#apparently that's one of the main ones too

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for killing my character and quitting a D&D game I was part of?

Apologies in advance but this is going to be rather long, I'll put a TL;DR at the bottom.

So this all started about eleven months ago when I (14, she/they/he) started getting into D&D, and joined a D&D group thanks to a friend of mine we'll call T (14, he/they). The group was made up of about five people total, but the main people in this situation are me, T, and the DM who we'll call N (15, he/him).

Now when I was making my character, T was helping me out by letting me describe what sort of character I wanted and suggesting different races, classes etc to make it work how I wanted, and what we ended up with was a Pact of the Undead warlock. The backstory of my character was that their older brother died defending them from an invasion of the village they lived in.

My character managed to make contact with their spirit in the afterlife and formed a "pact" with them, gaining power in exchange for letting him "look after them" (i.e. keep watch over them from the afterlife, protect them from harm, all that sorta thing). T told me to run the final concept past N but that they were sure it'd be allowed and that the pact idea was really sweet.

So I told N about my character and the backstory idea like T suggested and N seemed really on board with the whole thing, though he wanted to make a few slight changes to things in secret that would come up during the campaign, to make things more exciting I guess.

I told him I was alright with that, as long as nothing about who the pact was with and what it was for changed too much. He assured me that it wouldn't and that he'd get back to me on what changes he was planning, but he never did, and at the time I just put that down to him being busy.

The campaign starts, and for the first few months things are going pretty good. I do notice that a lot of NPCs, in fact nearly every non-child NPC, seems to be flirting(?) with my character, but I don't think too much of it at first, she is a young elven woman with blonde hair and silver eyes and everyone in the group has said that she's very pretty.

It isn't until one of the others who is also playing an elven character points out that they've been on the receiving end of essentially racism towards elves from NPCs who have simultaneously been showering my character with compliments that I start realizing how frequent and honestly rather obsessive it is, and as mentioned, just how many of the NPCs are doing it.

Then we get to T's character arc, exploring his character's backstory and helping them with things that come up. However, there are certain characters that are introduced that, out of character, T reacts rather negatively to, and when I ask him outside of session what's going on he confides in me that N is changing elements of his backstory that he'd told him he didn't want changing. As an example, T wrote that their character's mother was never part of their character's life growing up.

One of the characters we met was the character's mother, who was instead apparently a very prominent part of their life and cared greatly about them "not that they ever noticed". He also changed the character of T's father from "kind and caring man who did his best to raise his child alone and teach them how to defend themselves" to "stubborn, angry and neglectful father that is constantly disappointed in his son", which completely blindsided and upset T.

T also said that he'd tried talking to N about this but that the response had ended up being, to put it bluntly, "I'm the DM so I have the final say in things". This started to worry me, especially when I realized that N had never gotten back to me with his "proposed changes" to my backstory.

So I sent him a message, but because I didn't want to drag T into my own business with N I decided to say something along the lines of "hey, did you ever figure out what you wanted to change about my backstory?". He messaged back and said that he'd figured it out, but that things with school were so busy that he hadn't had time to sit down and properly write it all out to send to me yet, but assured me that he would by the time T's arc was over.

Several more months passed with no further word from N about my character's backstory, and as T's arc wraps up there's this idea that starts getting brought up, of how demons often exploit the grief of mortals to latch onto them and claim their souls by impersonating the dead person.

The others in the group all latch onto this and start speculating about how exactly the demons use impersonation to claim souls, except for T who gives me this rather worried look from across the table, and it suddenly hits me that this is probably meant to be the opening of my character arc.

I pull N aside after the game is over for the night and ask him directly if this is the opening to my character arc, and he says that it is, but not to worry because the demon thing is, to quote, "just being brought up to get the others interested". I remind him about what I told him about not wanting anything to change about who the pact was with and what it was for, and ask him again what changes he's made to my backstory.

He promises he'll have a full list to me by the start of next session, that we'll have time to sit down together and discuss it all even, and that he won't do anything I don't want him to do. Despite my concerns and the fact that he has already said several times he'll send me this list without doing it, I decide, like a fool, to trust him, even though in hindsight I had absolutely no reason to by this point.

The next session rolls around, and of course there's no list, instead a lot of NPCs who start voicing concern whenever my character brings up the fact she's a warlock, or her dead brother, especially if the pair come up in quick succession. One of the other characters figures out what's going on and asks if they can basically cast some sort of spell to determine if a demon's got control of my soul, which N agrees to, and the spell determines that yes, that's exactly what's going on.

I immediately confront N, mid-session, and tell him outright that this isn't fair, that I told him I didn't want him to change this part of my backstory, and I wanted him to change it back immediately or I wasn't going to play anymore. He started on this long-winded response basically summarizing as "I'm the DM, I can do what I want".

This is the part where I may be the asshole, because well, I saw red in that moment, and decided I not only wanted to follow through on my threat of quitting, but also do something to ensure that my point was driven home.

I fired off a quick message to T on my phone warning him what I was about to do, and while the others were talking about what to do to help me I loudly announced that my character was stabbing herself through the heart, which N had previously ruled would be an instant method of death if carried out.

Silence falls over the group. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even hit, which I argue (with T backing me up) that if my character is willing to get hurt then it's automatically a hit. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even pierce my heart. Okay, fine, I roll, and as luck would have it I roll a Nat 20. N attempts to send me just to death saves, but I remind him (again, with T backing me up) that he'd ruled that this was an instant death.

So then he tries to have an NPC cleric show up and revive my character, but T brings up that the soul has to be willing to return to life for that to work, and I immediately say that my character wouldn't even be able to consent to that if her soul was held by a demon, nor would she even be willing if she could. Then I tell N directly that he can consider this my official resignation from the group and walk out, and T follows along behind me after a few minutes.

Ever since then N's been blowing up my phone, fluctuating between begging for me to rejoin the group and promising that he'll do things differently this time, and calling me a selfish bastard for "ruining the fun". T still goes to sessions occasionally, though I think now it's just to spectate, and he's said that maybe things went a little far with the character death in hindsight. And honestly, I'm not exactly proud of how I acted now either.

TL;DR -- I joined a D&D campaign where the DM has made unwanted changes to my character's backstory, despite my attempts to communicate with him, so I retaliated by killing my character mid-session and refusing to let him revive her before quitting. AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw #not sure if it's needed for a dnd character death but just to be safe

[abouttofillhisshoes]

Do you wanna dance? - Matty Healy

A/N: i couldn't help myself, these two deserve to be happy forever and ever xx

this is a part two to this request i did earlier, but can also be read separately!!

wc: 3k

content warnings: mentions of drugs (weed), cursing, typical MPIND banter, kissing, a touch suggestive?

May, 2009 

“I’m so fucking boreddd, kill me now.” you drag your feet on the ground, letting yourself be pulled along by Matty, his hand tightly clasped against yours. He rolls his eyes, begging you to walk properly, and that you would find something to do soon. 

“Carolines?” he suggests, pointing in the general direction of the old paper factory, it being maybe a 25 minutes walk from where you were currently at. You raise your eyebrows at him, a skeptical look on your face. “Really?” you ask, whining about how your feet hurt and you didn't want to walk any further.

“Pretty please, I promise I'll make it worth your while.” he lowers his voice, winking at you cheekily. A groan leaves your lips, and you shove him off to the side, taking a swig from a freshly opened bottle of cheap tesco wine. 

“I’d do alot for you,” you burp, making Mattys face scrunch up in disgust “but i am not shagging you on a terrace, not a chance in fuck.” he laughs like music to your ears, a gross snort slipping out.

You suggest calling your other mates, inviting them for a few drinks on the balcony, just like old times. That small platform just off the main office held dear memories, good and bad. Matty immediately shakes his head, bringing your hand away from the phone in your pocket. “Just you and me, no one else.” He sounds different, you couldn't quite place it. 

“Carry me.” you joke, pressing a dramatic hand to your forehead. Imagine your surprise when you feel a firm hand press against your back, and another wrap around the back of your knees, hauling you up. Your hip hits the bare skin on Mattys chest, another ‘stylistic’ choice of his, only being covered in a thin, see through black shirt. 

“Jesus, fuck, let me down!!” you scream, attempting to push him away. 

All he does is giggle at your struggle, only pulling you closer, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. 

“D’you think I'm too weak to carry you?” you huff, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m too heavy, you’ll proper hurt yourself-” he laughs again, almost in disbelief. “Oh, come off it, I'm pretty strong, you know!” you roll your eyes, shooting him a worried look. He nods, leaning in to give you what you think is another kiss.

Instead, he fucking licks across your face, making you squirm away at the odd feeling. 

“Perv.” you spit, turning your head away from him. He nuzzles his face into your freshly curled hair, humming contentedly as he starts walking down the sidewalk. You notice him adjusting his hands a few times, trying to get a better grip, so you ask to be let down. He refuses, like he’s trying to prove something to someone. It was no use, he was going to see this through, apparently. 

It was wet, the rain from a few hours prior making everything smell like damp concrete. It was barely sunset, the sky painted several shades of blue, purple and orange, clouds sparsely littering the sky. Trees were finally starting to green again, and the warm air kissed your skin, warning you of the hot summer to come. It was late May, breezy and comfortable, even if it was pissing it down most of the time, you didn't mind it, rarely getting sick anyway. 

The back entrance was covered by stacks of cardboard, soggy and flimsy from the rain. Matty tries to set you down gracefully onto a rock nearby, miserably failing as when trips over his own feet, sending you both flying down onto the soft, grassy ground. 

Laughing at the stumble, he kisses you while you're still under him, gripping your cheeks between his fingertips. The moment doesn't last long, wet dirt sullying the back of your shirt, making you whine like a small child. He reluctantly rolls off you, offering a hand to help you stand. Wobbly on your very impractical heels, Matty takes a jab at your choice of footwear.

“Who wears heels to go walk around? You've got fucking ankles of steel or something, thats mad.” he laughs, gesturing at your red platforms, thin straps the only thing keeping them attached to your feet. 

“They’re platforms.” you correct him “You’d know that, if you knew anything ever. Fuck you, you’re just jealous i’m taller now.” It was true, you towered slightly over him, even if only a few inches, it gave you a sense of power. 

Twirling your hair around your fingers, you let Matty lead you up the stairs, hand firmly gripping your wrist. His nails were painted black to match, though they were significantly more chipped than yours, the nail polish peeling off in chunks. 

Still, you found it endearing how he always wanted to use the things you did, whether it be makeup, clothes, even colors. What was yours was his, and what was his was yours, evident au cause de the blue top you were wearing. The stupid tourist shirt, his prized possession. 

The wind had died down a bit by the time you reached the smashed glass door leading to the terrace. Ross had managed to fall through it one night, absolutely wrecked off half a bottle of tito’s, no mixer. The four of you spent hours afterwards trying to pick small shards of glass out of a blacked out Ross, utterly convinced he was dying of alcohol poisoning. Fucking drama queen. 

Orange light floods the terrace, painting the worn down sofa in a warm hue. Matty smirks slightly as he plops down onto it, patting the space beside him, asking a silent question. You smile, the sight of him making your heart swell up with love. God, he looked beautiful, it was almost too much. Thicker chunks of his hair were now dyed blonde, streaks of pink peeking through. Impulse decision, though a good one, the bit of color really suited him.

“You got any?” he asks, tucking both his hands behind his head, spreading his legs, his shirt riding up slightly. A suggestion. 

“What do you take me for?” you giggle, already pulling out your weed. He never brought his own, insisting that if you wanted to roll them yourself, you’d also buy it. His logic was deeply flawed, but honestly, you loved him too much to tell him. 

Rolling the spliff, flashes of memories flip through your mind, you hear Hann’s voice. 

‘Girls don't roll their own spliffs’ God, he was such a dickhead.

“Girls don’t roll their own spliffs.” you giggle, grinning at Matty as you lick it closed, admiring your work. George had given you a few tips, and you’d actually gotten better. Mattys angelic laugh fills your ears, bouncing off the concrete walls. 

“Fuck yeah, I'm your girl.” he says proudly, brushing tangled curls out of his face, slightly more tan than usual, the sun having branded his fair skin. Your eyes roll of their own accord, and you nudge him with your elbow, muttering quietly. 

“Shut up mate, honestly.” he lets out a dramatic gasp at your words, pressing a hand to his chest is faux shock. 

“Do mates do this?” You jump as he snatches the spliff out of your hand, grabbing your face just like he did on the grass before, pressing a hot kiss right beside your mouth, just missing it. Biting back a moan, you feel his tongue slip past your lips, running across your own. 

“Okay, fuck off now, thanks.” you smile, unable to stop yourself. Not when he looked at you with such joy, eyes glimmering in the warm light. 

He hands the joint back to you, your hands brushing against each other. It felt loving, purposeful, real.

Grabbing the lighter from your right pocket, you run your fingers across the worn rhinestone, fondly remembering the day he’d made it for you.

The way he was reluctant at first, only giving in after you physically dragged him through the doors of the hobby shop, forcing him to pick out decorations. His concentrated expression as he tried to pick off the cheap stones, having to let you help him do it after numerous failed attempts. It was one of your favorite days with him, wishing you could relive it a thousand times over.  

Laying back, you hold it in front of you, rotating it over the flame to get an even burn. The smell flooding your senses, you close your eyes, bringing the spliff to your lips. Inhaling deeply, you feel Matty shuffle next to you, shifting and making the sofa creak under him. You try to ignore it, keeping your eyes shut as you feel the drug hit your system, a warm, weightless sensation enveloping you. It was when he moved for the third time that you snapped your eyes open, going to complain.

“Christ, will you stop moving around like tha-” your words get caught in your throat, dying out. 

He wasn't in the spot next to you anymore. No, he was on the floor. On the floor, on one knee, holding a small, red velvet box in his right hand. Your breath hitches as you notice the expression on his face. Anxiety. You could speak, hell, you could barely fucking think. Matty was in front of you, kneeling, holding a white diamond that was shimmering in the light, like a goddamn dream. 

You watch as he opens his mouth to speak several times, closing it before any sound comes out. His eyes fill with panic as you sit up, eyes wide in shock. He was proposing. Properly proposing, with a ring and everything, down on one knee. You’re convinced this is a dream, of a fucking hallucination, something more believable than what was actually happening in front os you. 

“Marry me?” he forces out, hand slightly shaking as you look him up and down, mouth completely dry. You felt tears stream down your face. Obviously, with Matty not being able to read your mind, his eyes dart around your features, trying to gauge what your reaction meant. 

“Holy shit, what the fuck is wrong with you.” are the first words you say, hands coming up to shield your face. The panic only grew as he tries to speak, only things coming out being bits of words and ‘sorry’. 

Shaking your head violently, you reach out your hand, presenting your ring finger. Tears well up in Mattys own eyes, dangerously close to rolling down his puffy cheeks. 

“Yes, oh my god, I fucking love you so much.” you scream, bouncing off your spot on the sofa, lunging towards a very emotional Matty. You catch his lips in a kiss, wrapping your arms around him tightly, not daring to let go 

“Really? You’ll marry me?” he says in genuine disbelief, his left hand gripping your lower back, pulling you close.

“Of course i’ll marry you Matty, christ.” he pushes you away, giddily slipping the silver ring onto your ring finger, planting a soft kiss to the metal. 

“Fucking hell that is a boulder.” you look at the diamond in awe, the stone basically blinding you. He grins from ear to ear, grabbing the fabric of your top, kissing you softly, a gentle warmth spreading throughout your body as your lips make contact. 

“Only the best for my wife.” giggles leave his lips, delirious and ecstatic, disbelief still evident in the way his eyes rake over you, settling on the ring. Pressing a hand to your cheeks, he thumbs the tears away, kissing all over your face. Your heart thrums against your ribcage, threatening to burst out of your chest. 

“Bit early, innit?” you comment, sucking in a deep breath, eyes glued to Mattys. You're both on your knees, concrete digging into the skin of your legs. It was cold, uncomfortable, but you truly couldn't care less.   

“Never too early, Mrs. Healy” he smirks in that cheeky way of his, both hands settling onto your shoulder, rubbing small shapes into your skin. The moment doesn't feel real, nothing does. You hope to god that this isn't a dream, that that this was really happening. 

“Can Hann be the flower girl?” your inability to be serious for five fucking seconds shines through, the both of you falling into each others arms, uncontrollably laughing. Mattys eyes crease as he giggles, the feel of his hands on your body is heavenly, l of his hands touching your skin makes you truly believe you've reached a higher plane of existence. 

“Only if he wears the dress.” 

“Deal.” you say, knowing well that getting Adam Hann into a dress would require months of begging, maybe even bribery. You would probably need to buy him a fucking house to get him to even consider it. 

More laughter, more kissing, more planning a future neither of you had ever actually thought possible. A future with each other. 

Matty fumbles around in his pockets, pulling out his Ipod, initials erratically scratched into the metal. You raise your eyebrows at him, asking a silent question of ‘what the fuck?’

“Do you wanna dance?” he asks, smirking at you as he swiftly stands up, extending his hand. This is so incredibly cliché, and you know that yourself, but you can't bring yourself to care. 

His fingers press one earphone into your ear, before doing the same to his own. He smiles sweetly, expression softening. This was true, raw, unbridled love. 

“Can I choose the song?” you ask, fingers trailing down Mattys jaw as he settles his hands onto your waist. Nodding, he hands you the Ipod, letting you select whatever you wanted. 

“I love you so much, my darling girl.” he mumbled into your hair, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

“Stop being such a sap,” you laugh, quickly adding a “I love you too.” as to not offend him. As if he would be offended. 

Suffragette City blared through the headphones, the music filling every corner of your being. Your hips swayed, and so did his, guiding you lightly with the hands gripping you tightly. 

You didn't speak, letting Matty spin and twirl you around, breaking out into fits of laughter when you almost tripped over your ridiculous heels. Fuck, they were really a bad idea. 

Stopping for a second, you reach down to unclasp your shoes, kicking them off without a second thought. 

“Already taking your clothes off? We haven't even said our vows yet-” he teases, being met with a sharp look and a hand threaded into his hair, pulling him into a deep kiss. 

“Don't ruin the moment, you wanker.” you mutter against his lips, licking into his mouth as you let him take back control of your movements. 

You don't know how long you dance for, but by the time the two of you finally come up for air, the sun had almost completely disappeared behind the tall buildings of the city. 

Your life together flashes through your mind. That very first kiss. That night in The Sound. Ruby. The drugs. The lighter, smashed into little bits. Your fight with the guys. The night he had called you, shaking and crying, scared. The photos. The sight of him, down on one knee.  

This was it. Everything that had happened; every mistake, every fight, every passionate kiss, every gasp of pleasure when skin met skin, every tear shed since that night at the bus stop had been leading up to this final moment. 

You and Matty, 

Matty and you 

Forever.

Properly this time 

The music faded, the sound of rainfall pattering loudly against the metal roof replaced it. 

A Suffragette City, A Suffragette City

Quite all right

A Suffragette City

Too fine

A Suffragette City, ooh, A Suffragette City

Oh, my Suffragette City, oh my Suffragette City

Ah, Suffragette

Suffragette!

#i actually cried during this #its so sweet #no smut for once surprise surprise #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy smut #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfiction #the 1975 smut

[televised-uhhh-nerdistry]

Cartoon rec of the week:

Craig of the Creek

I haven't seen enough people talking about the show, so I'm mentioning it here. Absolute 10/10 cartoon. Just three kids, running 'round, making friends, running their own semi-sustainable community in the forest (there are some concerns about how much trash they leave there but ultimately they're better than most adults). Literally such a dream. they encourage each other to be emotionally healthy and they protect each other from "danger". Like they'll help each other achieve their dreams as they come (and new dreams show up pretty often because they're young kids).

And they're so funny! Like genuinely these kids are so earnest and intelligent and incredibly humorous and full of heart! They have full lives and they live them to the fullest out in nature after school, on the weekends, and in the summer. It's one of the best representations of found family I have ever seen in a cartoon, and I absolutely love it.

Also several of the writers behind the show are POC and queer (I think the head writers are all Black but I could be wrong), so you know that it was written well and the representation is awesome like I know that it should absolutely go without saying, but representation is much more than just showing BIPOC people on screen, and in terms of cartoons I haven't seen that many shows understanding that fact except maybe the Proud Family, Fat Albert, and a few others whose names will return to me once I've taken my ADHD meds. But the point is that Craig of the Creek gets it right. Most of the characters throughout the show (from what I've seen) are BIPOC, and you can tell that there are caring nods to BIPOC communities (primarily Black American communities), and more than that, that the writers know what they're talking about and are deeply familiar with and are a part of those communities. Craig, the titular character, is a young Black boy, and his family are middle class and ultimately very successful Black people. Kelsey (one of the main characters) is Jewish and Polish, and written with more complexity than having a one and done Hanukah celebration. The Creek's main business, a trading post, is run by Kit, a young Black girl with a love for economy and business. And many other characters are racial or ethnic minorities as well, and it warms my heart to see these characters done justice time and time again.

There's great subtle queer rep too, and you can tell it wasn't written just for the sake of representation, like it was thought out and intentional, and it worked beautifully. There are queer witches, and there are no labels applied to them, they're just allowed to exist with no explanations, happily in love with one another. There's a non-binary character later in the series (I'm only like 10 episodes in so I haven't met them yet but I've read amazing things about them). Kelsey also apparently identifies as a lesbian later in the series (I say "apparently" because I haven't done much reading so as to avoid spoilers, not because I am discounting her identity). On top of that, JP (one of the main characters) has a sister who is dating another girl.

There's also a significant amount of body positivity in the show, at least far than I've seen elsewhere. Not only do they openly say "all bodies are beautiful" and follow up on that by defending one another, there's also very little need to defend one another, because there's a very unspoken and deep respect in the Creek for things like body type, skin colour, disabilities, and so on. The kids of the creek, and their grown ups, are all different body types, and given their penchant for community and uplifting one another, it's no wonder they all seem confident in their bodies.

Not to mention the disability representation. There is a character later on in the series who is Black and deaf, and he not only speaks in Sign Language, but in Black American Sign Language. In addition, though unconfirmed, many of the kids in the creek embody aspects of various neurotypes. For example, the three main characters, Craig, Kelsey, and JP all come across as neurodivergent, with special interests, neurodivergent ways of thinking, and so on. Some have speculated that JP has Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, which is a disability often comorbid with ADHD. Not to mention that all the kids in the creek embody different special interests, most of which would be considered weird or frowned upon in everyday society, but that are given the opportunity to shine and flourish in the Creek's accepting culture.

Take the Horse Girls for example, a small clique of girls who roleplay as horses in a pasture near the Creek, and of course many of their behaviours are played as jokes, but ultimately they are accepted and involved in many adventures because of their unique interests and abilities which are ultimately how they aid the rest of the Creek. Every kid is a useful and accepted part of the Creek, with the exception of the ranger scout kids, who are essentially the same as cops, who are often exploitative, rude, and disruptive to the community as a whole.

Ultimately, the show is one of love, friendship, community, and acknowledging differences as a natural and helpful part of life. On top of that, it's not copaganda! What more could you want?

#craig of the creek #cartoon #cartoon recommendations #the creek #cartoon network #animation #animated show #kids show #kids cartoon #so cute #television #just like i drew it #cartoon network show #cartoon network shows #cartoon network studios #nature #sustainability #friendship #found family #perfection #representation #copaganda #diversity #inclusion #equity #diversity in media

[dekusleftsock]

I JUST HAD THIS REALIZATION IN THE SHOWER WHY HAVE I NEVER. THOUGHT ABOUT KATSUKI LIKE THIS.

So this is going to kind of go into Izuku’s bullying from Katsuki but it’s mainly if not entirely about why Katsuki has always stood out as a person, regardless of quirk or even leadership.

What got me thinking about this was actually those “American meets K-Drama bullies” on tiktok, which I often feel has a hint of xenophobia, but I digress.

One of the main points as to WHY the American in those examples would “win” is because of the cultural differences between fighting back vs shutting up and taking the beating. The main reason most Americans believed they would win is because culturally, a K drama bully would never think that their victim would retaliate, much less try to beat their ass in the first place.

Japan and China have similar cultural standards, especially to bullying (which is why bullying is so so bad statistically in Japan, with a whopping 57% bullying rate), and this “sit down and take the beating” cultural standard often permits bullies to continue to retaliate within the school. (Fun fact I was actually researching divorce in Japan for this due to some misinformation I’d read a while ago, but apparently Japan doesn’t have joint custody?? Like period?? It comes from the idea that a family is a set unit, and that were a parent to want to leave that unit, they are fundamentally no longer apart of it. No marriage, no custody, no child. You simply don’t see your kid very often, or ever. Sometimes this is even a decision on the father’s part, thinking that it’s “too painful to see the child after separation”, and that parents don’t see the benefit in children having both parties in their lives)

So, thinking of this in mind, I first went to why Izuku wouldn’t necessarily speak out or try to fight back. He wants to, he definitely almost does, but ends up standing silently shaking instead. Yes, fighting back may feel good, but even to people who would sympathize with said struggles may still blame the victim in this situation for “causing trouble”, it’s why Izuku and Katsuki’s relationship is even more interesting; it’s not just Izuku gaining confidence as he goes into high school, but that after he was given a space TO fight back (the first hero training), he actually started his arc on “defying society” and “not pushing things under the rug”. Tearing that rug to shreds doesn’t just mean looking out for those who haven’t been looked for, but also for destroying the standards that fighting back is a fault of yourself.

Tbh we also have this in the west as well, even those Americans who like to make those TikTok’s shaming people in countries they have no contextual idea to understand, much less solve. Because it’s not that fighting back itself would be hard, but that the social backlash would cause you to be even more of a target. It’s a lose-lose situation, so yes, a student will choose the wisdom of their parents and their elders that tells them to pretend it isn’t there.

But, besides that, in America (and I honestly wouldn’t doubt that this is in Europe too) the subtlety of that shame IS STILL THERE. I can even account for this in my middle school, for lightly pushing my bullies who ganged up on me, I was the one blamed and threatened punishment. The idea of a fight at all in high school would cause immediate suspension on both parties records, regardless of why or who started it. My brother in middle school was expelled for threatening kids who were both physically and vocally harassing him, and instead of any sort of help from the school, they REFUSED footage that might have defended him and my brother was then ostracized by my neighborhood/school district and thought to be some kid about to shoot up a school, he wasn’t.

Violence isn’t always the answer, obviously, but this is mainly to point out the hypocrisy of putting the west on this pedestal for fighting injustice.

I wanted to put this in somewhere but didn’t know where so it’s going here, but I find this take even funnier given the fact that North America has a 1% higher bullying rate than Asia which is so fucking funny and ironic

BUT BACK TO THE MAIN POINT ON KATSUKI, IM GETTING THERE I PROMISE🙏🙏

I think there’s this perception online of Katsuki that he is considered so unbelievably cool and normal given the context of his middle and elementary school, but putting it into perspective? Fighting your bullies, especially ones a year older than you, is REALLY WEIRD. Like, he’s an odd ball. It actually makes so much more sense as to why Izuku admires Katsuki in the first place. Katsuki has NEVER simply sat down and took the beating IN HIS LIFE.

And when you really think about it? All of that direct language, how rude he talks in Japanese (as in what pronouns he even uses for people, to the point that even the “softer” or “more intimate” pronouns he uses are… also kind of rude), and yk, suddenly, it’s almost like all the people at the beginning of their first year making fun of him… makes sense. And not just in a “lets humble this guy” way, they have no reasons to think of him in any kind of way really, they’re simply reacting to Katsuki and his odd way of speech and forwardness. He IS weird here, not just an asshole.

But EVEN GIVEN the fact that people know and think Katsuki is weird, he still strides along anyway. In fact, the only person who has ever gotten under his skin has been Izuku, who never even implied that he thought any malice of him in the first place.

Even now Katsuki continues to be himself to such a visceral, outward degree. I saw this post recently that was saying Izuku was actually quite mature for his age, but I’d argue that it’s less maturity, and more that he has just abided by a certain cultural standard of being thankful for the opportunities he’s been given.

It’s almost like Horikoshi has used Katsuki as this… idk, societal commentary? He certainly stays a societal commentary here in the west and our standards, often portraying more nuanced ideas of forgiveness and change and humility, but it’s different now that I think about it.

Katsuki isn’t just a character made to be rude for the sake of being funny, he’s an honest to god, walking, talking, culmination of what Japanese culture stands to change. It’s why Katsuki keeping his “hardened” traits is so so SO important. And it’s even more interesting given that he’s popular, he’s powerful, and he’s still bold while he does so.

Katsuki didn’t try to be popular, he just happened to do so. Explaining why he’s so bizarrely different from everyone else suddenly makes everything about his character make sense to me. Like, ofc Izuku would admire him to an almost worshipping degree, ofc he would stay in his life regardless of his flaws, Katsuki is himself in the most unapologetic way possible and THATS what’s truly admirable about him. His quirk, his determination, they’re both beautiful, but he’s the hero in his life because heroes inherently juxtapose the society around them. And that is exactly what Katsuki is.

And Katsuki, for all his flaws, never changed himself for society. He was always, long before he went to UA, before he even had his quirk, before he’d probably even met Izuku—been a hero.

#this may be super obvious to some people but to me it was always like… #okay I couldn’t explain why but I just knew in my heart that Katsuki was considered as much of a freak as Izuku was #just in a very different way #Katsuki is considered a freak socially. izuku is considered a freak physically. but they both kind of fall into their counterparts freakish #natures. Izuku is awkward. he’s a little annoying. he talks too much. but Katsuki is also a bit flashy. a bit violent. a little loud. yk? #bkdk #midoriya izuku #mha deku #bkdk brainrot #bakudeku #bnha deku #bakugou katsuki #mha analysis #bakugou #Katsuki #mha bakugou

[teencopandthesourwolf]

so i'm supposed to be working on my sterek wip—and i am! i wrote about 1k today—but bc of all you lovely mutual's and folk i follow now also into buddie (main culprits being @inell @rosieposiepuddingnpie @sortasirius and @angela-feelstoomuch) and ofc bc of bi!buck confirmed, i've started ploughing through 911 over the last few weeks like a bloodhound chasing a rabbit through the woods and have consequently, inevitably, started a buddie wip. fml. anyways, it's all your lot's fault so here, have just under 1k of my first buck pov buddie quarantine wip and everyone pls forgive my adhd writing brain lol.

.

Eddie was so fucking drunk. And it wasn't really either of their faults.

Because daytimes? When they weren't on shift? They were easy.

In the daytime there was just so much stuff to do with Christopher. So many games to play and so many cool things Buck was finding he could teach the little guy. And there were things that Christopher was teaching Buck, too, like, did you know that a crocodile can't stick out its tongue? Because Buck didn't, not until Christopher told him. And how cool is that?

The three of them—Buck, Christopher and Eddie—had started a Strip Jack Naked tournament and they now played it every night that he and Eddie were home, just before bath and bedtime stories. Turns out Christopher loved card games, and loved the rude name given to Buck and Maddie's childhood favourite even more, because what ten year old wouldn't? There was obviously zero stripping involved; Buck didn't even know why it was called what it was called, only that it was super fun, and just about easy enough for Christopher to learn but not so easy he'd get bored too fast, y’know? And what was funny was that the little dude hadn't even won a single round yet, and that somehow hadn't seemed to deter the slugger in his efforts one bit. Quite the opposite, actually. He'd warned, “Just you two wait,” and had this look on his face that said he was determined to become a grandmaster and beat Buck at his own game—or, even better, beat his Dad and win the prize of Eddie having to tidy Christopher's room for a week (a suggestion of Buck's that Eddie had not been overjoyed about).

In turn, Buck and Eddie had now lost countless games of Mario Kart to the kid; been repeatedly humiliated at Pictionary (the kiddie version); and each had the least amount of kudos points for Misfits, a game that Eddie apparently used to play with his sisters. It was another drawing-type one, where each player took a body section on their turn—head, torso and arms, or legs and feet—and then folded the paper over to hide the result until everyone was done and Christopher would unfold the paper and they'd all cry with laughter at the results. Misfits didn't even technically have any winners or losers, but hey, try telling Christopher that.

Evenings, though? The few hours left between Christopher's bedtime and Eddie and Buck turning in for the night? They were tougher.

Tough on Buck, at least.

See, he'd had this dream, a few weeks back. A dream about—well.

About Eddie.

In the dream, Buck had been washing the dishes in Eddie and Chris's apartment after Eddie had made another attempt at cooking his abuela's delicious Barbacoa recipe (Buck had tasted the real deal once when Isabel had come to stay and Eddie had invited Buck over to dinner), and Eddie had suddenly crowded into him from behind, crushing the length of his body up against Buck's back and reaching around to circle soft but firm hands around Buck's wet wrists. Startled and confused, Buck had open opened his mouth to say something when Eddie had placed his hot mouth onto the sensitive spot on Buck's neck, just below his right ear and—

Buck had woken abruptly, writhing and twitching and groaning, jizz spilling all over his freshly changed bed sheets.

After that, evenings were a challenge.

They were now made up of all the usual fun and dumb stuff that Buck and Eddie got up to, plus the occasionally deeper topics in their lives that they both seemed to struggle with but tried their best to share with each other, but there was also Don't look too long at Eddie's hands, and Don't look at Eddie's mouth while he speaks, and Don't check out Eddie's ass in those jeans I'd told him he should definitely buy when the shops were still open and the world hadn't yet gone to shit and I wasn't losing my damn mind.

Buck had moved into Eddie and Chris's place when Quarantine hit because it had just made sense, and over the course of the last six months he had somehow managed to fall in lust with his best friend.

So, times when they both had tomorrow off work, and when the confinement got to be a little too much, they would drink. Sometimes a little too much. One of them always stayed relatively sober though, just in case Chris needed something in the night, and tonight, Buck had been allowing Eddie to enjoy himself because the guy hardly ever really let his hair down, and he deserved to.

Eddie got giggly when he drank Tequila, Buck noticed.

They'd already sunk a few beers prior to cracking open the bottle of Cazadores Reposado, and after Buck had stopped at two shots but Eddie had continued, Eddie had become progressively loose and was now starting to giggle like a frickin schoolgirl. Which, embarrassingly, seemed to be doing things to Buck—not that Buck had a thing for school girls, jesus no, it was just that Eddie sounding so soft and vulnerable and happy was something that apparently really did it for Buck.

Fuck his life.

The guy also got very touchy-feely on tequila, too.

They'd migrated from the kitchen table to sitting so close to each other on the sofa that they were permanently touching, as well as all the times Eddie kept nudging his shoulder further into Buck's and squeezing his hand on Buck's knee. Then his thigh.

Seriously, fuck Buck's life.

The way Eddie had gotten so comfortable with touching Buck was becoming a majorly uncomfortable situation for Buck to have to deal with. Not because Buck didn't want the attention, but because he really fucking did.

And that was a problem, for a few reasons.

Reason one was that Buck wasn't gay, and didn't really understand these feelings he was having.

Reason two was, as far as Buck knew, Eddie wasn't gay either.

Reason three (and Buck's biggest fear) was Buck being terrified of losing what he had with Eddie. He loved Eddie, and Christopher, and he was pretty sure they loved him back—and he certainly wasn't about to let his rabid and confusing libido ruin any of that.

Drunk Eddie, though? It seemed Drunk Eddie really had it in for Buck tonight.

.

fingers crossed i can finish it before buck goes insane! xp

#here we go! #buddie #buddie wip #buddie fic #pov buck #evan buckly #eddie diaz #911 #911 fic #lemons #wet dream #coming untouched #drunk!eddie #alcohol #tcats writes #teencopandthesourwolf #plus buddie lol

[voxaholic]

The Worst Day

A ficlet that got out of hand for @randomly--accessed--memories

Vox accidentally stumbles into the basement studio where he was tortured into insanity. Velvette finds him and Valentino is forced to leave mid-shoot because Vox needs him.

Part 1 of 2

Content Warnings: It's Valentino's pov, I feel like that's a warning in of itself.

Beta-read by the lovely @redladydeath

Vox is missing. It’s not exactly an uncommon occurrence, especially on his more lucid days when he remembers that he can travel through electricity and therefore that Valentino and Velvette can’t actually stop him from going anywhere. He never ends up going far and they’ve finally managed to make it so that he mostly can’t leave the tower, but that doesn’t mean it’s not stressful enough to give Val spiritual grey hairs every time it happens.

Velvette is the only one searching for Vox this time because the film he’s currently supervising is gonna be a big moneymaker and apparently the useless idiots he has under contract can’t do their damn job right without his constant fucking supervision. So, instead of helping Velvette, he’s stuck sitting next to a prattling Travis trying to hold himself back from wringing the fucker’s feathery neck since Travis is the director and he unfortunately kind of needs him in one piece today.

Then, his phone rings and he holds up a hand right in Travis’s face. He’s at the very least smart enough to take that as the sign to shut up that it is. Before he even answers the phone there’s already a sinking feeling in his stomach. If Vel had found Vox and he was okay, she would have just texted.

He answers the call, holds the phone to his ear and immediately has to jerk it away when the sound of electronic screeching nearly deafens him. “I found Vox, we need you now. We’re in the studio basement, bring the kit,” Velvette shouts over the sound of what Val now realizes must be Vox freaking out in the background.

He stands up abruptly. “I’ll be there in five,” he says before he hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket and turns his attention briefly to the useless fucks gaping at him. “Shows over. Keep on task. I’ll be back when I’m back and I’ll fucking know if any of you’ve been slacking,” he snaps before he turns and leaves.

In the hallway, he stops to pick up what he and Vel have begun calling “the kit”– a Vox specific first aid kit that they’d put together shortly after Vox first “woke up”. He knows where to look at this point- doesn’t even have to squint to see it. 

Kit in hand, he leaves the main area of the tower and squints down at his phone following the directions that Velvette gave him to where she and Vox are. The tower really feels too fucking big sometimes.

Valentino thinks he can count the number of times he’s stepped foot on this level of the tower on one hand. Why does he even have a creepy basement studio anyways? Whose idea was this? Was it his? If it was, he must’ve been high as balls to think of it, and if it wasn’t, then he should find whoever’s idea it was and shoot the fucker.

It’s dark as shit down here and the light of his phone isn’t doing much. He’s making progress though, he thinks. The gps seems to think he’s going the right way and he’ll trust that over his shitty eyes.

All unrelated thoughts are pushed from his mind when he spies the vague blob in the corner that he knows must be Vox and Velvette. He can’t make out any details but he notices that both figures are covered in an alarming amount of the horribly distinctive blue of Vox’s strange blood. Suddenly, the pungent, chemical scent of coolant is overwhelming.

Valentino breaks into a sprint and quickly closes the remaining distance between them.

Velvette has Vox backed up into a corner, a hand on each of Vox’s wrists, trying both to hold him still and stem the bleeding. Holy shit, that’s a lot of blood. Vox did a fucking number on himself, those gashes are deep. Something silver glints out from the mess of blue and Val suddenly feels nauseous. Vox had never clawed himself to the bone before.

“The hell are you doing just standing there? Fucking help me!” Velvette snaps, screaming to be heard over Vox’s panicked electronic gibberish. Vox is fighting her the best he can considering how weak he must be from blood loss. Velvette is holding her own,, but even in his weakened state, Vox still has over two feet on her heightwise, so she’s struggling.

He hurries over and kneels down so that he’s at eye-level with the struggling, panicking ex-overlord.  “Voxxy?” he calls, voice softening into a tone he pretty much only uses with Vox on his worst days.

Vox stops thrashing when he sees him. Velvette releases Vox and moves aside to let him half stumble, half crawl into Valentino’s waiting arms, absolutely covering him in that neon blue blood of his. For some fucking reason, despite being either scared or confused by him on his more lucid days, when Vox is like this – out of his mind, terrified, vulnerable – Valentino is the only person able to calm him down; the only one he seems to trust.

Velvette leans forward to snatch the first aid kit he’d dropped. He tactfully pretends not to notice the way her hands shake when she opens it and pulls out a needle and thread. “Keep him calm and as still as possible. I need to try and fix the bloody mess he made of himself,” she instructs and it’s a testament to how serious the situation is that Val listens to her without complaint. There’s little he hates more than being ordered around. 

He adjusts his hold on Vox, so that Velvette can grab Vox’s right arm and then reaches into the kit to grab some gauze, which he immediately wraps around Vox’s left, putting pressure on the wound by wrapping his hand around Vox’s thin – and so fucking fragile – wrist. It’s going to take Vel time to get one arm done, so he should probably try and make sure Vox doesn’t bleed out in the meantime. 

They’ll have to call up one of Vox’s on-call repair guys later. Vox doesn’t really heal like normal sinners– doesn’t heal at all, in fact. He has to be repaired, his broken parts replaced. They don’t have the knowledge or equipment necessary to replace the damaged panels on his arms, so the bandaid solution of stitching the torn, synthetic skin back together is all they fucking can do for now.

Vox, for his part, is remarkably still and pliant, screen buried in Valentino’s ruff. He’s shaking like a whore going through withdrawal though and making these awful little staticky whimpering noises that Val is trying hard not to pay too much attention to because they are kind of breaking his heart a little bit. He previously wasn’t even aware he had a heart capable of breaking, but he’s learned so many fun new things about himself since that radio bastard ruined Vox, ruined everything. 

“So, you have any idea what set him off this badly?” Val asks, mostly to try and drown out the pitiful sounds Vox continues to make whenever Velvette makes another stitch. He is curious though. Vox can get bad, but usually not to this extent. He’s torn up not just his arms (although they certainly got the worst of it) but his whole torso, with what little remains of his shirt hanging in blood-stained shreds off his frame. 

“No clue,” Velvette replies just a little bit too quickly, her shoulders tense, eyes averted. Oh, she’s lying through her fucking teeth. Really, she’s usually better at lying than this. Valentino considers pushing but decides against it– he really does not care right now. She’s lucky that he doesn’t because usually he fucking despises being lied to, especially so poorly. 

Instead of replying, he watches Velvette work with morbid fascination. Her stitches aren’t neat exactly– hard to be when Vox is shaking and the synthetic flesh is ripped so jaggedly and uneven– but they’ll do until Vox’s nerds can fix him up properly. The red thread really pops out against the dark blue of Vox’s skin, it’s almost pretty in a really morbid way. He wonders if stitchplay is a thing. This could be pretty sexy in a different context.

Vox’s shaking suddenly transitions into violent full-body spasms and his background staticked noises of pain turn into a glitched out, inhuman screech as he tries to jerk his arm out of Vel’s grasp, causing her to reflexively tighten her grip and yank Vox’s arm back. That only freaks Vox out more and now he’s struggling in earnest, almost to the point Val can’t keep a hold on him.

“Val!” Velvette snaps between curses as she struggles to keep Vox from reopening his brand new stitches. That’s his cue to do something because he’s supposed to fix this some-fucking-how.

With the one hand that’s not occupied with keeping hold of some part of Vox, Valentino grabs the edge of Vox’s screen, forcing him to look up at him. Vox’s face is flickering in and out, pupils darting, mouth twisted in either agony or terror, probably both. 

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, fingers tracing gently across the glass that makes up the equivalent of Vox’s cheek. He continues to murmur soothing nonsense and pet names to him. He really doubts Vox can understand a thing. It doesn’t seem to matter what he says as long as he’s the one who’s saying it. 

There’s a whoosh of air from Vox’s vents before he goes limp in Val’s arms again, head only supported by Val, expression dazed. Valentino carefully guides his face back into his neck ruff, grimacing a bit at the way his fur immediately puffs up due to the static. Aah, the things he endures for this man.

“Don’t stop talking,” Velvette demands and he’s struck by how novel it is for her to ask that of him. Usually, she’s one of the few people who can get away with telling him to shut up and she abuses that privilege liberally. “He freaked out because you shut up. I’d like to get this done without any more meltdowns,” she explains because of course she couldn’t just let him think she enjoyed the sound of his beautiful voice.

“Hmn, what should I talk about?” he muses aloud, fingers idly tracing the back of Vox’s monitor. “Liiike, should I just talk to myself or am I gonna get the privilege of having you as a conversation partner?” he asks teasingly.

That gets him a frigid glare in return and Vel sighs like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. “It doesn’t fucking matter. Just– I’m really not in the mood right now, Val.” 

Okay, well, fuck him for trying to lighten the mood. Talking to himself it is since Velvette’s being such a bitch about the situation and not even in the cool way she normally is.

He settles on bitching about the useless fucks back at the studio, because that is a topic he’s always willing to go on about and it’s not one Velvette’s usually willing to listen to, but he kind of has her hostage now, so fuck her. Valentino allows the annoyed scowl on her face to soothe the bubbling rage in the pit of his stomach as he rants about how Angel Dust has been taking over three fucking minutes to respond to his texts recently.

He’s on his sixth Angel-related story when Velvette finishes stitching and begins winding gauze around Vox’s arm. He hates how the bandages make Vox somehow seem even smaller, more visibly broken. He holds Vox a little tighter.

Velvette brushes some of her hair out of her face and God, she’s a mess. Her hair is all fucked up and she’s absolutely covered in blood– mostly Vox’s but a little bit of her’s from where Vox’s claws nicked her in his struggle.

“Okay, fuck, one down, one to go. Flip him over for me,” she instructs and Val knows what she means but he’s immediately hit with the mental image of flipping Vox over with a spatula like he’s a pancake.

He doesn’t tell Vel about his hilarious thought because he’s apparently not allowed to even try and make this shitty situation even slightly less miserable. He just does what she tells him to, even if the high-pitched noise of alarm Vox makes when he pulls his screen from his chest to reposition him makes him desperately wish there was someone or something around he could maim.

It takes at least another half an hour for Velvette to finish with his left arm and she does so not a moment too soon because somehow, Val was about to run out of people to complain about. He was really scraping the bottom of the barrel there for a sec.

“You’re not gonna let me flake out on the shoot, are you?” Val asks as Velvette puts the thread and gauze back in the kit. The last thing he wants is to go back to the shoot with Vox in his arms, but with the state he’s in, they both know he’s not going to be able to be left alone. 

“I can’t make you do shit, but we both know how much is riding on this movie selling well,” she responds and Val can’t help but groan. She’s right. They both know she is and he fucking hates that.

“Ugh, fine, but you can’t bitch at me if I shoot a bitch or two,” he concedes as he stands up, Vox still held securely in his arms. God, Vox is hot as Hell, in a literal sense. It feels like he’s hugging an overheated laptop. The rest of this day is going to suck, but whatever, it’s not like the past several years of his afterlife haven’t also sucked. It’s not like he has much hope left of it - of Vox - getting any better.

#ram au #vox #valentino #voxval #staticmoth #velvette

[aliceisathome]

Deep Night turned out to be an unexpectedly solid little BL. We got a stand on the social acceptability of host (and by extension hostess) work, lovely parents, evil aunties and influencers and a nod, at least, to sex work*

An MC with great chemistry who communicated well *gasp* , a surprise throuple (interesting that it was proposed by Japan who went from not knowing what one was to jumping straight in within one episode - I blame** the sex daydream). Plus a GL couple with lovely Freya and Meiji and not forgetting the fabulous Dai who deserved their own harem.

I liked the fact that Shogun, First and Sun had clearly trained for their stage work and that it was obviously them doing the stunts. Kudos.

Of course it wasn't perfect - the story was flimsy, the aunt was straight out of a different series - possibly a really terrible lakorn - and hard to take seriously, the timelines were borked and the bar's kitchen was clearly just someone's kitchen at home with loads of flowers plonked on the surfaces. And one day someone in BL will work out how to do convincing club scenes - unfortunately today was not that day. However, the rather excellent handjob in ep 8 made me forgive all sorts of Cheewin sins. And as someone who's been a First Piyankul fan since Y Destiny it's great to see him in another main role. More please.

*cleaning up the club' and an acknowledgement by Freya that it had got chaotic implied that there had been less than legal stuff going on. Would clearly have been a step too far to acknowledge sex work as work although allowing clients to paw and maul the hosts was apparently fine.

**blame might not be the right word - applaud maybe?

#thai bl #asianlgbtqdramas #bl drama #Deep Night #Deep Night the series #ShogunFirst #KhemWela #Seiji x Pan #Cheewin Thanamin #Seiji x Pan x Ken #Throuple #First Piyangkul #Shogun Paramee #Seagames Teerapat #Neptune Bhurichon #Chalarm Siam #Sun Tananat #Nathan Dan Aaron Ramnarong #GreatJames #FreyaMeiji #What a pleasant surprise this turned out to be #mai jirawat

[chaos-man64]

Ratchet! Alt mode: ambulance

Ratchet the main Autobot medic. He’s often seen as rude due to his dry humor and I don’t care attitude. He lacks bed side manner sometimes.

He’s become too desensitized for his own tastes. Nothing shocks him anymore. Sometimes the detachment from patients makes him come off as cold. He’s had to hardened over time often using stories or jokes to lessen his pain. The mundanity of it makes everything become apparent just how normalized it’s become for him.

Don’t get it twisted though. He really does care a lot. It’s why he’s made that line. If he didn’t, he’d been dead a long time ago. He’s more than ready to lay down his life if it means he can save one.

He’s a lot quieter than one would expect. He doesn't speak much but when he can he says a lot loudly. He’s not afraid to speak his mind to friends, often letting them know when they’re in the wrong.

He’s got a strong sense of Justice. He believes that even the worst people have or had something redeeming about them. Even bad people sometimes do the right thing. A broken clock is right twice a day.

Chronic headaches are a big pain in Ratchet’s life. Often brought on by stress, depression, and even the weather on occasion. He hates Loud sounds if he’s not making them. His hands aren’t too bad not grounds for a divorce from them. He’ll occasionally drop things due to them freezing up. He also sometimes accidentally throws them too.

His spark brother is prowl. He doesn’t get a long with him at all. Their varying views often get them in fights.

(Shhh there’s a lot Ik, ratchets my favorite plus he’s a lot like myself so I sort of pushed that)

(Honestly if you want the short hand he’s basically a mixture between tfp and tfa)

#ratchet #au character description yippeee #tf #transformers #maccadams #maccadam

[madame-fear]

Okay, so. Yesterday I received a rather extent anon message blaming me for, apparently, “not being neutral in the drama” because I’m mutuals with someone that had little involvement in the situation I think, and as I found out today, my mutual already clarified things and apologised.

I left my answer to the ask in the drafts, but today I opted to ignore the message and remove the drafted answer. I did this not only because I wanted to drop things already and not stir up any more shit, but also because I have a condition where I constantly tremble, and any extreme emotion — whether it’s good or bad — makes my shaking worsen to the point I can barely function even for basic things and I feel sick in the stomach.

It wasn’t worth going through that. I thought it would be better to answer ask messages of people ranting, or asking things about it that were within the reach of my knowledge.

Until today, that a burner account named @/quillantrophy (which, they accidentally exposed their real account in one of their screenshots), thought they could do a “call out” post... Posting my answers to anon asks & basically treating me as a hypocrite over nothing?

And they said I should explain things because since I wasn’t commenting on anything they said on the post, I was “adding fuel to the fire” (that exact quote). I didn’t have time to explain things at the moment, but I do now and I will answer bit by bit. I will do this just to avoid possible misunderstandings.

I want to clarify that I don’t feel comfortable getting involved in things that I’ve never been involved in— and if I receive more messages about the drama itself, those messages will be deleted. I feel kind of bad about this since people have only been coming to my ask box asking thing about it confuses, or seeking comfort from the moment, but like we’ve been saying, it’s better to drop things already, and focus on the good things inside the fandom.

The answer to the post is below the cut. It’s going to be long, sorry, but I prefer to clear any misunderstandings. And I will highlight something extremely important down below, besides apologising deeply for any misunderstanding. And this is the last time I will be talking about it

“there’s no issue with this, but she claims to be neutral and is currently explaining/advocating on the situation whilst adopting this stance.” I am neutral on the situation. I will eternally remain neutral because as we’ve seen, neither side is good.

As I’ve said before, Cal had little to do with all of this huge mess. From what I learned today, she already clarified and apologised about the situation. Cal was dragged through the mud by both of the groups out of nowhere, and she also fell for their shit so she was fooled by them just like lots of other people— she told me herself.

“This is bullshit, there’s no transparency” huh? what does that even mean,, I just… Literally don’t have any involvement at all? What can I say or do about it? Both groups of people were already on my blocklist since last year lmao.

“She has connection to the drama purely through this even as she apparently didn’t participate — allegedly.” I’m sorry but the allegedly part is killing me too. I wasn’t even on their Discord groups, nor talked to any of the people involved, explain why the word ‘allegedly’ was even added?

also, how the hell am I supposed to be connected to the drama if, as you said, I didn’t even participate in it, only because I’m mutuals with someone who was named in it? What kind of sense does that make?

As I stated above, I am, and always have been a neutral onlooker about the situation, who explained the situation to the confused people, even posting the links with the full info and proof to not spread incorrect information accidentally.

“Does @bucknastysbabe even know or care you’re slamming her on main and then love bombing her the next?” Cal knows about all your post, and all my answers to each ask regarding the situation.

She knows I hadn’t seen her apology/clarifying video until today. She even cheered me up when I had an anxiety attack after this person made this post, only to then delete it and deactivate the account. So, yes, she knows pretty much everything and she knows it was a mere mistake of mine.

Then, the person posted this. I will show the screenshots of what they said, and what answered ask they were referring to using their own SS.

(sorry if the screenshot pics are switched of their right places) I had no idea that was a direct quote from Cal’s apology video, because I OBVIOUSLY HADN’T SEEN IT. I don’t know how else to stress this, but I’m not chronically online, and neither I see everything my mutuals post.

Either way, I literally re-read my own response to check what I had answered, and this was terribly misunderstood. The only response I had about Cal’s statement was “why am I not surprised?”, and in the rest of my response, I tried to be as neutral as possible— in the rest of my response, I was referring to the general situation of the drama, and in fact I was mostly referring to the things Bel, Fae, Em and Ange said + did.

But nothing else, thats it, because I wanted to speak about the situation in general and I was referring to the group of people— I didn’t name names and neither I referenced Cal’s statement any further. I deeply apologise for the misunderstanding, but sometimes I explain myself awfully mostly because English isn’t my native language.

if this was considered with any possible ill intention at all, I offer once again my most sincere apologies. I never had any bad intention, and the only thing I’ve been doing was answer the asks of the people who came to my ask box inquiring about what had happened, try to offer comfort to those who felt disappointed and heartbroken, and in general just try to provide as much positivity as I could amidst the terrible situation.

Some believe I was trying to gain attention from the situation, and that I was stroking the flames of the drama. I at no cost even thought of ‘getting attention’ from it, or that I was actually getting attention, I simply answered the messages I was receiving to interact with my own followers— I mean, it didn’t feel good to leave them hanging.

I do have to take responsibility that perhaps my actions continued to keep the drama up, but again, I never had this intention, and I’m terribly sorry if that’s what my answers and interactions caused.

Please I do hope you guys understand my point of view, and that I never intended for any of this to be understood in the wrong manner. I have to admit that despite all the lovely people and fun moments I had/have in the fandom, it’s also responsible for worsening my condition the 90% of the times due to the unnecessary drama, and this situation today made me feel extremely bad physically as it automatically involved me in a situation I didn’t want to be involved in, nor have anything to do with it.

And that’s why, from now on, I won’t be answering any message related to the drama anymore to not keep mentioning the things that happened. As I said all the way above, we should currently be focusing only on the good, positive things of the fandom— and hopefully, we will all learn to not be rude or gossip about other people over mere fandoms, or fanfanfiction.

Then again, thank you for reading and understanding. If I expressed myself wrongly anywhere in here, please feel free to ask me about it and I will glady re-explain it. I hope this can clear everything, and please, I don’t want to be involved any further in anything.

#fandom rants #I hope this cleared everything out. I am as polite and as clear as I can be about the situation. #important #✧.* amiraverse

[selkies-and-cycles]

The castle’s infirmary is quiet today.

The main physician sits at their desk, scribbling away some new kind of prescription, while the royal consort sits in a nearby chair, tongue stuck out in concentration. They hold a notebook up on their curled-up knees, reaching for a green pigment to add to their drawing. They’d come to help Morien organize some deliveries, but now that that was done, they’d taken to absentmindedly doodling in the quiet.

Eventually, Cuáine deems the drawing finished and gets up, sidling over to the physician’s desk.

"Look, it's you." Cuáine slides over the piece of paper with a small, teasing smile.

On the paper scrap is a doodle- almost childish, with how cartoony it is- of a seal with big green eyes staring up at Morien from the paper. The whiskers framing the eyes are overexaggerated to give it a little grumpy face- as grumpy as a cartoon seal can be, at least, and one flipper lies over a long, rounded cane with a green ribbon around it.

Morien blinks.

"...You drew me. As a seal." They state, deadpan. Their eyes drift over to Cuáine's expectant face, expression unnervingly blank.

Cuáine nods. Then, as the seconds tick on, they suddenly remember where and who they are.

They are no longer the laughing child on the coast of Venegard’s territory, pointing out seals playing on the rocky shore to their older brother. Their eyes no longer carry the bright-eyed brilliance they had been named after, the one that would make their parents ruffle their hair when presented with silly doodles.

Times had changed- those happy moments were undermined by the much clearer memories of when Cuáine had tried to talk to their parents or show them a pretty rock found down at the shore, only to be waved off for another time that never came. Osia called it stupid, really- low effort, not worth calling a ‘gift’ when a 5 year old could make something better.

Maybe a child could, but the intent had been pure- now, Cuáine just stares down at their silly scrap of paper with a sour taste in their mouth. This probably seemed stupid to Morien too.

"...Nevermind. If you think it's stupid, you can tell me." Their hand moves towards the scrap of paper on the physician's desk, fingers shaking slightly. "It's just supposed to-"

"No, no, it's-" Morien waves them off, and Cuáine's hand falls away. "-not. I was just... surprised. Doesn't seem very 'nobleborn battlemage' of you to do." They grumble, seeming almost defensive now as Cuáine lingers awkwardly by the side of their desk.

Cuáine hesitates, then says, "Well, I'm not many of the things I should be." They seem to think for a moment, then sidle closer, half-sitting on the edge of Morien's desk. They wait, taking the physician's half-glare as a sign to get off, but Morien doesn't say anything. So they relax, still being careful to put most of their weight on their ground foot.

Morien continues to write something down in their notebook, and Cuáine hums, going to twist their armlet.

“...I wasn’t aware you liked seals so much.”

Morien’s comment is quiet, and Cuáine would have almost missed it if it weren’t for the heavy silence blanketing the infirmary. For a moment, the royal consort blinks, unsure how to respond.

…They actually want to talk to me?

A small smile tugs at their lips, one of their ringed fingers tapping against the desktop. “I’ve loved them since I was a child. It’s rather an amusing story, actually. My parents have always lamented that they didn't name me ‘little seal’ Ronán, for how much I ended up loving them." Cuáine laughs lightly, shifting their gaze over to the little window that lets some light into the infirmary. "Apparently my father was of the opinion that the name was 'too common', so imagine his surprise when his seventh came out and eventually had to be dragged away from watching seals play on the shore. The, uh, doodling them-” Cuáine gestures again to the small seal drawing with a somewhat flushed expression, “-came from messin’ around with Saraah. It got to a point tha’ when I considered changing my name a couple times, he suggested I go with Ronán. I didn’t, obviously, but…”

“Hm.” Morien continues writing something down on a nearby pad of paper, and Cuáine has to resist the urge to be nosy and peek. They oddly aren’t meeting Cuáine’s face, but maybe they’re just focused? “Speaking of family, didn’t you say earlier that you had a meeting with Arthur and the council?”

Cuáine’s swinging leg stills, and they immediately swear, dark blonde hair swinging past their face when they jump off the desk. “Shit, I forgot about that! Thanks Morien!” They grab their bag and immediately dash out the infirmary door, but not without giving one last grateful wave to the physician.

As the door to the infirmary slams shut, Morien waits until the footsteps of the king's spouse have fully faded away before doing anything, including looking back down at the childish seal doodle.

"...Fuck." Morien murmurs, burying their face in their hands. It's the only way to successfully counteract their burning cheeks. "They might as well just fuckin’ stab me through the heart if they're gonna keep bein' this fuckin' cute."

Cuáine visits again only a few days later.

“Morien?”

When their knock and call go unanswered, they peek inside. Surprisingly, the infirmary is empty, devoid of its usual red-headed physician.

Perhaps Morien just had to go to the bathroom?

Regardless, Cuáine is here to drop off some herbs they gathered. They nudge the door open, walking over to the desk to drop the bundles off. Out of curiosity, green eyes stray to the mess of papers pinned to the wall’s cork board.

There, nestled among the notes for needed medicinal herbs, prescriptions and schedules, a small needle pins a little seal doodle to the wall.

Cuáine doesn’t quite believe it.

…Morien actually kept it?

Despite themself, Cuáine can feel a small grin curling their lips as they reach for another scrap of paper and lead pencil.

When Morien comes back, they find a package of herbs on the table and a new scrap of paper pinned to the wall- one with another seal doodled on it, holding a tiny knife in one flipper and a scar across its abdomen.

Look! It’s you n’ me.

(Eventually, the collection grows to include a seal with a crown, two with knightly armor, one with a long black braid, and a seal pup with tiny dragon wings, but the first two remain pinned together.)

---

(Morien and the setting belong to @the-kingshound!)

#tkh #tkh morien #tkh hound #tkh cuáine #HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS KAL #I WANTED THEM TO BE CUTE

[eldritcmor]

Tournament of champions

Chapter 1

“What’s this?” John squinted at the Computer screen. An email from Laswell had been waiting for him today, something that actually required his attention if the subject line was anything to go by. He slowly mouthed the words of the email to himself, deciphering the code and language used. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh as he grabbed the phone on his desk. A soft click as line connected near immediately after he dialed a long memorized number. “Really, Kate? What’s your play here?”

“What’s wrong, John? Thought you, of all people, would be jumping at the gun for this one.” “We just got back, Laswell. Apologizes if we need a break.” “Good thing you’re not tackling this alone then, John.” John felt a prickle crawl down his spine. “Who else, Laswell?” “Relax, John. They’re trustworthy. Dug them up myself.” “Who, Kate?” John heard Laswell sigh. “Taskforce Dante and a PMC squad from S.H.C. Don't bother looking up that last one. They really don’t like it, besides they have a familiar player.” “Wilson and his group are familiar Laswell. No PMCs Kate, you know this. Not after the Las Almas Incident.” “Not even for an old squad member?” John huffed a breath as he weighed his gut against his head. “Fine, but if this even shows one sign of going like Las Almas did, I’m kicking their head in myself.” “Agreed.”

Joseph jerked awake as the plane touched down. Gods, they should be used to this by now. Long plane rides weren’t exactly uncommon in their line of work but still, it sucked. They stretched as the plane taxied down the little runway, shoving Avery’s head off their shoulder. They glanced around the cabin realizing they were the only one awake at the moment. Well that needed to change. They still had a couple hours drive after this to the actual event grounds for this mission. Apparently a week of military games with some of the best in the business, sponsored by some of the biggest names to boot. Lots of eyes on this apparently. Not that Joseph cared at the moment, as they shook Avery awake. Avery jerked up and Joseph dodged the fist aimed for his throat. “Easy, Storm cloud. We just hit the gate. We’re officially in Greece.” Avery groaned as they waved Joseph off. Joseph nodded and went around the cabin waking the others. Dodging fists and sleepy mumbles in a variety of languages. After that, everything was mostly smooth as they gathered up their gear and disembarked. Joys of being partnered with one of the most damn secretive PMC’s, deep pockets and private travel.

Joseph jogged to keep up with O’Neil and Wilson’s longer strides. “So, who’s our contact? The brief said we weren’t the only two on this assignment.” “Some old friends of Avery’s. An SAS squad that works closely with Kate.” Wilson hummed as followed the signs to the exit. “SAS? We got a name for them?” “One Four One. That’s all Kate really gave us.” O’Neil paused. “Oh! I’m an idiot. We can ask Avery for information. Though it might be a few months out date. Go grill Scott, Ferret.” Joseph grinned and nodded. Any excuse to go annoy their Pseudo Sibling is a good excuse.

Joseph dropped back to Avery. “Hey Avery. I have questions.” Avery hummed as they kept pace with Joseph. “Who are the one four one?” Avery’s eyes widened before they relaxed as if realizing something. “British, SAS, and Legends in their own right. Why?” Joseph grinned, a feral things. “Does that make you a legend too, storm cloud?” Avery immediately shook their head. “Nope.” Joseph briefly pouted as Avery didn’t take the bait. “Alright, so what makes them legends? Cause You worked with them before Six, surely you most know the truth better than some recruits.” Avery snorted. “I was just a recruit myself. Don't know why in the fuck I ended up in their squad. History aside, there’s four main members. Captain Price, Lieutenant Riley, Sergeant Garrick, and Sergeant MacTavish. They run the same wheel house we do, though their missions are infamous for going fucking sideways.” Joseph raised an eyebrow. “Fucking sideways?” “You remember the clean up for Las almas, right?” “Yeah sure. We got quite a few new friends out of that.” Avery clicked their tongue. “Well guess who were heavily involved?” “No, no fucking way!” “Yup.” “Were you there for that?” Avery shook their head. “No, I was in hospice at the time.” Joseph made an ah noise. “The reason you left, I’m assuming.” Avery nodded. “Not doing any good from a hospital bed, Jo.” “Think We’ll meet them? At this weird tournament, I mean.” “It’s possible, but we’ll see.” Joseph nodded as they lapsed into silence.

Ghost leaned against the front of the SUV, lit cigarette between his lips. Price had him on pick up duty. Something about needing some goddamn peace after the flight from London to Greece. Everyone else had grumbled their agreements. Ghost snuffed his cigarette under his boot as his target wandered out from the airport. A tired looking bunch of soldiers. Ghost pressed two fingers and whistled. A high shrill sound. The group’s heads all snapped to him and damn if it wasn't unnerving. He cursed as the group moved in his direction. There was a familiar face among them alright. Sergeant Scott. Someone who left without so much as a goodbye, and barely a word since then. Ghost wanted to be pissed, but right now he needed to at least put up a good front. “Lieutenant Riley of One Four One. I’m your pick up.” He held his hand for a shake to the man before him. The man smiled. “Captain Wilson of Dante, and this is Captain O’Neil of SH6.” The man gestured to his fellow captain who was over seeing getting everyone’s gear in the car. “Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.” Ghost mentally shivered. Captain Wilson’s accent was incredibly close to Graves and it did not bring back good memories. “Pleasure’s all mine, sir. We’re staying at hotel nearby. We’ll be heading out to the actual location tomorrow, if that’s alright by you sir?” Captain Wilson looked relieved. “That’s the best plan I’ve heard all day. I’m assuming The second SUV is also us.” Ghost nodded. “Yes sir.” Captain Wilson nodded before turning to the others in his group. “Listen Up! We Got Two Vehicles! Split Up And Get Ready To move!” A chorus of “Yes Sir!” met Wilson’s shout. Ghost nodded as he slipped into the driver seat of his own vehicle. He barely paid attention when others piled in as he started the vehicle. He startled when he turned and found Scott had taken the passenger seat. “Bloody Fuckin Hell! Storm!” Ghost hissed. Avery just raised an eyebrow. “Hey Lieutenant.” “Don’t “Hey!” Me Sergeant. Haven’t heard from you in a long time. Where the fuck have you been?” Avery shrugged. “I’m not a Sergeant anymore, Ghost. As for your question, around.” “Around? Around?! Avery Storm Scott! You vanish without so much as a goodbye and all you can say is around! And what do you mean you’re not a Sergeant anymore?” Ghost narrowed his eyes at Avery after his hissed exclamations. Avery shifted uncomfortable in their seat. “SHC functions a little differently, I’m technically A corporal now.” Avery sighed. “Look, Ghost. I felt like I was doing the right thing, alright? I wasn't exactly being useful from a hospital bed while you guys went through hell. I thought it would be better if I didn’t make a big deal out of leaving, okay?” Ghost pinched the bridge of his nose as he merged onto the highway leaving the airport. “Avery, Avery, Avery. We had just dug you out of the ground after weeks of torture. You weren’t useless. You were recovering.” Avery snorted. “I still stand by my decision to leave, Ghost.” “And I doubt anything I say would change your mind, so I’m not going to Avery.” Avery curled a little on themselves. “Does Price know?” Ghost hummed. “He knows were working with a PMC and another Task-Force, Not who’s who. Which one are you playing for anyways?” “PMC.” Ghost nodded. “Are they good to you?” Avery nodded. “We were the clean up crew for Las Almas. Captain O’Neil swore up a blue streak when he saw the damage Philip had brought. We helped where we could.” “Good. Try not to get slapped at breakfast, Storm. Though expect to get Tackled by Johnny. He’s been worried about you.” Avery chuckled as the SUV pulled to stop in the hotel parking garage. “No guarantees Lieutenant.”

Taina flipped through the stack of papers handed in her hand. “Are we sure about this?” Her eyes flicked over to Jordan as he spoke. Harry sighed as set his own list on his desk. “Yes, Trace. Rainbow can’t be everywhere at once. This is a good way to scout out new recruits and allies.” “But It also paints a huge target on our backs, Harry! Especially if we let the public in.” “It would draw attention even if we didn’t Jordan. An abandoned stadium suddenly being in active use. This way we control what they see.” Taina continued to flip through the list of names in her hand, ignoring the argument between Red hammer’s Captain and Six. Multiple Militaries, PMCs, and Specialized law enforcement agencies were attending this apparently, including but not limited to her own, BOPE. On the Surface, Harry was correct. Rainbow couldn’t be everywhere at once. But Jordan did bring up some very compelling points. This whole tournament of champions seemed like a poor way to handle it. Especially since Harry seemed dead set on televising it. Taina huffed a breath as she looked closer the roster at names, Three especially popping out to her. “Excuse me! Six, I have a question.” Taina hummed as Harry and Jordan’s heads snapped to her. They were barely inches from each other’s throats. Harry backed away first. “Yes, Caveira?” “Why are three of Laswell’s Squads involved with this?” “Laswell’s squads?” “Yes, Task-Force 141, Task-Force Dante, And SH6. One is responsible for the events at Las Almas. The other Two for the cover up of Las Almas.” Taina had lost a lot of good intel with the whole incident. El Sin Nombre might be considered small in the grand scheme of global drugs rings but they were an incredibly powerful trafficking ring and well connected. “What’s your question, Cav?” Jordan hummed as he settled in his chair again. “Why are they participating in this event? This does not seem like them considering the events at Las Almas.” Harry Pushed his glasses up his nose. “They’re here as a peace offering. They will be participating in the events. Not in the deals that may take place around the events. Does that satisfy your curiosities, Caveira?” Taina hummed a moment. “For now, sir.”

taglist:taglist: @skylordgrey @bluegiragi @batw3nch @stick-the-dumbass @lilpothoscuttings @im-making-an-effort @stupidwingboy @apocalypticseagull @resident-cryptid @warenai @sleepyendymion @sellenedragon @queenofwolves210 @makayla-666 @gogh-with-the-flow @blue-blue0

#taskforce 141 #eld writes #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #storm au #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #rainbow 6 siege #rainbow six siege #taina Caveira pereira #caveira #r6s caveira #r6s thermite #jordan thermite trace #thermite #wer6community #call of duty oc #call of duty fanfic #cod mwii

[rebelliousstories]

First

Relationship: Maximus x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Allusions to Suggestive Themes, Brief Angst

Word Count: 770

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When you finally get over one hurdle, there is another waiting for you.

Laying back in the sheets, a couple was trying to catch their breath. They were slowly pulling the covers back onto their bodies as they lay there. She reached over and tried to find the hand of the man next to her.

“You doing okay there, Max?” She asked, thumb rubbing over his own.

“Uh huh.” He replied, not quite finding his words at the moment.

“Need anything?” This time, she rolled over and visibly checked up on the man. He was panting less, but still sweaty. His eyes held a far off look while he stared at the ceiling.

“Uh uh.” Maximus declined, slowly coming back down to earth from wherever he ended up. But even though he declined, his face morphed into something sour the longer he thought.

“What is it, Maxi? What can I do?” She was stroking a hand over his face when, without a word, Maximus turned towards her on his side and burrowed into her chest. Giggling lightly, she pulled him closer and laid down on her back.

“Did you just need a cuddle?” Maximus nodded quickly into her chest, and wrapped his arms around her body while it was cuddled up to his.

“That felt good.” He murmured, half of the words being muffled by the skin pressed against his own.

“It usually does. There’s a reason we sound proof the vault doors too.” This prompted a chuckle from Maximus, who found the predicament funny.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Maxi? You’re so quiet.” She stroked her hand down his back, and trailed it up to scratch through his short, cropped hair. They sat in silence for a minute while the man gathered his thoughts.

“I’m okay, just… thinking. But I’m good, thank you.” He replied, smushing his face further in his partner’s chest.

“Why are you thanking me sweetie?” There was wonder in her voice as she thought about what Maximus was talking about.

“Just for being there. For being you and doing this with me. It’s a weird feeling but I finally feel safe and like I can take things slow for the first time ever.” He poked his head up to look her in the eyes, and all he saw was love. She trailed a hand to stroke her hand over his cheek and drew him in for a delicate kiss. So much of his life was hard, rough, cut-throat, that to be treated with such softness was a foreign feeling. It had taken a very long time until they could be at this point.

“I love you so much, Maxi,” pulling away no matter how much Maximus tried to follow her lips. “You deserve to have some nice things in your life. And if one of those is me, I’m honored.”

“You’re not just one thing that’s nice in my life. You’re the main reason my life is nice.” He proclaimed, pushing himself on to his elbows above the woman in the bed. Maximus leaned down and captured her lips in his once more; this time with more vigor and attention. Trailing a hand down her side over the covers, she shivered lightly as the touch tickled her. Maximus broke away from the kiss and just smiled down at her. 

”I’m hungry.” He stated plainly, getting up off the bed and wandering into the kitchen. She laughed out loud as he rifled through the cabinets to find something to eat and was happy that he finally found what he had, apparently, been searching for. A can of tuna.

Maximus grabbed a fork and made his way to the bed after opening and draining the can. He slid under the covers once more and offered a bite to the girl next to him, to which she declined. She watched him happily eat the canned fish in the bed, but pushed him off when he tried to kiss her again.

“No sir. You go brush your teeth and wash your hands before coming back to me. I don’t want that smell lingering.” The man pouted as he was kicked from the bed, and went to do as he was told. In the meantime, she got out of the bed and lit a candle to get rid of the remaining smells. By the time Maximus made it back to bed, she was back under the covers and looked like she was dozing off. He slipped back underneath, yet again, and held her close.

“I love you.” He whispered, unsure if she could hear him or not.

“I love you too.” She whispered back, happy that he felt comfortable enough to say it.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #maximus #maximus x reader #Maximus imagine #maximus x oc #maximus fallout #Maximus fallout imagine #Maximus fallout x reader

[nelkcats]

Crow services

After Danny died he noticed that some animals had become more attached to him while others had moved away. Aggressive or death related animals seemed to react positively to his presence, although friendlier animals such as birds tended to fly away.

Of course, none of this prepared him for the number of crows that landed on his window daily. At first he was scared that they would consider him a corpse and try to eat him but after the third time they brought him a shiny object he assumed they just liked him.

Those crows became very fond of him, they let him pet them, they would perch on his head or shoulders, always present and sometimes even watching over him (A particularly intelligent crow he named Poe would drive his parents away with distractions).

So when he moved to Gotham to complete his studies he prepared for a farewell to his feathered friends; said friends simply ignored him and followed him around the city. Danny assumed he wasn't going to be able to fight them, so he let them be.

This is how the phenomenon called "The Invasion of Crows" began in Gotham, the animals were not aggressive but mostly indifferent, some of them agreed to carry letters as homing pigeons (After Danny asked them for the favor) starting "Crow services"

As long as you had the money or something shiny to pay them the birds would carry messages from one place to another, ironically they would give that payment to Danny, who only sighed and let them pass to his apartment, giving them: some food, shelter and a place to sleep, although he was worried the moment his neighbor would complain about the noise.

At first he let them stay on the streets because they were supposed to be free, but after the sixth time he caught Damian Wayne trying to adopt one he just rolled his eyes and now the little ones were living with him.

So yes, when Jason finally decided to visit his neighbor he didn't expect the red eyed crowd staring at him and judging his actions, one in particular lunged at him and he swore he was about to gouge his eyes out before a voice yelled "Poe, wait! "

Said crow looked at him for a few more seconds before perch on the head of the prettiest boy he had ever seen, who approached to offer him a hand "I'm sorry, they're very overprotective" he muttered worried.

Jason almost fell over laughing when he noticed that this was B's "weird case" about the rise in crows alongside the supposed "new rogue" in town, when all he saw was a college boy with a murder of crows living in his house, maybe creating a new messaging system.

He was going to have so much fun with this, maybe he'd even manage to go on a date with his eyes intact, who knows.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc x dp #jason todd #dead on main #jason todd x danny fenton #The crows loves Danny #Damian is trying to adopt one really hard while Danny judges in the background #Crow services started as a joke to deliver Danny's notes to his professor #The professor paid the crows and they just continued #Batman thinks is all an evil plan or a new rouge #It is not #Danny is a retired hero #With a lot of exotic pets apparently #Poe is an intelligent Crow #Jason named some of them too #the one who deliver his messages is called Austen now #He fall in love for the literature reference lmao #poor guy would be disappointed when Danny admits he is not a literature guy #Maybe he will try to convert him #Danny and his crows #Cujo is jealous btw #red hood #batman #detective comics

[hellspawnmotel]

I finished wild arms yesterday! what a great game

#wild arms #wild arms 1 #cecilia adlehyde #jack van burace #rudy roughnight #earth golem #art tag #i really really loved this one im so glad i finished it #its really fun and not overly long for a jrpg (about 30 hours) #also gets my seal of approval in that despite what all promotional material would have you believe cecilia is the main character #like its not even a question she just is. compounded by the fact that if you want to you can play as her the whole time #my biggest criticism would prob be that by the end of the game the party feels kind of unbalanced especially in boss fights #cecilia can do so much shit and the boys basically just do different kinds of big damage lol #cecilia can also do big damage but shes too busy healing and buffing and debuffing and all that #its not all that hard though so its not a huge deal just kind of funny #anyway i definitely want to play the rest of the series at some point. apparently theres an anime too?? exciting

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

Story Idea:

22 year old Gotham University student Danny finds a Damien clone whose near death and saves his life, offering to let the kid stay with him in his crappy apartment. The clone accepts, thinking Danny seems like a tolerable chump to bide his time with as he builds his strength for another fight with his progenitor for his rightful place as heir to Batman. Danny absolutely 100% knows the kid’s a clone and that taps right into his childhood trauma, making him want to protect him all the more. (Up to you if Dani is alive but in my version she’s not). Over time, Clone!Damien becomes begrudgingly fond of his new caretaker, especially after Danny starts taking him on Doctor Who style adventures through time/space and the tamer parts of the GZ (there are none) as part of his efforts to build up the kid’s confidence (outside his overcompensating ego) and help him learn to grow into his own person.

Bonus!

Danny and Clone!Damien are the downstairs neighbors to none other than Jason Peters (aka Jason Todd). They both clock him as Red Hood pretty quickly, but it takes much longer for them to connect him to the Waynes, so he’s kinda just their marginally more normal neighbor who happens to be a crime lord and who, for some reason, tends to check up on them a lot. (Originally this was because RH thought Danny might be an upcoming villain, then because he didn’t understand how Danny was alive, and then Clone!Damien moved in and he started checking to make sure that he didn’t murder Danny in his sleep). Luckily, Jason is a fantastic cook, so they are both grateful (to varying degrees) for his nosiness. (Is this a Dead on Main situation, are they just good friends? Who’s to say? You. Or me. But probably you.)

#danny phantom #dp x dc #damien wayne #jason todd #dc x dp #dead on main #dani phantom #potentially #Damien’s clone who has yet to pick a name #throughout this Danny dresses suspiciously like a supervillain #he’s got the wild hair goggles a sleeveless lab coat big ol’ boots too big for his feet #he makes a modest income off a handful of patents and is attending the university under scholarship #(it’s the Wayne secret anti villain scholarship that they use to monitor possible enemies/allies and help them before they go dark) #Jason has no idea how Danny managed to buy the apartment below his considering that he owns the whole thing and wasn’t looking for renters #he just appeared one day with moving boxes and all the proper paperwork #apparently he exploited some old as balls property laws to get his hands on the place #which is honestly sad #Jason has much better apartment buildings he could have gone for #the plants are a nice touch though #really liven up the place #almost cover up that lingering stench of death

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

not me immediately getting jude from this

who did you guys get? 👀

#idk any of them i just see jude around a lot so it made me chuckle #@/judejazza and their wonderful posts i often run into #victor is apparently my opposite from these options and elbert is my 2nd choice or smth #(friends and i usually do 'quizzes' 3x to get our main/secondary/opposite) #anyway im just snooping around now. still not sure how i feel abt it but was never too tempted for ikevil. #the less gacha in my life atp the better ngl ;;;;;;;; its why ive stayed away from most of the new games and tryna limit current ones #though if they ever do finally drop ikegen (unlikely asf) ..... count my ass in #i can't even be mad ikepri dropped bc ive enjoyed it so much more than i ever thought i would. easily my fav or 2nd fav bc ikerev #i still adore ikerev and magic and the world building and everything.. alice is just pretty dumb sometimes #which is why i adore b&tb-esque belle/emma so much. also why i like mai in some routes (ikesen humor op) #ikevamp has always just kinda been there tbh. usually the events feel more interesting than the routes ngl;;; charas are fun tho #anyway let's see how this bad boy goes #who did y'all get?? #ikevil #ikemen villains #my post 📫 #aerin.jpg #from the official ig acct btw