#like they will literally say that they're just trying to create a safe space

[rodolfoparras]

So in SSKTJL, the suicide squad gets infected with Fear Gas because of Batman

For context, Fear Gas is a gas created by Scarecrow or Johnathan Crane, and when inhaled, you live through your worst fears until worn off.

And Digger's worst fear is everyone leaving him behind, being unwanted and forgotten. In the scene, George talks to himself, saying they've probably already left him. Calling himself a loser and and a coward and shit. He sees "NOT WANTED" posters of himself hung up around

(I can't do this anymore, bro)

What if Reader's worst fear was watching all of his friends/teammates die and losing them all🥰

Running around trying to listen to Harley's advice (because she knows Scarecrow and the toxin) but he just keeps hearing his friends scream for help and their bodies everywhere but he's literally unable to help them, because they're not fucking real but it's scary asf

And once it's all over, Reader is all over Digger the rest of the night. They're the closest, so it's already not that weird, but he's literally not giving Digger a MOMENT of peace. a hand on that man the entire time, following him everywhere, fucking sleeps on top of him to try and keep him safe

Mumbles to him all night about being scared of losing him and how much he cares about him and Digger's just "🧍‍♂️wut?" Because he genuinely believes that despite working with the team, he's very easily disposable and they could all replace him but don't because of Waller

Reader ramping up his affection for Digger after that because he's not gonna let him think that shit??

Idk where I'm going with this but I love him so much. Just wanna play with his hair and kiss his face 😞

-🐧

Cw: tooth rotting fluff, x male reader

Okay but thinking about you being unable to calm down even though the gas has long stopped having effect, even though you’re back in your current reality with all your friends where they’re all very much alive and doing well but no matter what they say or do you just can’t calm down

It’s like you’re still stuck in that place, watching all your friends die in front of you without being able to do anything, and Digger being Digger starts joking around, telling the rest of the team how they should just knock you out to make sure you get to sleep through the night.

But his words turn into squeaks as you pull him into a bruising grip, his head shoved into your chest, and your arms locked in an iron grip around his waist.

Unintelligible sounds escape his lips as he tries to push you away from him but you don’t budge an inch, if anything you hold him tighter, nuzzling your face into his honey blonde locks and inhaling his scent, and for once you actually seem to relax.

“Uh hello big guy? cant breathe here,” the sound of Digger’s strained voice sends the whole squad into fits of laughter, with them even making comments about how you’re his responsibility for the night before splitting up to get some rest.

“Alright alright that’s enough” digger says as he finally breaks out of your embrace “jeez I know I’m a lovable guy but even that was a bit too much eh?” Digger says, clearly being sarcastic as he proceeds to prepare his make shift bed.

He doesn’t even get to lay down properly before you’re on top of him, your body weight pinning him in place an arm once again locked around his waist.

“God dammit,” Digger grunts out as his back meets the harsh impact of the ground. “What’s with you tonight eh? Gas scared you that bad? What did you even see?”

And maybe it’s the hint of concern in his voice or it’s the exhaustion from todays events, but you decide to tell you him what you saw earlier today.

Surprisingly enough, Digger listens intently to every word you have to say, at some point you think he’s fallen asleep or spaced out because it’s so unusual for him to not interrupt but when you look up, you see the very much focused look on his face as he continues to listen to you.

Once you’re done speaking you peer up at him - only to be met with the sight of his furrowed brows as he worries his bottom lip.

This time it’s your turn to ask what’s on his mind, digger doesn’t waste a second before he starts to explain, telling you how he can understand why you’d be worried about losing king shark- he was a great asset to the team - or Harley - she was a smart cookie or dead shot - look at his name! who wouldn’t want a guy like that on his team ? but he can’t understand why you’d be worried about losing him.

He doesn’t say it in a self deprecating way, but rather as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, as if he’s speaking of the way the sun is bound to rise tomorrow and maybe that hurts more than if he were to say it in a self deprecating tone.

You’re swift to rise up, knocking the air out of his lungs as you go on a tangent about how of course he’s an important part of the team, promptly mentioning the many times he’s saved your ass or saved another member of the team, the many times he’d been the reason as to why they succeeded in whatever mission you were doing.

By the time you’re done you’re all out of breath, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace hands still hanging in the air and staring wide eyed at the Aussie man.

“Alright alright big guy I get it,” he says, now sporting a blush on his face and avoiding your gaze while bashfully rubbing at the back of his neck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a crush on the ol’ captain” Digger say with somewhat of a forced chuckle , and peers up at you beneath soft blonde lashes.

“Maybe I do,” you shrug.

“Wha-“

“Sleep digger, we have a long day tomorrow no?” You say, suddenly laying down again and pulling him into your arms before he can protest. You can hear him cursing under his breath but he doesn’t do anything to try and get out of your embrace. “Goodnight captain” you say with a smile on your face.

“Goodnight” he grumbles back as he tightens his hold on your waist.

#oh I loved writing this !! #captain boomerang #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomerang x male reader #digger harkness #digger harkness x male reader #digger harkness x reader #x male reader #male reader

[linddzz]

32 with Dreamling? 👀

Smut Prompts:

#32: A suffers from pent-up stress and frustration. B offers their body for them to use to get rid of negative emotions.

Edit: Full fic on AO3

Wordcount: 6977 (nice)

Warnings: Canon typical descriptions of violence. Dream being an unhinged little nightmare, but Hob is so down for it. Also, it's a smut prompt. So there is smut. Dicks abound. In typical fashion it took me a while to get to said dicks though. No beta and only the barest editing.

Summary: Service Dom Hob is here to give his bizarre Eldritch boyfriend the tenderest, gentlest domming of his Endles existence. Dream is still going to be a hissing little brat about it. Tbh I waffled a bit on which way to go with this one, but realized that what I really want sometimes is to have Hob scruff Dream like the pissy wet cat that he is and tell him to SHUSH while Dream goes all ragdoll. I also fully embraced a horny headcanon of mine where Dream is more sensitive to physical touch in the Waking.

Shout out to @amahhi, because I picked little bits from our RP here and there for this. What can I say, we got a good Dream and Hob.

Edit 2.0: trying to get the blog unflagged, so the read more has the fic up to the spicy bits. Full fic is in the AO3 link 🙃

-----

It's been a very normal, mundane, and drab sort of day when Hob comes home at the end of it. There's the standard London drizzle tapping away at his window, transforming the world outside into a melting blur of darkening gray shot through with bright smears from electric street lights coming on one by one.

Electric lights. Brilliant. Literally brilliant. They're all going to pay for it in the long run of course, but fuck is it nice to just come home and flick a switch - like so - to light a room up. 

There's a corpse on his sofa. 

The corpse is on its back, arms rigid at its side. Its skin has a drained, cold paleness with veins as gray as the current sky. The face is perfectly still and perfectly expressionless, with flat blue eyes open and unseeing towards the ceiling. The startling ghastliness of the corpse is offset by the soft black t-shirt, along with black pajama bottoms decorated with alarmingly cheerful blue stars.

This is also, increasingly, a normal part of his day.

"All right, love?" He asks, shutting the door behind him. The first time he came home to Dream lying out stiff and apparently lifeless in his flat there had been a bit more yelling and panicking, followed by careful explanations about what the unexpected sight of a pale and unmoving body with open, unseeing eyes showing up in a safe and comfortable space can do to someone who has been through a few wars.

It kept happening, which meant Dream did not actually understand. But now Dream always makes an effort to put his form into pajamas first, possibly with the logic that if he were dressed comfortably for sleep, then he couldn’t possibly look like a corpse. Which meant he was trying, even if severely misguided. It's more touching than it should be.

The corpse on the sofa routine all started when they became...whatever they are now. The best explanation Hob ever got was that a chunk of Dream’s duties involve delving into the vast unconsciousness of himself, sinking into the wild depths that were made of every dreaming mind that created him to make sure everything was flowing smoothly. 

It was all very metaphysical in all the ways that Hob tries not to think about too much. When he compared it to a computer shutting down for maintenance, he got himself a curdled look of such offended disgust that he knew he was on the money. He compared it to sleep instead, which mollified Dream at the time.

In the past this deeper delving into himself was done from the throne room. Then Dream started showing up in Hob's flat every now and again, refusing to explain why. Hob isn't stupid, so he doesn't ask why after the first few times. Whatever the metaphysics of it, Dream wants to come here and lie on Hob's furniture being vulnerable in the Waking world, despite all his grumblings about said world. Dream may not be able to explain the want for a space outside of work to go to, but Hob gets the difference between grading papers at his office and doing it in his living room. The fact that Dream seeks this space out makes Hob's chest go all fluttery and hot, and he will never question it ever.

It's why he doesn't make a fuss about the fact that Dream hasn't figured out that he looks like a fucking horror movie prop when he does it.

“Obviously.” Dream rumbles in answer. His voice has a deep, slow resonance that's being dragged up from the darkest fathoms. It's a growling sneer, the sharp warning crack of a cliff face about to give. It says that asking things like “all right?” is the most low, simple mindedly human thing Hob could ask, because there is no reason Dream would be otherwise.

“That sort of day then? Budge up.” Hob tosses his coat to the chair, which earns him an annoyed huff of a sound, and shoves a space for himself by Dream's hip, which earns him a growl. 

“What. Sort of. Day?” Dream asks darkly. He turns his head, slowly. His movements are always slow when he's coming up from his not-sleep, and Hob is always fascinated by the process. He imagines Dream reeling himself back from wherever he has gone to, a long thread of his consciousness spooling up to refill the shape of his body. The waxy deadness in his skin doesn't exactly liven up, but it becomes more luminous. The stiffness melts from carved stone to…well not relaxed but something with a bit more give to it than stone anyway. The eyes change the most. The empty flatness of them turns into a clear, bright blue. They're flashing with liquid fire when Dream looks up at Hob, even if the rest of him is still an angrily stiff bunch of sharp edges.

“Not a great one, I think.” Hob leans, propping his shoulders on the back of the couch with Dreams waist and arm against the small of his back. Dream turns his head with his jaw clenched, and Hob reaches out, brushing the backs of his curled fingers in the barest caress over the plane of Dreams cheek.

There's a nearly imperceptible tremor in the core of the body he's leaned himself against. The corners of Dreams mouth tightens, and his eyes flare, like that lightest touch has opened a raw nerve. 

“Maybe the sort of day I could help you forget?” Hob murmurs. He hasn't decided exactly what he's offering when he offers it. They could just stay here, watching some meaningless picture while Dream stays pressed between Hob and the sofa, and Hob combs his fingers through that downy soft black hair until all the tension melts from him. Hob could make that milky, sugary lavender infusion Dream is fond of and kiss him slow and sweet for hours. They could have a wild shag or the easiest love making. Whatever will help ease the coiled tension that’s churning just beneath Dream’s carefully still surface. Anything.

The caress continues. Hob traces his fingertips up the edge of Dreams cheekbone and sinks them back into the wild black hair to cradle around that impossible skull. There's a suspicious scraping sound down by his hip.

“That better not be you clawing up my upholstery.” He hums, rubbing his thumb over the hairline at Dreams temple. “Come on love, what do you want?”

“What. I. Want?” 

The stillness breaks. A hand snaps up and clamps around Hob's wrist. Dream surges up, sitting awkwardly with Hob nearly in his lap, his eyes flashing dark and his teeth bared close to Hob's mouth.

“You would offer yourself then? A sacrifice to what you would call a bad day?” Dream asks, his voice dropping into a hard scrape. There's a sharp prick against the skin of Hob's wrist as claws grow from Dreams fingers. “You ask for what I want?”

“Obviously.” Hob repeats Dream’s earlier answer back at him. This is always the most uncertain part, when Dream is in one of these moods. This night could go a million different ways, but Hob finds himself keen for any of them. Any that keep Dream right here with all of his attention, snarling or otherwise, right on Hob that is.

There's a hiss of sound, sharp and explosive. The sharp pricks against Hob's skin turn into bright bursts of hot pain, and he feels the wet slide of blood down the inside of his arm. There's a shudder, and Dream suddenly curls down against him with his forehead ground into the curve of Hob's shoulder at the base of his throat. It's an awkward reach, but Hob brings his far arm around to run his palm up the knobbed curve of Dreams spine.

“It's alright, love.” He whispers. The slump is not a loosening at all. Hob can feel the jerky tension in every line of Dream’s body, and his love feels like a spring winding tighter and tighter.

“No.” Dream spits. “You ask what I want. The things I want. You are foolhardy. Brash. You understand nothing. Ignorant.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, my Dream.” Hob keeps running his hand up and down Dream’s spine, thinking that he really is wound up if those are the best insults he can come up with.

There's a bizarre, inhuman sound. A sharp, jagged, snarling grind. Dream's other hand splays against his ribs, vibrating and sharp. The Endless goes quiet again, and Hob keeps stroking his back, happy to wait for whatever comes next.

“The way you say my name.” Dream whispers. “I want to open your ribs and make you say it. I want to pull each apart, one by one, like the petals of the rarest flower. I want to splay them, pin them. Expose the secret parts of you. I want to see how your lungs fill and shrink when you say my name, when you scream it. I want to see how your heart beats when you dream of me. I want to put my hand around it and feel the precious fluttering of it when I punch my fingers through the chambers. I want to feel it burst like the most wondrous fruit plucked out and crushed in my grasp. I want to feel the pockets of your lungs crackle against my palms when they fill with air. I want you to be screaming my name when I do it.”

His hand moves as he talks. Long fingers drag along the valleys between Hob's ribs, slow and methodical. They're also shaking, a sharp electric buzzing of claws through Hob's button down shirt. 

That sort of night then?

“If you're trying to scare me off, you’ve already done that sort of thing in a few of my more exciting dreams.” Hob points out.

“I want to do it here.” It isn't even a whisper now. It's just an exhale shaped into words. Hob notices that it isn't a threatening snarl, or the low purr of Dream enjoying the build up to a grand old violently nightmarish time. There's a shivery dread. A horror deeper than the obvious goriness of it all.

“You fantasize about killing me?” Hob asks, curious. Ok fine, it wouldn't actually kill him, but it would feel like it.

“You can't die.”

It's an immediate response. Breathless. Rapturous. Terrified. Hob is starting to get the idea of what's going on here.

“Scariest thing you've said to me, that was.” He observes with some interest. It's true, after all. He's just learned that his immortality fuels his love's apparent wish to vivisect him in the plane where they both know it would hurt the worst, where the violence of it would be all of the bloody screaming reality without the cushioned fantasy of the Dreaming. Dream admitted that in a way that was clear that he thinks about it regularly. It is, objectively, a scary thing to learn. There it is. Horrifying and alarming. Huh! How about that.

He doesn’t pretend to be surprised at himself when his cock twitches against his jeans. The only thing he isn’t sure of is if it’s the violent idea itself, or the fact that Dream is very obviously holding himself back from affectionately mauling him right this instant.

He's still petting his hand up and down Dream's spine, and he can feel the way his love bunches in on himself with a cracked whining sound that makes Hob's chest ache like his heart’s already been torn and exposed for the soft tender thing it is. There are talons still scraping anxiously at Hob's ribcage. There are still claws dug into his arm, but with less force than before. Dream is tense, already in a state, and in the fine process of working himself up into what could possibly be a legendary tantrum of self loathing.

“Right.” Hob declares, coming to a decision. “First thing: put a pin in that idea. I have to sit on it a bit and work up to it, but I did just get a little hard there, so it's not entirely off the table. I don't think that's what you want right now though.”

Dream froze with shock halfway through that, and Hob knows the best course of action is to keep moving before that impossible head has enough time to tangle itself up in a new way. The hand on Dream's spine sweeps up and grabs Dream by the nape, hard. 

There is an explosive hiss of incredulous shock when Hob yanks him back. The face that Hob pulls off of his shoulder has wide obsidian eyes and a snarl with a wicked set of fangs. He holds the nightmare scruffed, meeting glittering dark eyes while his heart pounds with what isn't nearly enough actual fear.

“You want me to stop you.” 

Dream’s eyes widen further, the hand on Hob's wrist drops lifeless to the sofa. Hob watches a burst of pink bloom across the unnatural white of his cheeks before the response is wrestled back down. Dream’s eyes narrow, but he's watching Hob closely.

“You are. Incapable. Of stopping me.” He growls. It's not a threat, just reality. Which is how most of Dream’s threats go.

“You're going to let me though, I think.” Hob says. He digs his fingers a little into the hard muscle of the back of Dream's neck, and takes several mental notes on the way the nightmare’s head lolls back and the hand on his ribs goes still. Hob turns where he's sitting to bring one leg up on the sofa, to bring himself closer to the odd monster he loves so dearly. He pulls Dream further, already feeling dizzy at the way the jagged, black eyed nightmare with his luminous white skin and razor teeth goes pliantly until he's leant back, practically being dipped with Hob over him.

“I think you need to let go, love. But you don't like what you might do if you let go.” He says with a smile. “How about we try things my way hm? You let go, but you hand the reins to me. Let me take charge.”

Dreams face goes through some fascinating shifts. He gazes up at Hob with such a raw, wounded want that it looks painful before the expression flinches when Hob's other hand comes up to stroke his cheek again. There's a jerk though Dream's limbs, and Hob is sure the joints are doing things that would make him feel queasy if he looked.

“You…here?” Dream asks, and his voice is thin and sharp and shivery. Hob knows why Dream’s clarifying that, and why here is making Dream writhe and flush with his mouth stretched a little too far on teeth that weren't meant for a human jawline. Hob knows that things feel different for Dream, when he's in the Waking. He's a creature of thought and idea, and touches in the more physical Waking world come across stronger than he's used to, more overwhelming. It’s not that Dream never bottoms, or even that he never submits. But it’s always in Dream’s own realm, where his submission isn’t really submission at all, but a coy play where he acts up the part of a sweet wilting fae lover or a wanton hedonist. He has a harder time staying in control of the situation, when they’re in Hob’s world, where there are less heated fantasies for him to sink himself into.

And the Dreamlord would never admit it, but Hob has noticed the way he keeps showing up in the Waking world to initiate things, even if it's just to cuddle up against Hob and find ways to get petted until he turns into a shivering puddle of nerves. But cuddling here is one thing, this is something else, something new.

“Here.” Hob nods, stroking his thumb slow and firm over Dream's nape, feeling the little vibration that goes down Dream's spine from that point. “I need you to say you want me to though, ok?”

That gets a furious, low hiss of a growl. Dream’s eyes flash and he snaps his mouth full of razor teeth with the sound like a bear trap. Hob lets him squirm and hiss and shudder. He's always such a trembling little thing, like there is too much going on inside for his outer shell to hold in. One day, Hob is going to properly catalog all of the ways his cosmic power of a lover shivers like a leaf when he thinks he's keeping himself all grim and stoic. 

“You. Wish me …complicit.” Dream hisses, the words grinding out from his chest, as there's no way the wide maw of needle teeth is currently capable of speaking that clearly. “You would have me voice it. Admit to it. To be brought low and ragged.”

“I want your consent,” Hob huffs a small laugh, which might not be the best response but God does he love this proud twit, “you pretty, deranged little thing. I'm not doing anything if you don't actually want me to, and we can stop at any point. It's important to me that you get that.”

“My consent,” Dream spits, and this time there's a tearing sound when he does start clawing up Hob's upholstery, “is that I am allowing it.”

On paper, true enough. Dream is thrashing and snarling and gnashing his monstrous teeth with eyes like flaming pits. He's also kept in place by the weak, flesh and blood human hand holding him by the back of the neck. The only reason Hob is able to scruff him and have his head tilted pliantly back to expose the long white throat, is because Dream is letting it happen.

“I think you would allow me to do a lot of things you don't want me to.” Hob says gently. The thrashing stills, the snarling quiets, Dream's teeth finally shrink down into more standard shapes.

“There we are.” Hob breathes, smiling. His chest feels like it may burst, like Dream may end up getting his dark little fantasy after all. It's more than any man could deserve, seeing the way Dream goes quiet and panting, eyes fixed wide and blue again as they stare up at Hob. He keeps the hold on Dreams neck, and smoothes the other hand back through Dreams hair. 

Dream makes a thin, fragile sound, eyes flashing black before returning to their clear blue.

“I need to know you actually want this, darling.” Hob explains again. “Not just that you're allowing it. I can't go thinking that you might just be going along with what you think I want from you.”

There's a shift of movement, more of a little squirm than the furious thrashing from a few seconds ago. Dream clenches his jaw together and stares, eyes glittering with new wetness. Christ. Hob is going to get a complex. It can't be good for his ego, having Dream like this.

“Yes.” Dream finally whispers, swallowing thickly. He even nods with little jerky movements against Hob's grip. “I want…what it is, you are planning. Here. In the Waking. I want you to have me. Your way.”

Hob rewards him with a hard kiss, mostly because if he doesn't get his mouth on those quivering pink lips he might explode. Dream goes lax with a whining sound that is absolutely going to give Hob a complex. Plush lips part immediately under his, as sweet as anything. Then teeth flash against his mouth, still sharp and wild but followed fast by Dream’s tongue lapping hungrily at the bite. There are hands clawing at him again, pawing at his back, twisting in his hair, digging into his hips. Dream is doing some impossible wiggling and Hob realizes that there is more than one pair of legs hitching around his hips and tangling between his own legs. It must look like he's snogging an enthusiastic spider.

“Enough of that.” He chides, pushing a hand on Dream's chest. Teeth sink into his lip again, and there's a low growl when Hob pulls his head back so Dream can't start trying to get his tongue down Hob's throat. Or trying to affectionately bite his lips off. “Shush. Lie back, and settle down dearest. Christ, you're all wound up.”

Another small push does the trick. Dream goes down with a little huff when his back hits the sofa. He’s suddenly as meek as a kitten, if that kitten had blood on its lips and a sharp intrigued glint to its eyes. Rather like a kitten then, actually.

Not that Hob is thinking much about kittens. He's far more focused on the way Dream’s skin has gained a more human flush to it, on the curious little chirrup noise that comes from him. He's looking up at Hob with swollen pink lips and his eyes still blue, but the dark blue of a deep ocean. The shirt he's wearing is stretched at the collar, revealing the tantalizing dip of his clavicles, and his ruffled hair is the most adorable thing Hob could imagine. It's such a flip from the snarling monstrous thing Hob had scruffed less than a minute ago, and all of it is so wonderfully Dream. Objectively terrifying in his violence, objectively sexier than sin.

“You're horrible for my ego.” Hob declares, sitting up kneeling between long legs that are still clad in the damn cartoon star pajamas. Dream answers this with a velvety pleased sound, and Hob feels legs bent around his hips and hitched up his waist and one bends a knee up on his shoulder-

“Ah-ah, stick with two.” Hob taps at one of Dream’s thighs before getting to work unbuttoning his shirt enough to tug it up over his head. “We're in my world right now, so we’re doing things my way. With a human shape. And stop eyeballing my ribcage, thanks. I told you we're putting a pin in that.”

He can hear the displeased hissing sound, and decides to give Dream a pass on that. There are times where words seem to lack the correct expressions for the Prince of Stories, and he has an astounding repertoire of inhuman, and even inorganic, sounds to fall back on. Despite his orders to stop with the rib stuff, there are long hands on his sides as soon as his shirt is tossed away. When he looks down, Dream’s eyes are half lidded and dark, fully fixed with stark hunger on Hob’s exposed torso. 

There's a scrape of claw, smoother than before, and the bright line over his side goes right to his prick. It is…so tempting…to change his mind and tell Dream to have at it. Just to see what would happen, to see how it would feel to get torn apart by something that loves him so much. Except there's a little tense pinching at Dreams mouth, even as his eyes darken further and his hands spread over Hob's ribs to feel them expand with each breath.

“Hands to yourself.” Hob decides for both their sakes. He taps a finger between Dream’s eyes in chastisement, and nearly loses that finger when teeth snap up towards it. Dream is fast, but he's used to getting away with things, so there's only a surprised hitch of sound when Hob grabs under his jaw and shoves his head back.

“My way.” Hob reminds him, surprised at how low and rough his own voice comes out.

FULL FIC ON AO3

#dreamling #my fic #dom gadling is here to be the gentlest mildest service top #dream is a weird eldritch cat

[yuyuconfessions]

"I've noticed that younger fans seem to have trouble connecting the dots that a lot of adults on this website were kids younger or close to the age of Yusuke when this series was originally airing back in the 90s in Japan and the 2000s in the west.

Although these fictional characters' stories ended for them at 18 it doesn't mean that Yusuke and the gang stop being important, interesting, or compelling to us. It also doesn't mean that we have to stop loving these fictional characters and their stories after we turn 19.

If you as a minor 14-17 or someone aged 18 - 25 thay feels comfortable shipping these characters, viewing art of them, and reading fic about them ESPECIALLY NSFW art/fic; but your skin crawls that people older than you are creating that content, then you need to sit down with yourself and ask yourself if fandoms that are literally older than your existence are places that you are ready to be socializing in.

Fandoms that are older than your existence will have fans that are MUCH older than you and they are making content and having interactive conversations.

Yu Yu Hakusho is not an Adult Only fandom but it is a fandom that is Mostly Adults.

I fell in love with this show when I was a pre teen. I'm in my mid 30s. The show's target audience is teenagers. But here is the thing: it's target audience was teenagers back in the 90s and 2000s and that's still most of its audience today because Togashi told a fun and resonant story that tends to stick with its audience.

If you can't handle shipping content or adult conversations (conversations about mature topics and themes not necessarily 18+/NSFW but these are definitely present also) about Yu Yu Hakusho then you should try to avoid adult spaces when searching for discussion or content and stick to spaces specifically for minors.

A space specifically for minors would have a ban against all 18+/NSFW content that is strictly enforced. It would not have an 18+/NSFW section at all.

Tumblr and most of the discord servers for YYH that I've seen are adult spaces. Because there is an expectation that while minors are allowed on the websites they must be over a certain age with parental permission because adult conversations happen here where minors could see them.

All of this to say: Unplug from the adult spaces if you feel uncomfortable with adult themes and content or 18+/NSFW content.

Talk to friends irl about Yu Yu Hakusho or find a minor focused space online to talk about it. Come back to the adult spaces in a few years.

This applies to the 18 - 25 crowd also. If you can't handle seeing someone ship these characters or if someone ships them in a way that you don't agree with and it's so upsetting to you that it's causing you a great deal of anger or distress then you need to consider if you really want to be in the Greater Online Yu Yu Hakusho Fandom at this particular point in your life. Or if maybe you want to filter tags on tumblr and drop sites that you can't filter to make your fandom experience more smooth.

If Yu Yu Hakusho has lasted 30 years then it'll last another 3 or 5 years while you get adjusted and engage with Yu Yu Hakusho in minor focused or safely filtered fandom spaces. Trust me. Yu Yu Hakusho will be somewhere on the greater internet when you're older and you've gotten better at self regulating your intake of content online and your response to seeing content online that you don't like.

Yusuke, Kazuma, Kurama, Hiei, Keiko, Botan, Shizuru, Yukina, Genkai and the rest will be here when you get back. That's the great thing about resonant media. It sticks around because people connect to it.

You can love them as long as you want to. They'll always be there. They're not going anywhere."

This mod would just like to add

No one shipping Yusuke x Keiko is sexualizing or exploiting minors; yes, even if the person shipping is 35 years old. These are cartoons, fictional, 2d drawings. If you want to play cute with "but they're 14!" No. Yusuke was created in 1992. He is 31.

If any of the above makes you, a minor, uncomfortable, then get out of adult spaces. Back in myyy day (que groans), any show I liked and looked at online had adult content, like Inuyasha or Naruto, even Teen Titans. I'd be 12 and see suddenly complete porn of Raven, and as a teen, I'd just exit out of it. Now, kids see things online, things they shouldn't see because the internet is NOT safe for kids without parental oversight, and their response is to... yell at the people making the content... for other adults.

If you wouldn't walk into Spencers and yell at the employees there for the vibrators, don't yell at adults drawing porn of Yukina and Hiei fucking. Exit out, or ask your mommy and daddy to put restrictions on what sites you can access. The internet is NOT your babysitter.

#yyh #yu yu hakusho #幽遊白書

[madamtrashbat]

I was chatting with a friend recently about the ways antis operate and how damaging their ideology is and I wanted to organize my thoughts about it.

It's one thing to be like "I wish minors wouldn't interact with my work because it's got adult content" (which is not something you can 100% control short of paywalling) but it's another thing ENTIRELY to be like "minors should never look at anything sexual ever and people who think it's okay that they do are secret pedophiles."

Teenagers need to have the safe space to explore their sexuality and figure their shit out and sometimes that place is fandom. Sometimes teens are trying to deal with the fantasies they have about their hot history teacher so they consume teacher/student smut in order to work it out. Sometimes they're wondering what gives them their jollies and are just reading whatever they can to wank to, including incest and rape and other "unsavory" things just so they can get it all figured out.

Sometimes awful things have happened to teens and they're using the avenue of art and fiction to take the power back from their rapist and create a narrative they control where they are working through it safely.

And antis would see all of this and want it fucking destroyed.

I was brought up in fandom by a few of the sweetest older women (adult women!) who took me under their wings and showed me that what I was thinking and writing wasn't bad or wrong or shameful and it was all perfectly sane to have these sexual feelings because nothing makes sense when you're a kid and if you want to write Frerard where Gerard is the hot teacher to Frank's catholic schoolboy in order to deal with your feelings about the sexy sub you just got at your school then that's totally fine.

These trusted adults also comforted me when I was afraid, taught me what boundaries were (please do not actually pursue the sub!), told me what were normal interactions and what I should be wary of (do NOT let the sub pursue you), and they were proud of me as I made my way into the world as a reasonably well-adjusted adult.

(Hi, Gaja, can't wait for your Christmas card!)

Sexuality is weird and messy and whatever makes our pants tighter is all individual and equally weird. Telling teenagers to not seek out porn and to not even speak to adults is just a one-way ticket to growing fucked-up people who don't know how to operate without shame and then we have a resurgence in Catholicism and NOBODY needs that.

And the way that antis rally against this, like teenagers are Pure and Sweet Babies who are being corrupted by the Awful Adults Like Me (who are secretly child diddlers obviously) is just. So fucking damaging.

Imagine trying to handle the way your hormones are firing off at everything and you're just not sure what's going on and instead of a kind adult going "hey we were all freaks at 16 and it's totally normal to be like 'this strange thing is turning me on' I promise" you have some sniveling puritan asshole going "YOU ARE ACTUALLY A SEXUAL PREDATOR IF YOU LIKE THESE THINGS AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED AND PUNISHED BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY HARM PEOPLE."

Like. Y'all. I have seen antis claim that people who wrote about/drew rape in order to deal with their own assaults DESERVED IT because they chose to deal with it in this way. I have seen antis tell people they hope they get raped for the fiction they create. They wish death and harm against people who make fiction. Antis literally have a body count over this shit. And yet they want me to believe they're the good guys? Bye.

Antis will argue that it's not normal for people to think about gross and icky things. I argue that Holocaust survivors had sexual fantasies about actual fucking jackboot Nazis.

No one says you have to like everything everyone else does. We have a robust tagging system for a reason. But to behave as if what YOU like is the only thing that is acceptable and everything else is Bad and Wrong is not the business. Kink Tomato exists for a reason. We are all individuals who like different things. Get with it.

Teenagers are in a precarious time of development and if you want to shame them for whatever is going on in their heads then you are the problem, not the solution. Be the kind of adult you needed as a teenager, not some shaming, screaming Puritan trying to pin scarlet A's onto everything because it's sinful. Goody Proctor is just trying to rub one out in peace.

Get with the way fandom has always operated or go away. ACAB means fancop, too.

#discourse #long post

[go-learn-esperanto]

I would like to have finished writing the well thought out post I was gonna do initially but I've been extremely busy today, so I'm just gonna say.

I am so distraught by what this situation has done to my community.

Right now I'm in constant anxiety and terror because I don't know which of the blogs I followed and loved, and even possible friends, are just gonna leave forever.

It hurts seeing something that was mostly build by the fandom - let's be real, the last year of Dream SMP popularity has mainly remained because we are so many and we created fics and art, and videos and everything. It wasn't the the Minecraft server. Definitely not just that.

And more than that the Minecraft server isn't just Dream. There are so many CCs who poured all their art in it, and to see the story gone? The community gone? Just like that? That would destroy me.

I spent the last 2 years dedicating so much of my time, love and happiness to it. I made so many friends in this community.

I really don't want to say I left a fandom not because I lost interest but because the fandom sinked all around me.

The last Reblogs aren't done with lightness in my heart they're made of desperation, of simultaneously trying to maybe make my followers happier with fun posts and trying to convince them to maybe not leave, or even the worst of them all, scattering trying to reblog a posts of a blog that has said they won't be here anymore.

To me the Dream SMP was ours. We all got together when there was a new Sad-ist or Late August animatic, a lot of my music library is Dream SMP fan songs, Passerine was a fanfic with fics, music and animations made out of it. A lot of us talk about the Super Hero au like it's canon sometimes, we fought to get that Ao3 tag!!! We made content in the Dream SMP canon (the white streak, YCGMA limbo).

I am inclined to say that the fandom as a whole is as much of a Content Creator as the the Dream SMP's content creators, if not more (we are a lot of people).

And now some are leaving for very valid reasons, and us that are staying know that we'll have to find way to make this work in a sensible way - that we'll also suffer consequences of having extra hate thrown at us, even if we really haven't supported Dream directly in a long time (I for example never really liked manhunts that much so outside that really small lore video of Dream I haven't touched a Dream video or stream for more than a year).

And to think of the community that bonded around an Ode to L'Manburg and still knows how to sing it today. To think of a community that is such a safe space for LGBTQI+ people. To think of the inside jokes about salmon. To think about the zines. To think about the fact that I could live of fan content!!! Because we had almost all art forms! From embroidery to book binding, to composing to drawing, animatics/animation, sculpting, cosplaying, writing, programming, etc... I have seen it all.

And to think it can all be threatened by a single person? When we are literally millions? It's a feeling I can't really describe.

I can only wish that on the best case scenario something happens like what happened to Hermitcraft - the server goes to another person. But part of me thinks we might end up like Yandere Highschool, although worse because everyone knows about the Dream SMP. I'm starting to wonder if that even is wishful thinking. Because at least people leave Yandere Highschool fans alone because almost nobody knows about it.

All of this to say - more than the lore I am worried about the people and friends I might lose because of this situation, and what I wish is for we all to come out of this the least scratched as possible, so that maybe we can still play a little melody.

#gle original #long post #the dream situation #mcytblr

[irithnova]

The way white hetalians, especially fairly popular white hetalians, react to poc who actually speak up against racism is really telling.

I'm sick and tired of having to hand hold and coddle white hetalians when I call them out on questionable behaviour to try and convince them that no!!! I still think you're a good person despite the fact that you've already blocked quite a few poc who are vocal about racism even though they've never interacted with you, even though you're excruciatingly exclusionary of non white nations, post ignorant and historically deaf takes and repost literal n*zi fanart!!

I find it incredibly telling when a white hetalian already has a bunch of vocal poc blocked even without ever interacting with them. Because I know exactly what they're trying to hide.

Like. Why should I, a poc, have to hold your hand while I explain to you why other poc are upset with your post/posts. Why do you see this fandom as a safe space away from poc and away from any and all forms of accountability. As if a poc didn't create this manga/anime in the first place. You guys are fucking pathetic lol.

Btw before anyone says "if you don't like it then leave!!!!!!!!" lol what a cheap copout plus I've been in this fandom for 8-ish years in total now so obviously I enjoy hetalia enough to stay. Imagine telling someone who wants to fix their home to just move to a new one. Because fuck trying to work to improve anything right? If you try to actively improve the quality of the fandom (like. make it less racist) then obviously you must hate the fandom and you're only here to whine!

If anything, people, especially poc who are vocal about the racism care more about the fandom space than the hetalians who brush it under the rug. And I find it absolutely hilarious when popular white hetalians block small poc creators who are known for calling out racism/ignorance. Doesn't look good bestie x

For a while now I've pretty much curated my fandom space to include people who are similar to me and have similar interests to me because I wasn't a fan of the racism I saw when I first joined quite a while back. I reach out to the wider fandom again after a hiatus and yup still having to deal with white hetalians not wanting to take accountability for their racism, ignorance, and exclusion.

I mean, the fact that with the poll argument I had with a larger white creator ended with them not even uttering an apology, whining the entire time about being "harassed", not taking anything I actually said on board and that the only reason why they were no longer doing the poll was because they had a "private conversation" with someone about how the poll wouldn't work, and not because a poc (and others) called them out for being blatantly exclusionary to non white nations...

That's not the only incident if anyone accuses me of milking the situation, there were incidents before that and after and a lot of my poc mutuals/friends still deal with a lot of shit on the daily.

Anyways maybe try to listen to poc who actually speak up against the racism/ignorance in the fandom rather than speed run blocking them, talking down to them, tone policing them and ignoring them. Thanks.

#hetalia #Hetalia critical #Hetalia fandom #Hetalia discourse #Hetalia racism #hetalia world twinkle #hetalia world stars #hetalia world series #hidekaz himaruya #Aph #Hws

[muiromem]

Just... repeatedly rotating An Idea around in my head

(and yes it's still Tom/Harry/B'Elanna OT3 because I'm obsessed with them, but I also love Janeway's and Tom's weird friendship)

Basically, something Big and Insane and Sci-Fi happens, and somehow all of the known universe in time/space is just sort of.... gone. Or dying, or being destroyed. Stars are going out, everything is vanishing out of existence. Planets, galaxies, creatures and anomalies and time/space itself - all completely gone.

Of course, Voyager is in the eye of the storm (so to speak) of this catastrophe that happened around them, and therefore one of the few things that remains for now (much like Kirk and the crew still existed after McCoy accidentally changed the timeline in "The City on the Edge of Forever"). Obviously, they're trying to stop it - to fix whatever this catastrophe was that could unmake all of existence.

With the wonders of Science-Fiction, there is a theoretical way to fix things; a jump-start essentially, to reset everything to what it was before this catastrophe and repair the wound it created. But even with this theoretical plan, there's something missing: a blueprint, of sorts. If they set off this insane spatial-temporal reaction, everything would be reset, but there's no telling what state the universe would actually be in after it was done. It would be like setting off a Genesis device on a war-destroyed Earth and hoping it would magically return everything and everyone to how they once were. There was nothing to guide this theoretical process of rebirth - and literally everything was at stake.

Even the great minds of Tuvok, Seven, B'Elanna and everyone else are at a loss for what to do. Unless they had someone like Q, omnipotent as he was, how could they feed something into this reaction of theirs to tell it what to do? How could they ever have enough information to rebuild all of existence from scratch?

It's Tom, of all people, who comes up with the answer: let him go.

At first everyone just sort of looks at him like he's insane because, what? What could he possibly be talking about? But even though he can't really remember, Tom still has a theory: the Warp 10 flight.

For a brief time, he was literally everywhere in time and space, all at once. Existing throughout all of existence simultaneously. Could his body, his unconscious mind, have somehow remembered that time? Could it have imprinted something onto him? Perhaps his very cells? He figures if there was a chance, even a small one, that his theory was correct - they had to take it. Because if he was right, then technically he was a living, breathing blue-print of all the known and unknown universe... and their only chance at saving everything.

That's when the riot starts, a great uproar of arguments. Facts and theoretical probabilities from Seven and Tuvok, horror and concern from Harry, even more from B'Elanna and the Doctor. They're startled, angry, because even if that were true the process would almost certainly kill him. And then there's Janeway, putting a stop to all the noise with a hand and saying that if there was a chance this theory would work, if the Doctor or someone could find even a speck of evidence to support it, then she would do it. Because even if everyone else forgot, she'd passed the transwarp threshold too.

Tom tries to argue, Chakotay and the Doctor too, but Janeway insists. She sends Tom to be looked over by everyone for proof of his concept, but says that if the time comes, she'll be the one to do it. As Captain, it's her job to keep everyone safe, no matter what. No one can argue, but no one is happy. Even this one chance at survival feels like it will come at too great a cost.

Time passes, with everyone rushing to do what they can before Voyager is also consumed by the nothingness. But eventually the verdict comes - Tom's idea has merit. His very atoms are somehow encoded with cross-temporal chronotrons and other signs that the theory may work. Once he knows what to look for, the Doctor scans Janeway and sees that she has these markers too, though hers are... fainter, for lack of a better term. She theorizes that it's because she only went through the Warp 10 process once, while Tom did it twice. The Doctor admits that there is a possibility Tom's the better candidate for this mission, only because he has a stronger "imprint" so to speak. Janeway still insists, refusing to send one of her officers to die in her place.

When everyone finally gets this complex and theoretical "reset" device figured out and constructed in one of the cargo bays, Tom begs to come with Janeway. He says that after everything she's done for him, he wants to see her off one last time. She relents, and once B'Elanna has started the reaction up from the safety of Engineering, shining beyond the doors like an imploding star, the two make their way there.

The entire deck has been cordoned off to keep chroniton and other radiations from killing the crew before they can set this whole thing in motion. It's just the two of them there. Tom takes a moment - as the doors open and they're both hit with a wave of heat, energy, and the unknown - and he thanks Janeway properly. For giving him a second chance, for believing in him, and for everything that followed after; like meeting Harry and B'Elanna, and finding a home aboard Voyager. Then he says "get them home" and before Janeway can realize what's happening, briefly thrown by his intense sincerity, he's shoving her aside - hitting the mechanism to shut the cargo bay doors. Inside, Tom grabs some tool and smashes the console so the door won't open without a manual override. That would probably buy him enough time.

Inside the cargo bay, it's like being trapped with the birth of a star; plasma, light, and colors all swirling in strings and shapes and a great sphere of something. There's no special switch for Tom to flip, no complicated sequence he has to follow. The best Voyager's brightest minds could figure out was for him to simply... walk into the singularity and hope for the best. He thinks of his family on Voyager, he thinks of his father and so many things unsaid, he thinks of B'Elanna and Harry and hopes that they'll still take care of each other when he's gone. And to keep them safe, to preserve everything that ever was or ever would be.... he walks into the fires of rebirth.

Outside the cargo bay, Janeway is screaming - trying to get in, to override the doors. She gets them open, only in time to see a tall silhouette disappearing - almost disassembled before her eyes, like dust being scattered away on the wind. Then there's just light - so bright it feels like it somehow pierces through her skin and bones and the very atoms of her being. Then.......

She wakes up. There's no telling how long it's been; all Janeway knows is that she's on the cargo bay floor, ears still faintly ringing, and Chakotay is gently helping her sit up. All around her it's... quiet. The cargo bay looks untouched - no crumpled bulkheads, no scorch marks, nothing. Even the vast, cobbled together machinery for the reset is simple gone. Once her head finally clears, Chakotay asks if she's alright, if her plan worked - but Harry's comm. from the bridge interrupts the question. Excitedly, Harry announces with great relief that the nothingness, the catastrophe, seems to be gone. His scans, Voyager's databanks - everything seems to be showing up normal. As far as they can tell, the universe was back to how it should be.

Back, except for one thing: Tom Paris.

As far as Janeway can see, Tom isn't in the cargo bay. She asks the computer to locate him; the reply is that Lieutenant Paris is no longer aboard. This is announced just as B'Elanna is running in through the cargo bay door, no doubt to see the result of all her hard work. She comes to a halt, looking at Janeway - staring because she wasn't supposed to be here, she was supposed to... After only a fraction of a moment, the computer's announcement finally registers and suddenly B'Elanna is running at Janeway with fists flying, screaming about how could she let him do this? Where is he, dammit, where the hell is Tom?!

She gets a few good hits to Janeway's chest and shoulders before Chakotay holds her back, and Janeway just lets her do it. Because this is her fault - she should have known Tom would try to pull that stunt with the doors, should never have let him come to see her off. She barely registers that B'Elanna's fury soon devolves into angry, choked back tears which Chakotay tries to soothe. When Harry arrives soon after and sees her expression, probably sees Janeway's too, it's all too easy for him to put two and two together. He and B'Elanna end up clinging to each other in their grief. Though Chakotay comes to Janeway to try and comfort her too, to reassure her that she's not responsible, all she can do is look at the cargo bay and see the silhouette where Tom last was - lost now to the ether of the universe.

The next few days are... hard. Harry might as well have aged a decade, and instead of the righteous fury that Janeway had expected, B'Elanna's just gone quiet. When Janeway stops by Sickbay, even the Doctor has become subdued, staring wistfully into the distance at nothing when he'd normally be working on some experiment or other. She still asks him, and Seven, and anyone who might be of use, if there was anything that could be done. But as far as anyone can tell, Tom Paris is gone - he'd sacrificed himself to save everyone else.

But Janeway feels like something is still wrong, like Tom's ghost is... haunting her somehow. It's a figure of speech when she admits it to a concerned Chakotay, but one night, she startles awake from a dreamless sleep, and there he is - standing in her quarters. Tom looks confused, exhausted, and he's... well she can see right through him. He looks at her, seemingly just as startled as she is, and she swears she hears him whisper "Captain?" But then suddenly he's convulsing, curling in on himself with a cry of pain and Janeway is horrified as she watches him.... unmade. It's like he's nowhere and everywhere, born and dying, unraveled but stitched together all at the same time until he's once again vanished into nothingness.

Janeway's heart is racing and she doesn't understand what she just witnessed. A dream? Hallucination? Some alien interference? She goes to the Doctor at 0400 and demands he scan her for a virus, temporal misalignment, anything. She's terrified that this was nothing more than the aftermath of radiation from being so near their "universal reset" as it went off. But there's also a tiny sliver of the smallest, most fragile hope, that this is something else - that there's a chance Tom isn't really.

The Doctor does find something, a strange resonance of sorts, connected - or perhaps coming from - Janeway. He theorizes that it's an effect of being so close to the singularity during the reset. As far as he can tell, she's not suffering from radiation damage, but believes that her guilt over Tom must have caused the hallucination. He offers to devise a treatment, and Janeway begrudgingly agrees. For him to say that what she'd seen was a hallucination though... it felt wrong somehow.

For the next few days, she hardly sleeps, too busy pouring over anything she can find - old Federation logs, complex theories, and all the research and schematics for the device they'd created. All in the slim hope to understand what had actually happened to Tom. Was he simply dead? He couldn't have been wiped from existence or surely, no one would have even known he'd existed. But had he been scattered throughout existence itself, a fundamental building block of the universe now? Seven helps her eventually, though it takes a good deal of persuasion. Chakotay and even Tuvok (though he'd never admit it) become increasingly concerned that she's grasping at straws, just trying to absolve herself of the guilt she feels because Tom took her place - but she knows it's more than that.

And eventually, she's proven right. The so-called hallucination happens again - but this time she's not the only one there. Seven and the Doctor were working with her on some experimental simulations on the holodeck when there's suddenly a terrible noise; something between electro-static and the wails of a dying creature. The holo-grid starts sparking, a console blowing out completely, until suddenly they all watch Tom Paris form out of nothingness before them. Whatever process was involved in his... reassembly, is obviously painful. Just watching the strange tangle of unidentifiable mass contort itself until it could become Tom was sickening. And when he finally takes form, still only semi-opaque, he collapses to his knees, shaking.

Janeway runs to him immediately, unsure what to do but calling his name. Here's there, he's there - it wasn't just in her head. The Doctor and Seven follow shortly, taking tricorder scans in shocked fascination. They ask questions, trying to understand what happened, but Tom doesn't know any more than they do. He says it's like he's everywhere but nowhere - and yet something keeps pulling him back into reality, back onto Voyager. He thought he would die, had come to terms with it, and yet he's still coming back. Even if he'd been completely tangible he looks awful, like he's dying every minute he's there. Janeway tries to reassure him that they'll find him, that they won't just give up, and that manages to make Tom smile. He says knows she won't give up on him - but as he starts to shift out of phase again, face clenched with pain, he asks her to promise him something. Janeway doesn't want to, knows she won't like what he has to say, but she nods anyways. "If you have to - let me go," is what he pleads. "Don't risk Voyager or anyone else for me. Just promise me that."

Janeway can't even form a reply, doesn't know how to let go, how to admit defeat. She's never given up on a crewman before, how could she possibly now? Out of habit she reaches out to touch Tom's shoulder - and even as he's fritzing, starting to disintegrate before her very eyes, she is surprised to make contact. The sounds of tricorders going haywire are behind her, but all Janeway can focus on is the fact that despite Tom literally unraveling in her hands, for a moment, just one moment, she could feel him. Then he's gone.

Everything is different this time - there was proof now, witnesses. B'Elanna and Harry are no longer withdrawn, instead racing full-steam ahead to do anything they can to help. They ask her about Tom of course, about how he's looking, and whether or not she thinks that they can save him. Janeway doesn't know what to say, how to tell them that Tom's clearly in pain and that she has no idea what even happened, let alone how to fix it....

Unfortunately, she doesn't have to. During some experimentation, Tom reappears again - much more violently this time, just when Harry and B'Elanna are present. The very air around them seems to crackle with energy, the temperature changing from too hot, then too cold, and back again. The atmospheric readings are going haywire and when Tom reappears, somehow less corporeal than before, he crumples to the ground in a heap. Harry is openly crying as they run to him, begging him to open his eyes - but when he and B'Elanna try to touch Tom, somehow their hands go right through.

Janeway is completely flummoxed. She'd touched Tom before, she knows she did. But it seemed he was becoming less and less stable each time he returned to a corporeal form - perhaps that explained the change? As the Doctor and Seven are once again running complex scans, Janeway goes to Tom's side and slowly reaches out a hand. As it lands on his shoulder, as Tom tries to sit up, she does make contact. The tricorders instantly go haywire, and Harry and B'Elanna wonder in despair - Why now? Why her? Why can't they touch him? But all Janeway can think is that this is progress. It must mean something, especially since Tom he seems to regain consciousness as she maintains contact, becoming a bit less transparent - a bit more real. When Tom sees Harry and B'Elanna this time, his eyes begin to water too - and Janeway wonders how tears could form in whatever state of flux Tom has become entwined with. But when she removes her hand to give them some space, to ask Tom if he's alright, he starts to fade once more.

This time Tom tries to reach out, to touch Harry and B'Elanna - but is just as unable to make real contact. Instead he tells them he loves them, begs them to take care of each other, to let him go - and it's painful to watch as he's once again gripped by whatever agony has been tearing him into reality and back. Hoping it might do something, Janeway grabs Tom's hand and this time she makes a promise she's going to keep: to bring him home dammit, no matter how long it takes. Just her hold on him seems to stabilize him a bit, taking the floating sands of his dissolving form and pulling them together for just a moment longer... but then the temperature goes haywire, energy crackles around them and Tom is gone once more. With him goes every sound as even the beeping of tricorder scans finally cease. In the silence, Janeway can barely seem to breathe and knows that Harry and B'Elanna must feel infinitely worse. Even more terrifying, each time Tom appears, he seems to be getting weaker, losing whatever cohesion he's managed to retain. She has no real basis to understand anything that's been happening, but Janeway has the sinking feeling that if they don't do something soon, Tom will be lost to them for good.

But then the Doctor clears his throat and holds up his tricorder, and suddenly hope floods back. "I believe I know what's happening to Mister Paris," he says, with not an ounce of boastfulness for once. Instead, the Doctor is as grim-faced as the rest of them, but holographic eyes no longer seem so empty. "And I think there's a chance we can fix it."

The process is... complex. Even for a mind as scientifically adept as Janeway's. The only important part is that Janeway wasn't just imagining that there was something connecting her to Tom. In reality, it was the other way around. Tom wasn't just being pulled back to Voyager - he was specifically being pulled back to her. It was all down to the the second transwarp flight, which they'd taken together. Crossing the barrier had created a sort of tether between them - a connection point across the vastness of reality. When Tom had entered the singularity to "reset" all of existence, in a manner of speaking his very existence was used to rebuild what had been lost. The price for this was Tom himself - every atom and molecule destroyed like the fuel necessary to keep a fire burning. But Tom and Janeway had gone to Warp 10 once together - existing everywhere in time and space at the same time. Because of that, a part of Tom still existed in Janeway, safe from the "reset" aboard Voyager within the eye of the storm. Janeway had unknowingly become a sort of temporal anchor, pulling Tom back into existence where he belonged.

At the moment though, he was trapped - pulled between reality and the strange purgatory of nonexistence. But with the magic of incredibly complex Science-Fiction and Technobabble, the crew essentially find a way to use Janeway's own Warp 10 resonance as both a magnet and a waypoint - to pull Tom back, and then reintegrate him into their time and space with the help of B'Elanna's ingenuity and a lot of Borg-enhanced technology. Harry describes is as being "like a temporal transporter" and that's already enough to give Janeway a headache, so she doesn't try to ask for details. The main idea boils down to grabbing onto what's left of Tom's "pattern" of existence, which has been imprinted onto Janeway, and using their newly constructed technology to "rematerialize" him back into reality.

Once they've found the method a jurry-rigged some machinery, the Doctor is standing by, both for Tom and for Janeway should anything happen. The others are farther off, manning the various machines while Chakotay and Tuvok have evacuated various decks in case of any explosions. The risks are immense, and this time Janeway had actually assembled the crew - asking them if they thought it was worth it. They'd potentially be putting the ship and everyone onboard it in danger, in a last-ditch attempt to bring one lost crewman home. It had warmed her heart when not a single person balked at the danger; Tom Paris saved them, their homes, their families and futures. Why shouldn't they try to save him too?

When the process happens, Janeway feels a sense of déjà vu; the light, the swirling mass of indecipherable colors and shapes and feelings, all cascading before her. This time she's strapped up with various bits of technology, hoping against hope to become the lighthouse that guide's Tom's way. In the very same cargo bay, bulkheads rattle and crumple this time, machines start screaming their warnings, and Janeway can feel the heat and pain and dizziness as radiation tries to eat away at her. But she can't stop yet, she won't stop. Even as the Doctor is yelling that the radiation levels are reaching critical, even as she hears Harry calling out that there's a new singularity opening and it's becoming completely unstable, Janeway sees it - a silhouette. It's only just forming, scattering in and out like a dance of lightning and sand, but it's there.

This time she won't be thrown through a cargo bay door and left to rebuild in the aftermath. This time she listens to her gut, and runs forward. She'd been the only one able to hold onto to Tom before because of whatever this bio-temporal tether was that had connected them - she sure as hell wasn't going to let him go now.

So she runs and sees an outstretched hand, breaking and reforming and scattering like light through a prism, everywhere and nowhere all at once. She ignores the pain and the feeling like she herself might be consumed by the fires of the unknown.

Kathryn Janeway takes a leap of faith, she grabs that outstretched hand, and for the sake of every person on her ship, she pulls.

Watching from afar, all the others see is a gigantic explosion of light and colors and sound. The cargo bay had been nearly cleared out before this process, but every piece of newly-made machinery has been completely destroyed. Bits and pieces scatter the floor, bulkheads have been wrenched open, sparks are flying, and Harry and B'Elanna find their ears ringing as they choke on smoke. They'd erected a level 10 forcefield for protection before starting the procedure, but in the aftermath it's been completely torn away. Even as the environmental controls kick in and start clearing out the haze, they look up from where they'd been thrown to see a massive scorch mark, spread out like a starburst across the cargo bay deck.

At it's center, they see.... something. Dizzy, confused, and still trying to see through ash and debris, initially they can't make it out. Even the Doctor is nowhere to be found, his emitter lying on the floor. It's fritzing but, after a brief inspection, seems repairable. Whatever happened must have shorted out many different systems, as Harry's attempt to use his combadge goes unanswered. He and B'Elanna make their way instead towards the center of the scorched cargo bay floor and behold... Captain Janeway.

She's covered in ash, with burns on her skin and uniform, and as they watch she kneels to the floor. There's something in her hands and after a moment it becomes clear; she's draping an emergency blanket over a long, familiar form. One with a head of messy, tawny blonde hair.

Harry and B'Elanna are running then, falling to their knees as they reach Janeway's side and behold Tom Paris - naked save for the blanket Janeway has brought to preserve his modesty. He's overly pale and clearly unconscious, but he's there, he's alive.

Harry cradles Tom to his chest, rocking him gently and bawling like a baby. B'Elanna runs her hand over Tom's hair, his face, his bare shoulders - anything she can seem to reach. They don't even know if he's fine really, but at least he's breathing. They didn't blow up the ship and they didn't have to lose him. Janeway looks exhausted and it's obvious her burns are painful, but she just stars at her three crewman, clutching onto each other with such love, and she smiles.

It feels like she sits there for an eternity, just watching them, basking in their reunion and the knowledge that they did it. In reality, it must only be a few minutes before the cargo bay doors are being forced open and Chakotay, Tuvok, and Neelix come through, bringing medical supplies and asking if everyone is alright.

By then, Harry is finally wiping his eyes and asking B'Elanna if she can get the Doctor back online because they're probably going to need him. For once, she looks reluctant to work, clearly wanting to stay there with him and Tom. In the end she agrees, but not before pressing a kiss to Harry's knuckles and Tom's forehead before taking the holo-emitter and leaving.

Afterwards it's all a long process of scanning, repairing, and treating everyone's wounds. Janeway tries to shoo Chakotay away once they bring her to sickbay, far too worried about Tom's condition, but he pulls out the big guns. Chakotay knows that she can't say no to Neelix when he gives her those big concerned eyes and tells her that "the crew needs their Captain to be taken care of too". So she ends up lying on a bio-bed for half an hour while the Talaxian carefully treats her burns and radiation poisoning as best he can. Unsurprisingly, B'Elanna gets the Doctor's program and holo-emitter working in record-breaking time, and they're all relieved when he checks over Tom and the prognosis is good; Tom's exhausted, dehydrated, and a bit worse for wear, but he'll be fully recovered in no time. Whatever madness they'd pulled of had worked.

Eventually, he wakes up, still very weak but every bit the Tom Paris they know and love. When he sees how distressed both Harry and B'Elanna are, he even jokes that they put an awful lot of effort in "just for him". B'Elanna looks like she wants to punch him for it, but instead throws her arms around him in a hug, and the three of them share a teary, heartfelt reunion. When the lovebirds have to split off so everyone can get some rest, and once the Doctor has given her a clean bill of health, Janeway goes over to Tom's biobed to see how he's doing.

He's obviously tired but he smiles up at her. However, the first thing she tells him is that she should court-martial him and throw him in the brig for the stunt he pulled in the cargo bay by taking her place. For a moment, Tom nearly believes her. But then Janeway smiles back and pats his hand with hers and says that he may be a reckless idiot, but she's proud to say he's one of her bravest officers. She also sincerely thanks him for what he did, to which Tom replies that she risked everything to get him back, so that probably that makes them even. Janeway doesn't bother trying to make him promise never to do something that risky again, since she knows he'd only break the promise anyways if the circumstances required it. Instead, she says that if he's going to continue doing insane, reckless stunts for the good of her ship, then she'll just have to keep doing insane reckless things to keep his sorry ass alive. She receives the patented "yes ma'am" for her troubles, and Tom says that after all, he learned from the best.

The last thing she does before telling him to get some rest though, is tease him - threatening that, even if she understands why he did it, if he ever tries that switcheroo he pulled with her again, she'll have to tell the gossip mill about all the places she hadn't realized he has freckles.

Janeway can see by his slowly-dawning expression that Tom does recall something about emerging from the nothingness, naked on the cargo bay floor. The last thing she hears as she walks, grinning, away from Sickbay is a sputtered yell of "You wouldn't actually... Captain? CAPTAIN!" before the automatic doors swish shut.

#star trek #voy #tom paris #kathryn janeway #harry kim #b'elanna torres #voy ot3 #voyager #fic ideas #this is what happens when I watch other cool sci-fi stuff #it gives me Ideas that are WAY out of my league #I'll never have the mental capacity to properly write this #especially since I have no idea how to do technobabble #but it can't just Live In My Head Rent Free #so I finally wrote out the concept #and decided to release it to the world #of course as usual it somehow involves Threshold #but there's just so much untapped potential for fic!!! #what with the whole “existing in all of time and space at once” #the writers just GLOSSED OVER that bit but like COME ON #anyways here's nearly 5k words of not-quite-a-fanfic

[emelinstriker]

Hi! So while scrolling through your AU i rememberd the "Alice Madnes Returns" game, and, you know. I got curious about how would your champions act with reader with Alice experiences.

Let me tell you what she had gone through(worry not, there's no spoilers):

When she was 7 her family home got set on fire, and burned down with her family inside. Alice the sole survivor, if you don't count the cat(name Dinah), which woke Alice up allowing her a chance of escape. Unfortunately she still ended up with severe burns and shattered mental state, hallucinations, after recovering from the burns she was mostly catatonic(stopped by occasional outbursts of agression when someone messed with het doll rabbit(the only thing that survived the fire) or abused her), she was like that for 8 years, the she spent 2 years phasing in and out of the Wonderland(she created it in her mind when she was little as her safe space to play and explore as she didn't have much peers to play with, now her way of exploring her shattered psyche as well as a coping mechanism). And after recovering from the burns got send to a mental assylum, she got out of there at 17. And considering that it was in England 1856, one can assume a lot of the things that happened there.

So what would happen if reader had to go through such things?

Now, i know that the championl not allow them to be sent to a mental assylum, or would break them out the first moment they felt that someting bad is happening there to reader.

I know that it's a small chance, but for the sake of it, let's say that champions didn't found reader yet at time of the fire. How would they deal with reader when they got reader after it?

I wrote more than intended. Sorry i...i like to give every important information, problem is that for me every information is important🥲. Well, hope you have a nice day!😁

I haven't seen this long of an ask in a while-

Aight so heads up: Since I never played the game and only ever saw pictures of it years ago, nor is my hyperfixation going in its direction, this may not be very accurate to how the boys would act nor do I really have much to say-

But in general, they would most certainly be there to comfort the Reader no matter what. Especially after something as traumatizing as their family dying literally overnight.

If they have to deal with hallucinations, pretty sure they're not gonna leave their Master alone. Just in case anything happens y'know. Or even to just comfort them when need be.

If they're attached to an object and get very emotional over keeping it safe/close, the boys won't dare try take it away.

Any physical wounds would be treated as best as they can, but they know they can't remove certain scars, let alone any of the mental scars. Which makes most of them sad, because they really do want to help, but they're limited in their own capabilities.

#eternal servants au #esau qna #sry if it's short- but like i said i kinda struggle with writing things when my hyperfixation ain't on it-

[shinidamachu]

Have you ever heard the song Light by Sleeping at Last? I get sooooo many inukag feels from it and I feel like you’d really like it!

I love Sleeping at Last! Two is in every Inukag playlist I've made to this day. I'll admit I don't remember ever listening to Light before, but when I finally did, all I could think about was how Inuyasha's relationship with Kagome impacts who he would be as a father.

According to Genius, Light is the follow on track — storyline wise — of Uneven Odds, a song about a boy who had lost both of his parents. Ryan O'Neal explained that the song is written from the perspective of this little boy, who is now an adult and becoming a parent himself.

May these words be the first to find your ears The world is brighter than the sun now that you're here Though your eyes will need some time to adjust To the overwhelming light surrounding us

From the very beginning it's clear the narrator is a parent talking to his newborn. Kagome was the first person to tell Inuyasha things he desperately needed to hear and something I love about Inukag is how she is a source of light and warmth in Inuyasha's life and how this is supported by the text and the narrative, so it's like he is saying those things from experience here.

I'll give you everything I have I'll teach you everything I know I promise I'll do better

Inuyasha doesn't have much, but he was always risking everything he had to protect Kagome and now that he has much more than he ever thought he would, he can do the same for their child.

And I'm not talking only about the fire rat robe or tessaiga — although they can be great heirlooms — but we know when Inuyasha loves someone, he gives them his all: body, mind and soul. His sweat, blood and tears.

Furthermore, Inuyasha's jorney was tremendous and he learned a lot, especially from Kagome. Now that he is grown and wiser, he can pass on those very important lessons to his own child while still working on himself to improve and be better than he ever was, to be a man deserving of Kagome and his baby because he has been through too much and is still a work in progress.

I will always hold you close But I will learn to let you go I promise I'll do better

Inuyasha was touch starved for the most par of his life, so even though he tries to be nonchalant about it, the truth is that he thrives on physical affection, which is why he wants to keep close any source of it.

But he also came to terms with the fact that holding on is only half of what truly loving someone actually means. The other half is letting go, which is why we often got scenes of him pushing Kagome away — both literally and metaphorically — or giving her up even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Because he can't be selfish with her, her safety and her feelings have got to come first so he has to give her space to make her own decisions and hope that, whatever she decides, she will be safe and happy. He owes her that much and that's all he really dares to ask for.

With kids is not different, because sooner or later they're gonna leave the nest and there's not really much a father can do except staying back, watching them shine and cheering them on in every step of the way.

I will soften every edge I'll hold the world to its best And I'll do better

There's nothing more symbolic than a character who was once rough around the edges wanting to soften every edge of the world because once upon a time someone softned his and now he is trying to do the same in hopes of creating a better place for their own baby.

We don't talk about it much, but Inuyasha is an idealist. Way less optimistic than Kagome, sure, but an idealist nonetheless. As much of a cynical as he was — or claimed to be — about the world and the people in it, he never really was a passive voice.

On the contrary, he fought for his life, fought for people like Shiori and Jinenji. Even though he knew this was just how things were he didn't act like he truly accepted it and that's why Change The World is one of the best openings ever. Inuyasha changed the world by just existing and now he'll make it so it treats his child better than it treated him.

With every heartbeat I have left I will defend your every breath And I'll do better

"If that's what you want, then I'll protect you with my life" is the first things that comes to mind and it couldn't be different. Inuyasha lives and dies for the people he cares about. A child would only intensify those protective instincts to the highest level.

'Cause you are loved, you are loved more than you know I hereby pledge all of my days to prove it so Though your heart is far too young to realize The unimaginable light you hold inside

Although he has his moments, words aren't usually his thing. He shows his affection with acts of service, physical touch and quality time and it's often so subtle sometimes people won't notice it or, if they do, won't comprehend just how deep his feelings runs.

Inuyasha is nothing if not loyal and the love he felt for Kagome was so transcendental that it kept growing strong even in the three years they spent apart, when he went to the well every three days to try and get to her. He would have waited for her until the end of his days and when she finally returned, he gave them all to her anyway.

And the "light" of this last verse can be interpreted both as a reference to the recurring theme of Kagome being the sun of his cold, dark world — who is now brighter also thanks to their kid — and a refference to the light of a priest(ess) born out of their union, who could easily carry their mother's powers within them.

I will rearrange the stars Pull 'em down to where you are I promise I'll do better With every heartbeat I have left I'll defend your every breath I promise I'll do better

Another thing I love about Inukag is the constant use of stars in their relationship — they often can be seeing stargazing alone — because stars are constantly associated with the universe. Stars aligned so that they could meet at the right place at the right time only for fate to cruelly rip them away from each other. They had to defy time and space to get their happily ever after. It's nothing Inuyasha wouldn't also do for their child.

Being a parent is already challenging. You're learning on the job every single day, so you're always trying to do better, to do better. In Inuyasha's especific case must be even harder due to his traumas and the prejudice that his child will have to go through, but the bottom line is that he is willing to go above and beyond to give them everything he didn't have.

#Thank you for your ask and for this amazing rec #Sidmailing #Inuyasha #Kagome #Kagome Higurashi #Inukag

[mink-place]

Heyy Can I request La Squadra as dads reacting to their kids being scared of their stand? Like they see their dad's stand/ abilities and it freaks them out at first

La Squadra as dads sounds really cute to me lol Thank you for your request, dear anon! Also, sorry if these are shorts.

La Squadra reacting to their children being scared of their stand.

Risotto Nero

Alright, now, the child may be scared of the ability of his stand, because literally Metallica is so FREAKING CUTE (and is inside Risotto's skin, so you kinda can't see it lol)

He won't use his stand anywhere near the child, he knows thar they're scared of it, and also he doesn't have the need to use it.

He'll explain the child that Metallica won't harm him or anyone (the second it's not true ofc).

“Carino/a, you shouldn't be scared of the little beans, they are harmless, okay?” he'll explain, but they still look terrified.

He, of course, doesn't want his children to be scared of his stand, so he'll try to asociate his stand with good things.

Risotto would probably use his stand on someone (on a mission) and create something he can later gift his child like “Metallica love you so much that they did this.”

The kid will slowly warm to Metallica, since their papa says that it is inoffensive.

Prosciutto

He's confused, why his children is afraid of something that is meant to protect them? Grateful Dead won't hurt them, at all.

Prosciutto tries to explain him that Grateful Death may look terrifying, but you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover.

And yeah, it may kill people, but dad doesn't do that, it's bad to hurt people.

“A stand isn't bad if you use it like you should, I don't harm anyone and neither does Grateful Death.”

If they keep scared of it, he'll try to make them forget about his stand not bringing it near the child.

Pesci

The first time he brings his stand out infront of his child, the kid runs for his life and hides, then Pesci notices that they are scared.

He spends some days trying to think about how to make his children feel safe around Beach Boy, and he has an idea.

Best papa Pesci goes with his child to a fishing trip, comparing the fishing rod with Beach Boy, with that the kid will assume that his stand is like a fishing rod, but like, exactly the same.

“That was a really good catch, dear! Look, now you shouldn't be scared of Beach Boy, it's just a fishing rod, alright?”

Formaggio

He's like the most chill dad of the world, but he can be a little cruel sometimes.

When he notices how scared his children is of Little Feet, he'll tease them, yeah, his stand isn't the most beautiful, but it isn't scary!

Now, for real, he doesn't want his children ti be scared of his stand, because he use it very often. So he'll play with him, like making a little kitchen, he'll shrink down food and they would play.

“Alright, if you want a little tomato, ask Little Feet, it won't bite you!” he jokes, his children starts to interact with the stand and both spend a great time together.

Illuso

“My stand isn't scary, it's amazing, have you ever visited private areas? It's like being invisible!” he'll try to make them warm up to the idea of doing things you can't outside the Mirror World.

He'll take him on trips on the Mirror World, parks, theme parks, zoo...

Illuso's going to make the Mirror World a safe space for his child, at first maybe they won't want to enter, but he'll make them saying things like “Well, now I have to travel alone! I really wanted to see all Italy with you, but since you don't want...” or things like that.

The child will love his stand, he is sure, just a little patience and effort to make his child have fun on the Mirror World.

Ghiaccio

Yeah, uhm, they better be afraid of White Album lol.

He's confused/pissed, why the hell are thwy afraid of his stand? He didn't do anything! It's not like they have a trauma with ice! Or maybe they have?

They'll have to tell him the reasons of being scared of White Album, and then he will reason with them of why they SHOULDN'T be scared.

He can carry them while skating once in a while! It's fun, even if he gets tired.

He really tries to be a good father.

Melone

“Why are you scared? Did I do something, dear? I swear Baby Face is like a little butterfly, it's harmless.” he'll try to convince them with words.

If it doesn't help he may try to make them play with the son of Baby Face, one that isn't bad or mean, he wants his child to have a good time with it.

If they still doesn't like Baby Face, he'll probably stop using his stand around them, but will make little remarks that it's alright to feel scared, but his stand isn't bad!

Again, I did this before going to sleep, hope it's okay!

#jjba #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba part 5 #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra hcs #jjba risotto nero #jjba prosciutto #jjba formaggio #jjba pesci #jjba ghiaccio #jjba illuso #jjba melone #mink-place

[persuasionstancy]

on the topic of toxicity in fictional relationships and specifically the way it's been associated with steve and nancy in fandom spaces i feel like there's a point to be made with the way the great majority just refuses to have any deeper or more meaningful discussion about these two.

and i'm not going to assume that people don't care about them anymore, because y'all clearly do; it's been months since stranger things 4 came out and i can't go on a day without seeing a bunch of people opening conversations about how much they hate this fictional couple and would rather tear their own arm than see them on screen.

so i think it's safe to say y'all do care. otherwise you wouldn't be sharing these extremely chronically online takes every single day now would you?

people keep bringing the point of nancy and steve being toxic to one another and how their whole character arc is about them growing out one another, so it's pointless to bring them back together now after everything.

and i do understand that people in online spaces have taught one another to prioritize and only clap to completely 100% healthy relationships in media, which i'm actually not calling a bad thing and having healthy relationships portrayed properly in fiction is always a welcome thing, but i do worry that it has created this phenomenon where people will see two characters having complicated relationship on screen and immediately dismiss it as something negative and not worthy of any discussion unless it's just to point out how "bad" the said relationship is and how we shouldn't be bothering with it in any possible way

in the case of steve and nancy, people have recognized that they have done some not so good stuff to one another during their dating phase but none of you are willing to go beyond that; not to mention possibly put the whole situation in season 4 stancy perspective and maybe try to realize what are writers trying to do with them now

steve and nancy's relationship is complicated and it does require to be looked at from different perspectives in order to be properly understood.

from a narrative standpoint, it's a relationship which serves as an opening for nancy's upside down arc and is also something which impacts her on an emotional level, considering she has lost her virginity with steve while her best friend was literally dying.

that fact alone puts a lot of interesting dynamic into their relationship, it's not something that can just be brushed off easily between them, it's like this big stone they're carrying no matter where they go in their relationship

it's also something that it's not vastly explored in the show, but for what it has been we've been able to see that it was indeed a struggle, specifically for nancy and it created this seemingly unsolvable problem where neither of them knew how to approach the other in the right way

both traumatized in their own way and both answering to the said trauma in their own way, it created a difference large enough for a break-up

so when y'all say "steve and nancy are so fucking toxic ew" it sounds really tone deaf to the whole situation between them that the show was trying to create. it also paints you as media illiterate but i digress.

what was happening between them wasn't healthy, but it's also stupid to dismiss it as some black and white scenario that isn't even worth further discussion

i don't really give a fuck if you root for these two or you'd rather burn down your house than see it happen, but when y'all continously keep bringing up their 'toxicity' from season 2 and just absolutely refuse to acknowledge the fact that writers are trying to revisit and fix their dynamic in season 4 it really paints a picture of audience who is too dumb or too spiteful to understand what's going on in the show they love to watch and i don't know which one is more tragic.

yeah, steve and nancy have different dreams and aspirations.

no, that doesn't mean you should go around and accuse steve harrington of forcing nancy wheeler to become a baby factory are you a fucking idiot

yeah, they had an unhealthy past.

no, that doesn't mean it would be repeated for the second time. the whole point of them interacting together in season 4 is to show that exact point. it wouldn't be the same. how. the. fuck. did. you. miss. that.

yeah, nancy is indecisive and love triangle trope is annoying

no, that doesn't mean other people are not allowed to enjoy it just for the fun of it. let them be.

so, to come to the conclusion of things, the decision of st fandom to be extremely hostile to stancy and people who enjoy them is getting quite ridiculous and annoying. you don't have an actual reason to act this way. you don't have to personally enjoy them and that could be well enough reason. don't sit in front of your laptop to share your reasons as to why you think they suck anymore, because i am telling you right now they have all been nothing but wrong. it's a completely media illiterate view of things and has no root in what are writers actually trying to accomplish. if you are, however, still obsessed with stancy then maybe try re-watching the show, put your prejudices aside and just watch their relationship for what it is. it's actually quite simple to understand, i promise it's not some shakespearean shit. and so when you pass your understanding of romance and relationships for third graders, you will be able to proudly say stancy sucks without feeling the need to add any made up reasons that make me wanna cry over the fact i'm sharing the same air as you. peace and love

#stancy #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #stranger things

[thedivinershiddenarchive]

DISCLAIMER FOR MY BLOG.

I'd like to remind you that this is a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat blog which means I'll mostly write extreme dark content. Though I may sometimes write very light fics like fluff, smut, etc. And even so, please do read the warnings stated on my works and consume my content with caution. You are responsible for your own media consumption and not me for I properly informed what is in my pieces of work.

If you are uncomfortable with what I write, please block me or simply scroll. Sending complaints in my mailbox will not help reduce the chances of me creating more dark content because that is the main theme of this blog. I'm aware that what I write is harmful but laugh at me or not, I like what I write. Be it dark or light. It's all fiction and purely for self-indulgement and I do not take or condone what extreme content I write to be taken in real life. Ex. I may write for incestuos smut but I do not find myself actually doing that to my family nor do i want you to be doing it to your own.

Assuming you're an adult because you're old enough to interact with 17+/18+ posts like mine, you know when to click off or scroll away when something isn't to your liking or makes you uncomfortable; this is entirely your responsibility, and you take responsibility for your actions, such as continuing to read my dark content works that may include triggering themes.

My blog will mostly include content such as: non-con, step-cest, (appropriate) age-differences, etc. If any of these make you uncomfortable, please block me right away. Please know that I am NOT that bad of a person for writing things such as this and I shouldn't be given death threats for it. I'm a mature adult who is just harmlessly writing their fantasies out and tag them accordingly.

If i find any males/male-aligned (he/him, he/they, etc.) interacting with my blog, i will have to block them for i am very uncomfortable with them doing so. do not follow me or interact with my posts. i literally have a warning for them and i'm extremely dysphoric when it comes to males interacting or reading my content. please find a different account to follow because this isn't for you. This is a safe-space for females and fem-aligned who are into dark content.

Q&A

Why don't you let males or masc-aligned to interact with you? Knowing that they interact with my works causes me to be extremely dysphoric because this blog is dedicated for females or fem-aligned (Male/Masc-aligned aren't the only ones that can feel them, others can too.). Only they can consume and interact with my content because it was made for them. Just to let you know I'm not trying to be sexist because people assume that from me a lot of times because they read that I don't let males or masc-aligned to interact with me. If I find any of them in my notifications I will block their accounts. Male/Masc-Aligned, please go away and interact with other accounts. I do not allow you to communicate with this blog because again, this is for Female/Fem-Aligned individuals only.

Why don't you write male!reader or gn!reader? I find it uneasy to write for males because I'm a female. I'm not saying that females can't write mxm content, it's just that I'm too used to female smut with male characters and I don't like writing male!readers. I get that male!readers don't get as much content but that's not on me, I write what I'm comfortable with and they're not one of them. So don't even try to request for them. For gn!readers, I find it difficult to keep smut scenes with a gender-neutral body most of the time. Even if I can write them with other things like pronouns, this blog is mostly NSFW-centric which means I write more smut than normal SFW fics.

will add more later on...

© notsodivininglover 2023. reposting, plagiarizing, translating or claiming my works are strictly forbiddened.

#notsodivininglover ; prince’s diary

[thekimspoblog]

TERFs will act like trans women are forcing themselves on lesbians. But when you press the issue just a little further, it becomes clear that actually THEY are the ones who think women shouldn't be allowed in lesbian spaces unless they're sexually available.

Like okay let's think through this for 5 seconds. Jane and Sally are at a lesbian bar. Jane and Sally are quite flirtatious with eachother, but eventually Sally thinks now would be a good time to disclose that she is trans and does not have a vagina.

Should Jane:

A. Suck it up and force herself to do something she's not comfortable with in the name of appearing progressive,

B. Be honest with Sally. For whatever reason, Jane is only interested in intimacy with people who both present as female AND have a vagina. Therefore it's probably in everyone's best interest if they don't try to take this any further,

or

C. Fly into a rage, misgender Sally, and humiliate her in front of the rest of the bar?

B is the correct answer. Literally nobody is advocating for option A, and if you vote C congratulations on doing the same type of behavior that makes women afraid of men in the first place.

Follow up question. Statistically, Sally is most likely going to react by:

A. Assaulting Jane right then and there,

B. Going home and writing a letter to Jane's boss in the hopes of getting Jane fired for transphobia,

or

C. Frowning cus it sucks to get shot down... then just leaving to flirt with Theresa instead.

The answer is C. Me, I'm Theresa. And any sort of logic which dictates that neither I nor Sally belong in a lesbian bar leads you down some really twisted paths of thought. It says that bi women, pan women, really anyone who wants to fuck someone that you don't, is excluded from the label of "lesbian". It's not about creating a safe space for women to be themselves and find eachother anymore, it's about which forms of love you personally approve of.

I get that some TERFs have this paranoid fantasy that their favorite hang-outs are going to be overrun with belligerent, boorish men (or Persians). But I look around me and I just don't fucking see that happening! Lesbian bars and other spaces are under threat of disappearing, but that threat is coming from a bad economy and the wage gap; if anything, turning away women cus they're not your type is helping to sink the industry.

A more reasonable concern for the Janes of the world, is that it won't just be Sally; Jane will flirt with Anne and hit the same stumbling block, then she'll flirt with Hailey and it will be the third time in a row and Jane will just want to shout "DOES ANYONE IN THIS LESBIAN BAR HAVE A VAGINA???!!!" And like... yeah that's frustrating but also tough tomatoes. Your orientation comes with subcategories beyond what most lesbians consider attractive in a woman; it's not our problem that you want to treat your preferences as the default. When you try to find romance at a public venue like a bar, you follow the procedure of striking up a conversation with any random person you're superficially attracted to. Inevitably, at some point in the conversation, you're going to learn something about your date that is a turn-off, and that's the point at which you have to decide: do I like this person enough to work around the fact that they aren't perfect, or is this a deal-breaker for me sleeping with them? You want to catch a fish; you have to cast a wide net. It's not the job of the lesbian community writ-large to throw back all the fishdicks for you.

My deal-breakers are that I'm not interested in sleeping with anyone Catholic, ex-military, or interested in doing anal. But that doesn't mean I get to write a rule that Catholic lesbians aren't lesbians.

Sally and Jane were really hitting it off. And it's normal for Jane to be disappointed, annoyed that she has to start over with courting someone else. I'm sure Sally feels the same way. But if Jane gets angry, it's because Jane - not Sally! - has a patriarchal sense of entitlement to another person's vagina.

#lesbophobia #transphobia #biphobia #bi erasure

[audhdwitch]

all of the fucking housing spells i've been casting

(a lot of these happened around the same time but i don't remember exactly which order any of this happened. remember: always write down your process when it's fresh in your mind. except for when you're going to be homeless in 3 weeks and don't have the spoons and are just trying to fucking make it)

using "equal opportunity" symbol as nexus point in most spells

lighting candles, burning lavender oil in common spaces and dedicating household chores to hestia

set up semi-permanent altar space in the cavern under my loft bed. dedicated an offering bowl to hestia, offered some trinkets including a key necklace that i started wearing out to showings.

get discriminated against a LOT at showings lmao. absolutely no one wants to house a group of visibly disabled and/or queer polycule of kids that look like they're college freshmen at the oldest.

asked each housemate to donate something to the offering bowl; burned lavender oil and did a tarot spread about our prospects. verdict: final stretch. almost there.

start trying to remember to dedicate a small offering tray of food to hestia whenever i have the spoons to make food for myself. got to have dinner/tea with hestia a couple of times. she makes me feel unmasked. i don't feel any pressure to make myself Look Presentable before her; she is most pleased with me when i am unmasked and feeling safe and comfortable in my own space.

start trying to build hestia playlist. having trouble finding the right vibe; am somewhat drawn to classical music that reminds me of summer camp.

set up temporary altar on dining room table when housemates cook and we get to have dinner together. burn candles and leave offering to invite hestia's presence

created name sigils for housemates with consent. can't decide on a sigil for myself; using my signature seems to work just fine.

started carving name sigils into side taper candles with nexus sigil on bottom. have done this multiple times; have had burned some candles "dry" and others dressed with either peppermint* (luck, prosperity, abundance) OR lavender oil (home, hestia)

started researching crystal grids + sacred geometry. math is hard.

A has a job lined up but it won't start for a while and they're trying to get a better one in the meantime. give up on applying to "equal opportunity" but still absolutely predatory property management company that will gladly take the fee for your application for properties that you won't qualify for, and that you shouldn't bother applying to anyway, and will keep taking your money as long as you're stupid enough to keep trying

established spell parameters. i was definitely the least specific about the time frame; i mostly had the non-specific "before the end of september" floating around in my head even though our lease ends on the 17th. i did consciously decide to not specify further, hoping that by relinquishing a stricter timeline we could perhaps exchange for snagging something within our budget.

took a walk down to the beach and drew sigils (A drew one that I didn't see, and i drew the nexus sigil + name sigils) in secluded areas of sand where the rising tide would wash it away under the light of the recent super blue moon. the ocean is bio-luminescent this time of year in our area; we stood and watched the electric waves crashing onto the shore as the tide crept up.

started gathering materials for crystal grid and research more correspondences. research is not really helping me much tbh; eventually i gave up looking up how-to's and started more going based off vibes. i know literally everyone says so but it really IS better to do things in a way that make sense for your brain. if it doesn't resonate with you, disregard it.

created name sigils for pets. sketched rough approximation of configuration and started experimenting with crystal positioning. got housemates to identify which areas they could use the most assistance in (finances, stress, focus, etc). including the pets really balances the whole thing out tbh.

A applied for a better paying job that it really wants. assigned crystals for financial stability/prosperity at their request.

spent literally hours painstakingly building the final version of crystal grid configuration in image editing software. could i have probably found something that would have fit the bill? probably. i didn't do that tho. i built the whole damn thing myself lol.

family spotify plan got cancelled. rip, can't afford premium myself until we have a fucking house.

brainstorming for spell jar to use as a "battery" in the center of the crystal grid. initially conceived it as a sweetening jar to make landlords

broke up with bf. having a weird time of it. it was the right decision but i feel so bad about it. also, now that i'm no longer worrying about my relationship, i have more time to worry about being homeless.

collected dandelion puff and started drying some leaves in my space

we visit some university resources about housing and ebt.

had A rubber duck for me/got A's opinion on crystal positioning/grid balancing. am somewhat concerned about the grid overdoing it bc this is definitely the most complicated spell i've done to date; some worry based on the fact that i've been using crystals for financial prosperity/stability for M in grid brainstorming and after we got back from uni resource center M got a call from the county saying their ebt was deducted for working more hours in the summer. honestly kind of a huge blow to them; they've been recovering from top surgery and haven't been able to work for almost a month, so this is going to cut our grocery budget quite a bit.

and also... A got the job!!! great news - we can start including its offer letter with hours/ in our packet.

i do some tarot readings abt my life trajectory. oof. i have disorganized attachment style and hella ptsd. additionally, it looks like it's time for a career change; i apply for a part-time position i got an email notification for the other day.

initially was considering burning tea lights on top of the spell jar to burn off excess energy and avoid it collapsing in on itself. if feels ready to implement.

spell jar giving me trouble. yes, sweetening landlords' perceptions of us would probably help. we have been applying to places and writing personal statements and building The Packet to hopefully appeal to them, but places get snatched up in seconds here so we mostly just need to get lucky and be in the right place at the right time. also, ants are a problem and i'm a little weary of using honey (i don't have a whole lot of ingredients at my disposal)

i do, however, have a lot of bee pollen. that might work. pollen is more associated with hard work than honey (which i associate more with reward) and we just need shit to finally pay off.

at a client's house and had a slow day on the craigslist rental listings grind and was trying to burn off extra nervousness by checking the complexes we'd signed up for email notifications for. lo and behold - a single unit available, fits all our criteria and they only require we make 2x rent (almost unheard of in our area). got in touch with my housemates to start trying to apply NOW bc the way their website works, it's literally first come first serve - the second an application is submitted, the listing is marked unavailable again until the applicant completes the approval process (at which point the listing will go back up on their website).

we managed to be on the apartment complex website in the 20 minutes between the listing going live and the time email notifications went out about its availability. A submitted their app first and we called first thing the next morning to confirm that they received it - they have. we're in the system.

okay. we all submitted on friday - too late to be approved same-day, but we'll hear back from them on monday. it's the waiting game now.

try to go home to finalize the crystal grid in a more formal ritual like i'd been planning. doesn't work out; i can do it at my client's house, though. it's not ideal and i think the grid would possibly be more effective if it were housed in the place we all currently live, but that's fine. i feel safe enough in the client's house (they are so kind to me, it's like sleeping over and grandma and grandpa's)

finally established crystal grid with emphases on luck, endurance, financial stability, and a minor glamour to make us more appealing to property managers. used "hard work paying off" spell jar as battery. i suspect the crystals on top of the spell jar don't hurt us but they do feel somewhat superfluous in the context of the grid. may donate them to hestia's bowl instead; the garnet was hers already. was initially going to burn candles dressed w peppermint oil but decided on lavender oil instead.

starting to feel like "liked songs" on shuffle is perfectly acceptable to dedicate to hestia; after all, she's most comfortable when i'm most comfortable.

i actually think i'm going to burn more carved and dressed candles to charge it; i feel the hematite balances out the grid enough that i'm not risking overloading. could also be feeling more balanced bc it's not at home feeding off all four of our energies, just mine? plus it feels good to do something while we wait.

please. please. please.

#grimoire #witchcraft #spellcraft #personal #hestia deity #hestia there is some GOOD booze in this for you if you help us see this thru #edit later ? #i'm positive there's shit i forgot to write down #personal post #might delete later

[red-elric]

OKAY kicking off classpect talks with some thoughts about KNIGHTS :) not gonna have much structure to this but if u want me to talk about a specific class or aspect all u gotta do is ask!!

anyway I think ppl are pretty wrong about knights for the most part. sorry :/ I see knights listed as active a LOT, especially when they're paired w pages as an active/passive pair; while I DO agree that knights and pages are a pair, I really truly think knights are the passive one! the way calliope talks about active vs passive to ME feels like its mostly about who the powers benefit. thieves and rogues are really clear cut for that; thieves can steal x for THEMSELVES (vriska stealing her opponents' luck (light) so she can make more powerful attacks) while rogues can only really steal x for OTHERS (roxy only being able to create generic objects and pumpkins (basically worthless lol) until she was motivated to create the matriorb to help kanaya). and when seen from that lens, looking at knights and pages, we have the class who is constantly portrayed as someone who fights to defend and protect OTHERS and the class who trains and levels up massive power for THEMSELVES. which seems p clear cut to me!

beyond that, ive been considering a division of the classes on a second axis..... got the idea from another post somewhere to consider 'creative' and 'destructive' classes as seperate, but while that post was trying to imply the existence of a bunch of other classes to fill out the destructive side iiiii kinda think we can split the ones we have already w some finagling? knights/pages arent SUPER far on the destructive end of the scale but I think when u consider the dual meanings we get from princes/bards of destroys x/uses x to destroy u can make it work; knights and pages most literally use their aspect as a weapon, which is a form of destruction. which categorizes knights as passive/destructive overall (in my mind sharing that category w bards and rogues)

some knight specific stuff....... we get themes of defense, protection, and service here, as well as inaction without a cause; dave in particular is really prone to only taking action if he has to or is told to, but I think karkat ends up in that position as well, even if it's only because of paradox space inevitability. they also seem to focus more on the importance of fighting over other aspects of the game, and I think I can safely say they tend to be really good at fighting WITHOUT relying on powers. uhh a knight in a session would indicate smth (their aspect, in some way) needs to be protected and/or precisely destroyed (liiiike think pruning or trimming, just a LITTLE destruction) for a successful session; dave -> lots of timeline shenannigans to be careful of, karkat -> lots of interpersonal problems to be careful of, latula -> lots of players' choices to be careful of.

tangential maybe but when considering classpecting, I think I like the approach of determining a class first (type of role you would play in a session........ feels v personality based more so than aspect is) -> considering the narrative beats in ur potential session (or, if u wanna go abstract, in ur real life somehow?) -> choose an aspect based on the way your class interplays w the narrative beats. so if ur prone to solving problems for other ppl, think most problems can be solved through conflict, and tend to not stick up for yourself as much, u might be a knight!

#it me #homestuck #classpects #would love to discuss this kinda thing w ppl if yall have other thoughts! #just maybe not 'actually ur 100% wrong and I hate u' hahahaha

[dragon-kazansky]

I posted 7,262 times in 2022

That's 2,075 more posts than 2021!

3,870 posts created (53%)

3,392 posts reblogged (47%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mrsjaderogers

@callsign-dragonbaron

@cycbaby

@askmarinaandothers

@callsignscupcake

I tagged 1,636 of my posts in 2022

#top gun - 446 posts

#val kilmer - 212 posts

#iceman - 188 posts

#head in the clouds - 142 posts

#top gun: maverick - 141 posts

#tom iceman kazansky - 135 posts

#iceman x reader - 126 posts

#tom kazansky - 124 posts

#top gun 1986 - 123 posts

#masquerade at midnight - 108 posts

Longest Tag: 74 characters

#i'll be happy to share more from this magazine if anyone wants to see more

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Big bear hugs

Gender neutral reader

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Implied short reader. Implied height difference between Reader and Rooster.

Phoenix, Bob, and yourself are discussing who is better at what. You seem to have all the answers.

♡♡♡

Another round of drinks, another round of questions. You, Bob, and Phoenix have been at this for a solid 30 minutes already.

"Alright, alright, next one," Phoenix holds up a finger. "Who is the best at dog fighting?"

You stare at her with a blank face. "Seriously?" You gesture across the bar. "Maverick is literally sitting right there."

Bob agrees.

"That's fair. We did say anyone goes," she laughs.

"Don't let Hangman hear you."

You laugh and take a swig of your drink. You take a look around the bar and try to think up the next question. You have one.

"Who do you think is the best cook?"

"Oh, good one. I don't think I've tried anyone's cooking," Phoenix hums softly.

"Rooster must cook for you," Bob looks at you.

"Of course he does, and he is a very good cook. I was just curious if you think anyone here could make it as a chef," you chuckle.

They both laugh too.

"I'd say I'm a good cook," Phoenix chimes in.

"Then we shall have to put that to the test one day," you smile.

"Deal."

"Who do you think the best dancer is?" Bob asks.

You smile at the pair of them. They roll their eyes. Of course you're going to say Bradley.

"He's the best singer too," you state.

"Anything else?" Bob asks, smiling at you.

"He gives the best hugs," you smile back.

"We wouldn't know," Phoenix grins.

"He gives big bear hugs. The cozy kind of hugs. They're even better because he's tall." They both see the way your face softens.

"Well, he's coming this way, why don't you show us?" Phoenix smiles.

You chuckle and turn around in your seat. Just as she said, Rooster was making his way over to you. You smile at him as he gets closer.

See the full post

1,680 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

#4

Plenty of cuddles for everyone

Gender neutral reader

Requested by anon

This is probably inaccurate to how DID works, but after Ep 5, this was too good to not do.

♡♡♡

It was Steven who was in control right now. You had just spent the day together, and after getting back to his place, had cuddled up on the bed with the radio playing in the background. You had been talking about your favourite parts of the day, smiling at some of Steven’s antics, and thinking of where to go to next time.

You were sat with your back against the headboard and Steven’s head on your chest. You had your arms wrapped around his shoulders, cradling him to you. While Steven had his arms draped around your torso. He could hear the thumping of your heart, and the vibrations of your laughter.

At one point you had chosen to run your fingers through his hair in a soothing motion. He had relaxed instantly as your massaged his scalp.

Knowing Steven felt so safe in your arms made you smile. Steven had been through a lot, and he deserved some love and affection. He had spent so much time alone, that you couldn’t imagine what that would be like. You promised Steven would always have you.

Marc. Well, he deserves love and affection too, but he’s often a bit stand off-ish with you. You always try to keep some space between you when he’s fronting. He looks out for you, sure, but he’s never been very affectionate with you.

No matter how much you just want to pull him into a hug and take away all his burdens. You want Marc to share his load, take it easy, and let you help.

“I really liked that food stall we stopped at,” Steven says, voice soft.

“Yeah, me too. We can go again next week, if you want to.”

Steven smiles.

“I’d love to.”

You continue to sit there with him in your arms, fingers running through his hair and listening to the music. The conversation dies down from here, but you’re both content and relaxed.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but after a while, Steven’s hold on you tightens and he buries his face into your shirt. You stop your hand and try to get a look at his face.

“Steven?”

He shakes his head. You look down at him confused.

“Steven? What’s the matter?”

“Don’t stop.”

You freeze. Not Steven. Marc. That’s Marc’s voice.

“Marc?”

“Don’t stop. Please...” He begs, not looking up at you.

Slowly, your hand return to his hair and doing exactly what you had been doing to Steven. 

Marc’s arms tighten just a little more. He’s clinging to you. Eyes shut, hand gripping at your shirt, head tucked under your chin.

Your heart is racing and he can hear it.

Marc’s hold on you loosens up a bit and after a few more moments he looks up at you. You look at him with soft gentle eyes. You don’t say anything. You don’t have to.

He knows you know.

Marc took control because for once he didn’t need Steven to protect him from his pain. You made him feel safe and this is the safest he has felt in a long time.

See the full post

1,757 notes - Posted April 30, 2022

#3

Fuck you, Khonshu

Gender neutral reader

For @askmarinaandothers because this would totally be us 😂

This fic is for humour purposes and isn't meant to be taken seriously to the plot.

You're cool, murder bird

♡♡♡

"Khonshu?"

"Yeah..."

"And he's a big bird man Egyptian god that wants you to give control this dude Marc who lives in your head?"

"That's the gist of it, bit more complicated, but yeah."

"And he wanted you to kill someone?"

"Yep."

You nod slowly, trying to understand what Steven had told you. He had spent the last hour going through everything he was suffering with.

He trusted you.

You trusted him.

You believed him.

"Is he here now?"

Steven shifted his gaze around and then returned to you. He nodded slowly.

"Where?"

"Up there," he points in a lazy manner to the rooftops of the chapel behind you. You turn, looking up knowing you won't actually be able to see him.

"Still there?"

"Yes."

You stand up, turn your whole body toward the chapel roof and raise your hand.

"What are they doing?" Kohnshu asks.

He doesn't get a reply from Steven, who is just watching you. He has to bite back bursting into laughter as you stick your middle finger up in the general direction of where Kohnshu is perched.

"The bird for the bird man!" You declare.

"KILL THEM STEVEN!"

Steven gives in and bursts into laughter.

"Is he offended?"

"Definitely."

See the full post

1,897 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

#2

Murder Bird Masterlist

Khonshu series? Sure, why not!

♡♡♡

Fuck you, Khonshu

You're cool, Murder Bird

Little troublemaker

The moon and the star

The god that watches over us

The thing about Khonshu

A warning set in stone

The pain of remembering

When the moon met his star

A living nightmare

Free him!!!

Under my wing

Stand up and let go

Meet my friend

My way of life

The next chapter

Khonshu's distaste

A conversation between gods

A not so little bird

Dancing in the moonlight

Dream team

Mr Lockley

The jackal calls

Hunt or be hunted

Reap what you sow

♡♡♡

More chapters to come. You keep thinking it's ending 😂

2,163 notes - Posted April 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Moon knight silly moments

You: Do you think I'd be a good avatar?

Khonshu: No.

You: What? Why not?

Khonshu: You're too... precious for that.

You: *points at Steven*

Khonshu: He wasn't a choice, I didn't know it was a package deal at the time. He came free.

Steven: Hey!

3,789 notes - Posted April 22, 2022

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