Package], literally censoring identifying information about herself. In other words, she’s been doing all of her puzzle solving completely freehand. She’s perfectly capable of putting in effort and succeeding, she just favors efficiency, and cheating happens to be the most direct method of achieving results. Kogoe puts it best when she says “she isn’t a threat because she’s a cheater, she’s a threat who also cheats”

I wonder how far her Glasses Weapon goes though: I assume Personal Package is projecting the censor bar in real time, and her profile card being blacked out could easily have been a part of Kogoe’s design for the murder mystery, but does it only affect machines that are looking directly at her? It actually seems like everyone is censoring her name when they speak, is that diegetic or just so we the audience don’t learn her name? Her introductory crossword is written in magazine clippings, did she literally do that to hide her handwriting, or is Personal Package overwriting her handwriting?

If Personal Package can censor identifiers at a distance and with no way of knowing that it’s happening, can it censor her fingerprints? Is her voice censored? If CA ever gets animated, will she be voiced with text-to-speech? Ostensibly she’s supposed to be from Kansai, which I assume is reflected in how she talks in Japanese, but could it be that Personal Package gave her a fake accent? Is Anonymity even a girl in the first place, or is she secretly a second boy in the class?

Finally, if Personal Package can work at a distance, how? How can it censor people’s words without even being in range? Could it possibly be that this world is all in some kind of simulation so data can be hacked and changed from anywhere at any time?!?!? Probably not, but if that turns out to be the case, just remember I said it first right here and now!!!

If Personal Package really does censor everything, face, voice, handwriting, fingerprints, etc., then I think it’s pretty likely that Nisio is revisiting Shonen Shojo (Ill Boy, Ill Girl), a short running series of his from almost a decade ago where the main characters had a disease that kept them from discerning the identifying features of anyone who didn’t also have the disease. What was especially fun was that Boy’s censorship was marker ink while Girl’s was ribbons, helping to illustrate the difference in their takes on their condition and other people. It’s a good read, I recommend it! Anyway, Personal Package seems like it’s a weaponized form of said disease

Back to the topic at hand, we learn that the final round of the leading class private selection does in fact involve a vote, but it’s only for establishing the starting conditions for the round itself rather than determining the winner, and instead of literally voting for the preferred candidate, the class is essentially voting against their unpreferred candidate. They even bring up an interesting point that the second or third preference might get the most votes overall because while everyone may prefer someone else, they all might agree that one candidate is a solid runner up. I wonder if Nisio is making a subtle comment on the Jump popularity poll system which works the same way, asking people to vote for their top 3 and allowing for a universal second place to beat out the divisive first place. I wouldn’t be surprised, considering how the popularity polls have generally been unkind to him in the past (I think I can count the number of times Medaka Box had the cover to itself on one hand...)

Anyway, Yosaimura gets first place for exactly that reason; because Toshusai, Iroha and Anonymity are fairly divisive, every student would naturally vote against one of them, but no one has a reason to vote against Yosaimura, giving her the lead despite the fact that no one has any particular reason to vote for her either

Humorously, Toshusai is surprised that she only lost two votes “given her personality.” She thought she was going to be more generally disliked because of how prickly and crude she is, so I assume she failed to consider the fact that the question at hand is “who can we entrust our lives to,” and that she’s far and away the most clearly capable of the candidates

Similarly, Anonymity only lost three votes and she’s just as surprised because of how much of an unlikable jerk she is. No one knows anything about her, no one is her friend, and everything she’s ever said to the class has been callous, dismissive, and cruel (horrible girl, my beloved), so if this were a popularity contest, she’d have lost without any question. In a measurement of pure skill, intelligence, and general leadership qualities, though, Anonymity has proven herself more than capable. Sure, her personality might lead to her literally sacrificing some or everyone for the sake of victory, but apparently that’s still better than...

Iroha, who only got five votes total, because he’s still kind of a wuss and way too straight-laced. He’s slow to solve puzzles but also tends to jump to conclusions, he doesn’t take advantage of the tools he has available because of his own pride, and he’s easily swayed by his emotions. Again, in terms of pure popularity, I think there’s a good chance that Iroha would have had a much tighter race against Toshusai on the basis that he seems to have endeared himself to the class pretty well by this point, but he’s actually more of a wild card than Anonymity in a certain way, doing things like recruiting a third member to what was supposed to be a two-person cell

However, the votes are merely a reflection of the classes’ impression of the candidates’ skills; the true measure of their ability and value as cipher soldiers can only be determined in practicum. In this case, Leaky Poker, a modified Blind Man’s Bluff where the cards are all hidden behind puzzles and the chips represent the votes received in the previous phase

Now, I haven’t the foggiest idea how to figure out what each card is, but I’m decently confident that “left chest” is a Hearts suit and the golf club and Clubs 49 are both Clubs. Just a feeling

This also seems like a good time to note that I was wrong about this being a more traditional tournament bracket, with Nisio instead opting for a battle royale between all four candidates. I suppose I should have seen it coming, as this is a much faster and more direct method for determining who’s the best candidate among the four

CG suggests that this game is tailor made for Anonymity, as not only is she excellent at code-breaking, she also has a built-in poker face, and also antithetical to Iroha, who almost definitely won’t use his Glasses Weapon to win this fight even if it’s his only chance. I think that that might be the intention, though: putting Iroha in a situation where he’s at as much of a disadvantage as possible to either force him to use his Glasses Weapon or prove that he doesn’t actually need it just like Anonymity. If it’s the latter, that should prove to the class that he deserves their votes beyond a shadow of a doubt

Iroha calls and raises Anonymity’s bet, going all in in the first round despite the fact that it’s extremely unlikely that he was able to solve everyone’s codes just as quickly as Anonymity did. He seems to be banking on the fact that he’s very good at keeping up a smile when he’s up against the wall, which carries a very troubling implication for his past. We know he’s been abused by his parent(s) and that he’s witnessed multiple people die, at least some of whom were presumably friends of his, so this is almost certainly related to his backstory. I’m very worried about what we’re going to learn about Iroha in the coming chapters

I do think it’s very interesting that Iroha asks Anonymity if she can keep up a poker face. I mean, of course she can, right? It’s the ability of her Glasses Weapon, she doesn’t actually need to. Ah, but there’s the rub, isn’t it? While she doesn’t rely on her Glasses Weapon to solve puzzles, she does rely on it to protect her emotions; in other words, if Personal Package fails for any reason, she won’t have her own skill to fall back on anymore, and she might not be capable of keeping up a bluff; Iroha, on the other hand, is already skilled at regulating his expression, and will naturally have the advantage in that area. This ties back into why he doesn’t use his Glasses Weapon; if he has a repeat of the code battle against Omomuro where his battery runs out or his signal gets jammed, he can’t risk being unprepared to fight on his own

Therefore, I predict that the one that Anonymity relies on and can’t do on her own will fail her, putting her on the back foot because she didn’t put in all of the effort she possible could have, costing her the victory that she prioritized above all else. Whether or not Iroha actually wins the election I can’t say, it may well be too early in his development for him to be awarded that position, but his mentality and philosophy are going to beat out Anonymity’s for sure

#cipher academy #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews