#its so hard to find people like this. someone who matches me well enough to fit all these picky things i want

[sunflower-emoji]

Wallflower (Hawks x Reader)

You're shy. Hawks isn't.

(more Hawks fluff <;3)

It didn't matter that people would kill for a job like yours, you were going to quit. It wasn't worth this nightmare called a charity ball you found yourself at. 

You were young and far down the hierarchy. You had assumed that the higher-ups would send someone with an established reputation to represent the company. 

"No, you'll be perfect. A charming young face is exactly what our brand needs," your boss insisted.

You bit back a scoff. One of the reasons you became a costume designer was so you didn't have to schmooze people. You always loved the world of heroics, knew you wanted to be part of it in some way. But large crowds and larger personalities launched your heart rate skyward. Costume design was perfect: challenging, creative, and just the right amount of human interaction. Sure, you weren’t the most sociable, but you loved working one-on-one with your clients, getting to know them slowly over time and never worrying about going blind from direct exposure to the spotlight.

None of this seemed to matter to your boss, or your colleagues, who refused to take your place even as they sighed with envy. You were beginning to think it was part of a bigger conspiracy to get you to "come out of your shell," and you resented them for it.

Still, you wished one of them were here so you could have someone to talk to. Your charming young face didn't know a single person here.

That wasn't entirely true. You recognized some of your clients, had even tried to talk to one of them, making it through a full thirty seconds of stilted conversation before someone more famous pulled them away. You immediately fled to the periphery of the room where other guests floated past, preoccupied with other things and people.

That was fine, You were really only interested in one person here anyway, and you knew the chances of actually talking to him were nonexistent.

You had caught glimpses of him throughout the night. It was hard not to, his giant red wings a beacon, standing out even more in his all-black ensemble. Never long enough for eye contact, but you held on to the hope of getting a wave or a quick smile at some point tonight.

Hawks was an established client at your company, his costume the creation of your boss's boss. The two of you met a few months ago after you had been assigned to find a new material for his visor. Something sturdier without sacrificing visibility. He visited you regularly to test out the prototypes.

At first you were terrified, unsure how to talk to the loud, gregarious hero. The energetic banter your veteran coworkers had with him wasn't something you could match. But Hawks had surprised you with a patient smile and questions about your work, listening so attentively your passion overtook your shyness. It didn't take long for you to feel at ease with the hero, even if your heart never settled into its normal rhythm when he was around.

But there was a big difference between his visits to your studio and you approaching him in the middle of a giant gala, surrounded by dozens of other heroes and bigwigs. So you leaned against the wall, checking your phone and wondering if it was late enough to leave without getting yelled at later.

"Should've known you'd be over here!" You jump at the sudden visitor, who chuckles at your reaction.

Your heart's still in your throat, but you feel calmer now that Hawks stands in front of you. Something familiar at last.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you seem like the wallflower type," he replies with a head tilt and teasing grin.

"Am not!" You said it as a reflex.  Both of you knew very well that you were a wallflower. And you had in fact spent the entire evening against a wall.

Hawks' eyes narrow, deviousness creeping into his smile. "Oh? Well in that case, I guess you won't mind sharing a dance with me."

When you fail to immediately take his outstretched hand, he pouts. "Come on, Endeavor already turned me down. Are you really gonna let me be rejected twice tonight?"

You huff out a “fine,” and he guides you to the dance floor with an eager pull of your hand, his feet not quite touching the ground. To your relief, he stops in a space off-center, his wings partially open as he brings his other hand up to your waist. 

The two of you twirl around in what you think is meant to be a waltz. Hawks can't keep a beat but insists on leading anyway, just barely missing your toes. Without warning, he spins you out before snapping you back against his chest and you feel the rumble of his laughter. You're grateful he can't see your reddened face, dizzy from spinning and the scent of his cologne.

By the end of the song, you've gathered enough wits for a little payback. As the music swells for the final time, you slip your hand around to Hawks' back and press your knee forward. His eyebrows raise in delight at your mischievous grin and he lets you dip him, throwing his arm out with a flourish.

There's a smattering of applause, some conversation to your side, but you're not paying attention to any of it, too focused on Hawks beaming up at you.

"Sooo, how about it? Up for another?"

You agree without hesitation this time. It's not like you had anything better to do this evening.

#I hear you ask “kaye how are you supposed to dip hawks with his giant wings in the way” #the answer is carefully dear reader #very carefully #anyway hello i love fancy galas and fancy dancing and being goofy and bad at fancy dancing #You can expect more on this theme #bnha #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x reader #x reader

[gaylordscooter]

Say Goodbye to Your Name

Ever since the twins fought, the guardian of negativity made it his goal to ruin the balance. He didn't care which way it went at first, but he was feeling awfully sluggish recently as it tipped in favor of positivity. 

His brother was giving it his all to make everyone happy. Everyone but him.

He was always like that.

Figures that they would be programmed to feel the need to keep the balance, but he had a thought: if he powered himself using only a few people, how would that affect the balance?

He's noticed how proximity affects their energy. Being physically near someone who’s feeling happy or sad affects him more than the infinite multiverse does. He presumed proximity gives them easier access, therefore more energy.

Still, one person wouldn't be enough to fulfill the quota. Besides, one person could only give so much negativity before running out, and it would be hard to give them a break without companionship. Maybe if he got multiple that disliked each other he wouldn't even need to do anything.

Three sounded like a good number. It was odd and meant they couldn't split up into pairs. Pairs would be annoying to keep track of. He would want them all to stick together when he puts them through…

Put them through what? Torture? Torment?

Nightmares.

Now that was a nice word. He remembered his brother explaining to him what those were after helping people get over a particularly bad one.

He didn't know that he was the one that caused them.

It wasn't out of malice, he was keeping the balance like he wanted him to. Like the multiverse wanted him to.

Besides, without a nightmare every once in a while, they wouldn't be able to fully appreciate good dreams.

But of course, even when he was doing his job, he was doing something wrong.

As for which people to power himself with…He already had a vague idea.

There were three prominent sources of negativity coming from different universes. Not once have they faltered even with all of his brother’s meddling.

They’d need a place to stay. A big building where all of them can live. Perhaps a mansion or castle.

As for where it would be located, he already stayed in a pocket of the Antivoid which was far away from Error’s.

With a wave of the hand he created a forest and a castle. It was more of an illusion than an actual building, but when it felt and looked like a building, what difference did it make if it wasn't “real”?

And now for actually rounding them up.

Something New was the first universe he went to. He wasn't sure how the naming schemes of the universes worked, he assumed that the Ink guy was the one naming them all, maybe for categorizing.

The world was empty save for one lone skeleton.

He always hated the feeling of loneliness.

It didn’t take long for him to find him, with only one person in the universe he might as well have a target over his head.

He was, predictably, in his room at Snowdin, currently playing a game on his computer.

He was talking aloud, whether to himself or to someone, he wasn't sure but he bet on the former.

“sans, turn around there's some weird octopus thing behind you,” he read the text on his screen aloud. He chuckled and continued tapping away at his keyboard. “you’re not distracting me that easily.” He frowned as he scanned over the words on the screen. “chat, you’ve tried doing this before you're not gonna get me…” he trailed off as the guardian entered his peripheral vision. He choked out a nervous laugh, tearing off his LED cat-eared headphones as he swiveled his chair towards the being.

“Hello,” it said.

Was this some fun event no one’s ever documented before? No, there was something off about this code, it didn’t match with the rest of the game. The coding language wasn’t anything familiar.

Great, not even the anomaly was familiar with whatever this thing was.

“hey,” he greeted.

The creature scanned the room, its many tentacles flicked around the floor like they had brains of their own. He wasn’t sure where the thing’s cloak started and tentacles began, or maybe they were the same thing. Its singular cyan eye looked akin to a human’s eye flipped vertically. At first glance it looks pitch black, but the tar surrounding it has a slight blue-green tinge to it. Its hands, however, were bright cyan like its eye and looked skeletal.

“You’re all alone,” it said.

“yup.”

“Your world is of no use to you anymore,” it said.

“uh.”

Its head leaned closer with its eye piercing at his empty sockets. Some of the tar on its face melted away, revealing a sharp grin of cyan teeth.

Funnily enough, he couldn’t feel the presence of the anomaly right now.

He decided to place his elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned his head against his hand. He exaggeratedly moved his head up and down to show that he was looking it over. 

“you’re kinda hot.”

As expected, the thing reeled back.

It looked to the side, hiding its mouth once more and clasping its hands together. All its tentacles curled against its body. Was it flustered?

A moment later it composed itself, moving its hands to its back and straightening its body to full height.

He had to move his head up to make eye contact.

“You can leave this world, if you come with me,” it offered.

“wait, actually?” He perked up, believing he heard wrong. Wait, what did “leave this world” mean? Like, die? Is this thing Death?

“I have a place for you to stay, in another universe. It’ll have all things vital for a mortal like you, shelter, food, water.”

Freedom from this hell? It was highly likely the anomaly wouldn’t be able to follow him. That sounded too good to be true.

He quirked a brow bone. “what’s the catch?”

“There will be two others living with you. You will not be able to return here. I will be feeding off your negativity.”

Well he didn’t mind those first two—What was that last one?

“huh?”

“Oh, and I forgot to mention,” its arm reached out. Suddenly, it held him up by the collar of his shirt. “You don’t have a choice.”

It tossed him backwards. His back hit the ground roughly, but the texture was all different. The ground was vaguely pointy. When he opened his eye sockets he realized he was lying down on grass.

The sky was blue. He could see the sky.

Was this the surface?

“No, this is not the surface,” the thing said as if it read his mind. Could it read his mind? “But you are not underground either.” A tentacle pointed towards a castle in the distance. “That is where you’ll be staying.”

The castle looked exactly like its owner, dark and imposing. It was like it had it custom made and gave the architects a picture of itself for reference.

He whistled, impressed.

“You’ll have to walk there yourself. I need to get the other two residents you’ll be staying with.” It opened a portal, so that’s how they got here, and stepped through before he could respond.

The next universe he went to was similar in concept to Something New, Dusttale. Like the other one, it was empty and it was easy to locate who he needed. Unlike the other one, he wasn’t sitting around in his room, but aimlessly wandering around the Snowdin forest.

Something was off, he thought. He would walk here everyday. This time he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

YOU’VE LOST IT.

He lost it a long time ago, but he's never felt like this.

YOU CAN ALWAYS BREAK SHARDS INTO SMALLER PIECES.

True, but he was inclined to believe something was there. So of course he was on guard.

I WOULDN’T EXPECT YOU TO ACT RATIONALLY ANYWAY.

He stepped over a branch on the ground to avoid tripping. It was habitual, maybe he should move that branch to the side, or change his path, but he's never been good at change.

He was reaching the end of the forest.

Snap.

The branch broke.

He turned around, summoning two gaster blasters by his side and a wave of bones at the direction of the noise.

He heard the bones hit something. It made a squelch noise as if it pierced through viscous mud. 

And then he saw what it hit.

YOU’VE LOST IT.

He was inclined to believe that.

“Rude, aren’t we?” Its voice caught him off guard. Really, hearing any voice other than his or Papyrus’s would've caught him off guard but on top of that, this one sounded otherworldly.

He refused to speak. The sound of his own voice reminded him too much of who he used to be, of what he lost.

The being melted into the ground. He almost thought he killed it, and then it rose up by his side a moment later.

“Quiet too,” it hummed in acknowledgment. “I’ll just get this over with, then.” It opened a portal next to them.

Before he could move away, one of its tentacles grabbed him by the shin.

“I am taking you to a different universe. There will be another person there and he is not as hardy as I am. Do not attack him.” It squeezed his shin tightly as a warning.

A different universe?

He was dragged through the portal. The thing didn't follow him, however. The sight of grass and a blue sky threw him for a loop and the other skeleton that looked like him did not help.

The third and last universe was much different than the other two, Horrortale. It was still populated, unlike the others. It was harder to locate who he needed, but again, he was in Snowdin. This time he was at one of his sentry stations.

The spike in his fear when he saw him gave him a rush.

“Hello there.”

The Sans immediately attacked like the one before. A row of sharpened bones burst out of the ground and impaled him, but much to his dismay, it didn't stop him at all from getting closer.

In fact, the bones impaling him were dissolved by the slime covering him.

“Your life here is so drab, isn't that right?”

“you gonna kill me?” he grumbled.

“Quite the contrary. I’m here to give you a new life. It's not like you'll miss the old one, anyway.”

His sockets widened in terror. There was sweat beading on his forehead as his hand scratched at the counter of his stand. “what the hell are you talking about? that's not—”

“—possible?” he cut him off, mimicking the other skeleton’s voice. He laughed, his voice gradually changing back to his own. “Don’t believe me? That's okay, it'll happen regardless.”

A portal opened behind the Sans.

“you can't. i can't just leave my friends—”

Another laugh cut him off. “Friends?! What friends? Oh, the people that you manipulated? Or the people who are the reason why you have that gaping hole in your skull?”

“how the fuck do you know about that?” he snarled.

“Your guilty conscience is so loud, it told me itself,” he sneered. “Come on, don't you want to leave this hell? You’ll have food—of good quality too. You won’t have to worry about going hungry ever again, and it won't be human meat. Doesn't that sound nice? Don't you miss eating?” To give him an example, he summoned a plate of freshly cooked steak on the counter.

Sans’s attention immediately snapped to the food in front of him. The smell was intoxicating. He couldn't help but drool. He could feel his metaphorical stomach screaming at him as his persistent hunger wrenched at his soul.

When's the last time he’s seen steak like this?

His body moved on his own. He lunged. He tore at the steak like a fucking animal. The second he swallowed the first bite, the logical part of his mind took over and he stopped as soon as he started.

“You have more willpower than I thought you did. Stopping yourself after having one bite? I expected you to down the whole thing.”

He gripped at the counter with both of his stained hands, cracking the wood beneath his phalanges. “i’m not some mindless animal,” he retorted.

“Yes, perhaps, but you're a moment away from becoming one. If I left and came back a few years later, would you even be able to hold a conversation with me?”

He didn't reply. He tapped on the counter, irritated.

“You don’t know.”

He gritted his teeth. His smile was strained and stained red.

“And that terrifies you.”

He was trembling.

The guardian shoved him into the portal before he could say anything.

The Sans landed on his back on the grass. The blue sky was as startling as it was to the other two.

Speaking of the other two, they were currently at each other's throats. Scorch marks from gaster blasters and broken pieces of bones littered the grass.

He looked down at the third one. “Welcome to your new home.”

He said nothing, as if he was in shock like a bird that crashed into a window.

Two of his tentacles lashed out to grab and lift the other two by their necks. He brought them closer to him. “I told you not to attack him,” he said to the hooded one.

The third one watched nervously, staying completely still as if moving meant joining those two up there.

The other one laughed, filling the hooded one’s silence. “what nice company we have here. sans one two and three.”

The guardian hummed at his comment. He put the skeletons down before they ran out of breath—could they even run out of breath? Perhaps not. “I will need to give you new names,” he concluded.

The one from Something New, scoffed, “nah, i’m not letting you name me. just call me…killer.”

“Killer,” he repeated. “How fitting.”

Killer shrugged, “if it works, it works.”

“new names. new names?!”

“now red-eye over there should be called crack-head.”

“very creative,” Crack-head deadpanned.

No, that was a dumb name.

“Horror,” he decided. He pointed at the hooded one, “Dust.”

Naming them off of their universes was basic, yes, but they didn't need a name with any thought put into it. In fact, it was better to put as little thought as possible into them.

“great, i’m yanked outta home, surrounded by alternate versions of myself, and now i’m being stripped of my identity. what’s next, you gonna torture us?” Horror complained.

The guardian smiled impossibly wide. “Funny you say that.”

Horror looked unimpressed.

“and what’s your name, huh?” Killer questioned, looking the guardian in the eye.

His name? He didn't recall having one. There was no one to give him a name, but as Killer demonstrated, one could name themself.

He decided to go with the most pleasing word to him.

“Refer to me—as Nightmare.”

“ok, edgelord,” Killer snickered.

He impaled Killer through the chest, narrowly missing his soul, with a sharpened tentacle.

He choked out and staggered, only being kept upright by the tendril impaling him.

The other two's wariness shot up.

Killer fully expected to die right there, but he had a fraction of HP left. It was a calculated hit. If he wanted him dead he would be.

“what the fuck?” he hissed out.

“That's not my name,” Nightmare growled.

“ok ok, sheesh, nightmare!” he shouted with desperation.

The tentacle withdrew. Killer couldn't suppress his scream in pain as he collapsed to his knees.

Horror had a clear grimace, while Dust’s expression was obscured by his hood.

Killer’s breathing was labored and sporadic.

“You can be as insufferable as you want to be, Killer. Just be prepared to live with the consequences,” he said coldly. “Let me make this clear for you all, your old lives are forfeit, your new home is here at the castle, I will provide you with all the necessities, and I will put you through horrible scenarios for my entertainment.”

If it wasn't for the fact he just impaled Killer mercilessly, that last sentence would make them laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“The first scenario—starts right now.” He raised his arms up and lurid black fog overtook the area, obscuring their vision.

It didn't take long for the fog to do its job. He felt their misery rise in mere moments. The fog in question was a party trick of his; it allowed him to send people into a nightmare of their own making while awake.

He watched as the three struggled and fought against nothing. He could hear one of them arguing, saying something about his eye. The other two were completely silent, blindly throwing attacks at the fog.

He dispelled the fog once he got bored, which didn't take that long. The three passed out once the area was clear. He rolled his eye and opened portals beneath them to send them straight to their new rooms.

This would work, he thought. He already felt better, but he wanted to make this more fun. Using his fog was too cheap and would get old quickly. He’ll brainstorm ideas while they get accustomed to the place.

Horror awoke. He was in an unfamiliar room that was fancifully decorated. He was currently on a bed that seemed like it was worth more than his entire house.

Oh, and he also felt awful. He had a painful headache from whatever the fuck Nightmare did to them. In a way, this was like a personal hell for him. Was this the world’s way of making him repent for all he's done? He wasn't remotely a religious person, but at this point he didn't doubt it.

He caught sight of a slice of pie on the floor. It almost reminded him of one of Toriel’s. He knew better than to eat it, despite his nonexistent stomach’s complaints.

He took the risk of exploring, exiting the room cautiously.

He entered a long hallway. There were five doors in total, three along one of the walls and two at each end. It was relatively dark with the lack of windows. The dim blue flames from the candles along the wall were the only light source.

Killer was also in the hall, currently eating a slice of pie.

“are you crazy?!” Horror blurted, startling the skeleton.

“fuck man!” he jumped, “warn a guy before shouting.” He took another bite of the pie with no regards to if it was poisoned or wherever the hell it came from.

“you're just eating random food on the ground? who knows what it'll do.”

“bud, i was at low HP and saw a delicious slice of pie. of course i’m gonna eat it, poison be damned,” Killer replied without a care.

“you were at low HP because of the one supplying you the pie.”

“if he wanted me dead, i’d be dead. he’s givin’ me pie, i’m eating the pie it's simple.” He took another bite as if to support his point.

Horror muttered something Killer couldn't hear. He sighed, “where's the other guy?”

“you mean dust?” He quirked his head.

“you're not actually going to use the names he gave us, are you?” he questioned.

“well, what else? call us all sans and get all confused? or are you jealous i got to name myself while you're stuck with ‘horror’,” he said with his mouth full.

Horror scrunched his face in disgust. He already hated this guy. “as if ‘killer’ is a good name.”

“it's not a good name, it's a killer name,” he smirked.

“that sucked.”

Killer pouted and finished the last of his pie.

The door in between the two opened, and Dust stepped out.

“good morning sleeping beau—”

He shoved Killer against the wall using blue magic.

“woah!” Horror exclaimed and backed up.

The impact knocked the wind out of him. “ok, damn, bad morning, i guess.” Thankfully the plate in his hands was still intact.

“what's your problem?” Horror said.

Dust glared at Horror, his mismatched eyelights catching the other off guard.

Horror realized how high his LV was and realized why Nightmare named him Dust. He raised his hands in defense. “chill out, dude, we ain’t the enemy.”

Killer summoned a bone in his hand and tossed it at Dust, hitting him in the back of the skull. “yeah, dude, chill.”

Dust slammed him into the ground with a loud shatter before releasing the hold on his soul. He tucked his hands into his pockets and walked towards the end of the hall without a word.

Killer pushed himself up to his feet once Dust exited the hall. “that guy’s a dick.” He brushed the broken shards of the plate off his clothes.

In all honesty, Horror could see where Dust was coming from. Killer's proven to be nothing but annoying so far.

Killer looked down at the broken pieces of the plate on the floor. “it wasn't poisoned, by the way. so hah!” He looked in the direction of each end of the hall. “i’m gonna see if this place has a kitchen.” He decided to go to the door opposite of the one Dust went through.

Horror sighed and pinched the bridge of his nasal bone once he was alone in the hallway. There was a lot to process here, but Killer and Dust seemed unfazed by their new predicament. Weren't they going to miss their friends? Or at the very least, their brother?

He was trying his best to keep calm, or at least appear that way. He decided the best course of action now—was to go back to that room and eat that pie.

#utmv fic #the bad sanses #nightmare sans

[digital-domain]

HI HI🫡🫡

thinkin about the absolute loml gojo who hates fancy settings but goes to one anyway because he knew reader would be there😭 like he sees them all dressed up which is a rarity and can't take his eyes (or hands wink wonk) off them. i can just see reader having to scold him for being so touchy but he can't help it, its not like he cares about the eyes that might be watching them anyway lmao. but no cus he'd probably be whispering absolute FILTH into their ear😭

this is just a basic idea, add as much spice or anything else you want🤭🤭 ALSO I LOVE YOUR WRITING<3

Ahhhh thank you so much!! <3

I LOVED this prompt so much that it ended up wayy longer than I anticipated. Around 2k words I think?? I hope you enjoy :)

Content tags: hmm I’d say suggestive but not nsfw? But Gojo is being a menace. In the best way possible.

An art gallery. Who the fuck wants to spend a Friday night at an art gallery? You, apparently. Enough to turn down Gojo’s generous invitation to a much less pretentious, much less obnoxiously-well-lit bar in the center of the downtown entertainment district. It would have been fun, pulling you out onto the floor, convincing you to dance for what he can only assume would be the first time in your life. If you’d ever experienced it, you would have gone with him. Instead, he’s here, surrounded by sculptures which seem to depict nothing in particular, searching for you in the crowd. He can’t really be mad at you for turning him down tonight. Apparently, you’ve had these plans for months - you’re friends with the artist-of-honor, or whatever you call it. He wasn’t really paying attention to the specifics. And he’s not paying attention to the art, either. The promise of free wine intrigued him, though - if only he could find a server.

There’s a dress code, too. Suits only for men (or tuxes, but he doesn’t own one of those). The one he’s got on is light blue, standing out among a sea of navy and black and grey. He absently wonders what you would have worn if you’d gone clubbing with him instead - he’s imagining a short, black dress, or maybe a sparkly one, or jeans with one of those tops that seem to just be bras in disguise. He’s never seen you show off that much, but it’s fun to picture. Maybe there’s something to that idea of “leaving things to the imagination.” When it comes to you, he has a vivid one. A sly grin creeps over his face as he thinks of what might have happened tonight - flashing lights, dark corners, a dense crowd pressing the two of you together. Inevitably. Finally. In the most technical sense, you’re still just a “friend from work,” but you both know it’s more than that. He’s not exactly the subtle type. He’s been flirting hard for weeks - and you’ve flirted back. Even almost kissed him once or twice. You’re just a little bit shyer about things than he is. A little bit scared. It’s always “Someone could see us!” Or even worse: “We can’t. It’ll make things too complicated.” Always with a strange mixture of fear and excitement in your voice. You’re at least as interested as you are intimidated – it’s not an uncommon reaction. And he hasn’t pushed you too hard. He’s been holding back. But then again…so have you. And tonight could have been just the opportunity you both needed. In fact - it still could…

His moment of self-indulgence is broken when he checks his phone. He’d texted you a full five minutes ago ( “surprise! I’m here. Come find me ;)” ) and you still haven’t responded. Perhaps you’re simply enraptured by the weird little metal ornaments around you. Or maybe - no. There’s no way you’re purposely ignoring him. He put on a suit for you. And a matching tie. And flirted with the girl at the front table so he could get in without an invitation…

Hm. Maybe you’d seen that. It wasn’t his best performance - but he was here! The methods, in this case, totally justified the means.

He scans the room for you again. You shouldn’t be hard to find - he towers over the people around him. Over in the corner, maybe? Pressed up against a wall…

Oh. There you are.

He almost didn’t recognize you at first - he hadn’t expected that little black dress he’d been imagining to become a reality. Especially not here, where most of the women he’d seen were wearing long dresses or jumpsuits or blazer sets. It’s form-fitting, short, and two little shoulder straps are all that’s keeping it on. You stand out - and just like that, the little bit of self-control he had left is gone. You need encouragement? He’s going to give it to you. He zips across the room, almost knocking over that server he’d been searching for moments earlier, then doubling back to pick up two plastic glasses of red wine. He sidles up behind you, wrapping his arm all the way around your bare shoulder, and proudly holds one of them up to your face.

****

Oh no.

You decided weeks ago that you weren’t going to do this. Not with him. As soon as his hand first not-so-accidentally brushed up against yours, as soon as he made his intentions clear – you’d made up your mind. Getting…involved…with Gojo Satoru would be a huge risk. He’s simply too strong. Too complicated. Too much. In terms of power, personality - everything. Everyone wants a piece of him, everyone’s watching him, and you don’t want those same pairs of eyes falling upon you. You can flirt back – sometimes, it’s impossible not to – but that’s it. It’s just simple fun. A diversion. It’s going to create issues if it becomes anything more.

However. You’ve been playing these little games for weeks, and you just find yourself getting closer and closer. And now, he’s here.

You whip around at the sudden appearance of Gojo’s hand, nearly knocking the contents of the glass in front of you to the floor. You’re aware that you’re staring. But you can’t exactly look away. He’s here, standing before you, for absolutely good reason. Although…no. You’re sure that in his mind, it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do. But only because he’s a little bit insane.

He grins shamelessly, and casually sets the wine on a nearby display shelf, dinging the rims of the two cups against the sheer pane of glass. “Haven’t you been checking your phone?”

“No.” You shake your head, eyes wide in disbelief. “How did you even…never mind. I don’t wanna know.” His smile only grows as you narrow your eyes at him. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve developed a sudden appreciation for modern art.” He bites his lip, looks you up and down, bright blue eyes flashing over you. “Especially the kind that wears dresses like that one.”

“Satoru…” you sigh. Although you’re not unaffected by the compliment, you know you have to resist a little bit - he’ll pounce if you give him an opening. But he’s so over-the-top that it’s hard not to be impressed at his efforts. And, you have to admit - he looks incredible in formalwear. “You are…a complete menace.”

“Impossible.” He gestures down at himself. “Look at me. I’m very classy.”

You roll your eyes. “Only on the outside.”

“I wanna go outside.” He dramatically loosens his tie. “It’s hot in here.”

He’s ridiculous. The farthest thing from classy - or subtle. “No. It’s really not.”

“Well, of course you’re cold. You’re barely wearing anyth-“

“Satoru!”

He shrugs. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Maybe not.” There’s a pause.

Within that pause, you struggle to force your brain back to rationality. And you fail terribly.

He points to your shoulder. “You know that strap is slipping?” You look down, and in the split second that your eyes leave his face, he darts forward to “fix it” - you’ll never really know whether it actually needed fixing. You take a step backwards, shaken out of your thoughts, caught off guard by the sudden movement. In your surprise, you nearly trip - and he catches you by the waist. The most humiliating thing is how he has to lean down to murmur in your ear, smirking all the while.

“Sorry. Didn’t realize I was gonna sweep you off your feet.” He loosens his grip - giving you an out, perhaps - but you don’t pull away. He’s never touched you like this before, never been quite so blatant, and despite the setting, you can’t help but enjoy the attention. Even as you’re embarrassed by it. Maybe that’s the real humiliation - the fact that you can’t get yourself to resist him, as much as you might want to. As much as you really should.

He’s encouraged by your reaction, and presses on: “I’m just lookin’ out for you. Did you even read the dress code?”

“It’s a dress,” you protest, already feeling the warmth spreading over your face. He’s so infuriating. And obnoxiously pretty. His eyes are even more beautiful when brought out by the blue of his suit, his body even more distracting when it’s inches away from you. He even smells good. It’s beyond irritating. “Dresses are formal. Therefore - I’m dressed formally. It’s not like I had a ton of options in my closet. I wasn’t gonna go out and buy something new -“

“Sure.” You know you sound flustered, and he clearly thinks it’s adorable. It always seems to happen so easily. And he wants more of it. He tightens his hold on your waist and drags his hand up the outside of your thigh, all the way up to the bottom of your dress, eyes flashing mischievously as you squirm at his touch. “Didn’t realize formal could be so sexy.”

You can’t respond to that - it’s far, far too dangerous. Instead, you glance around the room, suddenly very aware of the people around you - a lot of them are doing more than glancing as they pass by. “You’re making people stare.”

“Me? Pretty sure it’s you doing that.” One finger slips under the hemline of your skirt, his nail scratching slightly against your skin. He presses his lips to your ear, his voice barely a whisper. “You wearin’ anything under here?”

Your face is burning now, and you’re sure he can tell. “Yes.”

“Yeah? Cuz I don’t feel anything.”

“No shorts…just…” You realize what you’re telling him, and force yourself to shut up. “Fuck you.”

“If you insist.”

“Clever.” You’re torn. Half of you wants to slap him. The other half…well. You’ve been holding back the other half for a very long time. And you’re getting tired of it.

“Aren’t I?” There’s that grin again - the one that’s been flashing through your mind more than you’d like to admit in the past few weeks. “You should’ve come out with me tonight. This behavior would draw a lot less attention where I wanted to go.”

“If you’re concerned about that, you could just…” You squirm. “Y’know. Let go of me.”

“But do you really want me to?”

This is your last chance. You could say yes. Probably should. But it would be a complete and utter lie. And those eyes…they make all of your worries so easy to forget.

“Mhmm. That’s what I thought.” His hand brushes over your jaw, tilting your face, insisting that you meet his gaze. “I’m not concerned. About them, or about…anything else.” In that moment, you feel like his eyes are piercing you. He understands perfectly. He’s read your mind. “You’re gonna be just fine. And if you’re still not sure of that…that just means I need to try harder to convince you.”

You look up at him, anticipating his next move even as you ask: “What does that mean?”

“Well…”

He leans in.

Oh god.

He leans in and kisses you.

And your mind goes blank.

You kiss him back, and pay no mind as his hand slides under the skirt of your dress.

Okay. Maybe not no mind. But you certainly don’t mind. Not even a little.

Your eyes flutter closed, blocking out your surroundings. People are definitely staring, but in the moment, you suddenly can’t bring yourself to care. You’ll worry about everything else in the morning. For now…

He pulls back, hands still locked around your waist, your upper thigh, a palpably hungry look in his eyes. “You still mad at me for showin’ up?”

One more chance to walk away – but he knows you won’t. Your answer is obvious, but you spell it out anyways. He wants to hear you say it. “No. I’m glad you did.”

“Mhm. And…” He nips at your ear, his fingernails digging into your leg, the smirk broadening on his face. ‘’You wanna come with me when I leave?”

You quickly nod, breathless. “Yes.”

“Good. Because I wasn’t planning on sticking around here for long.” He sighs dramatically, breathing deeply into your hair. “And I would hate to leave you all alone.”

Again – ridiculous. Infuriating. And…impossible to turn down. It’s all you can do to stay upright, and follow him to the door, his hand laced tightly between your fingers, arm still wrapped around your waist. You forget about your coat, too – it’s still in the backroom somewhere. Maybe you’ll make him go get it for you in the morning. But you don’t want to think about the morning just yet.

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo

[jillianrose305]

yandere obey me

sorry I've been gone for so long let me know if you want a part 2

Ok so this is what I assume who is most likley to be a yandere in obey me shall we date . Top 5 first

1.Mammon.

I know leviathan was supposed to be a yandere but belphagor ended up getting that troupe + that jealousy episode he had.but imagine how easy it would be for him. He's your first . Your his. little d No.2 is in on this which is why he says you and mammon would make a cute couple and asks if yall are dating . All he has to do is complain about feeling unwanted by his brothers and all your attention is back on him just how he wants it. He's greedy for you and your attention and he's the second most powerful but I think its because he doesn't try . He can influence luck we know that so anytime you hang out with his brothers suddenly nothing goes well for you or they have short tempers oh how that must make you feel unwanted but don't worry he's always here for you waiting for you to run back into his arms.

2.barbatos

What you don't think the demon of time would be a yandere? You best believe this boy is making sure everything goes according to plan. Since the moment he sall you he needed to know more thats why on his pocket watch he uses his magic so its a small portal to always see what your doing. He doesn't want to get his hands to messy so he simply turns the clock insanely fast forward on the person lifespan who tried to take you he enjoys watching them panic as they get older and more week its his favriote. Sometimes he goes back in time to watch his favriote moments of you. Since he's basically diavolos actual right hand man he can get away with alot. So don't expect it to be to hard for him to keep you.

3. Leviathan

Ah yes the Avatar of envy he gets so jealous when you give anyone else your attention is he not good enough for you. I think we all Remember the line that went somethng like 'Sometimes i think about forcing you to play a game your bad at and only letting you leave my room once you've completed every aspect of it' I can't remember quite exactly though. He's the Admiral of Hells Navy if you even tried to underestimate him he would quickly show you how wrong you are. Him and Henry 2.0 are the only company you need. I also think he has a body pillow of mc hidden somewhere in his room.

4. Belphagor

Ah yes on of our cannon-ish yanderes of obey me. You know he didn't get much time to spend with you as the others. He just loves you so much. Why can't you understand that? He will use his powers to enchant you to find your way up to the attic just like he did so long ago. But this time he's not making the foolish mistake of letting you leave. He will use his youngest sibling privilege to keep you there. He's gotten good at manipulating you in what ever way works best. Don't you want to cuddle with him and wear matching pajamas? C'mon he can't rest without you in his Arms. You aren't gonna take away sleep from the Avatar of Sloth are you?

5.Diavolo

Future king of the Devildom. What can I say he has always wanted to take you from the brothers and keep you for himself plus we know he will probably need someone to rule along side him. You don't want to take that from him do you? Oh well he will just have to make you marry him. You'll learn to love him as much as you once loved this exchange program. He rules this land he will make sure you are always being watched he can't risk you running off or falling in love with someone else now. No bother though if someone so much as thinks about acting on their crush on you they are being publicly executed for all to see. He keeps there blood in vials in his desk. he won't stop you from having a fan club ad long as he's president of it,he can't stop people from loving you just as long as they don't act on it he will let them live for now.

#obey me #obeymeswd #obey me scenarios #yandere obey me #obey me x reader #yandere x reader

[strawbs-screaming]

the boxers coaching little mac

Ok, theoratically, if doc were to not be here he would need to be coached by someone else and uhh i forgot, this was very fun to do actually (this turned into a "what if Mac had the boxers as a father/brother figure")

Glass Joe

- has hope in Mac But is also very concerned about everything else, his school life, his health, where the hell his family is.. all that useless shmuck

- has to cover his eyes when Mac gets hit from concern but then acts like nothing happened, he totally doesnt care about this child who he sees as a son and would fight a crocodile for

- his advice is semi-useful but he cant speak in a motivating manner to save his life

- "When i was little, i got my ass kicked all the time, Mac, But with more time and work, i only get my ass kicked sometimes now"

- "was that supposed to be helpful or make me feel concerned about my future"

- outside of the ring, people mostly confuse Joe as a babysitter

- when Mac loses, Joe takes him to get some food to cheer him up, he cant speak in a motivating manner but damn he can comfort a man

- cheers like he saw his least favorite celebrity get cancelled when Mac gets a strong hit

Von Kaiser

- very stern & a bit cold with him and doesnt show affection since he thinks it would "distract him" (he doesnt know how to show affection) but will go out of his way for him

- very strict training schedule with him, if he wants to skip a day he'll ask mac if everything is alright (wow Kaiser's on some school counciler shit)

- to help him after losses, he usually gives Mac some headphones and gives him some space to calm down

- Really good at motivational speaking but terrible at comforting, completely clueless on what to do

- people always assume that Kaiser sees Mac only during training due to how cold he comes off to Mac

Disco Kid

- pretty loose with training, if they do training together he'll turn on some music and cheer him on, doesnt really mind if he wants to train alone or not

- wonderful motivational speaker, also good at comforting too

- people keep confusing them for adopted brothers

- to comfort him after losses, he'll give him a pep talk and it works 70% the time, the last 30% is him just crying harder

King Hippo

- overly concerned for him, if he doesnt want to train he'll just assume the worst and ask if he wants to talk, if he gets hit a little too hard he gasps like your grandma finding out you got a piercing and gets worried for him no matter how much he says its ok

- cant really motivate him well so he justs does a war cry and it works really well, they just communicate in movements & weird sounds sometimes, no better advice than "WHAGGHHHH"

- takes Mac out to get some comfort food to cheer him up after losses

- cooks for Mac to make sure he gets his proteins & eats his veggies, when he found out Mac had some troubles with getting enough nutrition he got to making him some food instantly

- Mac actually knows some basic hippo language from him

- people actually see Hippo as his brother, less like a trainer

Piston Hondo

-cold but tries to show affection since he doesnt wanna come off as too emotionless

- good motivational speaker, horrid comforter

- strict training schedule but a lot of meditation sessions & reading times as well, helping Mac with his education since he doesnt have much time to go to school

- gets some tea with Mac to help him calm down after losses

Bear Hugger

- good at giving advice along with comforting & motivation, the holy trio is complete with him

- they dont train much together, he mostly has ms bear train with him & watches over them to make sure no one gets too hasty

- goes fishing & gathering with Mac sometimes and lets him take out some energy he couldnt take out during matches & training

- goes walking in nature with Mac after losses and lets him punch a few trees

- most of his advice is just "PUNCH EM İN THE EYE!!"

Great Tiger

- training with Mac & teaching him some magic along the side, showing great care for his education since hes pretty concerned how hes gonna do math when he needs to

- uses his clones to demonstrate how to do moves since Mac is a visual learner, including movements, down to how he moves his arm and everything

- doesnt know how to comfort him so he just goes "There there" as hes in pieces

Don Flamenco

- giving Mac life advice knowing damn well his own is in shambles

- starts a crowd chant for Mac to cheer him on during rough matches

- gives him pep talks when he loses matches and chants for him

-not really a brother or a father figure, more like a uncle figure??

Aran Ryan

- making up the most devious cheating strategies specialized for Mac, at first Mac was kinda taken aback but after chugging 25 redbulls and a powerpoint presentation, aran convinced him

- "ok so we're putting needles covered in peanut butter in your gloves since the bastards allergic to nuts, we'll just throw jars of peanut butter at him if that doesnt work"

- "ok??"

- says some truly dumb shit to confuse Mac when hes sad and make him focus less on his loss when matches go bad

- "ya crying?"

- "yeah"

- "i thought your eyes were sweating"

Soda Popinski

- keeps him away from his soda (or does his best since macs a sneaky little boy) he has no clue why Mac is getting stronger and stronger this quickly and just assumes its him eating his veggies

- horrible at giving advice, down to the shitter with it

- "punch him!!"

- "what do you think ive been doing all this time"

- "punch him harder!!"

- horrible at comforting Mac after losses so he just offers him up some books he has lying around or offers to watch a movie with him

Bald Bull

- riles Mac up by going nuts for him in the corner, it helps him win matches, also totally unrelated: mac needs to get anger management

- "GO GET HIM!! BEAT HIM SO HARD HE CHANGES LANGUAGES!!"

- "yeah!!"

- cooks for mac since he doesnt get enough proteins, it started with him saying "dont expect this very often" But after seeing Mac live off pasta he took that statement back very quickly

- first time Mac called him dad he teared up on the spot

Super Macho Man

- both of them train on seperate times so the most he does is make sure he trains for the day

- bad at comforting and celebrating so he just takes him shopping, he won? Shopping, he lost? Shopping

- pretends to not care about him but would iron someones face if they spoke shit about him, thats HIS little punchy boy youre dissing

Mr Sandman

- comes off as cold but cares a lot deep down, he just doesnt know what to say to help him

- gives really detailed advice to mac that always works somehow

- "if you punch him on the forehead while he tries to jab you he'll fall to the ground and struggle for a while and not be able to recover, he'll also get up very slowly if he can since he has iron deficiency"

- "how do you know he has iron deficiency?? Are you his doctor or something??"

- gives some pep talks to him after tough matches, regardless if he won or not

#punch out #headcanon #punch out wii #punch out headcanons #bald bull #don flamenco #piston hondo #aran ryan #glass joe #great tiger #On a unrelated note: none of my p.e teachers in my life have played imagine dragons during class. not even once and im so thankful for that #<- i hope i dont jinx it

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

wip wednesday sketch dump

tagged by: @ivymarquis @josephseedismyfather @cassietrn @direwombat @finding-comfort-in-rain @cloudofbutterflies92 @kyber-infinitygems @josephslittledeputy (and likely others, I have been very absent as of late...sorry)

okay, so uh clearly the art won for that poll (heh, always knew the cod fic was just for me... anyhoo) here's the sketchy sketches for oc kiss week. They are very, VERY rough still so please forgive

I won't run with the usual tag list but if you see this feel free to consider yourself tagged

(Top: Kit and @dickytwister oc Elliot Fletcher, Kit and @statichvm oc Katherine O'Neill Middle: Rory and @statichvm oc Lily Watt, Rory and @direwombat oc Saoirse Monaghan Bottom: Kit and @theelderhazelnut oc Ombra, Kit and @florbelles oc Lyra Fairbanks)

*I still have a few more sketches to get done, so if you were in my replies asking for some art, its on the way*

going to tag @strangefable @isobel-thorm and @direwombat for the cod stuff since y'all were kind enough to indulge me in a little scene I wrote for chapter 11 (even if I'm still supposed to be working on chapter 9 lol)

“You were jealous, weren't you?”

“Of course I was bloody jealous, Rory. Look at you, can you really blame me? I've been with my fair share of women, but Jesus, none of them can hold a match to you, my girl.”

“Your girl?”

“Listen, I've been trying my damnedest to keep my composure here. You think I went into this expecting to have this happen with my subordinate? It's rule number one and I'm here breaking it for you.” He sighed. “I had to listen to you in my fuckin’ ear, Rory. It was a goddamn nightmare.”

“And so what, you want to have that be the foundation for a relationship? The fact that I nearly died and you had to pull me out of there? That’s the foot you want to start on? It’s like I said last night, this is a dangerous game to be playing and I am not worth the trouble. I’m not worth your career.”

“And why’s that, eh?”

“I’m a fucking mess, that’s why. I’ve got nightmares, anxiety attacks, tremors, flashbacks. I’m in no place to start anything with anyone. And certainly not with someone who’s life could be upended because of me.”

“I don’t care.” He shrugged and gave a slight thrust of his pelvis as he crossed his arms over his chest. Obstinate, pigheaded right to the bitter end, refusing to back down from anything. This was Captain John Price type behavior through and through. 

“What do you mean ‘you don’t care’?”

“You think all that’s gonna keep me away from you?”

“Well it should.”

“Why?” He lowered his head, looking up at her through his brow. Constantly challenging her. 

“Trust me, after several nights of no sleep from me waking up with nightmares, you’ll understand.”

His eyes narrowed for a brief moment, the crows feet by his eyes creasing. “Someone else left you ‘cause o’that?”

Rory grimaced and bit down on her molars. Her eyes fell to the floor as she turned her head away from him. She didn’t have to say anything, her body language gave it all away.

Price’s face darkened at her reaction. If it was up to him he’d hunt down whoever it was and teach them a lesson, but that isn’t what she would want to hear.  “Christ, don’t tell me someone actually did that?”

“Of course someone did that, John. Most people who see that side of me either think of me like I’m holding on by a goddamn thread or I'm just another broken soldier. And if it's not that, it's the whole horde of other shit in my head.” She rubbed at her brow. “People don’t want to fall in love with someone like me. It’s too hard to do.”

“Well, lucky for you I’m a bit of a stubborn bastard. I’m willin’ to put in the hard work. I can be goddamn relentless when need be.”

Rory scoffed, “I’d expect nothing less from you.”

He gave her a little crooked grin and stepped forward, cupping her face in his large hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks softly. “I’m only gonna tell you this once, darlin’.” He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t care about how much trouble you might be, you hear me? I have to have you, Rory. I need you to be mine, yeah? Simple as.”

It was her turn to ask the question. “Why?”

“Because if there’s anyone who’s going to understand what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, it's me. I wanna protect you. I wanna make sure somethin’ like this never happens again. I can’t even take the thought of you bein’ with someone else besides me.”

“I’m not willing to take the risk.”

He nodded his head slightly. “Well, I’m patient. Persistent. I can wait as long as I have to.”

“Fucking hell. You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not after what I saw last night.”

#wip wednesday #wip art #oc kiss week wips #i'm sorry they all look so rough still #the lyra and kit one is def the closest to being done #just needs finishing touches and blending and stuff #skelly writes #fic: all along the watchtower #oc: kit cross #oc: rory sinclair

[iznsfw]

hi, can u write a wonyoung x male reader fluff?

Even Princesses Cry Sometimes

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male/Female Reader Fluff

2,123 words

Categories | short, slightly angsty, idol!Wonyoung, caring!reader, tears and cuddles

Very short and late, but who cares?

Maybe I'll catch up with Yujin and Yuri some of these days.

It’s always another day, another front she’s putting up. Another disguise. Of course, only you know about the partial artificiality of it all. When she tries to put on a brave face throughout her schedules, or tells a particularly rude fan to take care of themself despite their scathing words, part of your heart just aches with the knowledge. Like you, she’s still so young - no eighteen-year-old has to bear with the pressure of the world burdening their shoulders like rocks. 

No eighteen-year-old has gone through as much as Jang Wonyoung has. You want to make it easier for her, but she almost never lets you. She’s built such a great wall around herself that even you, her partner, can’t break through. Even if you summoned all the might into your fists and beat around its bricks, it would take long before you can even make a hole.

For the wall to be broken, the one who built it must reach out.

Gaze at the television and wonder when that will happen. It’s rarer than anything. But there she stands, gorgeous as always. Her dark hair flows in the night, and the blue dress that drapes around her form makes her look like a princess. With the colors and her makeup, she can easily pass as a Korean Cinderella. No, she can’t be Cinderella - Wonyoung never needs someone to save her. She was never a damsel in distress, which is why she’s expressed her dislike for the tale so many times:

(“It’s so… fucking odd, jagi-ya,” laughed Wonyoung, over a pack of potato salted-egg chips, while she lounged with you on the sofa. The TV was on, the classical Cinderella was playing, and Wonyoung was… well, unimpressed. She ran through her locks of messy curled hair and added, “I understand the situation. I really do—”

“You don’t,” you interrupted truthfully, but not without a smile. Oh, never without a smile; Wonyoung is your happy pill, no matter what she says.

Wonyoung laughed loudly, pushing you in the chest hard. Laughter overtook her tiny frame. “Fine, fine!” she admitted. “I don’t, but see here… this is fucking ridiculous. It’s just- ugh!” She rolled her eyes and gave you an exasperated look. “But you get me, don’t you? You get what I mean?”

There was a hint of fear in those beautiful eyes of hers. Something told you that the question was born not out of frustration, but was instead from caution nested in the swindle of circumstance the universe had blown her to. Was Wonyoung afraid she would offend you? Had the headlines and tabloid articles created a phobia she’d never dare tell anyone - not even you?

But then your lips found her forehead creased with lines of worry, and you felt them relax beneath the touch of your love. Wonyoung settled into your arms as if she were your little songbird, and you were the only nest she found that would not break.

 “I do, hon,” you told her. “I do.”)

Fine, you’d settle for her being no one because not one princess out there can match Wonyoung in everything she does. She’s the perfect girl, the perfect idol. She’s pretty, talented, and charismatic enough to attract all of her success by herself. No girl her age is at the point of success she has at her fingertips. But it’s something that can easily be snatched from her with just the wrong move. Everyday is a challenge for her; too much smiling equals to her being too flirtatious, but little smiling and winks mean that she’s too reserved and self-centered to take notice of the people around her. In everything she does, begrudged people find a way to twist it around into a bad light. 

You admire how resilient she is. Much to the shock of her admirers and fanatics, it isn’t exactly ideal to live a life being so closely watched. Not even with all the wealth she possesses. The way she has learned to cope with it independently teaches you more life lessons than any seminar could. But you want to remind her sometimes that she doesn’t have to be strong all the time with you. You can take her falls. You have each other, don’t you? Isn’t that what partners are for?

The fall of the princess is televised, put out there for everyone to pick apart and make fun of. Worst of all, you aren't able to catch her.

-

Wonyoung is happy to find out that her group, the monster rookie idol band IVE, won a lot of medals and marked new milestones. But now tears slip down her beautiful face. The camera focuses on her. It loves her, craves her - every bit of Jang Wonyoung is too pretty to not be captured and immortalized; of course it does. She sees it and tries to stop, but the fat drops of grief - grief for what could have been, what should have been; grief for her young self who wasn’t and isn’t able to enjoy the last few years of her childhood - continue to pour down like rain. 

As the colorful confetti falls from the roof of the grand stadium, she falls, too, and the members start to take notice. Yujin leans over to ask if she needs a tissue, and Jiwon rubs a comforting hand on her back. But none quench the need for a hug she has buried deep inside her heart. She needs someone beyond her friends slash co-workers. She needs you.

Wonyoung looks around. There are only crowds and crowds of noisy fans and cameras flashing. But her observant eyes scrutinize every corner in the large room for any sign of you. There’s still hope in her heart that you’ll come dashing into the show to help her. Sort of like a knight in shining armor in a children’s fairy tale. 

Jagi-ya? Where are you? I need you right now, please. You can’t leave me here.

Then she remembers: her life may be glamorous, but it isn’t a fairytale. She’s only one girl, in a massive crowd of people she doesn’t know, trying to make it through the night. Her thoughts are making it more than difficult though. They consist of the pain she went through to get here: those dark nights where she practiced till her legs felt like they were going to snap, the harsh scolding she received from teachers, days when her schedules were so packed that she didn’t even have the time to eat or even breathe…

Wonyoung’s makeup is stained with her own sadness. She’s gorgeous - that’s an indisputable fact, she’s talented, she’s young and successful. But what are the hardships she had to bear and all its blooming fruits worth if she doesn’t have you?

She’s torn up from the inside. She needs you now, more than anything, yet you are nowhere to be found. But it isn’t your fault. She’s been too reserved and private after all, dealing with her matters and affairs by herself. It’s only natural that you would think that she can handle her tears. Compared to everything she has to handle, tears are merely a little thing. You’re already used to the idea of her being self-reliant, so why would you show up now?

Her phone buzzes all of a sudden. One click at the side of the costly phone case, she’s able to see your messages.

You | 11:47 PM | Hey, princess?

You want to take the night off a little early? Watch some clueless? :) 

-

And she thought you’d never come. 

Wonyoung crashes between your rounded arms. This time, you don’t worry about messing up her hair, which must have taken hours to curl. You don’t hold yourself back from taking her in your arms, although the stylists warned her not to ruin the pretty blue dress. No, you bury your face into her neck, kissing it over and over. You’re happy to see her; only meeting her less these past few weeks has made you lonelier than you’d like to admit. And you know that she’s happy too; her tearful, beautiful eyes sparkle when she gazes up at you. But you also know that, although she would rather die than admit it, she’s been missing the comfort of someone caring for her.

She’s a princess, and you’re her knight in shining armor. Wonyoung rarely needs you, much less a knight to come save her. But she appreciates your love. She’ll hide it behind blushes and playful circles of her eyes, but she loves you. It comforts her that you do, too.

People are staring. The cameras start flashing. The same fear gathers up in Wonyoung’s heart again, but this time, she shoves it aside. She’s not going to hide her love for you anymore. She won’t let anyone get in her way.

The wall has finally broken and deteriorated. 

Wonyoung seizes your face in between her slim hands, and kisses you deeply. It surprises you; her full lips are extremely soft, brushing over your pink ones and locking them with hers. Her eyes close, but your eyelids remain parted. This time, you’re the one scared. You aren’t scared of your own reputation, but for Wonyoung. What will the media do when they find out she has a partner already? Oh, how they’d villainize her! How they’d paint her into a promiscuous, indifferent queen bee!

“W-Wonyoung,” you stammer, when she finally stops. “The, the media—”

“Darling, please. I don’t care anymore. I just want you.”

Her words feed into a phone-installed recorder nearby. The woman holding it looks horrified, but Wonyoung simply gives her a coy wink. You smile; that’s the Jang Wonyoung you know.

You smile sincerely. Brush the tears from her face with your thumb, and realize just how much you love Wonyoung. It’s like destiny tied your threads together from the beginning. You were just a fan of her back in Produce 48 because you love how brave she was to put herself out there, despite being your age only. Hell, you couldn’t do that. When she met you at  a fanmeeting and discreetly passed you her number, you were on top of the world. It was straight out of a fanfiction.

But all fanfictions end. That can’t be said about you and her. You’re best friends, lovers, and frenemies all at once. Your relationship is built around deep friendship, and that’s why you’re certain that the love you share with Wonyoung will go on forever. 

“That’s my girl,” you whisper, kissing her forehead. It’s only you and her in this stadium. All the others are faceless ghosts, nothing to worry about. “Movie night?”

Wonyoung smiles giddily. “You bet!”

-

For the first time in years, Wonyoung completely cuddles up in your lap. Thank your parents for having tall genes; if you were any shorter than Wonyoung, you would be the one seated in her lap. It would be the other way around. 

You still keep CDs, so you’re able to watch Clueless with her on the television. She’s raptly watching the iconic chick flick, mimicking the main character with “As if!”s and laughing afterwards. But you’re more interested in her rather than the film itself. Wonyoung is the prettiest when she’s happy. The companies love her trendy poses when she shoots magazine covers or photos, but her most charming self is this:

Half-moon eyes, mouth stretched into a giggly grin, and her hand becoming the resting place of her cheek as she laughs over and over at the comedic timings of the movie. Her brown hair in its uncurled natural state resting at her shoulders, which are not trapped in one of the stage outfits anymore, but rather a big, gray sweatshirt that was once yours. You want it back, but she looks better in it than you do, so you speak nothing about it.

Wonyoung falls asleep just when Clueless is about to reach its conclusive end. With strong, trained arms, you carry her over to your shared bed and tuck her to bed. She stirs a little, but she doesn’t open her eyes. She only smiles, knowing you have her back now, and beckons you under the sheets.

Slide under the comforter and wrap a protective arm around her. Moments like these make you happily remember that Jang Wonyoung isn’t merely just an idol, but your girlfriend. Your little spoon. Your baby rabbit. At the same time, you match all her curved puzzle pieces, and act the role of being her partner, big spoon, and a caring person who won’t let any hunter find her. 

You’re made for each other. And as you snuggle closer to Wonyoung, your puzzle pieces connect. You promise, silently, to never let go.

#kpop fluff #kpop #k-pop #fluff #ive #ive fluff #jang wonyoung #jang wonyoung fluff #wonyoung #wonyoung fluff #male reader #reader insert #request #kpop fic #kpop fanfiction #izone fluff #ive wonyoung #ive wonyoung fluff #izone wonyoung fluff #female reader #x reader #gender neutral reader #iz days of christmas #iz days of christmas day 12

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth (19)

(c!technoblade x fem!reader) (?who knows at this point..)

(*SCREAMING UNTIL MY VOICE IS GONE* hahahaha i'm finally done with this devil forsaken chapter! I literally cannot articulate HOW hard this chapter was, for who knows what reason! I don't know why but this chapter was a struggle. like some trial a fucking greek god would give me to make me stronger or whatever. but.. I did it finally. PLEASE reblog and comment so I can feel like the pain I went through was worth it y'all 😭🥺👉👈)

—————

Bored.

That’s been his general state of things for about.. I don’t know, maybe 5 months? At least since he’d finished taking part in that last pvp tournament on the championship battle server. But the battle season has finished and he’s not found anything new to hold his attention. 

And Phil was busy working on a new build that's taken up his attention. And Techno would help but he knows Phil wants to do it himself, the man is so picky about his builds so Techno just leaves him be. Usually by now someone would have got in contact to hire him for his war faring services. Some kingdom or warring faction, looking for someone well versed in battle and strategy to help them turn the tides. But-

A yellow feather fluttering into his field of vision followed by the sound of flapping wings made the red eyed hybrid look up to see an incoming parrot holding a rolled up letter tied to its leg.

“Well, speak of the devil or whatever,” Techno said in his usual monotone drawl as the parrot landed on his shoulder.

It held its leg out and he took the offered scroll before reaching into his inventory to grab some seeds to feed it. Then once it was happily munching away he unrolled the letter, wondering which server it could be from. Probably some new upstart one inhabited by a bunch of idiots with conflicting opinions who don’t realize they can just go separate directions and end it. That was usually how it went. People were all the same. They find out their opinions don’t match up, they bicker over it, they fight, someone invariably gets killed, they wage war, and then rinse and repeat. 

But as he read the letter he realized it wasn’t from just anybody. It was from Wilbur, Philza’s kid. Jeez, he hasn’t seen him in what feels like one hundred years. 

Huh, when was the last time he’d seen the bespectacled boy? He actually can’t recall. He thinks back, far back, scouring his memory for instances with Wilbur. He remembers his round glasses, his warm yellow sweater, and his love for anything music. Techno recalls how Wilbur had always detested battle, fighting, anything like that. Hell, he hadn’t even liked wearing armor, even when it was for his own good. Which Techno thought was both foolish and endearing. He himself was always suited to battle, falling into it like how a bird takes to the skies. But he’d always seen Wilbur as so far removed from being suitable for violence. 

All the younger man had ever said he wanted to do was sing, play music, and write. He truly had the heart of a poet, that was for sure. Getting him to learn some basic defense so he could travel to the nearby villages on his own without being a sitting duck had been similar to pulling teeth for Philza, his son always treating the lessons like a chore. But he and Phil had managed to teach him enough self defense so he could be safe out on his own, at least from the mobs. And once that was handled then Philza didn’t feel so worried leaving his boy home alone, meaning he and Techno could go traveling again.

And Wilbur hadn’t been bothered by this either, seeming to enjoy having some time to himself when his father and Techno were out. They always came home to Wilbur playing his guitar either outside in the yard, enjoying the sun, or inside by the fire to stay cozy. He’d been perfectly content. 

And then one day they came home and Wilbur hadn’t been alone like he’d always been before. He’d had some kid with him, a little boy who actually bore a strong resemblance to Philza, what with his blond hair and blue eyes. That had been more than a shock, he’ll admit. Walking in and seeing Wilbur with some random kid they’d never seen before, just sitting on the floor in front of the couch like it was no big deal.

Yeah, that had been Tommy, and according to Wilbur he’d found him eating out of the trash in the village so he’d brought him home. Of course. When Philza asked where Tommy’s parents were, the kid had wrinkled his nose and said they were probably at home. That had turned into them grilling the kid, trying to figure out where their house was so Wilbur could return him. 

But Tommy had kicked up a huge fuss, shouting about how he left on his own and he was never going back. From how he’d described it, his parents hadn’t been the best. Not even close actually, they’d sounded like shit to be honest. I mean if your toddler is willing to up and leave with zero intention of going back to you, like 100% willing to eat out of the trash instead of staying with you then yeah you’re probably a shit tier parent.

Wilbur had begged Philza to let Tommy stay with them. He had nowhere else to go and leaving him out on the street seemed messed up and he was so little, it’s not like he’d take up much space anyways. Yeah, Wilbur admitted the kid kinda ate a lot but no more than he guessed all kids ate… But they had a huge garden and some cows so it wasn’t a huge deal, right? 

Techno had been against it, they’d JUST started getting back to traveling again since Wilbur was old enough and capable enough to look after himself now. He’d argued that they didn’t need another little gremlin running around touching their stuff. He’d been eyeing the little blond boy as he stared openly at Techno’s own enchanted sword that was strapped to his belt. He’d tucked it into his inventory to keep it away from the kid and his no doubt grimy little fingers. 

But Philza had always been such a sap when it came to Wilbur and his ‘sad boy eyes’. So he’d ended up folding like a house of cards pretty quick, though he’d warned Wilbur that the kid, Tommy, was his responsibility. Philza wasn’t going to start looking after him when he’d not had any hand in taking him in. So Tommy’s well being was now solely in Wilbur’s hands. 

Phil had actually been really serious at that part, asking Wilbur if he knew what he was getting into? Because Phil knew how hard it was to care for a child, it was exhausting and sometimes thankless, and you can’t just stop whenever you want because someone defenseless now relies on you.

Wilbur hadn’t been dissuaded though, and pulled the shorter boy close in a half hug, saying he’d be the best big brother ever! Nevermind the child had started gnawing on the arm Wilbur had around him.. Techno couldn’t help but roll his eyes back then and even now as he remembered that promise. But Wilbur seemed happy at least, and neither Phil nor Techno would have to take care of the kid so it hadn’t been so bad. And later when they were alone Phil shared that he was actually glad that Wilbur wouldn’t be alone at home anymore. He’d felt bad leaving his boy all alone, even though he could defend himself. 

Techno assured him that Wilbur was a big boy now, practically an adult himself. So he didn’t need Phil worrying about him so much. Phil had laughed and said that was true but he couldn’t stop worrying, it was a parent thing. You never truly stop worrying about your kid. Techno figured that made sense but still told Phil that that was one of the reasons why he wasn’t having kids, too much stress. Techno’s a busy guy, he can’t be losing sleep over some helpless nerds. That had gotten Phil to laugh, which had been Techno’s goal. So, goal accomplished. 

Things had been good after that. At least that’s how Techno remembered them to be. Him and Phil would travel and explore to their heart’s content, coming back to the house every now and again to take a break and check up on the brunet and blond. The kid grew like a weed, looking taller and taller with each visit. Him and Wilbur growing closer in height as well as their bond, soon acting like true brothers. 

Wilbur had been so happy, and Techno remembers the last time he’d seen him. Him and Phil returned home for another short time between tournaments. They’d walked up to the forest surrounded property they’d called home to see Wil lounging against the porch, guitar in hand with Tommy chasing around a bee, trying to catch it.

They looked so peaceful. And Techno thought that’d never change.

..But reading his letter now made Techno’s stomach sink a bit. 

Wilbur was asking for his help. His professional help.. Looks like he’d joined a server not too long ago and started his own nation; L’manberg. Technoblade couldn’t help but close his eyes in annoyance while pinching the bridge of his nose at hearing that. Nothing good ever came from governments, if he’d said that once he’s said it a million times. To the point where if he were a cartoon character from the 80’s then it’d be his damn catchphrase. But people just keep making and joining governments, even Wilbur it seemed.. 

And from the tone of the letter it looked like Wilbur was in big trouble. 

Techno scrubbed his hand down his face, his snout scrunching as he turned the letter over in his mind a few times before sighing and taking out his ender chest. With some mild annoyance he decided to help Wilbur out with his war. Better than sitting around being bored out of his mind at any rate. So he composed a letter back to the brunet, letting him know his services wouldn’t be cheap just because they knew each other, but he’d gladly help him turn the tides. Once that letter was done he handed it over to the parrot, watching it fly off back to Wilbur.

Then on a whim he decided to compose another letter, this time to Phil, letting him know what his son was up to. But knowing the winged man, he’d probably just find the whole thing amusing. 

“Well.. I better get packed while I wait for Wilbur’s reply,” Techno said before heading back to his house.

-0-

You carried Azo in your arms as the four of you walked back to L’manburg from the nether portal. Internally you were still seething at Wilbur, you knew what he’d done, to a child of all people. You knew Wilbur, deeper and more intimately than he would ever be comfortable with. But you’d held out hope he’d never sink so low as to harm a child.. You’d really clung to the sliver of hope, despite everything you’d seen him do in the lore streams..

But now you knew with a sad certainty how low he was willing to go for what he wanted. And you wanted nothing more than to sink your teeth into his throat and rend his esophagus from its place in his neck before crushing his skull between your palms. Your jaws ached with the fervent desire to cause the vile bastard as much pain physically as he’d caused you and your children mentally and emotionally. 

Though instead of succumbing to those feral desires you instead took a long measured breath in through your nose before letting it out through your mouth, just trying to calm your white hot rage since you needed to focus on the three kids you had with you and not the dead man walking over in fuckin Pogtopia~

You all got to your house and you mentally focused on how too small it was for your family now. Tommy and Tubbo already had their own rooms at your place despite each having their own homes elsewhere. You noticed they usually stayed here at night to sleep, which you were fine with. You preferred it actually, knowing they were safe in bed at night under your roof. But with Azo staying here full time you’d need to make her her own bedroom. 

Planning that out calmed your rage thankfully. Turned the magma level heat into a soft manageable simmer. Looking down at the little piglin in your arms made you feel so much better. Things weren’t perfect, no, but you’re just so glad she’s okay. You almost lost her and the thought makes your heart feel like it was being tugged out of your chest. But she’s okay. Things are okay. 

You remind yourself of this as you carry your baby through the threshold of your, and now her, home. You breathe and stop at the kitchen, telling the three it’s around lunch time and you’d make them some food. Both boys cheered and sat at the table, while you sat Azo on your hip with one arm while using the other to grab some stuff out of the ice box you kept around to hold food for the two teens. 

Azo watched you pull things out with curiosity, not sure what any of them were. Which sent a pang of sadness through you because you know you’ve let her try most of these before but she clearly didn’t remember it. Though you cheered yourself up with the knowledge that she could just try them all over again, rediscover her favorites and least favorites. You still remember the way her little snout had wrinkled up in distaste when she’d first tried a slice of lemon. That had been hilarious and you’d wished you had some way to record it to keep the memory forever, but oh well. 

“Mum, can you make us some of that fruit flower tea?” Tubbo asked from his spot at the table.

You smiled and said sure, and reached into the cabinet for the jar of tea you’d made for them not too long ago. You figured a warm meal and warm tea would be better for Azo right now since introducing her to cold stuff in the Overworld, which was already colder than the Nether, would be too much too soon. You noticed with a frown that she already seemed to be chilly. So while the tea was steeping you went over to the couch and grabbed the wool throw off the back and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders. She snorted happily at the sudden barrier from the chill this new world seemed to have.

“We’re gonna have to get you some new clothes, kiddo. Some that keep you warmer than your current ones do,” You said as you went to put some meat skewers onto the smoker and some potatoes in the furnace to bake.

You hummed and swayed your hips back and forth slowly as you watched the food cook. Then the tea was ready and you took Azo to the table and pulled a couple books from your inventory before sitting them on the chair, then you set her on top of them so she could reach the tabletop. She snuggled into the blanket around her while you went to fix the tea.

After giving each kid a cup you finished up the food and sat with them so they could eat. You idly listened as Tubbo and Tommy both talked to Azo, telling her all about L’manberg and their friends, and how they were going to show her around soon maybe.

You just let yourself zone out, taking comfort in your kids all being safe in one place right now.

-0-

Quackity had thought over what he and Reader had discussed the day they started rebuilding the White House. She said he had to make a decision since Schlatt had basically bailed on L’manberg. And she’d also said he’d deserved better than how Schlatt treated him. He’d honestly not wanted to think about that. Because thinking about her words made him throw his entire relationship into question. Did he deserve better than Schlatt? He wasn’t sure how to answer that. If he did then why did he deserve better? 

He didn’t want to start dumping on Schlatt, because they’d honestly had so many good times together. Great ones. They’d vibed so well while dating, Quackity can’t count how many times the ram had made him laugh his ass off. Just them two hanging out, sharing some drinks, spending nights out on the town in other SMPs, it was some of the best times of Quackity’s life. Even now, thinking about those times brought a smile (and soft flush) to the duck hybrids face. I mean Schlatt was charismatic, funny, and knew how to make his knees feel like jelly. Plus he had a few other good qualities he didn’t want to focus on too much in public..

But his smile faded away as those sweet memories made way for the not so sweet ones. Things had been great, yeah, but only when Schlatt wasn’t in a bad mood. Now that Quackity actually thinks about it there was always the worry of Schlatt’s good mood evaporating looming over their relationship. If he wasn’t happy then his bad mood sucked the good atmosphere right out of the room. It could be suffocating. The first few times it happened he’d try to give the ram hybrid some space, figuring he’d get over it. But that usually led to arguments, Schlatt asking if Quackity planned to leave any time things weren’t going perfect. That’d made him feel like shit, so he’d started doing all he could to keep the good vibes going.

Quackity isn’t sure when he’d gotten used to it but soon things fell into a rhythm of things being super great and awesome followed by something pissing on Schlatt’s good mood, then him being an asshole, Quackity doing everything he could think of to cheer him up, and then everything repeating in that cycle. It could feel exhausting at times but he just supposed that was just how relationships were supposed to be. But after what Reader said.. he was starting to question if that was right or not. He’d been so conflicted that he’d broken down and asked Karl for advice for a ‘friend of his’ who was having relationship issues.

He’d lied and said it was for a girl he was friends with on another server who was having issues with her girlfriend. Karl had listened to his edited version of events and told Quackity his friend was in a not very good relationship and she should break up with her girlfriend before things got even worse. That had just made his stomach sink further but he played it cool and thanked Karl for hearing him out, and he’d talk to his friend later and tell her what he thought she should do. Karl gave him a sweet smile and wrapped his arm around the dark haired male in a side hug before replying,

“Don’t worry, man. That’s what friends are for. Tell your friend if she needs any help leaving then she can come to us, we’ll help her out of there no problem.”

Quackity couldn’t help the smile hearing this gave him and said he’d let her know.

That’d been hours before and he knew he needed to message Reader and tell her where he stood. It wasn’t good to leave things ambiguous with her, not regarding his allegiance to L’manberg.. She’d messaged him earlier that morning, asking if he was doing alright. He hadn’t replied, wanting to talk to someone else about what he was thinking first. But he knew he couldn’t leave her on read for much longer. 

But just as he was getting ready to open his communicator.. it chimed.

He sighed, thinking it was Reader. But when he checked it his throat closed up.

‘Schlatt whispers to you: can we talk?’

Quackity gulped, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat as he read and reread the message at least 7 times. Curses ran through his head as he sat up on his couch, still staring down at the device on his wrist. He tore his eyes away, harshly scrubbing his hand down his face, just trying to calm his racing heart as he tried to focus on one thought at a time. Okay, okay, okay- he needed to relax, just- He jumped when his communicator chimed again. And when he looked back down at it anxiously he paused..

‘Schlatt whispers to you: please babe, come on

‘Schlatt whispers to you: i miss you

The duck hybrid stared down at the screen hard, biting his lip enough to draw a drop of blood as he did. Then with shaky hands he started forming a reply…

—————

@lady-bee-fechin @kacchasu @putridjoy @lunawritesstories @galaxypankitty3030 @paradigmax @zachariethememerie @killmewithafanfic @trinity-1002107 @hufflepuff-demigod @truthdaze @exorcisms-with-elmo @redbloodtea @heythereimhaylz @olyink @jackalopedoodles @nikkineeky @artsimatsu @reverse-iak @corpiet @beepa99 @anxiousnarwhale @bananaaddictmilkshake @realitycanbeajerk @lostandsouciant @thegeekisheere @sparkling-gayyy @woman-soot @xxtwizztedxx @fall3n-vo1d @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @jaciahbabes @lucian-kinnder @deadroses2021 @victory-is-here @where-thesundoesntshine @itsberrydreemurstuff

#LW&AT #Laurel Wreaths & Animal Teeth #LWAT #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #dreamsmp x reader #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #potentially other ships with reader #c!quackity #Reader #Azo #c!tubbo #c!tommy #c!techno #c!wibur

[straighttohellbuddy]

pretty best friends {Dream}

Anon asked: hello!! i saw that requests are open (i think? if not ignore this!!) and i was wondering if u could write a cc!dream x reader where the reader is maybe a faceless streamer as well, or dream just hasn’t seen her face yet for another reason and the first time he does he like… gets all quiet or something and reader thinks it’s bc he thinks theyre ugly and then dream is like “no it’s not that! never that.” djsjsjfroeod i love ur writing tysm!! 😽😽

Summary: Sometimes it's hard to explain what popular, faceless streamers go through to anyone else, so when you find someone whose good, if chaotic, vibes match up with yours, you'll hold onto that friendship tight so long as they feel like the right person to be around. So you're delighted to find that you and Dream operate on the same wavelength. What started as an MCC team up turns into an unshakable bond that you're both hell bent on making everyone else's problem.

Need to Know: They/Them. Popular Faceless Streamer!Reader. Suggestive discussions about CGI characters.

A/N: 3472 words. is this any good? Someone let me know. Can be read as platonic ! 💖 Seriously it's 5am and I'm catching a train in 10 minutes I've been up all night writing is this good???

"Am I nervous about being on Dream's team?" In the few hours before Minecraft Championship began, your nerves had gotten the better of you, so instead of psyching yourself out, you'd gone live early on the training map, "now; no. A few days ago? God, absolutely," you admitted with a warm laugh, "but considering I was acting weird the first time I got to talk to him, and now he's still messaging me to chat, and not just about MCC things, I figure it's on him."

Despite your lack of a camera, your chat could clearly hear how wide you were smiling, already sounding fond despite the relative youth of the friendship you were discussing.

"I was running on not a lot of sleep, and like, I wanna say professional fear," you huffed with faint amusement, "because, like I wasn't starstruck because oh my god its Dream, but more like, I haven't had enough sleep and I'm talking to a man with more followers than there are people living in Australia, you know?"

[Dream: bold of you to assume I am ever well rested either 😂] flashed up in your chat for a moment for everyone to see, and though they couldn't see the surprise on your face, the silence is deafening.

"Shut up, he's here, everyone be cool," you began babbling, "Dream I swear I'm not usually this shit at To Get To The Other Side, I promise," you laughed awkwardly, right before you eat shit on the training map. Then, after a moment, you switch tactics; "also, hey Dream, call me and tell everyone that I'm not lying and we are becoming friends."

It takes a few long moments as you loiter on the training map, looking through comments, many of which were doubtful, before everyone hears the Discord call noise.

"Mods ban everyone who doubted me," you announce triumphantly before you even say hello, and everyone hears Dream's laughter echo across your stream.

"Hello to you too," he chuckles.

"Hi bestie," you play up your closeness, but still he plays along.

"Hey new bestie."

A long moment of silence follows, which you eventually break with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, you didn't need to actually call, I was just being a menace," you admitted sheepishly, starting a new game.

"What are friends for?" Dream responded with easily, and you immediately hit menu and left the server.

"Dude!" You crowed.

"Dude, what?"

"Dude, I was being a menace, you're so nice!" You sound a little muffled, as if covering your face with your hands. Again, Dream laughs, again, it's a kinder sound than you feel like you deserve considering the context.

"We were doing Smash or Pass with the CGI creatures in Spy Kids 2, which I suggested," Dream points out, putting you both on blast in an instant, "and not only were you cool with that, but we both want to smash the Spider-Monkey, so now we're friends. I don't make the rules."

"It's the objectively correct answer," you don't even hesitate before answering, mouth moving faster than your brain, and face still presumably in your hands, "look at that creature and tell me he doesn't; one, sling phenomenal dick, and two, both know and practice aftercare." As you're speaking, if only to provide context for your audience, you tab away from Minecraft to Google image search the Spy Kids 2 Spider-Monkey.

"Yeah, I read your messages, I agree on all fronts; the Spider-Monkey is a service top and would treat us right," Dream added sagely, "but what I'm saying is the fact that we had in depth discussions about our reasoning behind whether we would smash or pass these CGI creatures has forged a friendship that I refuse to back out of."

"That's why you agreed to be my friend?" Your tone was strangely fond at that revelation.

"No, I agreed to be your friend because I posted a Thumb-Thumb from the first movie in our team's chat and you answered 'smash' in all capitals three seconds after I posted it, followed by 'what that thumb do', again, all capitals -"

"I hadn't had a lot of sleep!" You cut in to defend yourself, still sounding vaguely embarrassed.

"I was impressed by your fucking conviction!" He shouts, but the bright affection in his voice keeps him from sounding too aggressive. A few seconds of silence followed, and you tabbed back to Minecraft.

"To those in chat wondering," Dream sounds more than a little amused as he broke the silence, "I hadn't asked Smash or Pass, I literally just posted a picture of the Thumb-Thumb in the group chat; they responded before I had a chance to follow up."

"I don't know what I was thinking," you mumbled, sounding all kinds of bashful.

"I want to study you," you could hear him smirking. It was easy to play up your embarrassment when your chat couldn't see you grinning, "for the record you were really quiet when we first all met in the VC, so it surprised me - in a good way, of course."

"A good way?" You asked dubiously.

"Hey, if it wasn't, I wouldn't have DMed you to follow up, I wouldn't have bothered to watch your stream to try and get to know you better, and I wouldn't have called when you asked," he points out with a strangely kind bluntness to his words. You're once again quietly, ruminating on his words as a warmth blooms in your chest.

"Okay now I am kind of starstruck," you mumble, flustered and fond, "you need me to fight someone for you I definitely will," which gets him to laugh, and begins your long, public history of being a Dream Stan on main.

After your group places 4th in MCC, you anticipate your fast-formed friendship with Dream to fade considerably. You tell yourself you don't mind, that that's what happens; you're friends now, sure, but you shouldn't expect to be especially close.

But he's still just as quick to answer you. He starts conversations. He calls you just because he's had a strange thought he wants to talk through with someone, and you're one of his first choices, so of course you start calling him in similar situations. It doesn't take long for a script to form, even if it's just between the two of you, neither live, even sometimes bleeding into your DMs; Bestie, I've had a thought. / Terrifying, continue.

While you don't interact live often anymore, you speak in private almost daily, and neither of you forgets the joke even when the other isn't around to hear it. Jokes about stanning turn to jokes about simping, made all the more amusing by neither of you knowing what the other even looks like.

While you begin to develop a solid friendship with George and Sapnap along the way, so too does Dream get to know your own housemate, an ASMR YouTuber who is kind but bemused by your burgeoning friendship with one of the biggest names on the platform. Still, she gets along well just as you do with the rest of the Dream Team.

And when your housemate moves out and you're by yourself in the little two-bedroom apartment, they make sure you never feel lonely.

While live interactions were limited, you never hesitated to defend one another, no matter the platform. Mods in your streams quickly learned that if vitriolic Dream-Antis weren't banned before they properly got your attention, you would put them on blast without a shred of mercy.

[the bit is dead. you and dream don't give a shit about each other we know this is for clout. let it go] pops up as a donation that slipped through the cracks, and you, who had been ranking notable Cyberpunk NPCs on a tier list, and had mentioned in an offhand way that you and Dream got into an argument about some of the A-Tier choices, go dead silent.

The mood drops.

"Can you please explain how?" Voice absolutely poisonous and calm, you let your mouse rest idle in the middle of the screen, "mods let them speak; can you bring up this proof that everyone knows about that insinuates that my friendship with Dream is a spiteful bit on my behalf?" And you wait.

[everyone knows. obviously. you guys aren't friends you don't ever talk]

"Obviously," you give a thin-lipped smile that no-one sees as you read a message from Dream himself, asking if you want him to call. You hit call and continue to address the troll, "not that I have anything to prove to you, or anyone," you drawled, feeling rather smug seeing that Dream had picked up, "hey bestie, sorry to interrupt your hot boy shit, but get a load of this clown," you snorted.

"You want me to ban them?" Dream asks with the kind of lazy, smug confidence that was rarely warranted in your shared discussions, but made a pleasant little shiver run down your spine every time you heard it. Chat was screaming.

"That's right, you have mod privileges on my streams, don't you?" Your tone is frankly catty, so full of smug confidence that even without a visual your audience is practically able to picture your smile.

"Yeah, you gave them to me months before we even talked about you joining the SMP -" Dream's own tone shifts as he stops matching your energy to menace you on your own stream. As anticipated, it broke you into disbelieving laughter as you shrieked for a moment.

"You're such a dick!" You laughed brightly, "I've been building up that will-they-wont-they-invite-me bit since MCC!"

"Okay, bye bestie, love you!" Dream announced cheerfully over the top of your dismay before immediately hanging up the call. While you're half-groaning, half-laughing at his sheer audacity, one of your other mods was quick to post that this is how people knew you were actually good friends, and for once your chat was in absolute agreement. At least when they weren't begging you for details on your SMP character and when you might finally join.

"I never said I accepted the invite," you tried to play coy, but it was futile, "he's so lucky he's cute."

Thankfully the overall reception to Dream's brief cameo was positive, and at least for a few days the people claiming you were a clout chaser quietened down. It's a brief reprieve but you're still glad for it.

In some ways you found it easier being faceless online; it's easier to disconnect yourself from a lot of the baseless hate. That being said, you found yourself, like many of your faceless fellow creators, to be a lightning rod for speculation and cruel potential comparisons. And more than anything, people went to horrifying lengths to try and discover your true identity behind the screen.

"Would you ever do a proper face reveal?" You hear yourself asking Dream at an hour that's arguably both too late and too early.

"I mean I want to," he admits, "I want to meet my friends and fans and make IRL content, you know?" Serious conversations were happening more and more often between you two. Maybe it's a sign of closeness, "but still the idea kind of freaks me out, like I'm losing a safety net. I love Sap and George but now that they're out there it's like they've kind of forgotten what it's like, and now my numbers are fucking astronomical, it's..." The way he signs betrays just how exhausted he was by certain aspects of his success.

"I know..." While your numbers may not be even close to Dream's, you've still got a few million subscribers of your own, and know all too well how the pressure aches. Still, you try to lighten the mood, "I'll make you my lock screen."

"What, now?" He laughs with confusion

"After your face reveal I'll make you my lock screen," you tell him with complete sincerity. You're not completely sure what reaction you're hoping for, but silence isn't it.

"Dream?"

"I've had an idea," he muses, sounding suddenly energetic, and you don't even have time to make an intrigued noise before he's continuing, "we should meet up."

"In person?"

"Yeah, you come to me or I'll come to you," enthusiasm is spilling from him, and you hear him begin to frantically type. You, however, are far more hesitant.

"Why? What would be the point?" And at your question, the tapping of the keys goes silent.

"I wanna hang out with you?" He says a little awkwardly, almost like it's a question, "I want to see you in person? You're one of my best friends? I think it'd be funny for two of the biggest faceless streamers to do a meet-up before either of us face reveal? Take your pick," he sounds a little defensive.

"I-" you find yourself touched by the sentiment, overwhelmed at his words, "I know we are friends, and I know it's kind of something we joke about, but I always figured, you know, you had George and Sap and..." you feel your chest swell with pride, "do you really think of me as one of your best friends?"

A long silence follows.

"Do you not?" He asks, sounding a little disappointed, which has you backpedaling almost immediately.

"Of course I do, but I don't -" you hesitate before admitting, "I don't really have any other best friends. I like my housemate but ours is a convenience thing more than anything else."

"You're a different kind of best friend to Sap or George, or you know, even different to Karl or Q," he tells you after a few moments of deliberation, but at least he seems to be in better spirits, "but yeah, I still consider you one of my best friends." The typing on his end of the call has tentatively resumed.

"What kind of different?" You ask gently, and are again met with hesitation.

"There's parts of how I..." He trails off and hums thoughtfully, trying to organise his thoughts, "the way we exist online- no... I mean yes but it's not quite..." Then, carefully, "you know me," and he lets it hang in the silence between you both, and you give him the time to elaborate, heart in your throat, "you know me in a way that's very hard to describe and so much harder to find, because I feel like you know me in the nichest way, you know? Since that random-ass call the day of MCC, I was like, sure about you in a way that I'd never been about another person. Like safe - I mean," and he splutters half sentences again for a few moments, like he hadn't quite meant to admit that last part, but you're glad he did. You knew exactly what feeling he was talking about, the one that burned deep in your chest, that you knew you could never dream to find the words for.

You tell him your address.

He goes quiet.

The typing continues.

"So this is it, I'm coming to visit," suddenly he sounds nervous, and despite feeling that too, you can't help but grin.

"How soon?"

"Two days?"

"Two days!" The way you cheer in confirmation is cathartic for you both; you hear him definitely hit enter to purchase the plane ticket, and he laughs like he can't believe it's really happening. Then, as the laughter dies down, your voice turns quiet and fond, "you make me feel safe too, Dream."

"Stop," he sounds plaintive but still somehow bright, "I already kind of feel like I'm about to cry, I can't believe I get to see you so soon."

"So soon," you echo the affirmation with a smile.

To celebrate you watch and movie together, ending up falling asleep on the call. All you feel when you wake is how giddy you are knowing how soon it would be until you saw your best friend in person, finally!

He insists on taking an Uber from the airport, wants your first time seeing each other to be somewhere your voices have no chance of getting recognised, so by the time you buzz him into your building your practically sick with anticipation. Pacing with your earbuds in, something about hearing the echo of his real voice at your front door just ahead of hearing him in the call, it makes it all feel so real.

"I'm gonna hang up and knock now," his tone is so gentle, like he can tell you're freaking out more than he is right now.

"Okay, love you," you blurt out on tense instinct. He hangs up but you can hear his fond laughter the moment before he starts to knock. He doesn't even get a third knock in before you've wrenched the door open, heartbeat in your ears, absolutely clueless on what to expect -

He's real. He's a real person and he's standing in front of you and your best friend Dream has kind eyes. Around the time you register that this isn't a trick, that he's got wavy hair and he's tall and pale as all fuck, you realise that you're definitely checking him out, which somehow feels weirder when it hits you that he's actually very handsome. He had a place in your heart pretty much since you met him, but this is a welcome surprise.

"Do you wanna come in?" You asked with a little laugh, stepping to the side and gesturing him in. His expression was unreadable as he stepped past you, "it's good to see you," you tried, but once you closed the door and turned around, you couldn't help but feel self conscious.

"Come on man, this is really me, I'd rather you not do a bit, I've been cleaning but I tried to -" you dip your gaze to avoid looking at him, scouring your outfit for any stains you made have noticed, hoping his reaction was to something you could fix -

"This isn't a bit, sorry, I promise," he says in a rush, stepping forward. When you finally look back up, he's smiling at you, hand hovering like he went to touch your cheek but he's not sure he's allowed, "I cannot believe you've been this pretty behind the screen this entire time, this is so unfair, I could have bought a plane ticket months ago."

Slowly, as his words sink in, you feel yourself beginning to grin and grow flustered.

"Okay, this bit I approve of -"

"Who says it's a bit?" He crowed, stepping closer to you, cupping your face with his hand, "look at your face, this isn't a bit, you're hot! Who let you be hot?" And you know that tone, have heard that smile in his words before; the fact that this smile was behind it every time?

"No, shut up, you're not allowed to simp over me, I'm meant to be simping over you; you just finished a plane and uber ride, how are you not a hot mess? Who let you be hot?" And immediately he's turning red, basking in your compliments with a wide grin.

"We're gonna be insufferable on stream, aren't we?"

"Without a doubt," you beam, and finally you pull each other into a tight hug.

After dinner you drag a second chair into what is now your office, making sure the space was set up for you both to be comfortable. Once your computer is booting up, he pulls out his phone and instructs you to make half a heart with your hand in front of the computer. He completes the heart with his own and snaps a photo, your aesthetic set up in the background.

[am I really in @Y/N's apartment IRL for the most convoluted meet up ever or am i very good at photoshop? idk you decide] is how he captions the photo, which you immediately retweet onto your main account with a link to your Twitch.

"I ain't ever seen two pretty best friends!" You quote loudly at your chat to start your stream, immediately causing Dream to laugh, leaning over to press his forehead against your shoulder while you continued on strong, "and neither will you! Welcome to the most confusing and least provable meet up! Special guest Dream, do you wanna say hello?"

"I do," he wheezed, "I'm special guest Dream, coming to you live from Y/N's office, believe it or not!"

"I'm seeing a lot of non believers here," you mumbled with faux disappointment.

"They don't have to believe," Dream points out, far less performative than he'd been a moment ago. When he smiles at you, something eases in your chest. There's no weird tension, or uncomfortable silences, or doubt. Your best friend is by your side; the only thing that matters in this moment is him.

#dream imagine #dream x reader #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dream team imagine #cyltlanp #Spotify #we fell in love in october event

[fastcardotmp3]

I don't read a lot of soulmate aus just because it's not a genre that appeals to me much personally, but I kinda want one where the main love interests are very much not soulmates.

A world where finding your soulmate is actually as rare as it statistically would be, a world where your soulmate probably speaks a different language and lives in a different country and will likely never cross paths with you that makes the whole thing all the more newsworthy when someone actually does find their soulmate.

And what this means is that most romantic relationships? They're not between soulmates, they're just between people who love each other and choose to keep doing the work of loving each other (or don't! because just like in the real world sometimes it just doesn't work out like that)

There are (mostly scam) services to try and take advantage of desperate people who want to find their soulmates; there are people trying to get famous just so there will be more eyes on their [author's choice soulmark] and it might be recognized (and subsequent famous people who always cover up their soulmark to keep people from faking a matching/ complementary one)

There are rom-coms about the ideal soulmate meet-cute and dramas about a relationship split apart when one of them actually meets their soulmate and it's this ingrained part of culture while still being something SO DAMN RARE.

So here's the thing, right, is that Steve and Eddie aren't soulmates.

They're not born to fall in love, they're not meant to be, the universe actually does its level best to drag them away from each other in the form of near-apocalypses and regular old human conflict alike, but even still.

Even still, they see one another at the start of the world all over again, scarred and changed and new; they see each other as they reform themselves from scraps and they hold each other up as they learn to walk away from the wreckage of what they've lost in the process of winning.

And they do what so many have done before them, they choose.

Squabbles and complexities and incompatible natures made to fit with work and effort and a boatload of pure and simple love, even if none of the rest is pure or simple.

Years of it, onwards out of Hawkins and maybe even back again; years of it through further changes and versions of selves, always together in one way or another, even during the hard bits.

They are not meant to be.

They have marks that do not match and it doesn't matter because why chase after something like that when they have this right in front of them.

Because maybe here's the thing, right, is that there's something just as rare as finding your soulmate.

Creating one.

Choosing so much and so often with all the determination at the goddamn root of your person that the mark on your body actually changes to match the choice you've made. The love you have built rather than found.

Because the universe is a fickle thing, she finds the lives of humans short and is fondly exasperated with their impermanence, their altogether restlessness in the face of finding something never promised to them, but she's never claimed to always get it right.

The universe is in charge of a lot of things, but human choice is not one of them, and so when two boys stumble into each other's lives in the face of unspeakable violence and terror and blood, when they stay in each other's lives even after they are no longer fighting in the same war, well.

She's an ever-changing thing, and she has done this before and will do it again, not the removal of one soulmate but the addition of a second, because if someone is willing to create space within themselves for someone they're not intrinsically linked to, stubborn enough even, maybe she can honor that.

And if Eddie Munson wakes up one morning, catches sight of himself in the mirror after a shower and sees something new that he did not put their of his own volition; if Steve is still asleep in the bed on the other side of the hall, not yet aware of the way the universe has shifted to accommodate the work they have put into tying themselves together on the fucking journey of a life they're stumbling through...

It's all still just a choice they already made, isn't it?

#dot post #dot fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie stranger things #stranger things fic #steddie soulmate au #i just think if there are two bastards stubborn enough it's them right

[giuliadesu]

you were 19 when you met miya atsumu for the first time.

ŌSAKA, 21:00

“i mean, yeah, it’s a nice way to get some extra credit.”

it was one of the first colder nights of the year, autumn making its presence known.

the loud group was the last one to occupy the seats at onigiri miya. the shop had been closed for about twenty minutes or so, giving the people inside some time to chat freely.

a very intrigued miya osamu was cleaning the wooden counter with the white rag he specifically assigned to that task; a visiting suna was busying himself on his phone — probably cleaning his camera roll of the hundred of photos of his first onigiri dinner in months. hinata and bokuto were intently listening to the blond setter, who was currently recounting his latest university adventures.

“so? you gonna spill the beans or gonna keep everythin’ to yourself?”

osamu was starting to get impatient, and even suna perked up from his phone.

“jeez, okay. so, you know how i applied to that virtual exchange program, right? well, i’ve got the results back, and i’ve been matched with this girl, she’s a bit younger than me, but boy am i curious!”

to say atsumu was ecstatic was and understatement; unable to contain the grin slowly spreading to his face, he tried to at least minimise it by passing his tongue on the snakebites adorning the sides of his lower lip.

despite people often pegging him as a womaniser, someone who had a lot of hookups and one-night stands, and as someone who would judge a woman only by her physical appearance, he simply shrugged it off. he was just so focused on his career (both the athletic and the academic one), that he didn’t have much time left to enjoy the normal life of a 22 years old guy. yet, he considered himself lucky: he managed to work the job of his life and share it with his friends, and was living close to his twin — that sounded a lot like privilege to him.

YOUR LOCATION

it was a cold day in october during your first year of university. majoring in japanese language and culture was your biggest dream, and you managed to enrol in a college that was far enough from your family and acquaintances.

as part of a partnership located in ōsaka, your professor insisted that every student participated in a sort of virtual exchange program: each coursemate of yours would be paired with someone from the japanese college, providing a great opportunity to practise the language with a native speaker. you weren’t particularly thrilled by the idea — there were enough things to do as it was —, yet the prospect of having some extra points for your main class made it rather tempting.

after a week or so the application process was complete, and the results came in: you had been paired with a student older than you by two or three years who was in his last year of a bachelor’s degree in athletic training. you noticed he was following a peculiar path: considering he was a professional athlete, his course had been arranged to take a longer amount of time compared to someone focusing on academics full-time. the file you received provided some contact info, among which were listed his preferred one — in this case, his phone number.

YOUR LOCATION, 15:00

it was the day of your first call with miya atsumu. you talked a bit over message in the days leading up to this moment, mostly because of the different time zones and the busy lives you both had — it was rather hard to find a moment that would match your free time.

sighing, you smiled to yourself. after some thought, you decided this was going to be a nice and welcome change from your usual routine, and you really hoped you’d be able to hit it off and enjoy the experience. you agreed that atsumu would be the one to call, as he wasn’t sure he could be home in time. with one last check at your reflection in the facetime camera, you turned off the option to blur the background. you hadn’t moved so far away from your home and acquaintances just to start hiding parts of you again; this time you wanted to do things right: being yourself and showing your true self was just the first step.

the ringtone from your macbook brought you back to the present. you took a deep breath, switching your brain to japanese and accepting the incoming call. a small smile made its way on your features.

“good evening, miya-san!”

ŌSAKA, 23:00

it was time. atsumu had just finished showering after a gruelling practice, and was now ready to start his first virtual meeting with you. he made himself comfortable on the bed, ipad propped up on its stand, set on your contact page. the setter spared a glance at the clock: he was right on time. “perfect.”, he thought to himself. dashing his pr smile, the snakebites moving along with his lips, atsumu was ready to meet you.

“heya! nice to finally meet you!”

masterlist | next

honorable mentions (please let me know if you want to be removed!)

@1812p4n | @arquitecturadelanada | @cup-of-fluff | @iitoshi | @kyopmi | @ohtokki

taglist @opalloveworld | @voidshoutsback

© giuliadesu. please do not copy, translate, use in videos or reupload on other platforms and sites. it is strictly forbidden to feed any part of my content to ai.

#𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮̄!! #𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 #𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 #𝐈 #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x f!reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu atsumu #hq atsumu #atsumu fluff #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #atsumu x you #atsumu x female reader #atsumu x y/n

[norrizzandpia]

https://www.tumblr.com/norrizzandpia/734391999757795328/i-need-some-publicly-clingy-reader-and-lando-being

I don’t get what the significance of buying someone a Birkin bag is? I looked it up, but I got nothing, and I have no one to ask since all of the people at my house are men who only believe in toxic masculinity 😭

Help a homie out please

ALRIGHTY I GOT YOU!!!!

Ok so basically i was so confused too but i knew gilmore girls had a scene with him giving her a birkin bag and my brothers gf is sooo obsessed with gilmore girls, so i called her

SHE TOLD ME that basically its really hard to get a birkin, aside from how much they cost. You have to be put on a waiting list with specific preference so hermes can seek one out for you and then when they find you one that they think would work for what you want, they call you

THEN you have to go in, get sat in a private room, and decide if you want to commit to that bag. If you dont want to, then you have to wait however long until they find a bag that matches your preferences.

Its such an exclusive and lengthy process.

As well, like what i put in my story, the bag signifies different things so you can have certain colors or patterns that represent that time in your life when you got it

The entire thing takes months maybe even years to get through which is important when understanding why it means so much to give it to someone.

If someone gets you a birkin, 1) it means they see a future with you, you are incredibly important to them. They didnt just drop all this money and time and effort on something for someone they dont adore completely. 2) it shows that they were set on you for a long time, in love with you for a long time. Because it takes so long to get the bag, it shows that, when they started the process, they knew you would be in their life long enough to give you the bag.

Essentially it just means that they value you and are dead set on being with you for the rest of their life im pretty sure

[nonotnolan]

Fiverr Warlock: Saturdays are for Recovery

“Hey, Gus?“  Waking up with a killer headache was bad enough, but for some reason my roommate was shaking my shoulder.  “Gus, wake up.  You... uhh, you’re not gonna believe this, buuuut... we’ve swapped bodies.”

I sat upright, trying and failing to rub the sleep out of my eyes.  “Dude.  Preston.  What the fuck?  You, of all people, should understand that Saturdays are for recovery.  I was up until 4am playing League, and you were out drinking or whatever.  Fucking hell, why does my head hurt?”

“Probably because you’re dealing with my hangover,” he said, handing me a glass.  “Drink that, it’ll help.”  I gratefully downed the entire drink, and handed it back to him.  To... me?  I looked up at him, only to find that I was looking at my own body.  “I wasn’t kidding,” he said, laughing at the look of confusion on my face.

“Why are you so calm?” I yelled, looking down at the chest that was clearly not my own.  I found myself grasping at my new face, as if I was going to be able to feel a difference in its shape.  I couldn’t get past my sudden lack of facial hair.  “How the fuck did this happen?”

Preston just shrugged.  “Hell if I know.  It’s not like Web MD has a tutorial on this.  My best guess is that if we just go about our business like normal, it will reverse itself just as quickly as it happened.  I’m just hoping it’ll go away by tomorrow.”

I could scarcely believe what I was hearing.  “Tomorrow!?  Are you shitting me?  You want me to just keep going like nothing is wrong, and maybe it will fix itself?  Fuck that!  We need to do something!  We need to-- I don’t know, research this, or, or... tell someone who can help us, or... I don’t know... but, but something, dammit!”

He reached out and placed his hand on my shoulder, “Look, it’s not that I’m somehow okay with this.  I don’t want to be stuck in your life just as much as you don’t want to be stuck in mine.  But you just woke up-- I’ve already had several hours to come to terms with this.  If we try to tell anyone, they’ll just claim that we’re full of shit.  I can’t find anything relevant on the internet about this, and frankly, I wouldn’t have trusted it even if I did.  And it’s like you said-- Saturdays are for recovery.  We don’t have to do anything important today.  No one will be any the wiser if we just lay low.”

“But... yeah, alright,” I said.  It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but I had to admit that it made sense.  It wasn’t how people handled this sort of thing in the movies, but... well, this was real life.  It wasn’t like we’d gotten into a shouting match in a Chinese Restaurant, or whatever.  I glanced around Preston’s bedroom, trying to figure out where he kept his clothes.  “So, uhhh... I’m pretty fuckin’ hungry.  Do think it would be a big deal if I went out to grab food?”

Preston just shrugged his shoulders in response.  “Should be fine.  I mean, what are the odds that either of us manage to run into someone we know?  It’s a big town.  Even if we go out in public, I think it will be fine.  Honesty hour, I was about to grab McDonalds, maybe go out and see a movie.  Do whatever you want today.”

I couldn’t help but to roll my eyes.  “Bending the facts to reach the outcome you want?  My body must be wearing off on you.”

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

When Preston asked me to use my warlock powers to swap his body with that of his roommate, I was hesitant.  Not that I was afraid or unwilling to use my powers, mind you-- it wasn’t all that hard.  Most of the difficulty with body swap magic is making things permanent.  A 24 hour swap is the sort of thing I’d charge $50, maximum.  I just didn’t want to get in the habit of casting spells on my boyfriend.  We’ve only been dating for a few months, and I really hate the relationship imbalance that happens when one person is constantly relying on me for spells.

That said, he’s been really good about not begging me for trivial favors, and he really wanted something different for our three month anniversary.  We both enjoy a bit of roleplay in the bedroom, so why stop at costumes?  Gus’s body was... certainly different.  His body is a lot more nerd-punk than I expected, and seeing it makes me wonder how on earth the two of them can stand being around each other.

“What do you think?” he asked, lifting up his shirt.  “Pretty good for a computer geek, right?”

He stared at me with the same sort of confident swagger that had enticed me all those weeks ago, confirming without a doubt that this is Preston in Gus’s body, and not just Gus trying to pull a prank.  I could feel myself falling for him all over again.  “Pretty good, indeed.  And here I was wondering if I was going to need to use magic to change this body into something serviceable.”

He placed his other hand at his waistband, and slid his pants down to his knees.  “Not in the slightest,” he said, letting Gus’s manhood flop free.  Preston laughed at the look of shock on my face as he started to grasp it in both hands.  “It’s somewhere around eleven inches when hard,” he said.  “Sometimes he’ll leave the shower naked when he thinks I’m still at the gym.  I’ve wanted to try it out for myself for so long... and now it’s mine for an entire day.”  

He kissed me full on the lips, the stubble of his beard scraping against my skin as his tongue probed my mouth.  My brain knew this was Preston, but my senses were convinced that this was some sort of sandalwood-scented stranger.  “I can’t wait to show you my appreciation,” he said, whispering into my ear.  The heat of his breath caused my hair to stand up on end.  Eleven inches of rock-solid cock was going to completely wreck my ass, and I didn’t even care.  It’s not like I had any other plans this weekend.  Besides, Saturdays are for recovery.

#male body swap #gay body swap #casual body swap #selfish magic #jock to nerd #after the swap #fiverr warlock

[indiaalphawhiskey]

If you feel inspired at all to write a snippet today, can you let me know what happened here?

What caused the dramatic music, the red tinted room, the dangerous smirk, the erotic tension, the nonchalant smoking?

Full video here.

As you wish, @awesomefringey! Also inspired by my earlier tags: #that is a baby #who has shotgunned from his mans #many a time

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Habit by indiaalphawhiskey

The room was dark; so dark that it was too hard to tell if the scarlet glow illuminating the sparse furniture really was light or a trick of the eye – its desperate attempt to see anything other than shadow.

Louis leaned forward, looking down his nose at the cigarette between his lips. And, as he cupped his hand over the tip, watching it come alive by the light of his match, he realized, hand to God, he couldn’t tell you what the color of the chaise he was sitting on was.

It made him chuckle a little, the fact that someone could hold a gun to his head right now, asking him to name the color of the coffee table, the carpet, the stage, and all he would be able to do was laugh and accept his inevitable fate. It wasn’t the interiors he came here for anyway.

He pulled the cigarette from his lips, held the smoke in his chest with practiced ease, and spared a thought to how much he hated being a cliche. Mr. Too-much-time, Too-much-money, Too-much-common-sense. 

Ironically though, not enough to keep him from this place. Not that anything could; not with what it held inside – with whom.

The thought made him raise the cigarette to his lips again, the drag he took sweet – full. 

“Nasty habit,” a voice taunted from behind him.

Louis’ smirk curled upward, slow and satisfied, and he took his time liberating the stream of smoke from his lips, before, “I’ve got a lot of those.”

“This one’s got a fine.”

“Paid it.”

The response was immediate – an unimpressed scoff. “Well, I guess that makes it alright.” Even wrapped in a reprimand, his voice was pretty; sweet and stinging in even parts, bitter like dark chocolate; warm like bourbon. Loaded, just like the sound of the heavy curtain swishing closed after him.

Louis listened for the familiar steps on the carpet, one… two… three… four. “Money makes everything alright,” he said back, unapologetic, over the muffled jazz playing in the other room. 

Another scoff before that perfect silhouette came into full view, hip cocked, one obscenely tempting stockinged leg kicked out, just for the hell of it. “Only for people with money.”

Even barely backlit by the red lights, Louis smiled, recognizing the outline of his favorite little number. It had cost him a pretty penny, that black trench coat, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He liked seeing his baby all gussied up for him; liked the way it felt on his lap, trapped under the weight of those gorgeous thighs, loved sliding his hand up… up… up… into that tempting little gap to find lace, or silk, or… nothing at all…

Patience, Louis sang in his head, busying himself instead with dragging the heat of his gaze away from those godforsaken legs and up to twinkling green eyes, because that color – that, he could name, anytime.

Louis took another slow drag from his cigarette without taking his eyes off him. He reached out and caught the hem of the trench coat in his fingers, smirking up at the love of his life right before he tugged hard. 

The sweet waif of a thing tumbled straight into his lap.

“Lou—” he gasped out in soft protest, an errant giggle, and the way he had already wrapped his arms around Louis’ neck, dampening his feigned attempts to escape. Louis held him in place, hand solid – hot and high on that darling thigh. 

“You don’t want money,” Louis said seriously, into the sliver of space between them. Those green eyes sparkled mischievously, knowing that was the truth, even when Louis added, “I know. I know because I offered – offered you anything. Everything.”

And god in heaven, that smile – it would be the death of Louis one day; much, much sooner than the goddamn cigarettes.

“S’not true,” he pretended to pout. A beat, and then another coquettish little grin. “Haven’t offered me a drag,” he said, already reaching for the cig.

Louis bracketed his back with a strong arm to keep him from falling, all while he kept the cigarette out of reach. “Uh-uh.” Louis said, shaking his head. “Filthy habit, this.”

And that coy, devastating smile morphed into an amused giggle. “Aw, Daddy,” he cooed, the familiar pet name blowing softly on the embers already burning, low and heavy, in Louis’ belly, as he teased, “You protecting me or sumthin’?” He leaned in close then, so close each of his syllables skated over the skin of Louis’ lips as he whispered, all innocent doe eyes, and long lashes, and earnestness, “‘M a big girl. I can handle it.”

Louis pretended to consider it, humming thoughtfully as he leaned away. 

Carefully, he placed the cigarette in front of his own mouth and took a long, deep drag. 

He held the smoke behind his teeth, and watched as bright green eyes darkened, grew heavy and hooded with lust and understanding. Plush, plump, pink lips parted just enough for Louis to lean in, his mouth hovering. The pretty little thing in his lap squirmed desperately, his nails digging into the hair on the nape of Louis’ neck, and then…

Louis exhaled, slow, careful and controlled, sharing the warm wisps of smoke, his tongue desperate to follow them through to gates of heaven; twist and tangle and curl into that lovely, lovely mouth.

“Ngh.” It was a soft whine, delicious; a whine of hunger, of more, of please, Daddy.

Yes, Louis had a lot of nasty habits. But this one… Harry… 

Harry was his favourite.

#iaw ask #iaw drabble #noir drabble #habit drabble

[bloodgulchblog]

Hi!! Ok sorry for the mammoth question I’m about to ask but you’re super knowledgeable on Halo stuff and I need help- sorry if I don’t word things well my brain is having a day

Ok so I’m writing a Spartan character and I can’t find too much on the specifics of how they were trained. I’m trying to determine what kind of trauma would come out of being beaten into a Spartan, especially the IIs and IIIs.

Basically trying to figure out what kinda trauma they have/how bad it is so I can roadmap my character’s recovery yknow

*CRACKS MY KNUCKLES*

You came to the right nerd. This is pretty much like throwing a kong ball full of peanut butter into my enclosure. This post is gigantic and I had so much fun.

If you want to read it directly for yourself, you're looking for Nylund's Halo books. The Fall of Reach covers the Spartan-IIs, and Ghosts of Onyx covers the Spartan-IIIs. I'd happily recommend either of those, they're well-liked Halo novels for a reason. Ghosts does work pretty well on its own if you want to focus on the IIIs, but it benefits from having read Fall first. (...And First Strike, but I will contain myself.)

If you want IVs, which are very different because they were selected and augmented as adults with military experience, your options are New Blood by Forbeck or the comic Initiation. (I'm not really a big fan of either so it just depends on if you'd prefer it from Buck or Palmer.)

That said, let's get going.

(....I want the readmore cut to be here, but Tumblr keeps moving it when I make edits. So.)

Spartan-IIs and Spartan-IIIs: Training

These guys have a lot in common, and they feel weirdly familiar to one another. (Just enough that the differences feel even weirder.)

Both groups started training as young children. The IIs were all six years old, the IIIs cast a wider net. Ghosts mentions kids as young as 4 in Alpha, but that doesn't... make sense actually. Because we have canon DOBs we know Carter would've been 12 and Jun would've been 8, and those numbers feel closer to right, but I'll get to why in a bit. (Researching this post has made me have a revelation about Spartan-III ages.)

Spartan-IIs were selected for genetic matches to a profile that Dr. Halsey determined was likely to accept the augmentation procedures. (The failure rate was still very high though. I'll talk about that.) They were kidnapped from their homes by ONI operatives and brought to Reach. Here's what they were told because hahahahaha big iconic moment:

(One note: Spartan-II training began in 2517. This was 8 years before the Covenant attack on Harvest in 2525. They were absolutely trained to bring down human targets, and were taught that it was necessary to sacrifice human lives for the good of innocent people. The first class of Spartan-IIIs kicked off in 2532, and they would focus from the beginning on Covenant.)

There were a total of 75 Spartan-II candidates. No one died during training (...at least I am pretty sure, if someone died during training it was a retcon introduced later) but it was hard. Halopedia has a pretty thorough rundown of things we know they did. Most of those are in The Fall of Reach. The Tango Company bit is from First Strike. Bonus: Here's a story Gray Team tells in Envoy that isn't mentioned:

(If you want to know who the most feral and defiant S-IIs are with the most atypical profiles, you want to look at Gray Team.)

Surviving Spartan-IIs are going to be 49 years old as of Halo Infinite. (Though, like all UNSC infantry, they've spent huge amounts of time in cryo during ship travel over the years. Sergeant Johnson was chronologically 78 in Halo 3, if that helps.)

Spartan-IIIs were selected along a wider profile because the augmentations were changed by Colonel Ackerson to be 1) cheaper and 2) have a much higher success rate with a broader margin for compatibility. They were working with orphans the UNSC picked up on planets the Covenant attacked, so they also could not be as selective as the original project. The young S-IIIs' fear and anger toward the Covenant (and their desire for revenge) were huge motivators. There were hundreds of Spartan-IIIs in all 3 classes. (They exhausted the available candidate pool after Alpha, and Ackerson was pushing for efforts to more widely genetically profile children from colony worlds as a result…. 😬)

Here's how the first company of Spartan-IIIs (Alpha Company) got the intro. (We don't know what Beta and Gamma were told, but it's likely to be similar):

(Ghosts of Onyx, Chapter 6, this is immediately followed by a bit from the perspective of a boy named Shane that would probably be really useful to you if you're looking for some insight to what those kids were feeling. It's just too long to paste.)

Another note: Chief Mendez trained both groups of Spartans. We have fewer detailed descriptions of S-III training shenanigans, because there is a lot of time skipping during Ghosts of Onyx to demonstrate the catastrophic losses suffered by the Alpha and Beta companies. Given that Mendez was involved, though, they are likely to have been highly similar.

Based on what we do get of training in Ghosts, I see the S-III teams being pitted against one another in exercises more often than we see mention of the IIs doing. (This is likely because S-II was on Reach, a huge ass military base, and had much more access to personnel that could be dragged into this than Onyx, which was extremely remote and established solely for the purpose of minting Spartans.)

The Spartan-IIIs had much less training time than the IIs... at least originally. S-III Alpha Company had 4 years compared to the S-II's 8 years. ONI was banking on improved augmentation protocols and technology to make up for it. Kurt pushed for the later two classes to get more training time.

Another another note: Kurt, if you were not aware, is Kurt-051 (Kurt Ambrose, using the name ONI gave him to work under.) Kurt was a Spartan-II abducted by ONI (making it look like he died on a mission) specifically for this job in 2531. Kurt loved those kids. Their deaths weighed heavily on him. More on that later.

Spartan-II Augmentations

I wasn't sure where else to put this, so it's going here: Spartan-II augmentations had a huge wash-out rate. S-III had a much much much smaller percentage.

There were 75 Spartan-II candidates, and only 33 came out as intended. The rest of them suffered serious side effects, and several died.

Halopedia once again has a big pile of information.

I bring this up for two reasons: the first is that it's a thing they all went through and all lost people who were as close as siblings to.

The second is that some Spartan-IIs that initially washed out of the program at this point were rehabilitated. Dr. Halsey worked on individual therapies for Spartans whose bodies rejected augmentations, restoring some quality of life and, in some cases, successfully getting them back to a point where they could continue training. (Black Team and Red Team (Halo Wars edition) are both made up entirely of former wash-outs.)

ONI created jobs for and retained most Spartan-II wash-outs that couldn't continue as Spartans. Serin Osman, Musa, and Fhajad are examples.

Differences Between Spartan-III Companies

There were 3 companies of S-IIIs trained, so if you're working on a III you'll want to establish which one they were from. You can identify the generation of S-IIIs by the letter in their tag number: Jun-A266, Lucy-B091, Ash-G099. Alpha, Beta, Gamma.

(Sidenote on picking Spartan tag numbers for OCs: There's a specific range of numbers. S-II had 150 candidates observed even though only 75 were taken and trained, so their tag numbers range from 1-150. Alpha Company had 497 kids, Beta had 418, Gamma had 330. WIki's really good for making sure you're not duplicating an existing number. Spartan-IIs are pretty much all accounted for canonically but if you're writing a II OC you're already in your own city anyway.)

Here's a good wiki trailhead for you, individual articles for the companies tell you what we do know about their training, too. But if you like reading my words about things:

ALPHA COMPANY:

The first group Kurt and Mendez trained, starting in the last days of 2532 and going active in 2536. There are very few surviving members of Alpha Company, only seven canonical, because almost all of them were killed in one operation.

Ages are kind of fucky for Alpha Company, as I mentioned earlier because Ghosts implies they were really young, but the problem with that is that after only 4 years of training they would have not been old enough to undergo augmentation. Jun, Emile, and Carter were Alphas. Jun was 28, Emile was 29, and Carter was 32 at Reach, so they would've been from 8-12 years old at the start of training. I feel like we're meant to go with that.

That means surviving Alphas would be in their late 30s as of Infinite.

BETA COMPANY:

Started training in 2539 and went active in 2545. Kurt was devastated by the loss of the Alphas (he's terribly upset when he finds out what happened to them, the information was kept from him.) He tried to train Beta company better and harder (he managed to squeeze two more years in for them), but in the end it did not save them from a similar fate. There are a handful of surviving Betas that were not present for Operation TORPEDO, but Tom and Lucy were the only survivors that were there. Kat and Noble Six were Betas. They were both 22 when they died on Reach. (That puts them both at 9 at the start of training. Tom and Lucy were a little younger, they both would have been 6.) Ages are still slightly fucky there because that means Lucy and Tom would've been 12 at augment, but that... is close enough to almost work, sort of, I guess, oh Halo you're so silly. Anyway. Surviving Betas would be in their late 20s/early 30s as of Infinite.

GAMMA COMPANY:

The last class of IIIs started training in 2545. (I had to do a little digging to confirm this year because it was authorized in '44, you're welcome.) They had just been deployed in 2552 and most of them left Onyx a week before the Onyx Conflict (you know, where the whole planet disintegrated into Forerunner nonsense) kicked off, with only three teams left on-planet for that shitmess. They were being shoved out the door because Reach had just fallen and everything was on fucking fire.

They had the most training and Kurt and Mendez were terribly proud of them. These guys would be the youngest S-IIIs both in terms of yes, that's how time works, and in terms of how old they were when they started training. We have canonical DOBs on several of them that put them at 6 and 7. This is significant because the Gammas are the ones that were being rushed into production: They were put on hormones to induce puberty early when most of them were 12ish, so that they could be augmented. (You know, horrifying!) (This is the thing that kicked off my wild confusion about Spartan-III ages that has consumed me for the last hour. Thanks, Halo! :,) )

The big thing to know about the Gammas is that they got built different. Kurt hated what had happened to the Alphas and Betas, hated it desperately, and was willing to do anything he thought would give the Gammas a chance at survival.

Kurt changed the augmentations. He did this without authorization. The Gammas' brains got tweaked to give them a heightened response to stress/adrenaline that makes them more able to block out pain/shock and keep fighting, which Kurt hoped would help them make it through the meatgrinder missions ONI was determined to use them for. The problem? The Gammas require regular injections of antipsychotics to keep them emotionally stable, and they can become less rational and start having extreme responses that make them a danger to themselves and others if they are deprived of them. (They call these drugs "smoothers.")

Anyway, the Gammas were 13-14ish at the end of the war, and surviving Gammas (there are significantly more of them) are in their late 20s by Infinite. Their altered augmentations mean they're considered unsuited for high-visibility work, ONI considers them a potential huge liability if a Gamma ever goes off the rails so they prefer to keep them away from people. A lot of Gammas that are still alive have ended up as Headhunters. (That's also the case for a lot of surviving S-IIIs generally. I don't know as much about Headhunters, they're a part of the lore I find uninteresting.)

Also just because I feel like it, here's Kurt with one of the Gammas dying in his arms:

What Are Spartans Like?

"Records show Spartans routinely exhibited mildly sociopathic tendencies, difficulty with socialization. Furthermore…" - Halo 4

We're getting into more and more headcanon and interpretation, but hey. I offer this as creative compost for your bin.

Spartans are weird. Spartans are weird. The overall portrait of an adult S-II/III is that they're mostly quiet, serious, and very intense about whatever they're doing. Some are more talkative and sociable than others, some are more unsettling than others. There's some wide variability on how careful they are about other people and how responsible they do or do not feel toward them.

As far as Spartans go, I feel like John is high on the polite end, and I have reams I've said and could say about how he handles himself. You've got Spartans who are very contained like him (I'd say Owen-B096 is another good example, he's able to be shockingly gentle with a pack of scared high school kids in Battle Born.) But you've also got examples like, say, Emile, and Gray Team, and Kevin from this one story in the Fractures anthology:

Let me break down some major traits:

LACK OF NORMAL SOCIALIZATION/GENERAL SPARTAN WEIRDNESS:

Overall, Spartans are poorly socialized. Their priorities and experiences are so wildly different from most peoples' that it's a difficult gap for them to bridge, and they're required to hide the details of their personal histories because that's very dangerous and inconvenient information (you know, for the UNSC) to have around. They were isolated from other people as children, and as adults they are extremely busy and the things that make them different make it difficult for them to make up for lost time on this.

If you've seen me writing John, I have him struggling a lot because it feels like social situations are always full of weird traps he can't see because he just doesn't have the background for them. There are so, so many things you casually assume another person is familiar with in conversation, and so many little social call-and-responses that someone who was raised under such weird circumstances wouldn't have.

There's a post that goes around sometimes about a small child who has never heard "Later, alligator" responding with "Goodbye, hippo" or something like that because they'd never heard the "After a while, crocodile" response and had to guess at what they were supposed to do. I think about that post sometimes when I'm thinking about Spartans. They're smart, and they can imitate and figure things out and get good at faking more experience than they have (and the older a Spartan is the longer they've been picking things up), but they need something to work with.

A Spartan-II never snuck out with friends after curfew to go to a concert, was never nervous about who was going out with who, and never stressed about what they were going to do after high school. But they know that enough people experience those things to pretend they understand.

It's easiest to lie by not saying anything at all as much as possible, because then you don't give anyone who's watching you a little too closely something to pick apart. Let other people assume you're what they expect, and don't give them details to the contrary.

This makes most of them quiet and sort of awkward, unless they've put in effort on their own part to work on it. If a Spartan cares enough to learn to socialize and banter smoothly with non-Spartans, that tells you something about their priorities and who they are. (And possibly that they got extra training for a specific purpose that requires it.)

Getting out of socialization: Spartans were raised in a highly structured environment, and I think most of them find comfort in routines, rules, and regular procedures that are done the same way. Following general everyday UNSC rules = not being bawled out or punished. Following some extra important serious rules = feeling like you're doing the best thing you can possibly do to prevent disasters from happening. How much that has broken down for someone vs how much they still hang onto it is gonna be real individual. Some of them really will not like being pulled out of doing things the way they "should" be done.

Amongst themselves, Spartans communicate a lot by body language and hand signals. (S-IIs and S-IIIs use similar but slightly different hand signals because Kurt was a II and they innovated on what they picked up from him. I'd also say it's very likely that each class had some variations unique to them, like a dialect.) They're also so used to being in armor that they do a lot with just flashing different status light colors on their HUD, which is neat (and also on that page.)

As a footnote re: sex and romance, it's a thorny fandom question that is up to you to answer for how you prefer to read things, but it's fair play to say that most Spartan-IIs are probably at least mostly asexual due to their augmentations. S-IIIs have no major lore implying either way about it, though later depictions of the Gammas have seemed to indicate they're not particularly interested either. It's up to you how you want to go.

REACTIVENESS

The other thing about Spartans is they are trained to react immediately in a crisis and have had that tendency reinforced by horrible traumatic experiences. I don't like throwing around real world serious words for fictional character things, but I think PTSD is fair for most Spartans. Do real research if you want to incorporate that, I don't know the most about it and won't pretend whatever I'm doing is an actual portrayal. But I do think a lot about reactiveness.

The problem with being constantly ready to react to everything like it's a life-or-death situation is... most things are not life-or-death situations. It's hard on a person, and it makes you blow some things out of proportion in a way that can become a serious problem. (For example: A Spartan that feels safer when following specific routines and procedures getting way more frustrated than is really justified by someone breaking from protocol in a harmless but definite way.)

Spartans are really good at controlling anger and fear and probably will not go all the way off the handle, but they still tend to go for immediate responses to things that startle or scare them. Make a loud sound in a room full of Spartans, expect hands on weapons and some pointed barrels. They are always always always ready to go. It is incredibly difficult for them to relax.

Most Spartans probably remember a point (or multiple points) somewhere in their lives where their guard was down, and then everything exploded under them and maybe somebody died.

LOYALTY AND SACRIFICE

This is a lot more personal and individual. The majority of Spartans are very loyal to the UNSC, it's been trained into them from childhood. The degree to which a Spartan may possibly have become embittered about it is going to be super dependent on who they are and what has happened to them.

I think a lot of them probably tend to fall back on their mission and sense of purpose (especially re: the defense of humanity) for a bare kind of comfort when miserable (which they have reason to be often.) They have sacrificed so much of themselves, but it was worth it, right? They helped save humanity from the Covenant, right? They're helping save humanity from new problems, right?

Spartans were all taught that their cause is worth their lives, and they're willing to die for it. They have known people they loved and grew up with who did die for it, and this fits pretty naturally into coping with those losses.

If the cause isn't paramount and loyalty to the UNSC isn't worth dying for.... what does that make everything they've done, and everything they've lost? What does that make the deaths of their fellow Spartans?

(Survivor's guilt is gonna be big for all of them, but especially S-IIIs. 2/3 Spartan-III companies died in almost their entirety in one go. The surviving S-IIs had remarkably few losses until... Reach....... )

I've talked/thought about sacrifice a lot with the S-IIs, especially John because I'm always in hell writing about John and people have poked my askblog about it. If a Spartan could go back in time and change how their life went and prevent them from becoming a Spartan, would they?

Being a Spartan and that sense of purpose is so core to them that I really think most of them would not. This is their world. This is their lives. This is such a huge part of who they are that they don't know who they'd be otherwise.

I don't care for Mortal Dictata much (that's a whole different post), but a huge part of the plot of that book is that Kilo Five's S-II (Naomi) is reunited with her father as an adult and it's a very uncomfortable process because... she's not the little girl he lost, anymore.

......

I think that's everything I have on this.

I am a perpetual wellspring of information on this topic tho so you guys let me know if you have more things you wanna talk about re: this. :V

#asks #spartan-ii #spartan-iii #halo lore #speculation #advice for ocs i guess

[gynandromorph]

You’ve mentioned before that drake would be a far better god than jessie and would deal better with absolute power than most of your other characters, I find this incredibly interesting and I wondered if you could explain why a bit more?

yeah, sure. it's probably going to be a bit incomprehensible because it's 3 am right now (it is no longer 3 am but half of it was written at 3 am and i'm still stupid). drake's ocpd has compelled xem to feel obsessively invested in moral righteousness and to want an extreme amount of control over xyr environment. it's given xem a lot of incentive to think about what they would do differently, how they would make reality better, etc.

so, the main way that drake would be better than jessie as a god is because drake would care more about being a genuinely good god. xe is also not as impulsive or emotional as jessie; xe deliberates at length even for small interactions, and, while this can be debilitating in day-to-day life, if you were an omnipotent being totally exempt from the laws of time, this would not really be an issue. this quality also makes xem more capable of accurate insight and self-judgement.

i talked about shiloh and how as a god she would probably be a nightmarish sadist -- one might see her personality as similar to drake's because she's also more mellow and pattern-oriented. the difference between shiloh and drake (as well as jessie and drake) is that what drake finds gratifying is just worlds apart. drugs, sex, violence and power are things a lot of people find gratifying, but drake is someone who finds like... organizing books by size and color on the shelf gratifying. moving at a slower pace in general, unpredictable explosive experiences that feel exciting and interesting to the two lesbians feel overwhelming and unpleasant to xem. the avoidance of possible distress from possible mistakes is often a source of the gratification, so a lack of novelty wouldn't hit xem as hard, i think. basically being an ethical being WOULD BE what drake finds gratifying as a god because it's what xe finds gratifying already, which is a huge advantage. the fact that xyr desire for control is projected onto xyr environment is just a bonus -- since xe interprets the problems as coming from outside the house, xe's less likely to focus on inner desires for decision-making.

something drake has had to ponder more than many of my other characters is the fact that no one ever asks to be born, and most aren't entirely happy with what they're born with. i think it occurs to most people at some point that no one asks to be born, but drake has spent cumulative years ruminating on this. i find xyr take on godhood and how i conceptualize it interesting based on that even on its own, because drake wants a world where every single thing chooses to be born with an adequate amount of information to make the choice.

i've spent here or there thinking about how xe would try to go about doing this, and so far it's involved some kind of AI-like network which would approximate the entire lifespan of an individual without possessing a consciousness or emotional world of its own, then relay that in a chemical format. if the projected life is suitable for this hypothetical person and they'd most likely consent to living the life, the chemical info enters a matching receptor on a zygote and it progresses. this would happen several if not thousands of times during the process of producing a conscious being, i think. this is believable enough to me w/how much info dna itself can hold, and that wasn't designed with any intelligence. that's the best way i've come up with the chicken and the egg dilemma wrt conscious choice to be born thus far. the other component i've thought about is probably making life able to move about 4-dimensionally, essentially giving conscious beings the ability to time travel as a regular form of locomotion. i gotta imagine this isn't too big a deal when you can alter the laws of physics to your liking. i know that drake would also get rid of (nonconsensual) death not just by canceling it now, but reviving every single conscious creature that has ever died. oh, earth wouldn't support infinitely multiplying life? god can fix that. death is the only thing that makes life meaningful? no it doesn't. not in drake's world. meaning is a sensation in our heads subject to alterations, just like every emotion. some things might not want to live forever? some things might want to feel sadness, pain, anger, and suffering? well, it'd be immoral for drake to decide how they should feel by getting rid of these unpleasant emotions, so xe will give them the choice to die if they want to, and the choice to undie, probably handled by the same network that estimates if they want to be born - the choice to feel sad or opt out, the choice to feel pain or opt out, etc. to drake, this would not only resolve the "suffering gives life meaning" argument, but would also functionally prevent any given subject from forcing another subject to feel anything it doesn't want to. drake would yield a lot of power to xyr subjects, because the power differential between a god and its sims in a sandbox is inherently going to be an abuse of that power in exchanges. you could argue that xe would do well with absolute power because xe would make xyr power... Not absolute relatively quickly after some things were stabilized. given the idea that maybe they could not choose anything at all, like how a fictional character can't choose anything, i think that xe would resort to breaking up xyr infinite amount of choice into tiny pieces compartmentalized away from xem, like someone dissociating but intentionally, and putting that into the subjects instead. this would be an odd limitation, though, and would preclude omnipotence. i just think the decisions xe would make based on xyr sense of ethics would be neat because of how unyielding those moral "rules" are and other elements of xyr personality.

#GREAT question insane answer thank you