#i think i went a bit ham on the hands but whatever

[leo-muscle]

I’ve heard a little bit about this King Leon guy. Who does he think he is to call himself a king? Seems far to pretentious if you ask me. I wouldn’t be caught dead bowing to someone like that. Not in a million years.

Sure I’m the most basic looking white dude on the planet. My face gets lost in the crowd and my body is light enough to be blown by a breeze. But a king can’t change that, and I would like to see him or any of his subjects try to.

"Are you sure about that?" The bartender told you. You had just arrived on your vacation in Haiti, and the resort's bartender had decided to strike up a conversation with you over drinks. He was enormous, seven feet of pure surfer boy muscle, with a thick gut that was the very picture of strength. He would have been the most beautiful man you had ever seen, if you weren't in the middle of a massive rant.

"Oh, absolutely." You continued. "Whoever these 'kings' are, I don't want anything to do with 'em. Who are they to declare rule over the entire world, and who are we to listen to them?"

It was true, of course. Much of Africa, the British Isles, Central America, and even the islands you were now in had been united under the rule of these Kings. While many praised them for their novel social reforms and exponential increase to quality of life in their domains, many others, yourself included, remained attached to the old ways. Even this vacation was a scouting trip, to see if whatever propaganda these Kings were putting out was true.

"On the contrary, my friend, I am perfectly happy to listen to the rule of my King. You should have seen this island before King Kai came here. Homelessness, poverty... it's all been amended since he arrived."

"Really?" You asked, taking a big swig of your drink, savoring its tingle on your lips. "And NO one's uncomfortable being ruled by just one person?"

"People love King Kai. He is kind and just, like any good king should be. You'll see that soon enough." The bartender said.

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, your heart racing.

"Oh, nothing much. Just give it a few seconds."

"What are you-- UGH!" You doubled over, your skin on fire with a sensation entirely alien to you.

The bartender walked out from behind the bar, and soon, his magical hands went to work. With his kingly essence in your system, you could be molded into a respectable citizen of the world.

He started with your pecs, cupping them from behind as they burst through your tropical shirt with new strength. They were enormous, voluptuous pillows, jiggling with muscle and a thin layer of fat.

He then moved his hands along your shoulders, pumping them into cannonballs of strength. The moment his hands reached your arms, they pulled and pushed, leaving your twiggy biceps and forearms as but a fleeting memory, replacing them with pulsing, powerful cannons of strength. In awe, you flexed your right arm, forming a mound easily as big as a baseball if not more.

You moaned softly as King Kai's beautiful hands lightly traced a six-pack onto your stomach, each ab popping into existence, forming an impenetrable wall of strength.

Soon, his hands navigated south, one massive hand palming your flat ass, while the other grabbed your tiny three-inch cock. You moaned, long, low, and hard as both of his hands began to move out from your body, pulling your cock and ass with them. Your cheeks rounded out into a big, bouncy bubble butt, bigger than most women's. It shook with strength and sexuality with every slight movement you made, much like your cock, which had grown so big with the King's touch that no pair of pants could conceal your enormous bulge. His touch was electric on your shaft, causing you to pre almost endlessly.

Your mind was in heaven as he continued to your legs. Your cock was at full mast at its enormous eleven inches as he took his hands to your legs, and blew them up into corded steel pillars as big as any christmas ham. You moaned, your cock firing blanks as he looked you deep into your eyes, placing one hand to completely cover your currently-unchanged face.

"As much as I love my people, we cannot be a global community if all my citizens are homogenous." King Kai said. "Hmm, where should I send you..."

Your skin flickered through thousands of shades in a single moment, before settling on a tone a few shades darker than your original. Your hair darkened to black, and you instantly sprouted a thick dark mustache, and a chinstrap beard to match. Your eyes became narrower and monolid, your stare intensifying into a sexy smolder. As King Kai leaned in and kissed you, your bulk increased, and your muscle became padded with a thin sexy layer of fat.

"Cum." King Kai commanded you, his voice sexy enough to send you over the edge.

You had been reborn, a Vietnamese stud in the Carribean. Your brain was aflame with new neurons, making connections faster and better than ever before. You knew you had been improved, in every conceivable way. You were stronger, smarter, wiser, and you had no one but your new king to thank.

#male tf #male transformation #race change #muscle bear #bear tf #jock tf #pec growth #butt growth #asian tf #mental change #kings of the world

[its-time-to-write]

Hey!!! I hope you are doing well and with all life’s downs you have more ups!!! You’re a fantastic writer and love your voice! If you are willing/interested in could you write something involving the reader watching videos of little Jamie (like when things Georgie would have recorded of him at youth matches or school plays or just Jamie being a cheeky little bugger) and either it’s happening back at Manchester or a little career throwback video thing because he won something big or it’s like his 100th match at Richmond and the reader is helping put together this video to play for Jamie

Hey! Yeah I am doing well, just mega busy bc of holidays and everyone needing therapy and whatevs. Hope you’re well as well🩵🩵

play it back

“So he was always a little shit, huh?” you comment. You’re sitting on Georgie’s couch as you help her convert videos from old cameras to her computer.

“Oh yes,” she laughs. “But such a cute little bugger. Had the whole neighborhood wrapped around his finger.”

You click through videos, landing on one of him sitting on the grass. He’s not quite one, but he’s sitting up and clapping his pudgy hands.

“Oh my god, I can’t with that face,” you groan. “He’s too cute. I just want to squeeze him.”

“There’s a video of his first birthday party on here somewhere,” Georgie says, and you scramble to find it. You open a video of baby Jamie with his face covered in blue frosting. His hands are covered in chunks of cake, and he’s waving them around while laughing.

“The neighbors brought that cake over,” Georgie comments with a smile. “Jaim was being such a ham, making them laugh. He knew what he was doing, even then.”

You smile and continue forward. Baby Jamie in the tub, baby Jamie sleeping in his crib. Then toddler Jamie on Christmas.

“Show me what you’ve got,” comes Georgie’s voice from behind the camera.

Jamie’s tiny voice says, “It’s a fucking FOOTBALLLLL!” as he holds it over his head.

“Language, Jamie!” says Georgie, but you can tell she’s smiling. Jamie stands up and places the football on the ground.

Georgie says, “No, Jamie, don’t kick it in the-” and the camera tumbles to the ground. She swears, “Christ,” and it goes black.

“Classic,” you say.

Georgie chuckles a bit ruefully. “That was the beginning for him. Found it in a bargain bin and thought it’d get some of his fucking energy out. Think it just gave him more of a boost.”

The next is shaky footage of Jamie, aged six, as he runs on a pitch with other kids his age.

“Go, Jamieee!” Georgie screams. He barely looks at her as he kicks it into the goal, leagues ahead of the other team. He turns to his mum and gives her a thumbs up, followed by a swift two fingers up to the other team.

“Jamie, no!” Georgie shouts, and he switches back to a thumbs up and a shrug as if to say, I don’t know what you’re talking about. The video ends as the ref (someone’s father), pulls out a yellow card while trying to suppress laughter.

“Didn’t know you could get yellow cards at that age,” you grin.

“Well, you know Jamie; he played every part of that game,” Georgie replies.

“What are you on about?” Jamie asks, coming through the door. “Mum, you got the videos out?”

“She’s helping me put them on my new computer,” Georgie says. “Right helpful, she is. And tell me, what have you done today?”

Jamie blushes a bit. “Kicked the ball around the pitch. Soundly trounced some kids talking shit. Oh, and Simon and I went to get groceries.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And where are the groceries, Jamie?”

Jamie says, “Oh shit,” and rushes back outside to help Simon.

You roll your eyes affectionately and press play on the next video.

This one is another match, and Jamie’s older, maybe ten? It’s shot through the window of the council estate as he walks up, presumably from school. He’s dragging his feet but he’s got something in his hand.

“This was me birthday,” Georgie whispers.

“Whatcha got, Jaim?” Georgie asks as he swings the door open.

He smiles and launches himself into her arms, and for a moment, the camera is pointed at the ground. It gets righted and pointed at his smiling, dimpled face as he shoves a bundle of slightly wilted flowers into focus.

“Happy Birthday, Mummy!” he smiles. They’ve obviously been plucked on his walk back home from school.

“Thank you, baby,” she replies and again, you don’t need to see her to know she’s smiling. Georgie sweeps him into her arms as the video shuts off.

Georgie sniffs. “His dad had been round the day before. I had a fucking shiner to put the moon to shame that’s for sure, but my baby boy always knew how to get me smiling again.”

You lean your head against hers and she motions for you to keep on to the next video.

You click through a couple until you find one of him on the pitch again. It’s a couple years later and he’s a teenager, maybe thirteen, and he’s completely skipped the gangly phase you always thought was mandatory to growing up.

“He were twelve there,” Georgie says. “Got scouted in that very match.”

“Started me whole career,” Jamie interjects as he comes into the kitchen with an armful of bags. Simon’s right behind him, arms full as well.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, but it’s not that shocking. You can tell he’s good, even at age twelve.

Jamie deposits the bags and wiggles into the non-existent space between you and Georgie.

“I was dead cute, weren’t I?” he asks.

“You were,” you agree. “Not sure what’s happened in recent years.”

Jamie protests with an, “Oi!” as you and Georgie dissolve into giggles. Simon (wisely) decides to stay out of it and busy himself with putting the food away.

“I’m putting these on the cloud so I can have that at home,” you tell Jamie, and he worms his way closer next to you.

“Mint. You gonna start a Jamie-table like mum, too?”

“Fuck no,” you reply. “You’re head’s fucking big enough as-is.”

“You like my big head,” he says, and you smack him.

“Not in front of your mum!” you shriek as he tickles your sides. Georgie gets up off the couch to go kiss Simon while Jamie continues to terrorize you, kissing all over your face as you make half-hearted attempts to push him off. He was cute back then, but your favorite version of Jamie is definitely the one you get to hold in your arms right now.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[eoieopda]

Jadie:) i would like to make a request!!

Reader having to spent countless night home alone because Jungkook’s busy working at the studio? They fight and she asks him to love her more than she loves him?

Honestly i feel like JK gets frustrated with fights so he says things that come out in a different way?? Thank you so much!!!!

i went in with the angst on this one 😳 i think most of us have had similar fights before, so i was definitely channeling some of that something here OPE

cw: verbal sparring, major angst, ending is ambiguous/unresolved

By the time his car rolls into the driveway, Jungkook has nothing left to give.

A vampire disguised as a weekday sapped every bit of energy he had left. His reserve tank is empty, and when he’s running on fumes like this, there’s only one way to top up. All he wants — now, then, any time — is to bury his face where your neck meets your shoulder; to revel in your steady pulse and soft breathing; to remember that there’s life here, outside his studio.

He doesn’t waste time getting out of the car, having summoned the last bit of willpower he had to unbuckle his seatbelt and slip from the driver’s seat. Jungkook locks the car behind him and within seconds, he unlocks the door to his home. To you. It feels like forty years have passed since he left that morning, but he can still smell the kimchi from the eggs you cooked.

Did hours always used to feel like decades?

One foot over the threshold, the toe of his boot collides with something in the dark. His eyes strain to see it; and his eyebrows furrow once he does. It’s a weekender. Yours, the one he bought you to take on little getaways when your schedules aligned like planets. It’s packed and ready, but Jungkook can’t put a finger on why that is.

Did he forget about plans again? Fuck. His mind never used to be a sieve, but that’s all it’s been lately. Jungkook has to be careful not to let you slip by.

He toes off his shoes and places them on the mat on the other side of your packed bag. As he heads off to find you, kiss you, breathe you in, Jungkook takes one backwards glance at that weekender. Nothing sparks.

Where were we going again?

There’s rustling down the hall and he follows it. Underneath his timid footfalls, there’s the quiet metallic click of the medicine cabinet door as you close it. Jungkook can’t see you, but he can feel you — you and the upset ebbing outwards from you. Little concentric circles, rage rippling his way like a stone has broken through the surface.

I dropped you, again.

Jungkook reaches the doorway to the bathroom just in time for you to exit. You gasp when you collide with his chest, but that shock dissipates quickly when his hands steady you by your forearms. You clutch the bag of toiletries that you nearly dropped like it’s all you have.

The expression on your face is less obvious now that the surprise is absent — and that scares him.

“Whoa,” Jungkook tries to chuckle to lighten whatever this crushing weight is, but there’s no humor in your affect. Flat. Despondent, like you cried out all you had and there was nothing left to animate your features.

Oh, this is bad.

He needs to fix it, so he tries again, “Where’s the fire, petal?”

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jungkook flipped a switch alright, but it didn’t turn the light in your eyes back on. Ham-fisted and stuck in the garbage disposal as it —

“I don’t know, Jungkook. Where is the fire?” You have that tone when you reply. That rare and terrifying voice where you sound calm, but he can smell the venom hitting dead air.

You, petal, are soft, but you are not calm.

You’re excitable, vocal. Jungkook can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard you speak without your perfect, dizzying rollercoaster of intonation. It’s jarring, it’s whiplash, it’s clear as day that there’s something very wrong here.

What did I do to you?

“I’d love to know,” You carve another slice as you back out of his grip. “Haven’t felt warmth in weeks. What about you, Jungkook?”

He feels concussed, in a way, like this is somehow a sucker punch you’ve hit him with. It feels like a blow when you say his name with that look in your eyes, but Jungkook knows it’s not. He knows exactly where this is coming from and he doesn’t get to pretend otherwise.

Desperate, he tries to hold you, but it’s like running underwater trying to reach you. By the time his lead limbs finally accept the signal and begin to move, you’re skirting around him and out the door.

You’re quick, but so is he. Jungkook’s long strides catch up to you easily, and when you sense him, you wheel back around to look up at him. Now, your face is crumpled and littered with tears. It’s even worse than the nothing you were wearing a few moments ago.

Jungkook pleads, one teardrop away from getting on his knees for you, “Tell me what I missed and I’ll make it up to you, petal. I swear I’ll fix it —”

“That’s the thing, Jungkook,” you sniff as you angrily wipe at your slicked-wet cheekbone. The worst part is that he knows you’re beyond the point of anger when it comes to him; it’s the fact that he’s caught you crying that bothers you the most.

“You miss everything. And you know it, too, because your first guess — your very first thought — was that you must have forgotten about me — again. What does that tell you, Jungkook? What does it say about us that this is an easy assumption for you to make? Because it sounds like a habit to me.”

There’s a montage broadcasting through the silence that settles between you. It’s every ‘I’m sorry I’m late, petal’; every ‘petal, I’m going to be here longer than I thought’; and ‘you don’t have to wait up for me.’ It’s all of those disappointed sighs you tried to swallow when you gave him grace he hadn’t earned.

A soundtrack delineating every instance where you held him up and he let you down.

It’s deafening.

“I just want you —” Your voice gives up on you halfway through your sentence. He knows better than to reach out for you now, but it’s all he wants to do. “I need you — just once — to love me more than I love you.”

There’s that sucker punch.

How could he? How could anyone love harder than you do? It’s impossible, Jungkook thinks, to try to mimic the way your heart holds everyone so completely. Laughable, almost, that no person on their best day could hold a candle to you — even on your worst. He thinks you’re pure magic.

But Jungkook has never been the best at putting the things he thinks into words, so he says, “Petal, I can’t.”

And he can’t backtrack or explain what he meant or beg you to listen because you’re grabbing that weekender off the floor. You’re slinging it over your shoulder, headed to your sister’s for the night. As he watches you leave, Jungkook recalls that there’s one thing he’s even worse at than communicating how he feels:

Sleeping without you.

#jade’s drabbles #jade’s requests #trashlibrary #jjk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x y/n #re: the one with jungkook the weekender and the impossibilities

[llamagoddessofficial]

happy birthday (or thereabouts), llama!! congrats on another slingshot through the solar system, may your most thematically appropriate of birthday timeframes bless you with many skeletons to come ♡∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

thought I'd be sneaky and do a lil birthday present sketch based off whatever your answer might be to that last ask of mine, but then you went and dropped an au so spooky-excellent that I just had to go a bit ham in your honor. eldritch au my beloved.......

(too many appendages,,, strange, shifting sizes,,,,,,, '''humanoid''' with great liberties........ mimicking clothes and familiar human things like 'bones' but via strange and curling and slow-writhing tentacles/tendrils............ one terrifying Being offering a moment's dangerous maybe-respite from the mind-flaying curiousity of another........... the interminable focus of the kind of hunter for whom time is of no consequence..... what is safety but relative?? godspeed in the many arms of your eldritch soulmates >:)c )

shh.

The voice sounded inside your head, clear as a bell, gentle but deliberate. It was smiling, but in a way that felt like someone that had never seen a real smile before. A large hand settled against the small of your back. 

quietly, now. we don’t want to cause a scene, do we?

You stared, terrified, up into the ‘face’ looming over you. It was twisted and inhuman, decorated with intently curious eyes, made of winding bones that shared far too many characteristics of flesh. But despite everything, despite your mind’s frantic screaming to pull away from the creature before you and attempt to find another hiding place...

... It was the closest thing you’d seen to another human being since you became separated from your friends. 

You let him draw you closer, trying to focus on its two largest eyesockets. Something about a bipedal body somewhat close to your own in height was deeply, instinctively comforting. It definitely knew that. Something about shoulders, hands... eyes and teeth sat in those measured spaces across a face... something about seeing a face. 

You couldn’t help it. You pulled in a frightened breath as his arms wrapped around you and obscured you from view, he was just a little too warm. 

Anything was better than the massive, desperate thing that had relentlessly chased you for what felt like hours.

i know, i know. the voice cooed, though not a word had left your clammy lips. You felt the edges of his ‘clothing’ tracing over you, just as alive as the rest of him. but it’s alright. just stay close, he can’t smell you while you’re with me.

W-what is that? was your first thought. One of the first clear thoughts you’d had in what felt like days.

... if you think i’m frightening, dear, your saviour mused, i dread to think what would happen if you let the big guy get his hands on you.

The giant, ancient presence that had chased you started to drew near, you felt the immense pressure in the air and the horrible prickling across your body. A sound like distant wind... or distant screams? You couldn’t tell. But just as soon as it came closer, it shifted, perhaps believing you weren’t in the area anymore.

... It moved on again. Finally. You let yourself breathe, still frantic with fear and adrenaline.

...

... You looked up at your ‘saviour’. You must be going insane, because you were missing the presence of the blue-eyed creature. There was something deeply disturbing about how this one sparingly resembled a person- the blue-eyed monster hadn’t attempted such illusion. It had let itself be otherworldly in a clean, amorphous manner. Rather than ugly raw flesh and bone, he had been slick and tar-like, gentle and smooth in his words and movements.

“... strange, isn’t it?” the red beast purred, this time aloud, facial ‘expressions’ discordant with his words as his claws traced your back. Everything about him felt like it was curling around you, entrapping you for making the mistake of trusting a humanoid body. “you want so badly for me to look like a person. you see something you recognise, and you come crawling in. but... when that something isn’t quite right... you’re more afraid than ever. it’s so cute.”

“W-what do you want?” Your voice quivered.

“you wound me.” His eyelights flickered, he spoke warmly. Too warmly. “you think we all want to eat you. i can’t speak for the big guy, it’s hard to tell what he wants anymore. but come on now... use that pretty little head of yours. what do you think i want?”

You shook your head, tears building in your eyes. “I don’t know. I-I don’t know.”

“tiny creatures, humans. so full of fear.” A claw came up, smoothing over your hair. “we have souls too, darling. big ones.”

#llamagines #EHHEUGHUEHG #HOPE YOU DONT MIND I WENT OFF THE RAILS A LITTLE #ITS A GOOD ART

[cureobsession]

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 ?

summary: your best friend finds the scars. how they feelin?

cw: various stages of cleanliness, self harm, modest levels of angst, toxic relationships, modern au.

note: self harm comfort fanfic is a shriveled and dying medium. i will do my best to revive it. also platonic comfort hell yeah.

wc: 1.8k

includes: Childe, Lisa, Kazuha

Childe

mother fucker. the warning signs had been there as long as he could remember. you, his good friend (understatement, best friend in the entire world), had been struggling with the forbidden jutsu: self harm.

what was he to do in this situation really? how could he approach you about the issue when his method of finding out was so unethical. all he had wanted was to do some snooping. figure out what silly crushes you were having on classmates that he'd never consider good enough and tease the absolute fuck out of you over it.

instead? childe felt nothing but pain. he went through the three stages of grief (laughing, crying, AND throwing up) in a matter of 5 seconds.

he had seen your diary tucked away with the rest of your notebooks a while ago, and when you invited him over to hang out, well you can guess what happened.

or rather you didnt HAVE to guess anything. Coming back from the kitchen with snacks in hand, you almost couldn't believe the sight before you.

a bundle of ruffled orange hair leaning in to a scribbler so deeply it would surprise you if the words were even legible. problem being, it was your personal scribbler. you know, the one that contained ALL of your screwed up secrets and detailed many relapses you didn't even want to think about.

"you can not be fucking SERIOUS right now. invasion of privacy!" you screeched, running over to him and snatching it right out of his hands. well he was serious. absolutely, 100%, without a doubt serious.

the man wasn't even phased by your panic. he just looked at you in complete shock and asked whether or not you were doing all right.

with the face he was making, all you could do was grumble out something along the line of "yeah you dumb idiot if you had just checked the god damn dates-" but your complaints were quickly muffled when the red head tackled you in a hug.

well shit, there go the chips and popcorn you'd been holding during this small ordeal. still, his arms were warm, so you decided to ignore the mess at your feet and enjoy his tight embrace.

"im sorry" childe said after pulling away, internally cursing himself for going overboard. he cleaned the floor, payed you back the approximate 4$ of food he had ruined (though you had insisted to him it was alright), then he scooped you up and carried you down to the kitchen. it was time for fine dining.

the planned movie night had devolved into childe going ham in the kitchen and you sitting on the counter controlling the music.

he had said a few things about being there for you whenever you needed, that he was worried, that he cared about you, all the usual shit you'd heard a million times from movies, ted talks, fanfiction, and even google when you searched something a bit too concerning for them to let you see the results.

as much as you had trouble expressing it, you appreciated childes actions, speeches on your importance and other random shit he did in attempts to cheer you up.

after the meal, the two of you headed up stairs. you taking the bed for yourself while childe slept on a sleeping bag on the floor. he was weirdly insistent about you being comfortable, hell you even slept on the bed at his house. seriously, it wouldn't be a hassle for you to brave the floor for a night, but whatever. he cares about you too damn much.

just when two were finally calming down, he rolled over towards you with a knowing smirk and whispered "really though? scaramouche? that guy is such a tool."

all you could do was sputter. he was on thin ice right now. thin fucking ice.

Lisa:

people overlooked lisa for the sole reason that she was a librarian. they thought she was a boring lady obsessed with books and nothing more, spending all her time getting pissed at people who never returned their things on time.

in reality, only one of those statements were true, and lisa was so much more than you could ever describe. it all started one night when you were studying for your exams.

you and lisa had been the only ones at the library at such an hour, thus leading to an unforgettable meeting. you because you never lived down the embarrassment, and her because you were such an incredible friend and she was happy to have you in her life she loved to joke about it.

studying mental break downs, hot coffee spills and utter idiocy aside, the two of you had become inseperable ever since. lisa would tell you every individual detail about the jean girl she was pining over and eventually you started doing the same. you would experience every movie, concert or documentary with her, even if she never stopped talking during them.

things were going incredible. until a man came into your life and fucked everything up. you thought he would be good for you, god knows your self confidence was lower than a giant isopod in the sea, so the idea of anybody showing interest in you was, in your mind, unheard of.

the relationship was short, but call this fucker a dps because he ruined everything as quickly as he could. he was never polite on your dates, routinely showing up late, eyeing other people and never once offering to pay the bill. it was when he tried to have sex with you though, that things really fell apart.

sure people had seen your scars before, but no one had ever reacted like him. he stared at your naked body in absolute disgust, told you to get dressed, and kicked you out of his apartment.

that's how you ended up on lisa's sofa, a warm fire dancing in the fireplace, a blanket tucking you in, and a hot chocolate she had forced you to drink instead of the copious amounts of alcohol you had planned.

when you finally managed to tell her what happened, lisa was straight up furious. you could SEE her face getting redder and redder, smoke coming out of her ears like an actual cartoon character.

taking a deep breath, she focused on what was more important here: you

"babe" she said quietly. "can i see them". this was your chance at finally being able to wear shorts and t shirts around her. ever the opportunist, you agreed.

pulling back the cloth that hid them, lisa couldn't help but wince at the scars decorating your skin, most white and pink, but some red, brown or purple.

"all colors shapes and sizes" you joked weakly. an A for effort i suppose.

all the girl could do was pull you into a hug, tearing up for a few minutes and whispering how much you meant to her directly into your ear.

WILL read you a bed time story and WILL smooth her hand over your healed scars comfortingly.

believe me when i say she dialed the human scumbag, asked him out on a date the next day, and beat the fuck out of him in the back alley of whatever cafe they were meant to be eating at. lisa takes no shit, she knows your worth and so should you.

Kazuha:

you came to know him from kindergarten, and like children do, fought a lot. good thing is, it only brought the two of you closer. you knew each other like the back of your own hands. thing was, kazuha lost sight of parts of you during highschool.

you, in all your infinite wisdom, were experiencing severe mental pain, and took it out on your body whenever things got out of control.

your family forced you into therapy, and for much of the summer, you attended diligently. it was unfortunate, but you never saw him once.

then university happened. a time of great stress and upheaval. after a bit too much time online, you had developed a sense of humor about your mental issues, even if your "I can be trusted with sharp objects shit" got you weird looks at time.

it was just another day in the life of someone with self harm scars. with it being summer, you wore shorts, t shirts, and whatever else it took to keep you from burning to death. people stared at you as you walked down the halls. you genuinely could not care less. what were they going to do? heal them? reverse your years of teenage suffering? find the cure to depression? i think not.

yeah you were still miserable at times. you felt like you were going to relapse when things got tough, but you were better now. you could handle it.

you saw kazuha again, both of you enrolled in similar medical classes. even after months apart, you two clicked back together right away. it was kind of awkward though with the amount of uh. texture on your legs and arms. it was obvious he wanted to talk about it but wasn't quite sure how to do so.

people you didn't know seeing your scars was no big deal. you didn't care what they thought, for all you could tell, they were NPCs, but kazuha? this was a whole separate issue.

he had been close with you for so long and had done so much for you. you felt like your scars were telling him he wasn't enough. time to lighten the mood a bit. no use in such a depressing conversation on the first day of school.

"i was practing last year" you explain the next time you catch your platinum blonde (how he got it that color was a mystery to you) friend glancing at your forearms. "always wanted to be a surgeon" he looks stunned for a second before laughing lightly and responding "you are ridiculous" with a shake of his head.

good enough. it was almost a relief kazuha didn't make a big deal out of things. the rest of the day continued as usual, walk to class, take notes, read etc. all that boring school stuff, until finally it was time to go back to your dorm.

little did you know, your fellow med school attendee had an evil suprise for you. don't doubt the fact that he would write some "your skin isn't paper, so don't cut it" type poem and slide it under your door.

lucky for you, one of his dude bros told him that, according to his intuition, the note was not the move.

instead he showed up to your dorm around supper time with a basket full of baked goods, tea, flowers and a cute stuffed animal. "damn you went all out. the fuck is the occasion?" you laughed when he entered the room. who kazuha was trying to woo this time was unknown to you, but his over the top gestures never failed to make you giggle.

he shook his head with a smile and shoved the basket into your arms. "look i know you're strong enough to take care of yourself but its hard sometimes. this university shit isn't going to be easy." he pauses to swing a few punches at an invisible target, and hop from foot to foot quickly. "so you better talk to me the second you start feeling sad. I'll get rid of those emotions as soon as they appear".

you almost started sobbing at the doorway. get you a man like kazuha. I know he'd treat you right.

still, you hoped he hadn't spent time watching boxing matches for this breif charade. his impressions were a bit too realistic for comfort.

#genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #lisa minci #kazuha #childe #childe x reader #kazuha x reader #lisa x reader #genshin fluff #genshin comfort #genshin hcs #tartaglia #genshin x you #platonic #platonic genshin x reader

[jungle-angel]

Lessons In Dinner Prep (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: You and Calvin are busy preparing for the chaos that is Easter Sunday and nowhere is that more apparent than in your own kitchen.

Tagging: @floydsmuse

Looking at your list, you could already tell that Saturday and Sunday were going to be hectic. The house was immaculate, but the nightmare that was prepping for Easter dinner was already giving you a headache.

You looked over at your husband who had been laying on his back on the red checked picnic blanket, arms straight up as he did gentle little airplanes with Ellen, your daughter, her little baby giggles causing you to break out in a smile. Up above, the birds were already chirping, the flowers in the front garden blooming while you remained protected from the sun under the shade of the big trees in the yard. Six-Thirty lay in the grass, lifting his head when he heard Ellen erupting into a fit of giggles.

"Why does this have to be so frustrating?" you groaned.

"What's frustrating sweetheart?" Calvin asked.

"Holidays," you answered. "Last time I was this stressed out was at Thanksgiving and Christmas."

Calvin drew Ellen protectively to his chest as he sat up, kissing her head. "Alright," he said. "Do we know who's coming?"

"Your mother and father, your brothers, your sisters," you rattled off. "I think Dr. Powers said he, his mother and Doris were both coming."

Calvin made a face as he tickled Ellen's cheek. "What about the chain?" he asked. "Anyone we know there?"

"Henny, Marie and a couple of others," you told him. "Rose said that she and Abe were gonna try and come since we celebrated Passover with them."

Calvin could easily see the dilemma you were in, unsure as to how many people would be convening en masse to the house. "Not sure when Ma will be getting together with the ladies for mah-jongg but maybe they can help."

You weren't so sure yourself, but perhaps it was worth a shot.

*****************************

Friday came at last and you were home early since classes at the college only went half days. Calvin had gone to help his father for a few hours, leaving you and Six-Thirty a little time to relax.

Into the house you went, not surprised in the least at hearing chatter in the dining room. Sometimes Pat and the other ladies played until dinner, especially on days like today.

"And ya'll should've seen the shade of red that ol' witch turned," Henny King laughed.

"Oh my God, she must've been redder than Zelda's lipstick," Rose laughed.

"That's still no excuse for being nosy," Marie Bianchi said, handing two of her tiles off to Rose. "And if Freida thinks that she's going to be getting any of my seven layer cookies at the bake sale next week, she has another thing coming."

Six-Thirty yipped and all eyes were suddenly on you, the ladies all greeting you happily and rushing to give you a hug, beckoning for you to come into the dining room with them.

"Oh honey you look stressed," your mother-in-law remarked. "What's on your mind?"

"Just trying to figure out Easter dinner that's all," you said. "The usual stuff."

"Oh God I remember my first Easter when Louie and I moved here," Marie groaned. "First time I ever burned a ham."

"That's nothin," Henny chuckled. "When Paul and I moved it on up here from Georgia, I tried my hand at making a pecan pie and the damn thing turned to mush on the inside. Almost made my mother-in-law sick."

"Oh you wanna hear horror stories," Rose said. "Thanksgiving, my mother-in-law and I made a turkey and it sat too long in the oven. Drier than a popcorn fart."

You laughed a little bit, but you were still a little anxious about the whole thing.

"Don't worry dear," Marie assured you. "We'll finish this round and then maybe we'll see if we can help."

You waited patiently until they all finished before descending on the kitchen to help you with whatever you needed. You and your mother-in-law took care of most of the preparations while Marie and Rose ran to the store to grab all the grocery items on your list.

"Now honey, remember," Henny told you. "The secret to a good blackberry pie ain't just the berries. Gotta put a little bit of lemon zest in it and some cinnamon."

You took it all in, following their advice as best you could and in no time at all, you had everything prepped and ready to go into the oven or the fridge on Saturday.

"Oh wow!" Calvin remarked as he and his father came through the door with Ellen in tow. "You guys did an amazing job!"

"Thank you," you chuckled, kissing your husband. "Though I did have a little help."

Calvin kissed you sweetly before joining you and Six-Thirty in the living room, relieved that after all the chaos, you could finally relax.

#calvin evans #calvin evans x reader #lessons in chemistry

[homicidal-slvt]

"That's Not Mistletoe"

-

MDNI

-

Peter Maximoff x GN!Reader

-

Warnings: Very Vague Angst, Pure Fluff, Cheesy As Fuck

-

Christmas time rolls around only once a year and honestly- that seems like once too many these days.

Missions, missions and more missions... God, life is a real kick in the ass, huh?

Then there's the holidays where things continue to be chaos and you just- miss your family. Miss what it used to be like as a kid before everything went to shit. Oh well.

"Damn, who pissed in your cheerios?"

You look up to spot the one and only Peter Maximoff, standing there with a bowl full of cereal munching on it with his hand- Seriously, has this guy never heard of a spoon?

Is he your best friend? Yes. Does that mean you also think he's a hype-speed disaster? Definitely.

"Just a little sick of listening to Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree for the umpteenth time."

"Oooo, someone's a bit grinchy."

"Yeah, well- it ain't exactly 'The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year' for me."

"Maaaybe, I can change that."

Oh, you know that look in those big beautiful brown eyes. Deceptively adorable but most definitely going to get into trouble.

Peter is both the smartest and dumbest person you know. He can be super intelligent and quick witted but also often doesn't think things through fully.

However, you can't resist that charming grin and flicker of mischief. Deciding to up whatever this is into a game- a challenge. Peter loves challenges.

"Alrighty then. Go ahead and play my Silver Santy Claus. Make my spirit bright and merry."

••

You just lay pathetically on your back in the snow with the flakes falling on your face, not bothering to move at all.

"That is not how you make a snow angel."

"My bones hurt, Peter. You're lucky. Your speedy ass is warm by nature."

His eyes meet yours and there's something in the moment, his cheeks and nose ever so slightly red, snowflakes glistening in his silver hair. It looks like he belongs in a winter wonderland- genuinely got a bit of a cute Jack Frost look goin' on right now.

'Fwip'

Before you could stare too long in a silver blur he's abruptly flopped down into the snow by your side, star-fishing against the ground to make a snow angel, his foot nudging your leg in the process.

"Ah, god... Personal space, Peter."

"Oops."

••

Highlight of the day so far? Peter unintentionally ice skating.

He rushes by you carrying the cold wind with him, which is very much not appreciated given you were already feeling like a total popsicle...

He made a major error though- the sidewalk was a bit icy in a spot and you watch him go flying across the ground, feet straight out from under the poor guy.

You watch as he ends up face down in a random pile of snow, luckily he doesn't seem to be too injured or anything... So, like any good friend you start laughing like hell.

"Holy shit, dude. You okay?"

"Yep... Just wounded my ego."

He simply brushes it right off and flashes a bright grin up at you, snow clinging all over his face, some flakes trapped in his eyelashes...

Oh shit- cute...

Little did you know- his whole chest swelled with warmth at your laughter. It was like the cold and busting his ass was entirely irrelevant when he saw your beaming smile. This is all he wanted...

••

Decorating your room with Quickie? What could go wrong!

You stare at the stupid amount of silver tinsel just- everywhere. Like. He put it everywhere.

Because of course he went ham with the silver theme.

"We need more colors, Peter."

His elbow nudges your side as he comes to a halt by you, shuffling his feet and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Are ya kidding? I think silver suits you almost as much as it does me."

Your eyes glance down to realize you also got wrapped in silver tinsel as well, an unamused expression gracing your face as you look back up at him.

It is funny but you aren't gonna give him that.

"More color, Peter."

"Alright, alright... I'll go get the other boxes."

••

Before you know it- you have gotten really into Christmas. It feels like you're a kid again, arranging the ornaments just so on the mini tree in the corner of your room. Everything else that happened to make you bitter towards the holiday fades towards the background.

Christmas is fun when you have someone to celebrate with.

"Look who's gettin' into the holiday spirit... Seems I really am Silver Santy Claus."

Your eyes roll dramatically as you turn to face a clearly overly-proud-of-himself Peter. You'd think he just saved a bus full of civilians with the twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, okay, Santa."

"Wanna sit on my lap and tell me what you want for Christmas-"

He was gonna crack a joke and tease you but had no idea where he was taking that and it also... Sounded a bit - well - yeah. An awkward pause follows and you can't stop yourself from laughing.

"Jesus, Peter. Stuff really just falls outta your mouth, huh?"

"The offer still stands."

Oh. Well now you're blushing. Not good.

He grins triumphantly rather than being embarrassed, instead just teasing the hell out of you anyway.

••

The colored light twinkle so vibrantly around your room, it truly feels like a fantasy land.

Your gaze lands on Peter who looks to be just as enamored by the Christmas lights, the colors reflecting across his hair and basking him in the vibrant glow, little flickers of blue, green, red and pink dotting in his big doe eyes.

He looks back at you after a moment and it seems he sees the exact same thing happening to you, colors dancing across your face in a mesmerizing fashion.

He points up at the ceiling to draw your attention there.

"Well, would ya look at that... It's tradition to kiss under it, right?"

"Peter... That's not mistletoe. That's a piece of a tree branch from the yard."

Not another word is uttered before your lips meet his anyway under the Christmas lights, Peter was never one to waste time after all. Fingers clutching onto his fluffy silver locks with his hands rested against your back to tug you impossibly close.

You taste the remnants of various sweets on his lips, warmth blooming through your veins as you two part after a moment.

"Does this count as your Christmas gift this year?"

"Shut up, Peter."

-

{This is so stupid but I wanted to write something for Christmas LOL}

-

{More Content}

#peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x gn!reader #peter maximoff x y/n #vee's various works #peter maximoff

[tripleyeeet]

(Look away, Loki!)

✒️

I’d like to request a drabble featuring my favorite himbo, Steve Harrington. Where he and reader are trapped together somehow. Perhaps in his Scoops Ahoy era? 😆

Angsty, fluffy, whatever you choose – I know it will be incredible!

it's been so long since i've written for steve so i kind of went a bit ham with this one, my bad :')

also to anyone reading this, if you'd like your own request for steve (or even eddie) hmu i'll probably another one or two requests! :)

LIKE WHEN WE WERE KIDS

PARINGS: Steve Harrington & Gender Neutral Reader

SUMMARY: It's Steve's first day on the job... what could possibly go wrong?

WORD COUNT: 3,878

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of claustrophobia/anxiety. Also unedited so bear with me if you find any mistakes!!

-

It starts on a playground. 

Steve Harrington, the boy that lives next door is shooting across the monkey bars. His long, strong arms propelling him forward with ease. Beneath him, his legs dangle like dead weight, showcasing the curve of his calves and how they work in tandem with the rest of him. 

“Oh, my god Steve is so hot,” Becky says. The two of you are sitting on the grass a few feet away, suddenly admiring his movement as he skips one of the bars with a triumphant jump. 

Scrunching up your face, you watch as he hits the platform and turns to watch his friend follow. “I guess he’s taller than I remember,” you say then, watching the way his hands neatly nestle themselves into the curvature of his hips as he bends forward.

“Obviously. He’s like, the tallest boy in school!”

“Is he?”

You could’ve sworn Andy was. Last year in gym class the two of you had been paired together for dance unit. Both of you looked incredibly awkward standing next to each other as you moved throughout the room, trying your best to accommodate the other’s height. 

“He’s also so funny. Janet and I were at the arcade the other day and—“

As Becky drones, it’s hard to imagine Steve Harrington as anything other than tiresome. Having grown up alongside him, it’s more often than not you tend to view him as something entirely different from your peers. 

For example, to you, he’s always just been this loud and obnoxious know-it-all rather than cool. Everything he does is done with far too much gusto for that of a fifteen-year-old boy and it’s annoying. Infuriating even because as a fellow teen going through puberty, he shouldn’t be allowed to have that much confidence. Like you, he should be weird and anxious —not hip and hot and tall, apparently. 

It’s not fair, you think, trying your best to tune back into your best friend’s words. Somehow she’s still going, her voice excitedly shrill as she relays some stupid joke Steve told her while he was showing her how to play Space Invaders. Apparently, it was really funny —you can tell by the way Becky’s whole face lights up as she tells you, her hand moving to grip your arm in excitement once she tells you the punchline. Awkwardly, you laugh and nod your head in agreeance, hoping that she doesn’t catch your lack of attention span as you glance over at Steve.

He’s on the monkey bars again, positioning himself so that he’s facing you and your friend. As per usual, he’s grinning up a storm, watching the way all the girls at the park ogle him as he pulls himself onto the top. 

Becky, who practically squeals at the sight, watches the way he sits on the edge with wide eyes. Once again, she makes some comments about his appearance. Something about his hair looking extra fluffy or whatever. 

Same as before, you merely nod your way through the conversation, listening to the way her voice fluctuates in between topics as you continue to stare at him and the way the bottom of his shirt starts riding up, exposing the bottom half of his stomach.

Immediately, it makes you uncomfortable, your own stomach churning in a way that has you readjusting in the grass to accommodate the sudden upset. Slowly, you pull your knees up to your chest and hug your shins, noticing how much tanner his skin has gotten since he’s come back from summer camp. 

It looks nice. Warm and soft and— 

Years later, you now realize that’s when your crush on Steve Harrington started. At the playground in the summer before sophomore year of high school. Embarrassing, right?

To this day Becky still hasn’t let you live it down, despite her own past infatuations. Day in and day out, she teases you any chance she gets even now that you’re all graduated and getting ready to move on with your lives. 

“I bet you and Harrington would make beautiful babies,” she always says, grinning that evil little grin she knows you hate. It makes you want to smother her in her sleep. But considering her companionship is more important, you reluctantly don’t. Instead, you just grin and bear it, hoping one day soon she’ll just forget that you and he ever existed on the same wavelength, even though you know that’ll never happen, considering Steve Harrington is still your neighbour. 

And as of today, your coworker. 

You’re not sure if it’s the universe slapping you in the face or what but either way when you walk into work and see him standing there, donning the mandatory Scoops Ahoy uniform you feel like you’re about to faint. 

“Ahoy there sail— shit.” 

“Shit.” 

Immediately, your other coworker Robin looks between you with interest, her eyes narrowing at the uncomfortable stand-off.

“Since when do you work here, neighbour?” Steve attempting to break the ice, watches in confusion as you roll your eyes and brush past, making your way to the backroom.

You need time to process. To grieve what could’ve been your first summer without Steve Harrington. To come up with a game plan of sorts so that you don’t go crazy these next couple of weeks. 

“Neighbours, huh?” Robin grins and follows closely behind you, making you feel suddenly claustrophobic. Panicked in a way that has your chest tightening at the remembrance of why you took this job in the first place. 

You wanted to escape the yearly summer trip your and Steve’s parents planned every year. 

Not many people at school knew this but your families were practically inseparable. Having been brought up together, they still clung to each other like leeches. Everything they did often held an extended invitation to the other, prompting a lot of hang out’s between you and the Harrington’s. 

Inhaling deeply, you walk over to your locker and spin the dial of the lock, ignoring the way Robin and Steve begin to talk behind your back; both of them (in a volume you’re not entirely sure you’re supposed to hear) discussing the details of your relationship and how the two of you have known each other since you were preschoolers.

It makes you quietly groan as you pull open the lock and begin to shove your bag inside, prompting both of them to change the subject. 

“So, uh, I told Kevin that I could only do a half day today,” Robin says, flashing you her most apologetic smile once you turn around in shock. 

“Seriously?” 

Steve looks between the two of you, pressing his lips together in a way that makes him look guilty. As if somehow this was his plan all along.

“I have that thing with my parents, remember?” 

You don’t remember but Robin’s never been the type to lie so you merely just sigh and close your locker, accepting your fate with reluctant arms as you fully turn to face them. “I assume that means we’re both training today then?”

Robin offers another meek smile. 

Great, you think. Just perfect. As if the universe wasn’t punishing you enough by giving you arguably the worst mall jobs in the world. Now on top of that, you had to work with him, the one person you took this job to avoid. 

A part of you wants to quit on the spot —to tell Steve that he sucks before grabbing your things and storming out of there. It’d be exhilarating for sure, but then you quickly remember school and the tuition waiting in the wings to be paid. 

So ultimately, you don’t quit. In fact, you don’t even fuss as you go about your day, letting Robin take the reins during the first half, avoiding Steve as much as possible in favour of focusing on customers to provide the best possible service. 

And for a while, it works. Thanks to the constant streamline of people and Robin’s ability to distract Steve when needed makes the day fly by with ease, pushing you into the last, dreaded half. 

The clock hits quarter to one when Robin finally hands him over, giving you a look that screams I’m sorry please don’t hate me. 

In response you dramatically frown behind Steve’s back, watching as Robin snorts and shakes her head. “Alright Harrington, let’s go to the freezer before Rob leaves.”  

You motion to the backroom and make a beeline for the freezer, motioning for Steve to prop open the door once you arrive. “So I don’t know if Robin told you but around this time we usually do restocks,” you tell him. “Obviously the exact time fluctuates but it’s usually around noon cause people are too busy getting actual lunch.” 

“Makes sense.” He nods.  

“Yeah, so basically what we’re gonna do is pull what we’re low on. I saw you and Robin going over that already so we can just grab whatever it is you guys figured was needed and then we’ll bring it up front, FIFO the case and eventually write down what we took from the back on this clipboard.” 

As you tap the clipboard hanging on the wall beside you, Steve steps forward to take a look, sending you into a panic as soon as you see the door closing behind him. 

Somehow, you forgot to mention that the door is broken. A thought that crosses your mind as you haphazardly blurt out a bunch of panicked sounds while simultaneously trying to reach around him to grab it. 

Steve, who has no idea what’s happening, looks at you as if you’ve just sprouted a second head and tries to dive out of the way. Except instead of that he merely miscalculates and moves directly in front of you, causing your face to ram into his shoulder. 

Groaning at the impact you pull away and palm the sockets of your eyes because, of course, this would happen. Of course, out of everyone in the fucking universe it’d be you and Steve destined to get locked in a freezer on your first day of working together! Of course, of course, of course!

“What the hell was that?” He looks at you with discomfort, his eyes full of judgement as he watches your continued silent frustration unfold. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest as grabs the aforementioned clipboard and begins to take a look.

“The door is broken, you idiot,” you tell him, even though you know it’s not his fault. It’s yours but you’re too angry to deal with that right now.

“What do you mean broken?” 

“I don’t know, broken? It’s just, it’s —it won’t open from the inside!”

“What do you mean it doesn’t open from the inside?” Suddenly panicked, Steve puts the clipboard back and turns to the door handle, giving it a few good yanks before looking at you. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was too busy training!”

“Well shouldn’t that be apart of the training tour? Y’know like, here we have register, here’s the case and the backroom and the freezer —oh just so you know the door doesn’t work so don’t accidentally lock yourself in because if you do you might turn into a god damn human popsicle!”

You can feel that familiar tension rising like a fog, covering you in a cloud of ignorance as you flash an angry look in his direction. Somehow it’s always your fault. No matter the topic of argument, between you and Steve, you’re always the one to blame. It’s been that way since you were kids and to this day you still resent him for it. For making you the bad guy in every situation. It’s why you’ve always hated his presence, despite the attraction. Just the sight of him often makes you feel like less of a person. Like, regardless of your accomplishments, you’ll forever be beneath him because, at the end of the day, you’re not cool enough.

It sends you into a rage just thinking about it. And has continued to ever since that summer before sophomore year when you started looking at him as something other than the boy you grew up with. Suddenly, it was like a switch had flipped in your mind, telling you that maybe he wasn’t all that bad —that maybe you and he could be more than just neighbours. 

Nowadays though, you know that that feeling is just the result of the chemicals circulating through your brain. An overload of dopamine and norepinephrine hitting you like a bus. Back then, puberty had fucked you up and now here you were, standing alongside Harrington in a small, cold room for god knows how long. 

Suddenly, Steve bashes his fists against the door and screams Robin’s name. His voice is strained —loud and desperate and despite wanting to make fun of him for the way it cracks you merely follow suit and join in, throwing your hands against the cold sheet metal. 

“There’s no way she’s already gone, right?”

Your shrug your shoulders, knowing it’s possible.

“I swear to god if she’s gone I’m—“

“What? You’re gonna kick her ass?”

Steve looks at you, annoyed. “No, I’m not gonna kick her ass. What do you take me for? A psycho?”

“Not a psycho per se.”

“Oh, not a psycho okay. Then what?” 

He’s pissed off now. You can tell by that familiar frustration lacing itself between his features. Almost instantly his brows pinch toward the centre of his face, meeting the bridge of his nose that simultaneously crinkles upwards. On his hips, his hands settle into that usual position he holds whenever he’s ready to pick a fight; his fingers tightening around the flesh that sits above the waistband of his shorts. 

“Hey Steve, for once could you just like, maybe not look at me like that?”

“Like what?”  

“Like you’re about to antagonize me like you always do.” 

He lets out a scoff. “I don’t do that.” 

“Yes, you do.”

“Name one time I’ve antagonized you.”

You stop for a moment to think of a good answer; a bunch of options rising to the surface of your mind. “Last summer at the cabin. I brought Becky with me and she brought those beers and instead of just letting us have fun you yelled at me for like twenty minutes before telling my mom.”

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be drinking.”

“Seriously? I shouldn’t be drinking?”

“Yeah, you’re underage who knows how it’ll effect you!”

“Steve, are you serious? We’re the exact same fucking age!” 

“Actually, pretty sure I’m older than you by like, three or four months?”

You want to wring his neck. Take your two already shaking hands and wrap them around his stupid throat until there’s nothing left inside. It’d be easy, right? Sure, you’re shorter than him and probably a bit weaker but people are known to act faster when put into fight or flight. One quick lunge and you could end him in a matter of minutes. 

“Besides, you and I both know the only reason I did that is because Becky is a bad influence!”

You raise your brow and refrain from killing him (for now), looking at him confused. 

“She’s got all the bases already covered if you know what I’m saying. Every party I see her at she’s always necking with some guy she’s just met. Not to mention the fact I saw her purchasing some dope from Munson last weekend. She’s bad news.”

“Bad news? What are you my dad?”

“No but—“

“Then why do you care? It’s not like you’re any different Mr. Horny Harrington!”

“Horny Harrington?” Suddenly, Steve looks at you in horror. “Jesus christ, is that what you call me behind my back?” 

You don’t, usually, but you refuse to tell him that. Instead, nodding your head triumphantly as you watch his previously aggressive stance sort of dwindle into nothing, his hands rising to slide across the expanse of his face in defeat. 

“Never mind, I’m just… I’m gonna ignore you now and try and get us out of here.” 

Immediately, a part of you is thankful for him changing the subject. The last thing you want to do is continue to fight, especially now that you’re once again aware of the circumstances. Which is that you’re still trapped inside the freezer, arguing in a space that isn’t as comforting as it usually is.

Upon remembering your chest instantly begins to tighten, your breathing pattern becoming erratic as you glance around the room before you, remembering how small it is. Now forced together, you and Steve have probably around six by eight feet of movement amongst you which you’re sure is a lot but because of how cold it is it just makes you feel numb.

Because of this you sort of just freeze while he works, watching as he fiddles with the handle. 

“There’s gotta a be a way to fix it,” he says under his breath, his fingers wedging themselves into the base to brush against the exposed mechanisms. 

“We’ve been trying to fix it on our own for like a month now,” you tell him, noticing the air of meticulousness that surrounds him. 

Embarrassingly, it’s kind of attractive. Something about positively seeing his stubborn personality makes you feel that familiar warmth bloom across your torso. Your eyes, once used to survey the lack of space in the room quickly dart towards his face, noticing the way his tongue sort of pokes out the side of his mouth in deep concentration.

“Do you think you could hold this open for me?”

Without hesitation, you do as he says. Something you’re sure he’s thankful for based on the heavy breath that comes from his nose. 

“What are you doing?”

“I think there’s a spring stuck,” he says.

More than anything you want him to be right so you continue to leave him be, waiting in the wings with bated breath while trying not to stare.

Not that it’s easy though. Not when you’re so close and freezing and obviously full of foreign feelings like that summer at the playground.

All of a sudden it feels like a mixture of old and new emotions. All of them swirling through your system like a hurricane ready to strike. Consistently, your breath moves in and out of pace, your chest hurting from the lack of stability.

You hope he doesn’t notice. Because Steve, despite everything has always noticed you. At your best and your worst, he’s always been able to pick you apart with just the glance of his eye. It’s another one of the reasons you always avoid him. You fear he’ll see what you’ve been hiding all these years. What you planned on hiding and hopefully getting over before you left for college. 

Well, at least until he decided to ruin that by taking a job you’re absolutely positive he knew you already had. A new level of annoyance you weren’t aware he was capable of. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” 

“You knew I worked here,” you point out, suddenly curious because it doesn’t make sense. Sure, since the beginning of time, he’s been on your ass one way or another, whether it’s selling you out to your parents or making fun of you at school for little mishaps. The torment never seems to end but why continue it? Why now that you’re officially about to go your separate ways is he still trying?

“That’s not a ques—“

You let out an angry breath before rephrasing. “Why did you take the job when you knew I worked here?” 

There’s silence for a minute. An unbearable lack of sound other than the overhead fan and the clicking of his fingers against the metal. It’s awful, you think, your lack of patience quickly eating you from the inside out as you watch his eyes begin to narrow and his tongue pokes out again, completely forgetting your question. 

“Steve, can you please j—“

  Before you can finish the door jerks forward, making both of you stop. Somehow he’s managed to do it. The impossible task you and Robin and the rest of the part-timers have been attempting for weeks.  

At first, you’re happy —excited even. Your face breaks out into a large grin as both you and Steve shuffle into the back room, rubbing your arms to get a better flow of heat. But then you remember your words —your question and the still unexplained answer you continue to wait for as your moment of celebration quickly starts to end.

“Shit, we should probably—“

“I took the job so I could hang out with you.” 

What?

Time, regardless of everything, stops in an instant. Your body, still frozen from the chilled air, makes it hard for you to move even the slightest of muscles as you watch him look to the roof and sigh. 

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I swear to god,” he mumbles, shaking his head —still averting his gaze as his neck cranes back to its previous position. “I just… I know I can be dick sometimes.”

“Most of the time.” 

“Yeah, sure, most of the time. Believe me, I know. I sucked in high school. I treated people like shit and because you were always like, there, you were the one that got it the worst.” 

His apology feels surprisingly genuine. His voice is quiet and slow unlike it usually is and every word feels purposeful, like he’s rehearsed it before but has suddenly forgotten his lines. 

“It sounds stupid but I took this job thinking that if we hung out more maybe I could apologize and it’d like, actually mean something?”

You’re not quite sure you follow so you continue listening. 

“Like, maybe if we hung out you’d actually like me again. Like when we were kids.”

Like when we were kids.  

God that seems like forever ago. A whole other lifetime. Honestly, it’s been ages since the two of you could sit in the same room together and enjoy a normal conversation. A moment of peace undisturbed by each other’s thoughts and feelings. 

It reminds you of how easy it was when you were kids. How, even though he was loud and boisterous and such a frustratingly competitive child, at the end of the day, you still managed to love him. To care for him when things were hard. To set aside your frustrations after a hard day to hear him out when he needed it. 

You’d like to say you’re unaware of when all that changed. To be as ignorant as you normally are and turn a blind eye. But deep down you know exactly when it started —why it started. 

You’re the reason he feels the way he does and as you stare at the side of his face, wishing he would look at you, you know it’s all your fault. 

“Anyway, uh, we should probably go man the ship or whatever…”

You open your mouth to protest —to argue in an attempt to get him to stay— but nothing comes out. No feelings or thoughts or counterpoints rise to the surface as you watch him awkwardly scurries out the door without another word. 

#the big yeet #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #forced proximity #enemies to friends #i'm honestly thinking about writing a part two to this but i don't know #summer writes

[duhragonball]

Neon Genesis Evangelion 12

I'm old enough to remember when 2000 A.D. was kind of a big deal, and now it's just whatever 1976 was to people who lived in 2000 A.D.

Gosh, this takes me back. Remember back in 2000, when everything was mustard-toned for some reason? Triple H and the Rock kept trading the WWF title back and forth, and Antarctica was on fire?

We got a glimpse of Misato's past in that flashback, but in the present, she's been promoted to Major. Shinji and Asuka didn't even notice, but Big Rigg Mahoney caught on right away, because he's an expert on rank insignia and such. Suzuhara knows too, but come on, we all know he learned it from Big Rigg Mahoney.

The Eva pilots do some sort of "stress test" thing at the base. I'm not sure what this is for, but Shinji shows great improvement so he gets a gold star for it. He's uncomfortable being praised, though.

Later, the kids throw a little party to celebrate Misato's promotion. Oh, I didn't notice the sash she's got on, that's adorable!

Naturally, Big Rigg Mahoney organized this whole shindig, and the writers honor him by using his full name for the first time since Episode 4. It's too late, though. He's been Big Rigg Mahoney for too long now, and he won't go back.

Speaking of guys I had to rename because I don't dare look up what they're actually called, I think Vice Commander Clownshoes needs a cooler rank. "Admiral Clownshoes" has a nice ring to it.

The others make a lot of loud screeching noises, and Shinji and Misato have this quiet conversation in the middle of it, which seems kind of impossible, with the noise, but okay. They both don't handle praise very well, and Shinji asks why she joined NERV, and she dodges the question.

At the moment, Major Katsugari is in charge of NERV, because Geno Ikari and Admiral Clownshoes are on some expedition to Antarctica, or what's left of it. We never find out why they're there, so I'm just gonna skip over this.

No, wait. Imagine a "Steamed Hams" bit featuring these two. Clownshoes feeds him Krustyburgers and Gendo just clasps his hands over his beard and stares enigmatically.

Oh, this is the dumbest looking one yet. I thought the Angel from Episode 1 looked kind of weak, but I didn't mind because I assumed they would get cooler looking as the show went on. Now I'm starting to wonder if that guy was my favorite the whole time.

This Angel just floats in low orbit over the Earth and drops pieces of itself. The telemetry indicates that it's just practicing, improving its aim, but Misato figures it'll eventually launch an attack on NERV headquarters. Ritsuko further speculates that it'll drop its entire body when that happens, which would cause tremendous devastation. They seem very chipper about this.

So the Angel's attack strategy is.... falling. Really hard, I guess. Misato's counterplay is... catch the Angel before it hits.

Let me back up. A while back, it was established that Angels have an "AT Field" which protects them from conventional weapons. The Evas can neutralize this advantage, and this is apparently because the Evas possess their own AT Fields. I'm not sure if the fields cancel each other out, or if the Evas can use their fields to penetrate the fields of their enemies. Anyway, I think this Angel isn't just falling from a great height; it's also using its AT field to make a bigger impact when it hits. Likewise, Misato's plan seems to depend on the Evas' AT fields being powerful enough to halt the angel just before it hits the ground.

But this is still an objectively stupid plan. The calculations say it only has a 1-in-10,000 chance of working. Even the pilot kids can tell how stupid it is. Misato has already ordered the evacuation of Tokyo-3 and all non-essential NERV personnel. The kids still agree to do it, but they don't expect it to work. Misato offers to take them all out for a steak dinner if they win. You know, if the four of them all came out of this episode wearing Ribera jackets, that would be fuckin' awesome.

I'm not gonna photoshop it, but just imagine them all showing up for work the next day rocking these bad boys. Wait, the Ribera steakhouse is in Tokyo, so I guess it got destroyed in the wars that followed the Second Impact. Well so much for that.

Asuka doesn't plan to write a will because she doesn't expect to die. Rei also has no use for a will, but it's spookier when she says it, like she doesn't need a will because she cannot be killed in any way that matters. Shinji doesn't need to write a will because I'm pretty sure the only thing he owns is that stupid shirt of his, and the tape player that he's probably worn out replaying the same two songs over and over.

Also, Rei pre-emptively refuses the steak dinner. Not because she's afraid of failure, or because she is confident in her success. She just doesn't care for meat. Bad. Ass.

So they start getting ready for this, and Misato basically tells her crew that she has no idea what she's doing, and most of this plan is pure guesswork. It only works if the Evas manage to get under the Angel as it comes down, and they have no idea if it's even going to crash on them. She's just pretty sure it will, and she even trots out that "woman's intuition" line, which is one of the hackiest things in the hack playbook.

On their way to deploy, Shinji asks Asuka why she pilots the Eva, and you might want to sit down for this: She does it for the attention. Just the mere fact that people will acknowledge her existence, as if anyone could ignore this kid. She asks Shinji why he pilots the Eva, and he doesn't know. This is episode twelve, by the way. We'll get our answer today, but let the record show: this is episode twelve.

Then we get a flashback? Flash forward? At some point, Misato finally reveals to Shinji why she joined NERV. Her father was a scientist who threw himself into his work, just like Shinji's dad. Misato resented him for it, but when Second Impact happened, he sacrificed himself to save her, and she's felt a burning desire to defeat the Angels ever since. It's not just to avenge her father, but perhaps to spite him. Shinji can sort of relate to this.

Back to the mission, the Angel has begun to descend, so the Evas have to hustle those buns before McDonalds switches from the breakfast menu to the lunch menu. "McDonalds had all-day breakfast in 2015", you may say. Yare yare daze. In this world, where the Angels have destroyed half the world's population, the visionaries who made all-day breakfast possible no longer exist. The funding and logistical support for such an initiative has been siphoned away to fund the NERV agency. And so, manga man, the breakfast menu will end at 11:00am.

Anyway, yeah, Shinji gets under the Angel and catches it, then the girls swoop in to add their AT fields to his, and then Asuka stabs it in the eyeball to kill it.

I guess this makes sense.

With that settled, Misato receives a call from Gendo Ikari in the Antarctic. He congratulates her on her success, and handwaves the damage done to Eva Unit 01, since destroying Angels is their purpose. He then asks to speak with the pilot of Unit 01 and tells Shinji, directly, that he did a good job. Wow. I just assumed this would never happen, or maybe Gendo would say half of this with his dying breath in the final episode or something. But no, they just gave this away in Episode 12. Huh.

Later, the kids take up Misato on her steak dinner promise, but they choose a ramen stand instead, because they know she's poor as fuck. Also, Rei doesn't like meat, so this just makes sense. They should have gone to Taquiera Goku. This is so close, but yet so far.

Anyway, while they eat, Shinji tells Misato that he finally knows why he pilots the Eva. It's so he can hear the praise from his father, like he did today. That's what keeps him going, even if it took this long for him to get it.

Well, we're inching a little closer, I guess. This will probably all come together quickly, so let me use this space to throw out a few theories I've had in mind.

The Eva pilots have to be 14-year-olds for some reason. I can see no good reason for this, except that there must be some quality in them that literally did not exist prior to Second Impact. Either they got magic powers from it, or they've been genetically engineered to pilot Evas, or some other thing, but it's got to be some deal where the pilots were "invented" around the same time as the Evas themselves. NERV doesn't want to use fourteen year-olds, but there literally isn't anyone older who would be compatible, and they simply can't wait any longer for them to grow up.

I suspect that the Evas are Angels themselves, or some sort of technology built from Angel corpses, or something like that. That's why they have AT fields, and why no one else has any idea how to recreate the technology.

I also get a strong I Am Legend vibe from this whole story. I only saw the Will Smith movie, but as I understand it, the book follows a similar track, where this lone human is trying to get rid of the vampires, only to discover that the vampires see him as the monster, since he's this lone enemy who constantly tries to destroy their community. He's their legend now, just as Count Dracula was the legend in his culture once.

The Angels keep attacking NERV, getting bolder and smarter each time, and no one knows or cares why this keeps happening, because they're too worried about defending themselves. But it sure feels like the Angels are trying to defend themselves, since NERV is committed to their destruction. And if I'm right, it sure seems like Gendo Ikari is doing some shady shit involving Angels, which might make him seem like a major threat to the Angels. They're trying to destroy humanity before humanity destroys them. Second Impact itself may have been caused by Angels trying to stop Ikari or Misato's dad from hurting them.

So I predict this will get revealed near the end. The Angel attacks will get more intense and brutal, and then the kids will find out that they've been the baddies all along, and shit will hit the fan. Don't tell me if I'm right or not, but that's how things are looking to me right now.

#neon genesis evangelion #2024ngeliveblog #shinji ikari #misato katsuragi #rei ayanami #asuka langley soryu #toji suzuhara #big rigg mahoney #clownshoes #ritsuko akagi #gendo ikari

[lovetransaction]

Here’s a j/d prompt for dadfucker fest: thanks to some handwavey time-travel shenanigans, Dean is transported to John’s USMC unit (maybe they’re the same age or maybe Dean is older) 👀

@dadfuckerfest ; i went with forty-something Dean going back in time to teenage John's military service. warnings i guess: spitting, mild humiliation, power imbalance

- - fragged

Dean hadn't thought it would be so easy. Or: he hadn't thought Dad would be so easy.

But all it had taken was a little bit of medal-polishing, the right fake orders, and rousing a sycophantic staff sergeant from his dirty little hootch to get one Corporal Winchester, J. assigned to drive Lieutenant Campbell from the USMC base at Da Nang to Chu Lai. Not a long drive, not a particularly dangerous one; the real horror was in the villes and the rice paddies, not where the Yankees had laid down heavily-armed claims.

It was hard to stop looking at John. This age, not even twenty yet; long-limbed and a maddening combination of slow when he wanted to be and twitchy when he didn't want to be. It reminded Dean of Sam so much he was almost sick with it, sipping musty warm water from his canteen to stave off the belly-lurches every time John slapped his square-wristed big hands against the Jeep steering wheel or gave him a curious sidelong glance.

"Just go ahead and ask, Corporal," Dean said gruffly after a while. John's mouth opened along one edge in a panting laugh, humid and tense.

"Sir," he said. Dean sipped water. "It's just ... Sarge said that you asked for me specifically. To do this run. There's plenty other drivers in the platoon, sir, ones who outrank me--"

"Son," Dean cut him off, and it was easy, thrillingly sickeningly so to use that word, "what happens if you get ham 'n motherfuckers in your C-rats?"

They whipped through a series of shallow potholes with John wrenching the vehicle to steer them clear, as carelessly rough as he drove when he was Dad. Which meant he'd had time to think of an answer, sounding confident and even tickled when he said, "Exchange 'em with whoever's dumb enough to get pressured into it, sir. Mostly cherries."

Dean mm-hmm'ed in his throat, reaching out to hold the side of the windshield for the bumpy ride. "Well," he said, "you got yours exchanged. You could be back there doing PX or latrine duty. Instead you're here with me. Peaches and poundcake."

John laughed at that, his dogtags jangling as the wheels left the road for a second and they both rose up and then thumped down. Everything was wet and wet-smelling, John was too, and Dean said, "Make a pit stop." John was a good little soldier. He didn't protest. He found a side road that rumbled down into an area with high grass, hidden by trees, killed the engine with a satisfied, nervy bark, and didn't do anything other than open his mouth when Dean strongarmed him against the back of the seat and kissed him.

"You asked for me specifically," John said when they drew apart for air, and Dean gripped his chin, clean-shaven with just the slightest skritch of stubble. John's eyes darkened, fearless. He reached up to hang on to Dean's wrist, just so he could say, "you got nothing to worry about, L-tee."

"Yeah," Dean said, shoving the heel of his other hand along John's belly to feel his breathing quicken, and then grabbing the corporal's already-hard dick, making his lips part in a gasping pant, the sound needy and ... and slutty and Dean tasted warm plastic as he spat into his father's mouth to stop that sound. To get more of that sound. To get something.

"You think I'm worried about me?" Dean purposely didn't think about what he was saying and if it was a mirror held up to his dad or himself; he talked from the gut, whatever came out. "I could get you an other-than-honourable discharge with nothing more than a SPN code."

"Which one?" John asked, wiping his lips. He didn't even really swallow Dean's spit, just let it mingle with his own as he waited for an answer. Dean clenched down on his dad's dick until he whimpered.

"Four six one," he said, looking at the way John's lower lip skidded slightly to the right, softly deformed with pain. "Inadequate personality."

John laughed again, breathless and foxlike, and that made Dean crazy too. Days he'd gone without even an amused harrumph or twitch of a smile out of this man, weeks sometimes, and here the younger version -- humping the boonies in Vietnam with probably jungle rot between his toes and the constant threat of being shelled or shot up -- he'd given up a laugh twice in ten minutes. Over nothing. Over being potentially sold down the river.

"You sound like my dad," was what John said, of all things.

Dean grabbed him by the front of his fatigues, the shirt beaten from wear but stiff with grime; he grabbed it up with one hand and had just enough time to see John's eyes widen slightly before Dean cuffed him in that soft mouth. When his dad gasped and blood and spit came out in a dribble that dripped from his lip and spindled down his chin, Dean didn't know whose spit it was.

"Guessing you don't want head, then," John said, and grinned. He was still slightly grinning when Dean yanked open his fatigue pants and growled, deep and choppy, at the feel of the standard-issue silkies underneath, the same kind his dad was partial to even decades after his tour of duty. He was still slightly grinning, teeth stained yellowish with blood, when Dean started jerking him rough and twisting, crushing the plum head of his father's cock now and again, dragging his thumb hard down the underside. "Holy shit," John gasped, blinking at Dean like he was magic, and he was, in a way, the way that time and a hundred motel rooms had made him.

John came in his son's hand and Dean watched him all through it, the bob of his throat and the way his jaw was only just starting to be sharply defined, and there were no scars on his face at all, so Dean took that handful of cum and slapped it against his father's mouth. John bucked up against the sudden lack of pressure and he kept his hands obediently clutching the jeep seat instead of touching Dean, who dragged his thumbnail down the right side of his dad's face, that clear, unmarked cheekbone. John's face was reddened when Dean dragged his hand over it, smeary with spunk, and he gave a damp, half-cough gasp. He didn't wipe his face when Dean took his hand back and scrubbed it clean against the side of his dad's shirt.

"Why the fuck did you say that?" Dean asked. A mosquito buzzed loud in the shell of his ear and although he wanted to slap it away he ignored it. "About your father."

A shrug, as John scrubbed his face with his sleeve, turned his head and hocked a quick, efficient gob of cum and blood and spit over the side of the vehicle. It caught a broad leaf and gleamed and wobbled there before sliding off. "The only kinds of guys who want this shit either don't have fathers or got fucked up by their fathers," he said, like it was obvious or should be.

"We need to get to Chu Lai," said Dean. John gave a single nod and started the ignition, turning to mark his route as he backed out of the one-way trace and back onto the main road. The Jeep's wheels skidded when they hit wet, cracked asphalt and John wrenched it to point the right direction.

"You don't have a dad, Corporal." Dean was half-hard but he didn't want to touch himself. He gripped the bottom of the windowframe. He could feel John looking at him and didn't return the look.

"Every man who wants this is one of the two," John said again, implacably and expecting to be believed, and Dean's sticky-damp fingertips squeaked on the car door metal. "Even you, sir." Dean looked over and met his father's eyes, familiar and foreign, unwavering. John lifted his chin in a jerk. "So which one is it, Lieutenant?"

Dean tasted warm plastic. He looked away and spat.

#dadfuckerfest #johndean #wincest #john winchester #dean winchester #wrote this real quick and dirty

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

And the aftermath, in a new world!

@hobiesgender @hadesdaughter2002 @lirulua

Masterlist

Miles winced hard as he landed on the floor, his back screaming in agony. He’d not anticipated fighting side by side with his counterpart against Kingpin (fighting against Kingpin a second time, even if it was technically a different Kingpin); though the man hadn’t been as big as he’d been in Miles’s universe, he was still much bigger than Miles was and was still hella strong. In addition to his back aching something fierce, his wrist felt like it might have had a hairline fracture, and he could practically feel the way his side was turning purple under his suit.

He twisted to his uninjured side with a groan, pushing himself up on shaking arms and near-immediately giving way to the ground again when he put too much weight on his wrist. Pain went up his arm, sharp and shooting, and he cradled it to his chest the second he was on the ground again.

There was a warm touch to his semi-uninjured side, and Miles flinched away without even thinking. The now-familiar soothing scent washed over him, Hobie doing his best to calm him down even as he reached forward again and grabbed his arm. Miles let him that time, drawing a sharp breath as he felt something firm and unyielding get placed on his wrist. It came out of him in a shudder, but it sort of made his wrist feel better, in a way, so he left it on; when Hobie dropped his arm gently against his chest again, Miles opened his eyes to see a dark brace on his wrist, supporting and compressing it gently.

Then he curled up again, still in pain but soothed by the fact that Hobie was nearby. He’d lost track of everyone, remembered that they’d managed to distract and hold Kingpin down long enough for some higher power to come and take him away (not the cops, Miles-42 was very insistent that the cops were in Kingpin’s pocket, he’d talked to a contact who went through someone else who talked to a different contact who — long story short, it might have been the IFBI or the ACI or whatever equivalent Miles-42 had in his universe), and that they’d scattered once they’d ensured he was pinned and they heard the sirens.

Miles had gone with Hobie, who’d called out a number before turning on his watch when they were a distance away, and the portal had opened with a bright flash. They went through, though Miles still wasn’t really used to the portal thing while he was completely fine, forget slightly injured.

So he gave himself a minute before getting up and realizing that they’re in a room, that Gwen was throwing herself on the bed in the corner, Peni also picking herself up from the floor, Noir and Ham already sitting at a table and talking quietly amongst themselves.

“All right, all right,” Hobie started off, rummaging around in a batter old cabinet that definitely looked like it had seen better days, “welcome to my humble abode an’ all, got some food if you lot want it, got some water — ”

“Drinkable water this time?” Gwen called out from the bed, and Hobie threw something at her. She squeaked as it landed on her, jumping just a bit and then clearing her throat with a light blush as she looked away. Miles snorted a laugh (he could hear it in the back of his head — Gwen’s awkward ‘sorry, sorry, it was…just so quiet’), and Gwen sent him a pleased look as he leaned against the bed. He smiled up at her, and watched as she relaxed just that much further.

“Fuck outta here with that, Gwendy.” Hobie shot back, still digging in the cabinet for food, “I’m offering it, right? Means next time shouldn’t grab what’s not offered.” He tossed a water bottle at Peter B, who had lifted his hand as if he’d wanted one, and at Noir who’d done the same. “And anyway, this is just a layover while we figure out our next step, so better eat and drink while we can. Don’t wanna send ya off to the next fight hungry or anything.”

“What’s it looking like for food?” Ham asked, “cause I’ll tell you now, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse — and those don’t exactly taste great, you know?”

Hobie shot Ham a dry look, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“Not your best, mate.” He said, and Ham drooped dramatically. “I can’t — ”

“Oh, but wait!” Pavitr called out, and Miles jolted hard. Pavitr had been quiet so far, nursing his own wounds from fighting against a Kingpin for the first time, but he’d perked up into the conversation quickly. “What do you eat for meat in your universe? If you’re all animals?”

“Guys!” Margo burst into the room, startling everyone by her panic. She glitched a little, then brightened to a degree that was almost blinding, her voice distorted for a second before everything seemed to snap back into place at the same time. “Too much-too big-too many — bright…Guys, Miguel saw that last jump — ”

The door burst open, and chaos ensued a second time as they scrambled to get away. There was the roar of a motorcycle, but Miles couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Something also crashed through the window just next to Miles, and he felt himself getting yanked up to his feet. They grabbed his most-likely-fractured wrist, and he yelped in pain, and then he was dropped as Gwen lunged off the bed and hovered over him, snarling loudly.

He was grabbed a second time, much more gently, and the bright light of the portal blew into place nearby. Hobie slung his arm around Miles’s waist, quickly but mindful of his bruised side, and practically threw them both through the portal a second time.

#punkflower #miles morales #hobie brown #gwen stacy #a/b/o au #a/b/o dynamics #margo kess #peter b parker #spider noir #spider ham #part 13

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

I’ve had a spinfoil theory for a while now, that doesn’t have too much basis for it, but it’s worth handing off to the resident Rasputin fan here to see their take on it.

So, we know that Rasputin very much did not shoot the Traveler. He had plans to, and he was convinced to some degree that it would work, but he never did.

What if it wasn’t the Traveler he shot, though?

When he confronted the Witness at the Gate of the Garden like how we did, he got out of there somehow, and I don’t think collapsing into a heap on the floor for naptime would have saved him there.

First point is, the Lunar Pyramid is on the moon, same as the new Gate. I know the keyword there is ‘new’, but with how Vex stuff works, for all we know, once a place becomes a Gate, it was always a Gate, bear with me there.

Second, that would have been the same general area that Rasputin had LOKI CROWN pointed, whatever it was. We know the Witness didn’t intend on pulling any punches with the Collapse, so Nezarec could very much have been leading the charge straight against the Traveler.

Third, we know that all of the Pyramids are linked to one another and the Witness through the Egregore, so it could stand to reason if a Pyramid was disrupted, it could break the Witness’ focus, even just momentarily.

And fourth, we’ve seen how the Cabal can adapt to paracausal forces and counter them, and it’s Rasputin’s job to be paranoid, I could buy that he had the Traveler studied just for the sake of always having a silver bullet in case it went rogue. Keyword, singular, silver bullet.

What I’m thinking is, what if, during the final moments of the Collapse and Rasputin’s duel, he made the choice to redirect LOKI CROWN’s firepower at the Lunar Pyramid and put that to ground instead of the Traveler? Severing the Witness’ connection like that, even momentarily, would’ve been enough for him to initiate MIDNIGHT EXIGENT.

That’s a lot, I know, but I feel Very Strongly about Rasputin being able to stand up to paracausal forces in any way shape or form even if Destiny’s going to boil down to ‘Light and Dark Good, Everything Else Unimportant’, and thinking of him having a victory like that gives me a bit of vindication. Would love to hear your thoughts.

I can’t imagine Rasputin having anti-paracausal weaponry and not at least trying it against the Pyramid Fleet the way he tried everything else. Odds are good that Rasputin launched LOKI CROWN, or reused its assets under another name, against the Witness. He may have repurposed it into the SURTR DROWN mentioned as "in progress but negative effect." Keeping the Traveler from leaving would be a lower priority at that point than just finding something, anything, that worked. And if he did end up in a face-to-face where the Witness, let’s say, took offense at Rasputin’s rejection of the honor of Disciplehood, kneeing it in the balls with a nuclear warhead would be the best way for him to escape. But from what we've heard so far Nezarec's Pyramid was hurled into the Moon by the Traveler's detonation, and it’s not (yet) canon that Rasputin ever met the Witness at all. I'd like to give Red at least partial credit for the kill on Nezzy, but until we get more details I can't justify it.

I will die on the hill that Rasputin is too big not to be at least a little paracausal. If Darkness “comes from within” and the eliksni can directly manipulate ambient Light then I don’t see why Rasputin needs a permission slip from a beachball to go ham. Paracausality is fundamentally a matter of thought and will and Rasputin has both of those in spades. Arguably he’s never been anything but thought and will. And are we really pretending that a couple kilometers of ice is all it takes to stop a Worm God? Rasputin kept Xol pinned, not that glacier. He says he doesn’t understand it, but neither do Guardians and we manage just fine. Honestly I think the main reason he doesn’t use it is because his story arcs go very hard-scifi and the writers avoid the space magic. This season will put that to the test though and I can’t wait for the results.

But even without direct paracausality Rasputin can and should be able to step to paracausal threats. The Hive die to an orbital laser strike same as everyone else (even if they sometimes come back). The Cabal have built Light- and Darkness-suppressing tech, and if they can work it out, Rasputin can too. He also had some serious weaponry during the Golden Age, and not just "secular" stuff.

In the message outlining LOKI CROWN Rasputin discusses "full caedometric and noetic release," and in another lore card he’s moving an “annihilation-pumped caedometric weapon” into place. "Caedometric" is not a real word, but we've seen it a couple times in Destiny. It literally translates to “cutting-measure” or “to cut the measure” and I think it means weaponry that directly warps spacetime, similar to the Culture’s “gridfire”: damage done by invoking the mass-energy structures underpinning space. Caedometric weapons are also wielded by the Ecumene in its fight against the Hive - this is some very advanced tech - and said weapons are only authorized when the Ecumene orders “maximum theater overkill.” The potential for collateral damage is likely very high. They work, too: they can’t kill Oryx, but the Ecumene’s forces slay him in the material world often enough to force him back to his throne. Rasputin’s caedometric weapons are likely much cruder and weaker than the Ecumene’s, like the first nuclear weapon compared to today’s - but it’s still, y’know, a nuke.

Noetic weapons are for another type of battlefield. “Noetic” means relating to the mind or to knowledge itself, and this is Vex stuff: weaponized patterns that infect, corrupt, or just plain destroy the mind. It’s one of the contingencies covered in the Codes & Procedures handbook for the K1 Anomaly, which warns of:

NOETIC EVENT. A canary panel has detected a noetic event, including substrate-free syntactic replicators, adversarial inputs, oncomemes, Vex-type viral semiotic signifiers, and frequency-based heuristic exploits.

Oncomemes. What a fantastic word! “Onco” means “cancerous.” Cancerous memes. That covers a lot of memes, really. Rasputin had weaponized memes. He faced the Vex, and he learned from them.

So both caedometric and noetic-type weapons are a) very advanced, b) bad news, and c) part of Rasputin’s arsenal. Neither is explicitly paracausal, but both can be wielded against paracausal entities. 

Paracausal weapons did show up during the Golden Age. When Elsie decides to shut down Clovis’ Vex gate by any means necessary, she goes to a research institute dedicated to the Traveler and secures a “topological thought,” an “irreal artifact of the Traveler’s Light,” as the core of a weapon to hard-crash every Vex on the forgeworld. Elsie Bray is brilliant and clever, and when it comes to paracausality it helps to have a mind driven more by the subjective than the objective, but if Elsie could hotwire a paracausal bomb in a couple days I think Rasputin could work out the same idea at some point during the Golden Age. The stumbling block here is the acquisition of said irreal artifact. “Irreal” is a synonym for “unreal,” but in philosophy has more specific connotations of being incapable of existing at all in this reality - not simply “unreal” like a unicorn, but “irreal” like incompatible with our spacetime. While Rasputin could requisition whatever he liked, he probably couldn’t make an “irreal” thing. A finite number of artifacts means a finite number of weapons, and if they all came from the Traveler that’s one of the only sources Rasputin couldn’t commandeer. 

So if Rasputin did make paracausal weapons, he would only have a few. I can’t imagine he had a lot of chances to test them, and since it’s paracausal simulating it can only go so far. That would give him a small supply of unique weapons whose efficacy (and side effects) he can’t be sure of. In that case setting them up as a failsafe against the Traveler is the most logical use. The Traveler is the entity most likely to need paracausal weapons to bring it down, and if he has to fire on it then so many other things have already gone wrong that the potential fallout is the least of his problems. Hence this is probably the arsenal he deployed as LOKI CROWN.

In the end I don’t think Rasputin ever expected to use LOKI CROWN for its original purpose, and not because he had faith in the Traveler. I think he intended for the Traveler to intercept and decipher this message, or to observe and decipher his creation of LOKI CROWN, and infer his intent. His ultimate goal wasn’t to ambush the Traveler, but to threaten it. The operation’s real purpose is outlined in the same transmission: “Coerce pseudoaltruistic [O] defensive action,” or in other words, “Make the Traveler defend humanity.” Rasputin didn’t plot to kill the Traveler, at least not in this message. In this message Rasputin put a gun on the table and said, “If shit gets real, you’re staying here to fight. That can happen the easy way or the hard way. Let’s take the easy way, hm?” Rasputin doesn’t want to actually attack the Traveler, since that would both use up his arsenal and compromise its ability to defend humanity. But he also doesn’t trust it. He wants insurance in case it starts looking for the exit. So LOKI CROWN had to be a viable threat, but at the same time Rasputin expects the Traveler to pick up on said threat and be rational (or altruistic) enough not to force him to actually pull that trigger. And one way or another the Traveler did stand its ground. So at some point he likely took that system apart and threw it at the Pyramids the way he threw everything else.

#Destiny 2 #the Warmind Rasputin #Season of the Seraph #not really though #more or less took this as a chance to ramble about weapons #hope we aren't seeing them from the wrong end... #good question though #ra ra Rasputin Mars' greatest war machine #output generated #loremind #this is the wager of existence

[specialagentlokitty]

Thomas barrow x teen!reader - a promise broken

Part 11:

You flew away maybe an hour after all the police had left and you were sure it was safe to go, and you weren’t sure where you wanted to go.

But you couldn’t stay as an animal that could be hunted, you knew that, you had to be something small, easily hidden and fit with the time of year.

On the other hand, at Downton, even after a months, into the new year they were all still trying to process what they had witnessed.

Christmas had come and gone, and your unopened presents still sat in the corner of the servants hall, and your new years card they had all worked so hard to put together sat on top of it.

Now it was the middle of January, and they could only keep careful watch over the paper for any mention of you.

The papers did mention to arrested Rodes, and him admitting everything on trail, everything you had said to them, and they all felt a sense of guilt they couldn’t seem to lift.

And though the home wasn’t any less quiet then usual, they did all notice the lack of your presence. No one more than Thomas.

He had actually grown rather used to having you follow him, but his side or somewhere nearby.

And as he stood at the door, staring out at the two logs still against the wall, covered in snow, he could only sigh to himself.

Thomas walked over, brushing some snow of them both, he sat down, pulling his jacket a little tighter around him as he lit another cigarette.

“I had a feeling I would find you out here.”

Thomas flicked his gaze up to Anna, and she walked over, gesturing to the log next to him.

He brushed the rest of the snow of it and let her sit down.

“Why do you keep coming out here?” Anna asked softly.

“I suppose I keep waiting for her to come back.”

“I don’t think she’s going to come back..” Anna whispered.

“You don’t know that, she could. Maybe she’s on her way back now.”

Anna looked at him, reaching out she placed her hand on his arm and he looked at you.

“If she was going to come back she would have by now… we just have to believe she’s out there somewhere safe.”

Anna gave him a gently smile and went inside out of the cold, but Thomas carried on sitting out there by himself.

The sky was grey, dark and snow was softly falling from above, and all he could do was sit there and rest his back against the wall behind him.

He heard something walking in the snow, so he leant forward a little bit, carefully looking around until his eyes locked with brown ones.

A small Orange fox looked back at him, and sat down, ears flicking a little bit with sounds he couldn’t hear.

He just chuckled a little bit and put his cigarette out in the snow, getting up he walked back inside and came back out with some ham.

He tossed the ham in the snow.

“Get out of here now.”

The fox flicked its eyes from him to the ham and back to him.

The fox got up and walked away from the ham, but carrying something else in its mouth.

Padding over to the log, it set whatever it was carrying on there, and backed away, padding towards the entrance.

“Mr Barrow stop playing with foxes, we have dinner to serve!” Mr Carson called.

“I’m coming.”

Thomas picked up the item, and turned it in his hands, and he immediately recognised the messy handwriting with his name.

“(Y/N)…?”

Thomas looked up, and he watched the fox leave the archway and he jogged after it, and when he caught up you were standing there.

You looked exhausted, frail, dirty and hurt slightly.

“(Y/N)…”

You raised a finger, gesturing for him to be quiet and he nodded his head.

You then pointed to the letter in his hands.

“I’ll read it. Will you come back, tonight?” He asked.

You took a small breath, and you looked around before you slowly nodded your head.

“Wait here, I’ll come down after dinner.”

You nodded again and followed him back through, and you sat down on one of the logs.

“Come inside where it’s warm.”

You shook your head and Thomas sighed a little bit, taking his jacket of he draped it around your shoulders.

“Can I at least have someone bring you out something to eat and a warm drink? Please?”

You nodded weakly and he rushed inside, and the news of your return spread quickly and you were asked to go upstairs.

Refusing, you walked around the front, still draped in Thomas’ jacket and you watched as everybody came flooding outside.

“(Y/N) you must come inside it is freezing, and it is only going to get colder. It isn’t safe.” Lady Cora spoke.

You shook your head a little bit.

“I am not staying..” you whispered.

“Surely you must, at least until this storm passes over.” Lord Grantham said.

You shook your head a little.

“I cannot stay…”

“Why did you come?” Mr Branson asked.

You flicked your gaze to him.

“I came to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Daisy asked.

You nodded your head softly and took a small breath.

“I cannot keep running anymore, I am tired, and I have run for long enough..”

“You.. you don’t mean..?” Lady Mary asked.

“What was started when I was a child will be finished.”

“You can’t possibly think that is your only option..” Anna said.

“It is. I have.. a strange feeling inside of me… like I have lost who I am.. and perhaps I have.. maybe I did long ago..” you whispered.

They all looked at you, and you looked down at the snow covering your feet.

“I have been clouded by a sense of loss, grief and anger for far to long, and in my culture one cannot pass peacefully if their soul is full of these things.”

You slowly raised your gaze up to them.

“I cannot change the past, I know that now. And I cannot spend my whole life running away from a fate that will eventually come and take each and every one of us.”

“That is no reason for you to throw away your whole life!” Mrs Hughes protested.

“I cannot make you understand why I must do this, but I must.”

You slowly took Thomas’ jacket off and held it in your arms as you sighed a little bit, letting your shoulders fall.

“In my travels, I have had a lot of time to think, to make my peace with this world and ask for forgiveness for my rage, for my pain.”

“You never had to ask for forgiveness for being hurt…” Thomas whispered.

You looked at him.

“I was lost, and there are a lot of ways to be lost. It is not the same as being abandoned by someone, or stranded in a strange place. But we spend our lives fighting for a place to belong, I had that place taken from me as a child.”

You took a small breath and titled your head back and closed your eyes.

“I thought I would never belong again, that I would be destined to be alone and to run for the rest of my life.”

You looked back at them.

“But I never, because I realised sometimes being lost is simply not knowing how to get from where I was, to where I needed to be. To be here. Here I was seen, not as a monster, but as a human. Here I was found again.”

“Don’t go.” Thomas said.

“I must.”

He walked over and he took his jacket from your arms, and he draped it around your shoulders again, and he placed his hands on your arms.

“Please, don’t go..” he whispered.

“I must… you were right.. I am a monster.. I must make this right. So I have come to make my peace here, the final place I must make peace.”

“No…”

You gave Thomas a sad smile.

“You were the best friend I could have ever asked for Thomas… if I were to be born into a human family, I could have only hoped it would have been yours.. so you could be my real brother. Not just the brother I wished I had..”

Thomas clenched his jaw a little bit.

“You are going to be sad Thomas, angry. That’s okay, but just promise me you will forgive me…”

“I already broke one promise.. I can’t break another..” he whispered.

“That’s okay… just remember me..”

“You don’t have to do this, you can come back. You still have your room and all your things, we never took them away.”

“Even if I did stay, I would only leave when everybody was asleep. You cannot stop what must happen.. I’m sorry…”

“Is it.. terrifying…?” Lady Mary asked.

You stepped around Thomas and you looked at her, fully away of Thomas placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Yes, it is.”

“Then why are you so okay with this?” Lady Edith asked.

“Why will you just not come back?” Daisy whispered.

“Everything must come to an end, all stories, all songs, all legends and myths. They must all come to an end eventually..”

“Can we really not talk you out of this? Stop you in any way?” Lady Cora asked.

“I’m sorry my lady.. but no. Whether it is now, tomorrow, a month or a year I would leave again, and I would make this choice once more.”

“Can I ask you something?” Lord Grantham asked.

You nodded your head.

“Before you leave, will you tell us your version of events? Of what really happened?”

“Of course my lord, I will tell you the whole story, the real story of what had happened.”

You all went inside towards the dining hall, and everybody, including the servants were instructed to sit down and you stood at the head of the table.

In the light, everybody could see you better.

And it only added to their guilt, your tired eyes, the pale of your skin the dirt and bruises on your face, the mud and dirt on your dress.

You took a small breath, and you opened up about what had really happened.

How you were playing in the forest and you were changing forms and Rodes had seen you, his son, Peter, had followed you back to the village.

How the crept in during the dead of night and killed everybody, and burned all the houses down, except you weren’t home, you had snuck out to go watch the stars.

When you smelt the smoke you went rushing back and tried to save your parents, and got burned in the process.

When they saw you, they went to kill you as well, but you were saved by the burning house collapsing and you had run to join your friend and his family in a nearby town and you all fled to England to be safe.

“So how did you find peace?” Lady Cora asked softly.

“Wounds heal my lady, and scars are simply nothing more than a reminder of the past. We must accept that we cannot change that, we cannot hide our scars. What’s in the past does not matter anymore, what matters is what we do now.”

“Then why are you going to just give up?” Thomas snapped.

You sighed and looked at him.

“There is no place for me in this world… I wish to be free… to not be feared or judged… I cannot bring myself to do it myself, and Peter holds the only weapon that can do it for me..”

You took Thomas’ jacket off and set it on the back of the chair, and you smiled at them all once more.

“Thank you all, and may the gods of nature watch over you and keep you safe.”

You never waited as you walked back outside, returning to your fox form you turned to look at the home to see everybody outside once more.

“Please stay here (Y/N), I need you here.”

You sighed a little bit and you turned away, you small walk turning into a little run until you were out of sight once more.

“Where would she go Barrow? To finally be at peace?” Mr Branson asked.

Thomas shook his head, and he turned back around and he looked at Downton.

“The house. The burned down house.”

“Then we go there when the storm clears up.”

Everybody was in agreement, you still had to find Peter if you hadn’t already, so they needed to check the burned down house as soon as possible, and send the other half to try find Peter before you did.

Thomas went up to his room that night and he looked at the letter you gave him and opened it.

‘To my Thomas. Please do not be sad about me not being there, you’ll grow used to it quickly I know. I have been practicing my writing, and I am better now. I wanted to write you this, just to say sorry for never telling you, and to say thank you for being my friend. I love you Thomas, if I had a brother I wished it were you. I will always watch over you.’

He set the letter down, and he stared at the wall for a minute before he got up, making his way to the door separating the two hallways he knocked on it and waited.

Mrs Hughes opened it and she ushered him inside and to your room which was just the way you left it.

“I’ve put some extra candles and blankets in here, do not make a noise, nobody can know.”

Thomas nodded and entered your room, closing the door behind you.

He needed to go through everything, drawings and letters you had saved up, anything to try and find out something to help

#Downton abbey #Downton abbey x reader #Downton abbey x you #Downton abbey imagine #Thomas Barrow #Thomas Barrow x reader #Thomas Barrow x you #Thomas Barrow imagine

[thatanimewriter]

TONGUE TIED.

➳ request: Just read through all of your snake stuff and I’m so sorry if I spammed you because of it! I read your request rules so I hope this isn’t breaking any of them. Would you be up for a Snake x fem!reader where she has a forked tongue (like the kind people get done) and she shows him after one of his performances? It can be hcs, a fic, whatever you’d like! Sorry again if any of this goes against any rules! Hope you’re having a good day/night!  

➳ character/s: snake

➳ warnings: suggestiveness?? FLUFF AFTER THAT MOMENT THOUGH

➳ notes: i think my heart combust writing this, i’m dying of cuteness and i went a bit ham, sorry not sorry ._.

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 + 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐄.

as weird to say as it is

he doesn’t pay attention to your tongue??

you’d never done anything to make him notice it

now

you weren’t ever part of the main troupe of the circus

you were backstage on makeup and costumes

which in a way was nice

because snake finds it nice having your relationship private from the world

and also

it made for some really nice time backstage until he went on

lots of cuddles

and lots of kisses :))

because we love the boy

he deserves the world

running your fingers through his hair and nuzzling your face into his neck

BUT THIS TIME WAS DIFFERENT

sitting on his lap, you brushed on the smallest amount of makeup onto his beautiful skin

with one eye open as the product glided over his lid, he noticed you’d stuck your tongue out in concentration

but he noticed it was forked quite quickly

in which both eyes widened

when you pulled back to ask him what was wrong, he pulled you in for a kiss

relaxing into his hold around your waist, you looped your arms around his neck

a hand ghosted over your side, which made you gasp into the kiss

perfect opportunity to slide his tongue in to figure out what on earth was going on in the house of commons-

and his suspicions were correct

when you pulled away (breathless) you frowned at him in confusion

with a faint blush over his cheeks, he stuck his tongue out at you

‘when did you get that?’ 

your face lit up in recognition and you smiled, repeating his gesture

as you explained the story behind it, he let you continue his makeup

not without thinking y’all were the cutest couple because HIS GIRLFRIEND MATCHES HIM ;V;

forked tongue gangg

for whatever reason

you know the reason

snake seemed a lot more confident as he went into the ring for the final time that night

and when he returned to the makeup tent where you sat

he gave you a massive hug

nothing prompted it

it was just a big hug

and he spun your around

also

that’s the widest smile you’ve ever seen on his face in a long time :))

when you went back to his tent later that night

he literally held you so tight

he wouldn’t let you go

he is a python and he will grip you till you DIE

kidding

but maybe i’m not-

even the other snakes cuddle up with you

if you need to go to the toilet

no you don’t

you stay and cuddle with him >:((

no idea why

but now he’s extra possessive of you

holds your hand a lot

hugs

even if he’s shy

the fact you match really sealed the deal for him

heck a ring

matching forked tonguess

you’re not getting out of this relationship 

ever.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #snake #black butler snake #kuroshitsuji snake #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #snake x reader #black butler snake x reader #kuroshitsuji snake x reader #black butler imagines #kuroshitsuji imagines #snake imagines #black butler snake imagines #kuroshitsuji snake imagines

[ostrichmonkey-games]

hey! I'm running my first session of Liminal Horror using your Layers of Unreality module tomorrow, and I've done a fair bit of prep, but I was curious how you would run the game. How far in advance do you generate your rooms? part of me wants to go absolutely ham and generate like a hundred rooms, but I also know that it's possible for the players to break continuity, so I don't want to prep /too/ much and then have to throw it out. Also you have any mapping recommendations? We're playing on discord, so I'm going to try to find something for us to use. anyway, no pressure to answer in a timely manner cause I know my game is gonna be a blast no matter what, but I would like to hear your thoughts in case we play more in the future!

Oh that's awesome! Honestly, I think you can prep as much as you want to. You don't have to worry about something going to waste because you can always decide to just use it later!

So fun story, I just ran a session of Layers with zero prep. I had had plans to preroll some unconnected rooms that I could pull from, since the session was streamed and I didn't want to constantly be referencing things in the middle of stuff (which, for a non-streamed game, I'd have no issue with lol). But then I got super busy and ran out of time, as is the way of things.

What I ended up doing was a little bit of rolling some rooms while players were in the middle of stuff, but I'd say for at least 80% of the session I was just glancing at the tables and riffing off of the results without rolling anything and it worked just fine (I did inject some Tangle rolls, just as a treat)! Though since this was also a one-shot, I wasn't really keeping track of depth.

Layers can be super flexible with how gung-ho you decide to go on the procedural elements, and at the end of the day everything in the book is just a tool to help you come up with some creepy rooms, so don't feel like you need to stick to a result that doesn't fit with whatever is currently happening!

Here's the vid of the session if you wanted to see how it went;

If you enjoy doing the prep, then go wild! But you're gonna have plenty of things to work with once players start deciding to make fun, risky, and dangerous choices.

If I was going to be running a multi-session game, I'd probably roll up a handful of rooms and just keep them as a list somewhere to inject as needed, but also would try and do as much of the rolling during the session because I also like being surprised by what comes up lol.

Hope you have fun with your game, and I would love to hear how it goes! Also if you end up with anymore questions gimme a shout.

#ttrpg #indie ttrpg #layers of unreality

[zalrb]

“I found less quirky and original than even I expected. Like Barbie verged on boring for me.”

different anon but THIS! i found it so boring and at first i thought it was the anticipation of seeing oppenheimer immediately after (bc i did the double feature shamelessly). but i rewatched it with my sisters and like… i could not wait to leave. like i was keeping track of the third act for the movie to just END.

and then also i was watching fleabag yesterday and it was episode 2x03 were fleabag is talking to kristin scott thomas’ character, and i found the speech given there about women aging and loosing value in society much more refreshing and radical than anything said in barbie. and it made me realize that my issue with greta is that she keeps everything surface level yet somehow gets praised as this great radical feminist director of our times despite never having any follow through in her films

The third act was rough for me, too. I didn't need the Ken danceoff. Even the second act, I was like, OK she goes to the real world, realizes that she isn't seeing women as construction workers, a guy slaps her ass so she punches him, goes to jail where the cops who book her objectify her, gets out immediately; steals clothes and goes to jail and gets out immediately again (which is its own form of pretty white female privilege but whatever); finds the tween she thought was playing with her, gets called a fascist, cries, goes to Mattel where they literally want to put her in a box (symbolism!) then Gloria comes to the rescue and I watched it, like, OK?

I've been seeing defences of the movie being so pointed and ham-handed about its themes but for me it's not even about that, it's like you said, it's pretty surface level and therefore kind of easy. In the beginning of the movie, during their dance routine, there's a Barbie in a wheelchair dancing and I'm guessing Barbieland is accessible af, what if she went to the real world and realized things aren't like that; what if she did see women in positions of power and they were all white and she's like this is very different from Barbieland; what if instead of the Mattel boardroom which I know was meant to be over-the-top and satirical but still too much for me, we saw a bit more of Gloria's life or at least Gloria in relation to the Mattel execs. And there are other things like Barbieland has its own Mount Rushmore featuring Barbies and when Barbie comes back from the real world she realizes that it features the Kens faces but Mount Rushmore is a monument to settlers who colonized Indigenous land so its very existence in Barbieland should be antithetical to its core values, no? So if you're going to include that, maybe also include the dismantling of that? And maybe they did and I missed it but I don't think so.

So I was just kind of like I know we couldn't stay in Barbieland forever but the most original and clever aspect of the movie imo is the first thirty minutes and even then it's mostly set design.

The Fleabag speech was definitely a speech that made me think about it when I first heard it, it didn't necessarily strike a chord with me but it was different from the type of speeches that I was used to listening to so I was like , well this is certainly a different perspective put into words.