#people are still hating and not being able to just pass by and keep scrolling

[joekeeryswife]

Could you maybe do one with Joseph Quinn where the reader is homesick?? I absolutely love your work and you're extremely talented!!

Homesick - J.Q

THANK YOU LOVE! because i’m from the UK i am making the reader british, i hope that’s okay. reader is in the US whilst Joseph is filming Stranger Things, enjoy loves <3

you were sat in Joseph's trailer, scrolling through the thousands of photos you had with your friends and family, missing them more and more as you scrolled through the album. you'd taken the chance to travel to the US with Joseph when he started acting on Stranger Things. you didn't want to look or sound ungrateful but leaving your cozy flat in London was a mistake. you missed going out on the weekend to see your friends for drinks, or going to see your family for a Sunday roast (a/n- SUNDAY ROASTS ARE AMAZING)

you couldn't blame anyone but yourself. you'd weighed up the pros and cons of going to the US and the thought of not seeing Joseph everyday made you feel sick inside. you'd miss him too much and staying at home in the UK did not sound like the greatest plan, but now you were here, bored and alone in America with no one to call.

you missed the cold weather, you missed the rushes of people on the tube, you missed the food, you missed the politeness of the people. you just missed your home. Joseph knew you were struggling after the first week of being in America, he knew you hated being alone and he hated leaving you in his trailer all day, he wanted you to explore, he wanted you to enjoy yourself, he just wanted you to be happy again. you hadn't told him that you felt homesick, you just always shrugged him off, not wanting the confrontation.

"sweetheart?" the sound of Joseph's voice filled the trailer as you were pulled out of your trance. you looked up from your phone and saw him in his regular clothes instead of Eddie's. "you ready to go home?" he questioned, seeing his exhausted expression. home meant the tiny hotel room which made you feel claustrophobic, that was why you'd come to work with Joseph.

anyone from outside this relationship would have thought you were being a spoiled brat, but you weren't. you were so grateful for being able to afford coming to America and meeting so many new people, but the sadness of not being at home still made you feel upset, making it almost impossible for you to enjoy yourself. you'd been there for six months and you had never been more excited to get on a plane home.

you nodded your head, picking up your bag from beside you and stood up, following Joseph to his car that he'd rented for the duration of being here. all you thought in your head was 'three weeks left until you can go home and see your family again'. you got to the car, walking to the wrong side, again, before walking back around to the right side. you sighed, putting your bag in the footwell of the car. Joseph got into the car and started driving to the hotel. you were looking out if the window, watching the many trees and street lights pass you.

your left hand was on your thigh, your right keeping your head elevated to look out the window. Joseph glanced over at you, seeing you like this hurt him and he hated that he couldn't do anything to make you happy. he moved his free hand over, lacing your fingers together, making you turn your head to him. he sent you a closed mouth smile once you made eye contact. you smiled back, moving your head to lean on his shoulder.

"missed you today" he said, kissing your head softly, his hand tightening in your grasp. you nodded your head and closed your eyes. what you'd realised when you were here was that Joseph really did love you and he'd do anything to make sure you were okay. he took a few days off after three months of non-stop work to spend with you, he'd taken you to get your nails done, taken you shopping, and you'd also realised everything here was very very expensive.

that's another thing you'd missed about the UK. all these combination of things made you want to book the last plane home and leave Joseph, but you couldn't. you'd never seen someone work so hard on anything in their entire life and the least you could do for him was be there.

you'd arrived at the hotel a little while later, making your grab your bag and walk hand in hand with Joseph to the lift. once the lift doors closed, you let your head fall to his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist. he reciprocated the hug and kissed your forehead. in all the months you'd been here, you were surprised you hadn't let your emotions get the better of you.

you hadn't broke down and cried, you hadn't called your mum or dad explaining how you were feeling, you just were moody all the time. you didn't want to admit it but you'd let the emotions get to you, your eyes filling with tears as the lift finally got to your floor, Joseph pulling you to your room as your hand still held his.

once the hotel door closed, the emotions were let out. you put your head in Joseph's neck as your sobs raked through your body. he didn't say a word, just stood there with his arms around your, comforting you in silence. your arms were also around Joseph's neck, allowing him to pick you up and walk to the bed which was on the opposite side of the room.

he sat down on the bed, your hold on him tightening with each sob. he rocked the hug side to side, leaving multiple kisses on your forehead. "'s okay sweetheart" he said, feeling your sobs quieten down, your tears slowing down when Joseph pulled your head from his neck, allowing him to look at your face. "you wanna tell me what's the matter when you're ready?" he said, stroking your cheek softly.

you sniffled, head automatically leaning into his touch like it was some sort of reflex. "i just" you started, sighing as the thoughts ran through your head. "i just miss home" you stated shyly, a red blush covering your cheeks as you finally admitted what had been bothering you for months. he shot you a sympathetic smile, happy you told him but felt sad you hadn't told him.

"why didn't you tell me love?" he asked, hand never leaving your face. "i was embarrassed. you worked so hard and you've been so tired and i felt like me feeling homesick wasn't that much of a big deal" you said, arms falling from his neck to his waist. he shook his head whilst you spoke. "you should have told me sweetheart. you shouldn't have kept those feelings inside you. you could have spoken to me, i don't care about work, i only care about you" he said, running his other hand through your hair.

"i just didn't want to make you think i was ungrateful because i'm not. it's just-" you spoke before he interrupted you. "i know you're not, don't be silly. we all feel homesick sometimes, i know it might not help but we leave here in three weeks. three weeks and you can be in our bed, in our flat, stress free.” he said, leaning in to kiss your cheek. you sighed before nodding, wrapping your arms around his neck again, hugging him. “i love you so much” he whispered, moving his head to the side to kiss your head. “i love you more” you replied, kissing his neck, hugging him tighter. no matter what, he always knew how to make you feel better and you loved him so much.

#fanfiction #imagines #joseph quinn character #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn blurb #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn imagines #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson #eddie x reader

[iwonderwh0]

Emma won't appreciate liberation of androids.

She and her mom probably moved out of Detroit as soon as they could.

What's interesting is that, as far as we know, she was video-blogging before the incident. It's reasonable to assume that she had some auditory, maybe a humble one, but still. It's also probable that post incident her small channel was found by thousands if not hundreds of thousands people. She won't post for a while, maybe even consider deleting everything and never revisiting this part of her life again. She used to dream about getting popular online, but surely not like that, not after what happened. What do they even want from her, why do they keep subscribing, do they expect her to give them a press conference? She silences her notifications, but new comments are appearing every minute, and she only briefly scrolls through them without reading any specific one. In those comments people are mostly arguing with each other, forgetting about Emma's existence, talking about her in third person, as if she won't be able to see. Most people are using her name to prove a point, others are asking questions, some of them are sending prayers and condolences, which for some reason annoys Emma more than those with inappropriate questions.

Seeing Markus's face on every channel and social network makes her cry angry tears. She will probably say that she hates him, hates androids, but that wouldn't be entirely true. Truth is that she's scared of them. She hopes to avoid them, but no matter the effort they're present everywhere - if not physically then in form of never-ending steam of media: news, memes, viral videos, articles, blog posts... There are no place to hide, even in Canada. And what's the worst part is that a lot of people seem to love androids, some even go as far to claim that they're "better people". Sometimes she tries to argue with them from her anonymous account, but people are calling her names, accuse of being a bad person, "anti-android nazi". They think androids are so great. But she knows that couldn't be further away from what they really are, how they can turn against you and put a gun to your head after being your closest friends for years prior, as if none if it mattered. She used to be just like those who are now telling her off.

If only they knew her story, maybe they wouldn't be so quick to judge. Even though Emma decided to never open her old channel again, with each passing week she thinks about it. It's tempting to just talk about her story that everyone seemed to be so interested in a few months ago, but now seem to completely forgot. She has to remind them. They shouldn't forget.

So one day, after another frustrating argument under her fake account, with burning tears of anger forming at the corner of her eyes she opens her phone camera and sets it to the long-forgotten tripod. She stares at it for a few minutes, her heart loudly pulsing in her ears. She tooks a deep breath and presses the record button.

#dbh #dbh emma #dbh headcanons #detroit become human

[ashratfox]

Gonna preface this with: keep scrolling if you don’t want to read a kinda pessimistic rant about Henry Creel and serial killers and if you don’t want to interact with fandom drama (because that’s understandable have a nice day).

So this might be a very bad idea, but I’ve decided to give my own opinion on the whole Henry Creel debate. The easy answer is that both sides are right, and I know that sounds like a cop out, but it’s true; stuff like this isn’t black and white, and just because you want there to be one correct answer, doesn’t mean there is. But generally I tend to agree more with people who are less forgiving of Henry rather than more. That’s not because I think he was born evil, I don’t think anyone is born evil. But that’s not the question, the question is, has Henry Creel passed the point of no return, and is there even a “point of no return” at all?

Honestly, I think there is. In a perfect world, everyone would live happily ever after together singing and holding hands and bad people would be taught the error of their ways and would listen and become better people, and then they would be released back into the world to sing and hold hands just like everyone else. But this isn’t a perfect world. Lots of people who do bad things, if set free, will do them again; it’s a big trend with serial killers that have been let off easy by the law before, to go out and do more and even worse crimes. It’s not because they’re incapable of being good, nobody is. But it would be extremely difficult to convince them otherwise. They believe that they are right, and while some people can change, I think most people would agree that a guy who has killed many, many people, including children, is not going to change now. And even if he could, it’s not worth the risk that more people could die. One person’s potential for doing good isn’t worth denying the guarantee that his potential victims will live. 

I would not be happy if Stranger Things ended with Henry Creel becoming a good guy. It’s not logical. After all he’s been through and all he’s done, I don’t think he’s going to change his entire world view now. He was not born evil, but he has done many, many evil and unforgivable things. He does not deserve a second chance when all the people he killed will never get a second chance. If you don’t think that’s fair, well. I don’t think all those people dying is fair either. 

Some of this applies to Billy too, but I do think it’s a bit different in that Billy never killed anyone; still, he was racist towards Lucas and abusive towards Max, so I don’t think him sacrificing himself forgives everything. But I do think it was very easy for him to be influenced by his father and end up hurting Max in a similar way. I’ve never watched the play, so maybe if I had I would be more sympathetic for Henry like I am for Billy, but if so, that’s kinda stupid; if you really want fans to sympathize with a character, it should be in the show, not a separate production. Either way, both of them are bad people, and saying that doesn’t mean you don’t understand nuance, it’s just the unfortunate truth.

Maybe I’m going to get hated on for this, but I don’t know, just before you say anything about someone else’s opinion, realize first that issues like this aren’t black and white and just treat it with a little respect, because there are real life victims of real life serial killers, and while Stranger Things isn’t exactly super realistic, this is still a topic that brings to mind actual real events, and I have a feeling some Henry apologists would not be so quick to forgive actual real serial killers. 

(I feel like I've rambled on for too long and usually I don't like speaking on drama because I think it just fuels more stupid infighting when we should be able to just respect one another's opinions and move along,, but this whole thing was pissing me off so take this or leave it I guess)

#strager things #henry creel #anti henry creel #byler #> target audience

[midwestmade29]

*Currently doing a happy dance*

CHAPTER 1 💕

I somehow managed to break through my writer's block and put together the first part of another Christian Cage story! Let us all rejoice 😂 With this story, I'm kinda taking it in a different direction compared to my last one. This story dives a little deeper into a version of Christian that I imagined if he had taken a lot of the criticism, negativity and hate that he received during different points of his real life career, (from fans, writers, coworkers, etc.) and had a very hard time dealing/coping with it, and choosing to let it consume him. The story may start off kinda slow, but I hope you'll give it a chance! (Don't worry...there will still be spicy content in it as the story marches on 🔥)

If you are not 18+ years old, please KEEP SCROLLING. Do not interact with any parts/chapters of this story.

Due to the explicit nature, this story is NSFW or minors.

It is written from the POV of a female character and has dialogue between her and Christian Cage. As I continue writing, I may change the POV to Christian’s from time to time!

Some topics/actions/theme(s) of this story may not be suitable and/or triggering for some readers. Foul language, alcohol consumption/use, drunkenness, arguments, “sexual dirty talk.”

Word count for Chapter 1: 1,354

*As always, I would love to hear from you! Constructive criticism, suggestions,feedback,thoughts…tell me all the things!😌*

So, without further ado...here is Chapter 1 🖤

Earlier today, Christian sent me a text and told me to meet him at our favorite restaurant downtown at 9 o’clock for dinner. I was so excited to see him after being a part for 12 days due to his travel schedule for AEW, that I even went shopping to pick out some new lingerie and a dress to wear for him. I couldn’t wait to feel his arms wrapped around me and to kiss his full lips. The thought of him discovering my little secret I was hiding under my dress caused my core to heat with excitement. With one more spritz of my perfume and a quick touchup of my lipstick, I was ready to go see my guy.

I arrived at the restaurant a few minutes late due to my Uber driver getting us stuck in traffic, and thankfully the hostess sat me at our reserved table anyway. Christian hadn’t arrived yet, but the waiter greeted me and asked if there was anything he could get me while I waited. He nodded and walked away when I only ordered a glass of ice water for now. I sat in the dim lighting of the restaurant and stared out the window, watching people pass by holding their umbrellas, protecting them from the rain that had started to fall. I studied the menu from front to back, checked my phone more times than I’d like to admit for any notifications, and eventually ordered a glass of wine. Time continued to tick on, and Christian was now 40 minutes late for our date. A sense of uneasiness settled in my stomach.

I felt bad for holding up our table while other patrons continued sauntering into the restaurant. The waiter was very understanding when I tried to attribute Christian’s tardiness to a possible flight delay due to the rain, or maybe even traffic, but when the front door of the restaurant burst open, I was sadly mistaken. Judging by the look on my face, the waiter gave me a sympathetic smile and hurried away to check on his other tables. I watched Christian stumble in, drenched from the rain, about to knock over a potted plant on his way to the hostess station. My eyes grew larger the closer the hostess and Christian got to the table when I was finally able to take in the full sight of him. I stood and thanked the hostess before she walked away, and helped Christian sit in his chair before he knocked it over or missed it completely. “Hi baby. You’re looking mighty fine tonight. Did you dress up just for me?” Christian slurred. Before I could reply, the waiter came over to the table once he noticed my less than punctual guest had gotten settled. I quickly tried to shoo him away, but it was too late. “Good evening, sir. How are you this evening? May I get you something to drink, or perhaps start you two off with an appetizer?” the waiter offered, looking back and forth between Christian and I.

I slid down in my chair, staring daggers at Christian, just hoping and praying he would behave, only to have him smile back at me mischievously. “Actually, my good man, a drink sounds delightful. Whiskey, neat. No cheap shit.” “Uhm, do you think that’s a good idea?” I shot back immediately. “Judging by the swagger you displayed walking in here, it would appear that you’ve already had enough.” The waiter stood silently, unsure of what to do. He started rocking on his heels the more Christian and I stared at each other, silently arguing. Christian finally caved, downgrading his order all the way down to a water while rolling his eyes. “We’ll also have some of the house bread with the assorted spreads, please.” I added. “What’s that for?” Christian asked. I tried to reel in my frustrations before responding, but I think it still came out a little snarky. “One, you could use something to soak up whatever alcohol you have in your stomach, and two, I’m starving. I’ve been sitting here practically drooling all over the trays of food that have passed by me the last 40 minutes.” This time, Christian was the one to slide down in his chair a little. “Not happy to see me, baby?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face, but the alcohol made him break out into a small fit of giggles. He looked up at me with his piercing blue eyes and lips in a full pout before giggling again. If I wasn’t so concerned and frustrated with his current state, I would’ve joined in on his laughter because he looked adorable with his pouty lips and his smile was radiant.

“What’s going on, Christian? Is everything okay?” I asked softly. “Nothing’s wrong, baby. I had a few drinks on the plane. Maybe a couple after we landed too. Just lost track of time. What makes you think there’s something wrong?” “Because I know you, Christian. You show up 40 minutes late to our date that you put together, you haven’t drunk like this in a while and the last time you did was when you and Adam had a huge fight. I know how hard it is for you to get out of your own head sometimes. So please, don’t lie to me because I can see right through you. This is more than “just a few drinks.” “You’re killing my buzz, being so serious. I thought we were here to have a good time. Not to try and fix someone that’s unfixable.” He replied condescendingly. “Now, are you going to finish your wine, or can I have it?”

I smacked his hand away as he tried to grab my wine glass. “Spoilsport.” He groaned, crossing his arms. “If anyone is spoiling anything, it’s you Christian. You can’t say things like that and not elaborate. I just want to help; I’m not trying to fix you. It hurts my heart to hear you say such things about yourself.” “Well, the truth hurts, baby. And the truth right now is that I don’t need your help, or anyone else’s for that matter. So, let’s cut the shit and kiss and make up. I’ve missed your sexy lips while I’ve been gone. I can think of a few things I’d like you to do with them...”

Usually him talking dirty like that would ignite something deep in my core, but right now his words were just igniting my anger. “Fine, Christian! You don’t want to talk, so we won’t talk. In fact, I think I’ll leave you and your secrets to enjoy your drunken state since that seems to be what’s important to you right now. I can’t believe you were late getting here because you were drinking! I’ll see myself out.” I scolded before standing. Even with his head swimming in all the alcohol he had obviously consumed, I think he finally started to realize how quickly our conversation (and night) had taken a turn for the worse. This was hardly the first time I’d seen him like this, and definitely not the first night to go this way either. Christian remained seated as I grabbed my purse and jacket off my chair. “What about dinner?” he murmured. I couldn’t help but scoff at his question. “I’m not hungry anymore, but you go ahead and enjoy. I hear it’s one of your favorite restaurants. Goodbye, Christian.” I weaved through the sea of tables as fast as I could, trying my best to avoid bumping into anyone or knocking anything over. The cool, damp night air filled my lungs as I took a deep breath once I was outside. Reality hit me fast when I remembered it was raining, and that I had taken an Uber to get to the restaurant. My heels I was wearing were not ideal to walk in, but I had to get out of here. I stepped into the downpour trying to shield my phone from the rain so I could make a very important phone call...

If you read through the entire thing, THANK YOU!!! I appreciate it more than you know!

Chapter 2 coming soon…😘

#christian cage #jay reso #aew #all elite wrestling #fanfic #fanfiction #head canon #smut #christian cage smut #christian cage headcanon #instant classic #captain charisma #christian cage fanfic #christian4peeps

[analexthatexists]

(semi-outdated) Ultraviolet!Sans Lore/Info + Some Art

I'm bored and I have some doodles to share so let's do this.

(Scroll to the near bottom of the page to see some art of his alternate form once he possess Corrupt Nightmare, Ultraviolence.)

For their base form / First look: https://www.tumblr.com/analexthatexists/739439912172011520/seeing-everyone-posting-their-cool-sans-aus-made?source=share

GENERAL FACTS:

Because Nightmare was such a bookworm, UV's a big fan of comics, especially superhero ones (Anti-Hero stories are his favorite)

Due to latching onto negative essence rather than a SOUL, UV's able to understand negative emotions better, and his have been greatly boosted, making him more easily angered

UV's a lot less energetic than most other Fresh variants but tries his best to have high energy, though he usually can't and is a little more serious than other variants

He HATES, I repeat, HATES modern slang (Like, Gen Alpha Skibidi Rizz type stuff) and he'd rather die than have to speak such slang

He commonly uses his fists to fight, but also makes use of his surroundings (EX: Fighting in a kitchen and throwing a chair at someone or using kitchen utensils as weapons)

He tries to teach people how to "treat themselves right" (Keep themselves safe and trying to mentally help them) through generic, cheesy methods you'd find in 90s safety videos or anti-bullying programs, which usually never go well. (This is obviously based off Fresh!Ink's C.A.R.E)

People like Killer and Nightmare are some of his most disliked, really anyone who's known for killing people without reason and/or bullying

Despite his semi-disliking towards violence and murder, he will resort to violence when necessary or if he's having a bad day. If he's real fed up with someone, he's not afraid to beat them up. However, killing is, as he sees it, "Too uncool to do, yo", so he usually refrains from doing any fatal damage unless it's a serious threat to him or his brother

Most people see him and go "Oh, it's that guy again" or scream "DANG IT BOSS, IT'S THAT ANNOYING GUY WHO KEEPS TRYING TO STOP US FROM MURDERING PEOPLE."

UV really likes energy/soft drinks and sodas, especially the very acidic ones that should have been banned from stores years ago

Yes, UV is aromantic.

AFFILIATIONS:

Dream Sans (While he dislikes literally every other version of the skeleton, the Dream that belonged to Nightmare, the body UV's parasite uses, is actually someone he kind of cares about. He blames the vessel for having such a bond that went on to become a part of his character, but continues to protect the guy out of instinct. Dream himself isn't too fond of his brother being used as a body for a parasite (I mean, when did he ever, am I right?) and didn't even realize what was going on at first, but he's too afraid to try and test UV, as he could probably overpower him easily if he so desired, so he just hangs out with him like he would his brother. Besides, he's close enough to the original Nightmare...Right?)

Nightmare Sans (Originally, UV meant to take over this guy, as he would have been a wonderful source of power (I mean, feeding of negativity and sorta being immortal? Who'd pass that up?). However, after latching onto Passive, he's begun to change his mindset. Sure, he still wants to someday snatch Nightmare's body and all that (Again, who'd pass that up?), but he's started to grow distasteful of the guy. He's absolutely sadistic and messes with his brother! Again, he blames his vessel's ideals and such bleeding into his, but he can't help but hate the guy just a smidge.)

Killer Sans (Nightmare's a pain, but UV absolutely HATES Killer. Not only is he working for Nightmare, but regardless of whenever Killer wants to or not, he's a pretty murderous guy who usually doesn't take UV seriously and/or tries to kill him.)

Shattered Dream (If these two were to meet, UV would HEAVILY dislike him. He'd stay away from them as much as possible, though if interaction's made, he'd simply taunt and annoy him to death in hopes he'd assume he's just a mindless, dumb Sans that isn't worth pestering. He'd also make sure he'd never find his Dream. If Shattered ever tries anything with his brother, he'd literally hunt them down as Ultraviolence.)

Fresh Sans (These two would be bros, though UV could never keep up with the more energetic colorful Fresh.)

Error Sans (UV's actually pretty chill with Error, though Error thinks he's just another abomination that wants to pester him. UV understands that balance needs to be kept in the Multiverse, and that destruction would be necessary, and he'd like to talk with the guy for once. However, Error never seems to stick around for long enough or tries to erase him.)

Among Us Blue (God forbid these two are in the same space, because UV would punt him into the Sun. For context, Among Us Blue's a joke character made by a friend basically poking fun at Blueberry Sans' existence. He speaks in Gen Alpha slang and is a general annoyance to everyone around him, which is two reasons as to why UV hates his guts.)

STORY:

BACKSTORY: A Fresh Parasite manages to enter Dreamtale searching for Corrupted Nightmare wanting to take over his body and basically become an all-powerful being. However, this goes awry when he ends up taking over Passive Nightmare instead. And so, Ultraviolet's brought into the world against its own will. Confused and kind of panicking, he was interrupted mid-freakout by Dream, who, at the time, didn't know what was actually going on and assumed Nightmare simply changed his outfit. Ultraviolet, deciding he wouldn't blow his cover so quickly and was still destined to find his actual target, decided to play along for now. As time went on, he'd begin to become a bit fond of Dream, and the two would usually be seen wandering the Multiverse doing their own things, UV serving as a protective brother to Dream.

IMPRISONMENT & BREAKOUT: Ultraviolet and his brother were eventually imprisoned by a more royal, maybe even stronger variant of Nightmare known as King Scorpius. UV was able to break out, but was beaten to near death after getting caught. His physical body was destroyed, and the parasite escaped through a vent duct. It ended up finding more imprisoned monsters, and, as luck would have it...One of them was just the Sans he was looking for. It was Corrupt Nightmare, who wasn't having much luck escaping. The parasite then latched onto him (not willingly) while Dream escaped themselves. Dream was nearly caught and potentially killed by the same people who "killed" UV, but before they could do anything...

...They were...let's say..."interrupted" and mercilessly beaten to death by a new presence emerging from the shadows.

The newly formed Ultraviolence, after lazily putting together a name (At this point, there was more to consider than a cool name, like not dying and breaking out of this place), then escaped with his brother, who by this point was unconscious. Dream woke back up in their base homeworld, only UV was nowhere to be seen. UV was, still in the form of Ultraviolence, elsewhere pondering whenever he should continue using this form as originally desired or find another Passive body to revert back to Ultraviolet. Despite his plans originally set on becoming an all powerful immortal being of negativity, he decided that wasn't very rad anymore and went with the latter idea, stealing the body of a nearby Passive Nightmare from another timeline. Though, as he did so, he wondered why there was an absence of a Dream Sans. Don't these guys usually have brothers? UV didn't think too much about this and returned back home to his brother, acting as if the whole "King Scorpius castle breakout giant neon octopus man" thing was simply a nightmare.

Speaking of, here's what their design looks like!

And now, here's some stuff about Ultraviolence!

He glows in the dark and is able to go invisible. The saturation/brightness/glow can be affected by physical and mental state (When he's real worked up or feeling sadistic he has high saturation, and when he's wounded badly or low on energy, he has a more desaturated, more dull look.)

Whenever invisible or not, he'll always leave a trail of cyan footprints behind him (They fade at a medium rate but are pretty helpful when it comes to spotting UV when invisible)

The tentacles UV has are mostly for display or boasting; he rarely uses them in favor of a pair of batons (Inspired by Daredevil)

Ultraviolet was pretty calm and collected with a short temper, but Ultraviolence is anything but. He's ruthless when it comes to getting his way and the hesitation to kill or harm's gone out the window. Though, he will make things entertaining while he's at it, cracking jokes and making light teases while snapping people's necks and breaking bones. In other words, he's very sadistic yet playful.

It's unclear whenever in this state Ultraviolence feels empathy towards Dream or not, as he makes sure to never be around him whenever in this form, doing this out of survival instinct because Dream's Nightmare's #1 weakness, though there could be other reasons as to why.

Blood is censored in the form of bright, neon colors (commonly pink cyan or lime). Nobody really knows how UV's able to do this, similar to how people don't know how Fresh's able to censor people's swearing

Speaking of swearing, UV usually has to censor himself whenever he's in this form, as his whole "very cautious about swearing" thing gets a bit twisted due to Corrupt Nightmare's influence.

ABILITIES:

Ultraviolet (Base):

Hands-on combat

Censorship (Swears are censored with %#*@&! rather than 90s slang and what not similar to how comics censor swearing)

No other abilities, such as having the base Sans abilities, are known to be possessed by UV

Ultraviolence (Corrupt):

Invisibility

Bioluminescence

Weapon Manifestation (Forming weapons such as batons, firearms, knives, etc)

(Probably) Same abilities as Nightmare Sans as well as Base UV

King Scorpius belongs to @teaspiiier 

#ultraviolet!sans #sans au #underfresh sans #fresh sans #dreamtale #nightmare sans #utmv #sans oc art #dude i wrote like an entire fandom wiki page about a stupid purple skeleton oh my god #sans oc

[bigoldonnielee]

Story WIP! CW: Panic attack

I sigh, taking a bite out of my muffin and pulling out my phone to mindlessly doom scroll. Dog, cat, call out post, dog, genocide, dog… I look up to see Samson starting to roll around in his bed, and then I’m back to the screen. This time, with a notification waiting for me.

From my mother.

“Hi, sweet May May! How's your little working dog doing? Listen, we need to talk about these payments and how you need to get a job. I know you have problems, but everyone does-”

That’s all I’m able to read until I close my eyes, drop my phone, and start shaking. I sit helplessly as nothing I do stops the immediate swell of panic in my chest, the sweat on my skin, the tears in my eyes. I start to rock as my thoughts pick up and my mind goes a mile a minute. Am I unsafe? Will she stop helping me? I’m doing all I can, and I know it’s not enough, but I’m trying. What will happen to me? Samson? I want to work, I want to so badly. I hate needing so much help. I hate relying on my parents’ money. They don’t understand how awful all of this makes me feel. I didn’t ask for this. I want to like people, be around people, interact with them like a normal person. But I can’t, I just can’t and I can’t do anything and I know I’m no good and I should just give up and I should just die and-

My thoughts stutter when I hear a gentle whine, and I feel my dog jump on the couch, and onto me, pushing me down slowly so he can press his warm weight on top of me. I inhale sharply, finally breathing for the first time in what felt like minutes, maybe hours. A choked sob escapes me as I clutch tightly to Samson, pressing my face into him as he cranes his neck to give me puppy kisses. I’m coughing, mucus and tears draining down my throat and face, as I try to force my breathing to calm, desperately working on the coping skills my therapist had beat into me.

Slowly, so slowly, I stop shaking, and I stop rocking. I pant, fingers still wound tightly in Samson’s fur, eyes clenched shut. He doesn’t move or get off of me, merely whines and licks my fingers, gently coaxing me to loosen my grip and relax. It takes me much longer to start to let go, and to be able to open my eyes, but my sweet boy only lays on me, giving me affection, worrying about me.

Once I fully relax, I notice the sun has gone from hanging lowly in the sky to being firmly tucked away with the moon on full display. Hours had passed, but how many?

I don’t dare to look at the direction of my phone, keeping my breath steady. I look at Samson, who looks at me in turn, his head tilted to the side as if he’s asking if I’m okay.

“Oh Sammy,” I chuckle tearily. “Thank you, Sammy baby. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Samson merely gives me another wet kiss, huffs, and plops his head on my shoulder as I hug and pet him.

#panic attack #horror #horror writing #wip wednesday #wip #writeblr #writers on tumblr #dog #service dog #Dogthology

[rubyscarbuncle]

VENT POST FEEL FREE TO SCROLL PAST

content warnings: dysphoria, self-loathing, depression

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I'm not really asking for advice or help, not really looking for people to feel obligated to read this, just kinda screaming into the void. I wouldn't turn down that, but if anyone does decide to read this for some reason, I don't want them to feel obligated to say anything. This is just a post to just... Get it out.

dysphoria has been beating my ASS recently. I feel like I'm out of the honeymoon phase of hrt if that makes sense, where the progress has slowed down a lot. Everything feels a lot slower and more incremental. I finally felt like I look femme enough to pass (a feeling that honestly I don't even believe on most days now) and tried to do voice training, but kinda stopped.

it's hard, on good days I can tolerate or ignore my voice but on most days I just don't like it at all. I think it's one of the reasons that I've been nonverbal more often recently. Although it's also due in part that I'm actually allowing myself to do so on days where I just don't feel like talking, but I think if I wasn't so dysphoric I'd at least be able to manage to just keep my mic on at least. Or at least squeeze out a few words. But I just don't like my voice being perceived. I think it sounds fake and wrong and a lot of other things. I know I wouldn't be feeling this way if I did voice training, but to do voice training I have to listen to and focus on my voice, and I hate my voice, but it can't change unless I do voice training, but to do it I have to listen and focus on my voice, and thus the cycle repeats and as I feel the cycle repeating my motivation dips lower and lower. It sucks. Like a lot. I feel like I'm in this weird fucked up stage where it's just enough to not present as outwardly masculine but is still very easily detectable as masc. I know passing isn't tied to gender, but it's a shitty feeling nonetheless.

I just wish I could bundle myself up and just never have to be perceived until my transition is complete. But I feel like I'm forced to walk around like a caterpillar that's halfway morphed, one that should still be in its cocoon but is forced to walk around anyways. It's a really shitty feeling that I don't know if I could describe to anyone that doesn't have to deal with it any better than that.

I put on make-up recently and felt not very good after putting it on, like I looked somehow more masculine in the way that you could tell I already didn't have a standardly feminine face but also had shitty make-up applied that feels deeply unfeminine, I got complimented by someone I know who signed to me saying "you look beautiful" and chat I can't lie, my first thought was "damn I can't believe they'd lie to my face like that."

It also sucks, because I feel like I'm nervous to be or act like myself outside of really close friends or else I might be seen as "not feminine enough" or something. But that in it of itself makes me feel like I'm just faking it or something and I feel like people can tell that which sorta makes its own vicious cycle.

I just wish I could just be put in some kind of vat like the healing pod for goku but for transitioning. Just sit in that vat and let the changes wash over me until it's over.

Don't get me wrong, I still love being trans, I love the community, I love the perspective it's given me, I love meeting supportive people, I love so much about it, but the dysphoria (and not to mention the transphobia) aougoughhhhhhhhh, it's debilitating.

#gender dysphoria #tw dysphoria #tw depression #tw self loathing

[juvellianovo]

Hello! I came to give u some sort of an idea of what can happen in part 2 (of the Child!Mc with the imaginary friend). Btw, you can just call me Soggy if u want.

So, I was thinking that maybe (since they can't really help mc when it comes to fighting) they give her about 50%-60% of their power so that she can fight back (it can be something like being able to make objects float with your mind, (I forgot the name of it) kinda like wanda maximoff lol. But u can also change it if u want) And during the night, they teach her how to use and control her powers. And the next time she gets in trouble she kinda attacks/hits the brother who is scolding her (it can be lucifer or anyone else). The brothers where confused because she actually managed to hurt them (and make them pass out due to how hard she hit them) and they didn't know of any spell that could do so.

That's all, you can change it however u want to make it better or to make it fit future parts better.

Hmmm thanks for that. Part 1

Lol lucifer gon be the punching bag

For anyone who only wants to see the reaction and wants to skip the explanation please scroll till the red line appears.

As I have mentioned in the previous part after the attic incident Barbatos basically did and didn't bring mc back to life, a yes and no statement. Since Sneho is binded to Mc's soul. He got free because of the effect Barbies power has.

To put it

See it like this. Mana is the power source to spells and circles and even powers that do not need spells or circles, like the power that supernatural beings use. And now there are demonic, holy and neutral power. Neutral power is the power that Humans originally created, one that does not need any circles or spells. Normally people(can include species that aren't human) are born with neutral power source.

So Barbie uses Demonic powers with a very slight tint of neutral.

Now Sneho despite being a demon can use all of these types of power Neutral being his main.

So the mix of Demonic and neutral power which Barbie used malfunctions with the restriction that was on Sneho causing Sneho to be able to break free from Mc's soul and use his full potential if he wants. But he still stays with Mc becauee you know soft spot and besides Sneho doesn't have any relatives that are alive.

Satan

Scenario: Part 1 reference

A real bookworm so probs knows about kids having imaginary friends

Doesn't give mind to it much

But after seeing this several times decides to tag

this man turns into the ripoff of Sherlock Holmes 0.2

Has a very calm demeanor

Quite unexpected

Will try to take the mirror away

But is patient enough to listen to your explanation

Keeps an eye out

Has sarcastic arguments with Sneho

80% of the time Sneho wins

Sneho doesn't trust Satan at all will try to guide you away from Satan everytime you two get a bit close

Literally hisses at Satan

Satan probs finds Sneho a menace exactly what Sneho wants

Scenario: Lending power reference

Now no one! Throws. This. Boy😤

He'll be anwgy if you do😠

So yeah you threw Lucifer over.

Now the wall is completely broken.

Satan for a moment smirked but was a bit concerned

Cause we know Satan might hate that he was born out of someones rage and being compared

But he doesn't REALLY hate Lucifer

This fluff fury only is a bit broken thats all💔

Already has a doubt that it can be neutral human world magic

Widens his eye in shock

Approaches you even tho in the back of his mind his heart is telling him to look back at lucifer

Now he is the 4th Prince ok?

meaning he is the 4th strongest demon in all hell besides Barbie and Diavolo.

He doesn't know any spells that contain that type of aura.

Already has a grasp that it's neural power

Will investigate later.

For now observe the situation

Asmodeus

Scenario : 1 reference

Now asmo can't resist when he sees a mirror

Freaks out when he see someone else's face

Almost breaks the mirror

He just innocently wanted to admire his face🥺

Not much drama

Listens to you explaining

Probs brothers Sneho to be his experiment doll

Sneho actually runs whenever he sees asmo cause he doesn't want to bear the ridiculous rants of asmo that never seems to stop

Scenario : 2 reference

NOOOOOO LUCIFERS SKIN!!

Literally shrieks

Mc I love you but how could you do this to someones skin

All about skin

Doesn't have a clue that his older brother is unconscious

Beel

Scenario : 1

"Is that a demon inside mc?

Lucifer won't be very pleased abt it...

....

I'll help you hide him

...you should be more cautious of demons"

" "

" *Munch* amh..I see"

Probably doesn't mind it and will keep quite until someone else finds out

Scenario: 2 reference

Goes over to lucifer

Really shocked

"I didn't expect that mc."

Not in a disappointed tone rather in a shocke tone

Never tells anyone except for belphie that he knew abt this before

Belphie

Scenario : 1 reference

Probably noticed it only when you were wriggling a lot making the bed move and by how loud you were talking

Did killing make you insane?

at first couldn't process what he saw

After a good few seconds he realized that there was a demon

Takes the mirror away

Until after a long while and Sneho coming out showing himself aswell as you explaining did that cow get it.

Tells Lucifer abt this later

For now sleep is more important to him

Scenario: 2 reference

Shocked as well

suck that bitch

Satistfied

Doesn't care that much

Just a tiny bit concerned abt you

Maybe someone remind him not to mess with you.

#anon #ask #obey me #obey me shall we date #Satan #Sneho!au! #obey me au! #om!child!mc #Asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #belphie the cow #demon sneho #part 2 #obey me scenarios #🖤🖤🖤juve

[marshmallowprotection]

i dont usually do these things but your work makes me so happy!! you're incredible :)) keep up the good work!!

basically it's my birthday today but it's been kind of rough, i was wondering if you could write how ge saeran or ray would react to mc feeling sad on their birthday!

Ray hate birthdays because they’re a reminder of what he lost and what he’ll never have. He’s seen Saeyoung get everything on their birthday and he has nothing to claim for himself. It makes him feel angry and sick when he scrolls in those chat logs and sees that people think Saeyoung deserves to have a day to himself. He breaks everything around him and isolates himself as much as he’s able to on that day... unless the Savior wants to see him. That’s the only way he would leave his enclosed room.

That's  how he feels about his birthday. He doesn't feel that way about other people's birthdays. He's not envious that other people get to have something that he doesn't in that sense, it only pertains to his brother. That's because his brother got to keep the birthday and he had to stay forgotten in the darkness. He would be grateful for your birthday because that means there's a day that he can be respectful and thankful that you came into his life.

In his eyes, that would be the best day of the year. It would be something that he would want to make you feel special about.

However, he would understand if your birthday isn't the happiest thing to you. He doesn't want to think that you have gone through troubles in life that could make you understand why he struggles with his birthday so much. He would like to believe that you haven't seen the suffering of this world and that you have been protected from it. But that is often far from the case, and if you told him that you hated this day, he would get it. He understands.

If you don't want to make a big fuss about it he would understand. It might hurt his feelings a little bit but he wouldn't try to let that affect you. In his mind, he would want to make something lavish and special for you. But if that's not something that works for you due to circumstance, he can try to do something smaller. I can see him bringing you something that he baked in the middle of the night with a nervous smile on his face.

“I know... this day is hard for you, flower. But, I want you to know how... how much... how much you mean to me. I'm so grateful that you decided to come and meet with me. Even if this day is hard for you, I want to be by your side… if that's okay. Happy birthday.”

GE Saeran feels complicated about birthdays. Neither he nor Saeyoung were wanted by their parents and that day always seems to be a reminder that they were born into this world unwanted by anyone... sure, they did their best to do what they could for it, but it was always a sour day no matter what they tried to do. If he was lucky and his mother passed out on that day, Saeyoung would do his best to sneak them out to get ice cream... that his happiest memory when it comes to his birthday.

Birthdays are just complicated sometimes. He doesn't go out of his way to avoid his anymore, but it still feels a little bittersweet when he thinks about it. If he doesn't know how to feel about it at the end of the day. He's happy that he's alive and that he's here but the day itself just feels a little out of sorts. It's something that he knows he's going to have to learn how to contend with but it's baby steps for him. 

That isn't the case when it comes to your birthday. That's his favorite day. It's important to him because you were born into this world and he got the chance to know you. He doesn't know where he would be if it wasn't for you coming into his life. Things might have been different if he never met you. He doesn't like to think about their reality you where he never met you, so he focuses on being grateful for the time that he has with you and the circumstances that you have experienced together. 

He would want to go out of his way to do something spectacular for your birthday. It might even be a little bit of overkill if you don't tell him beforehand that it's not really something you like to think about. He wants you to be happy more than anything and that means figuring out what's going to be comfortable for you. It might take a bit before he realizes what The Sweet Spot is to make you have a special day. If it's going to be a rough one, his bright idea is to suggest that you have a relaxed day together. Stay home, snuggle, and enjoy what you can.

He’ll bury his face in your chest with a sigh. “My love, I know this is a hard day. I know it’s less than perfect... but I want you to know I love you, this will always be my favorite day of the year. It’s the day that I get to be grateful that you’re alive and well by my side. So, please don’t cry too much if you can... remember how much you mean to me.”

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #anon #mysticmessenger #choi saeran #mm #ge saeran #saeray #ray choi #choi ray #saeran mystic messenger #saeran mysme #saeran mm #ray mm #ray mystic messenger #ray mysme #mysme ray #mysme seven #mm ray #mm saeran #mysme saeran #mystic messenger saeran #mystic messenger seven

[queen-of-seventeen]

Abandon who you love, love with abandon

Hungry mouths

Hello you can read chapter 1 and chapter 2. This fic updates every sunday and you can find them on my tumblr under noa writes tfc or read on AO3

 Neil had gone to the airport two hours before his plane was set to leave. He’d delayed coming in the hopes that it’d trick his father’s people. If they couldn’t find him there they’d either assumed he’d already caught a plane or that he’d never come at all. That’s what normally happened but maybe even people as stupid as them learned from past mistakes.

 When you sneak around airports as much as Neil has, you learn to spot and avoid security cameras. Everything had a blind spot if you looked good enough. And if you hacked the cameras with your laptop beforehand. That was part two of why Neil needed the hours before his flight. He sat in a corner on the ground looking for everyone in the world like he was just waiting for his flight. Just another man who couldn’t find a seat.

 Texts scrolled over the right side of his screen. One by one tiny camera views flickered on the top left field. The bottom held his playlist. Zayde Wolf scalded through his left earbud and he did a cursory glance over the top of his screen. No familiar faces yet.

 No Plank, Malcolm, Patrick to be found. Most of all, no father.

 Neil looked back on his screen. The text stopped scrolling and he adjusted a string of cameras leading up to his gate. It would leave a small track but he was using airport WiFi and it shouldn’t be able to track him.

 One by one he created a blind spot for him. He put a timer on it, setting them back an hour after his plane had left.

 It was a big ask hoping nobody would notice until then but he needed the time for plausible deniability that it was his flight.

 Neil shut off his laptop and put it away. Zipper open, shoving his clothes to the side, zipper shut. Carry on only. Only what fits beneath the chair in front of him. Always his laptop. His mother had hated his obsession with technology as he was growing up but the moments he’d been able to go to school had given him an obsession with coding that couldn’t be equaled with anything else. Now that his mother had passed away it even became useful. Neil didn’t have all the contacts she had and his money steadily ran out as prices increased and his life on the run continued. He’d never expected to be twenty-five and still being chased across the world by his father.

 On all accounts he should be dead by now.

 The bag zipped shut and slung over his shoulder as Neil stood up. It was heavy but that was a necessary evil when he’d had to leave his new backpack behind. He’d steal another in the United States. Maybe one of those backpacks that couldn’t be cut through with knives that the airports kept trying to sell him. It seemed fitting for the situation.

 Neil slowly made his way through the crowd. He made sure to keep to his blind spot when he heard the same deep voice from yesterday call out to him. “Junior? Is that you?”

 He could hear the mirth in Romero Malcolm’s voice. It was easily matched by Lola’s. “So sorry, that’s my nephew and we haven’t seen him in a while.”

 Now Neil was neither her nephew, or related at all to her. But he didn’t want to see her either. He pulled up his hood and walked faster. He could imagine them cursing right now but he didn’t look back around to check. They might just be chattering about their      “nephew”    .

 Their voices came closer again and Neil had to make a decision. It happened in a split second and Neil started running. Fingers glanced off his coat as he burst through the crowd straight into the path of the security cameras. He bumped into people left and right. A suitcase knocked into his knees and almost sent him sprawling.

 “Junior, get here!”

 “Get away from me! I don’t know you!” Neil yelled over his shoulder. He tugged his arms through the short straps of his duffle bag. He had to slow down a bit to do so but it was better than feeling it bump into his leg every step of the way.

 “Junior, please,” Lola called. Desperation coated her voice like thick paint on a new canvas. Lumpy and with a shaking hand.

 Neil saw a wall coming up and a big crowd near gate two. He needed to get to seventeen.      Fuck. Duck. Run.    He reached a hand into his Hawaiian shirt and grabbed a butterfly knife. He’d only have one chance to do this without getting caught and that was the element of surprise.

 His heart beat in his chest. It felt like it would reverberate out of his chest. The heavy thumbs shook his bones and his blood sped up. A staccato rhythm filled his very being as his father’s people chased him through the airport.

 He ran up right to the wall and kicked off it with a flip that was more reckless than necessary. He used it to turn back towards Lola and Romero. They didn’t slow down their run as he charged. A couple feet in front of them Neil’s plan finally formed in total. He sank into a slide right between them and used the butterfly knife to cut Romero’s bag off his shoulder. Neil grabbed its straps and stood up to dash away.

 Ten gates down he disappeared into the bathroom. He slipped into an empty stall and tried to calm his breath. He needed to get out of here. A bus wouldn’t be enough. They could probably guess what plane he’d want to take as well. He’d need to be smarter.

 He upended Romero’s bag. Documents, clothes and finally money. Neil quickly shrugged off his shirt and hoodie and stuffed them into his bag with the documents and money. He’d check them later and he was already through security anyway.

 Neil put on a sweater of Romero’s and stuffed the rest of the clothes in the bag. He took a minute to carefully hang it on the back of the door and calmly left the stall. He put on the hood and cap he’d stolen and left the bathroom.

 His bag couldn’t be disguised but it would have to do for now. He took out his phone and pulled up his boarding pass and documents. The line was long when he got to gate seventeen and he didn’t yet see Romero and Lola. Belatedly he realized they would be checking all the gates. They wouldn’t be fast enough.

 There was a chance that Neil could actually get out of here.

 Neil checked the board above his head. Ten minutes before take off. He slowed his pace to a jog and went up to the desk. "Hey, am I still on time?"

 He reached into his bag for his papers and handed them to the lady.

 "Just. We were beginning to close off mr... Barry." She had a thick Australian accent and after months of living in Australia Neil had to force himself to shake it off and affect his American one.

 "Thank God, am I right?"

 The lady let out an awkward chuckle and let him through the hallway. Neil went into the plane and slipped into a small seat flanked by an old man near the window. Neil had an innate distrust of man his father's age and the neck pillow and fleece blanket did nothing to dissuade that trust. He'd seen how his father acted around other people when he was young. He had the scars to prove how he acted afterwards.

 Because he had never been enough. Never quiet or still or obedient enough for the guests.

 But he didn't have to worry about that anymore. He'd never see his father again. The only way he'd do so was in a bodybag after fighting for his life.

 He swallowed through the ascend of the plane and tried to sleep through the entire flight. Worrying won't do until he touches down again.

 --00--

 Andrew would never admit he had an obsessive personality. It wasn’t something he did. He didn’t get attached, he didn’t want anything and he most of all didn’t obsess over anything. Besides maybe the poor romantic life of his twin but it wasn’t his fault Aaron was a loser.

 This moment would be seen as factual proof by his boss and colleagues that not only was he obsessive it was addictive. Renee had left the office a couple hours earlier when nothing was turning up. She trusted the security at Sydney airport to forward them the correct information if they found something. Andrew didn’t share her senseless faith.

 His head made a loud      thunk     when he dropped it on his desk.      Thunk. Thunk.     He had to think better. He had to be smarter. He wouldn’t be outsmarted by a guy who hadn’t even gone to school.

 There had to be a reason why Nathaniel didn’t show up on any of the camera feeds. Renee and Andrew had been combing through footage for hours before she gave up for the day. But none of the cameras showed the guy.

 Andrew dropped his head once more. Sparks showed on the backs of his eyelids when a thought shot through his head. He scrambled to grab it by its coat tails before it dissipated to smoke once more.      Blind spots.    Nathaniel had gotten away through a blind spot. All Andrew had to do was find them.

 He returned to the same images that showed on the screens in front of him all afternoon. One by one it started clicking in his head. He couldn’t move the images anymore but he could see how the images shifted slightly at two certain time marks in multiple spots leading up to gate seventeen.

 It was a straight line without a view. Andrew debated with himself to invade everyone's privacy and check the bathroom camera's before remembering Australian laws. There wouldn't be any footage in there.

 Fuck.

 His fingers were typing again before his plan had fully formed and Andrew was checking security breaches for the IP address used to infiltrate the system.

 Andrew called his roommate Kevin as he did so. The phone only rang once before it was picked up.

 "Andrew."

 "Yes, yes, have you fed Miss Furball already?"

 Andrew could hear the heavy sigh through the phone. "Yes, I fed your cat. Does this mean you're not coming back for her tonight?"

 "Bring her here."

 "Chuck won't allow you to have a cat at work."

 "My evil plan has been foiled. Bring the cat." Andrew hung up and stared at the codes in front of him.

         He wasn't done looking before Kevin showed up with a bag and a tray of food. It was all placed besides Andrew and he reached into the bag to grab his pet before continuing his work. Miss Furball, a dappled gray thing with a face that looked like she’d been smashed to a wall, purred on his lap and kneaded his leg before plopping down.

 It calmed Andrew enough that he was able to find the leak, even with Kevin looking over his shoulder.

 Kevin circled the room and stopped not just at the clue board but also at the still frame Andrew had of Nathaniel's face.

 "So that is the kid?" Kevin asked.

 "He's twenty five. Shorter than his dad and doing everything in his power to get away from his father's people," Andrew replied.

 Kevin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "He's kid sized. I don't care that he's supposedly smart."

 "Supposedly?" Andrew clicked through and saw the airport wifi was used to modify the camera's. But maybe he could find the laptop used, hoping it didn't get ditched after use.

 "If you're right and he's not working with Nathan he has to be a genius to have survived this long. He may be a greater threat than his father."

 "He's also a free runner."

 "You don't say." Kevin dropped into Renee's chair and grabbed his salad. He'd long since given up trying to feed Andrew anything but burgers, chicken nuggets and milkshakes while he was working.

 Finally Andrew got through and he wrote the information about the used laptop down.

 Andrew chewed down two nuggets before checking what flight would've gone from gate seventeen at that moment.

 San Francisco. He could work with that. Andrew didn’t say anything to Kevin as his roommate continued to talk about his usual work troubles and the mess Wesninski had left for them on half of the globe.

 Andrew didn’t feel sad for his friend, not even when he hacked into the San Fran airport security cams and set up a ping for security threats. Andrew would fix everything for Kevin anyways. That’s what he always did and it’s what would happen when Andrew’s computer lit up as Nathaniel tried to mess with the camera’s. He was ready for it.

 He would find Nathaniel.

#noa writes #noa writes tfc #noa writes aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #foxhole court #neil josten #all for the game fanfic #aftg #aftg fic #aftg fanfic #andrew minyard #kevin day #hans and gretel au

[badmusejail]

A FIRELORD’S TALE.

(copied from the original blog)

OZAI was born to Firelord Azulon and Illah.  Named after the heritage he was born to proudly carry, the name is also homonymous with fiery disaster, a snide shot at the child that was never meant to exist, only born to handle an extenuating circumstance that would never come to pass.  

This was no secret to the court–the baby born as an afterthought, 15 years after the beloved crown prince and passed off from servant to servant, hardly seeing the family he supposedly belonged to.  

Still, his destiny and honor were quickly imposed upon him.  What an honor, they said, to be born in the royal family.  Ozai adored those words from the moment he was old enough to understand them.  He dreamt of honor and glory, of faithfully serving the Firelord, of being a beloved and noble prince.  He listened to stories of Iroh with barely repressed glee, imitating the older brother and doing everything he could to gain his favor.

But something was wrong.

Even as a child, Ozai wasn’t oblivious to how he wasn’t permitted to be with the brother, quickly ushered off anytime he tried to get close.  Forced to sit down and listen to meaningless lectures and read boring scrolls while the rest of the Nation was learning to fight, preparing to fight for honor and glory.  

Ozai’s frustration spilled over into fits that sent the servants and teachers scattering, and with his family having such little interest in his activities, the behavior went unchecked.  Ozai found that he rather liked having people cowering at his feet, and the servants had no course of action to combat the aggressive child.  

Even so, Ozai’s demands were not met–he was still refused training and forced to sit aside.

When he was finally permitted to attend a small school for nobles, he engaged it with a passion and brutality that scared most of his classmates and even some of the teachers.  Even so, none dared confront the Firelord about it, and so his behavior was allowed to continue, with most people cautiously keeping their distance.  

Ozai didn’t care.  He was a prince.  He was the future of this Nation, and he was the best there was.  They didn’t need to engage with him and it was for the best that they cowered before him, as they would when he was Firelord.  

He was twelve years old when Azulon told him in no uncertain terms that his only purpose was to continue the lineage if Iroh were to pass.

Ozai stood alone in silence in that throne room as his father stalked away, his mother nowhere to be found.  

He doesn’t remember if he cried or not.  But if he was asked, he’d scoff and say of course not.  

It was ridiculous and they all knew it.  Iroh was invincible.  Untouchable, proud–a dragon in human flesh.  

Ozai decided he hated him.

So when he visited the school a short while later, Ozai didn’t look at him, and merely told him to begone from his sight.

The Firelord was the sole source of truth.  His will was unbreakable, his word was law.  If he deemed you useless…

Ozai couldn’t retaliate against him.  No one could, the Firelord was their savior, their hopes andthe one destined to lead the Fire Nation to greatness.  To go against him was to court death, treason of the highest order.  So he suppressed the hatred.  Served Firelord Azulon loyally, taking his pittance and grievances out on Iroh instead, seeking to surpass the untouchable.  

He blamed his problems on the other, refused any attempts at coexistence.  He actively despised Iroh, even outright attacking him at the slightest provocation.

And Iroh too couldn’t help but shy away from that cruel ambition in Ozai’s eyes.  

They mutually agreed, in silence, they were best apart from one another.  

As Ozai grew into a teenager, he expected that Azulon would send him out to fight, just as Iroh did, just as it was his noble duty to do.  He expected to be able to prove himself, to topple Iroh, to gain Azulon’s favor.  

Azulon refused.  

Ozai returned to his studies.

As the celebrations of his sixteenth birthday faded to little more than a dim glow on the horizon, Ozai asked Azulon once more to let him serve alongside his brother and the troops.  Azulon refused.  As he departed, Ozai made a scathing remark about the Firelord, fury blazing through his veins and simmering beneath his words.  Azulon struck him down with a whip of fire for his disrespect.  

Learn from your suffering, you little runt! The words would circle in Ozai’s mind for years to come.

Ozai spent days bedridden from the injury and several weeks recovering and learned to make sure his father was out of earshot next time he wished to speak ill of him.

Over the next several years, the royal family seemed to exist in relative peace. Ozai spent a lot of time observing Iroh–particularly the way he treated his son.  He still didn’t like the brother by any means–especially with how people constantly fawned over him while they cowered or fled from Ozai–but he found himself intrigued by the relationships Iroh had, particularly with his father and son.

Love, they called it.  

He heard the servants whisper of it, he’s heard stories of scandalous things occurring because of it, he’d seen plays and heard songs about it.  

But he didn’t understand.

It wasn’t as if it mattered much anyways, as Azulon demanded his marriage to a woman named Ursa as her bloodline would bring both families great honor.

Neither of them wanted this, but it was their duty to tend to the future of the Fire Nation, so they bowed their heads and exchanged their vows.  Ozai was even less thrilled at the idea of producing heirs–he didn’t like to be touched, and what did it matter when Iroh was the only one of worth anyways?

But, the Firelord’s word is final, his will their guiding light, so produce an heir they did.  

The weakness in the child’s eyes offended Ozai–had the Fire Sages and Ursa not tempered his rage, the child may not have lived past that day.  But live Zuko did, and change the world he would.  

Ozai wondered what he was supposed to do with this tiny menace.  Of all the studies he was forced to endure, babies were not one of them.  Vaguely disgusted by the task, Ozai kept to his duty nonetheless, remembering what he saw of Iroh–the brother, the beloved brother, always better than him.

For the first few years, Ozai emulated his behavior.  He put effort into being… “a good father” that his son could love.  He observed the way Ursa interacted with him.

When his daughter was born, Ozai decided this was pointless.  Acting like he felt in ways he did not was foolish and only going to cause more problems when the deception was realized.  

He did, however, vow to himself that he’d treat his children based on merit and not simply because one was born first.  

The following years were much a repetition of his youth.  He spent much of his time in isolation, studying or training, shooting after a goal he didn’t even comprehend anymore.  He watched Iroh, continuing to grow jealous.  He watched Ursa and Zuko, growing jealous of them as well.  

He threw himself into a borderline self-destructive fervor, taking up every task assigned to him, compared to Iroh who would rather sit around, laugh, have a cup of tea.  

And Azulon still favored him.  

Whether it was his bitterness or Ursa’s own, the duo grew more and more strained.  Ozai held onto his honor, his duty, but more and more it was feeling worthless, unnecessary, and this bitterness seeped through him, the hollowness flowed through his bones and he lashed out at everyone and everything.   They fought, they yelled.  Over every little thing, it seemed–Ozai didn’t hate her and yet here he was, making her hate him.

His father had his wife and Iroh, Iroh had his son, glory, and the support of the people, and Ozai…

Well, Ozai was nothing more than a fiery disaster.  He was a prince with the world at his feet, and yet, everything was crumbling apart.  His presence was entirely unnecessary, unwanted; people shied away from his very gaze and he focused on his duty to his people, his hatred of Iroh to keep going, because if he thought too much about it he’d find he had nothing else.  

The fights continued until the unthinkable happened.  

Iroh returned from the war.  Abandoned the siege on Ba Sing Se.  His son had perished.

Ozai lost all respect for his brother that very day.  

To abandon his purpose, for that?  It made Ozai sick–especially to think that such a weak willed man would inherit the throne.

…Or, would he?

The realization slowly dawned upon Ozai that with Lu Ten gone, Iroh’s bloodline was dead.  With Iroh, being the sentimental fool he was, unlikely to have another child, there was no reason that Azulon should keep him as heir.  

Even with this knowledge, Ozai observed his brother.  He could see the tears, hear the heartbroken brother mumbling some lullaby beneath his breath.

The display was entirely foreign to him, and he approached, entranced.

Why do you mourn, brother? Ozai asked.  He meant no harm.  He knew Azulon saw them as disposable.  He knew he had no attachment to his own children.  

But, Iroh, in his grief, could only see mockery: the inconsiderate little brother who had always hated him.  There was no calm.  There was no explanation.  Only anger.  

But why, brother? Ozai repeated.  How is this any different than any soldier on the battlefield dying?  They have parents, too.

Indeed, Ozai saw no difference between his children dying than any soldier on the battlefield perishing.  

…And, indeed, the horrors of what Iroh had been doing began to fully dawn upon him.

Ozai could tell he was unwanted.  This was nothing new.  As he wandered through the kingdom, he saw how everyone mourned for the fallen prince.

Would they care if I died? He wondered, and knew the answer was no.

Something burning inside him, Ozai gathered his family, made his case, and expected Azulon to name him heir.

Azulon refused.  

Not only this, but Azulon was so incensed by Ozai’s request that he decided to teach the disrespectful, ambitious child a lesson once and for all.  He instructed Ozai to kill his own son, to learn the pain that Iroh suffered.

Ozai left the throne room, only one word on his mind:  Why?  

Father, why?  Why am I worthless to you?

What purpose am I meant to serve?

Is this not what I was born for?

Nonetheless, he had learned–the scar still visible on his back–that the Firelord’s rule is law and to disobey him is treason.  

He retreated to his private quarters to inform Ursa of the news.  Of course, he, as he just covered with his brother, was not bothered by the instruction.  Zuko was lagging behind, likely to never catch up, and would likely only be a shame to the Royal Family.  Really, killing him was a mercy.

He should have expected Ursa to take issue with the instruction.  

He had seen this emotion before.  The look in her eyes.  That deep desperation, sadness.  It was the very same look he saw in Iroh’s, and the very same emotion he himself lacked.  At first he disregarded her words, but she pleaded.  He heard the words, he heard the emotion, and it just frustrated him.  He turned away.  And then…

What you suggest is treason, he informed, words ice as he turned back to her.  

And yet she pleaded, and yet he couldn’t pull away.  The idea haunted him, danced in his mind, stole his breath.  

Kill Azulon.  Take the throne.  Spare Zuko.

It was so deliciously tempting in its simplicity.  And really, the treasonous thoughts continued, wouldn’t it be for the best?  Azulon is endangering the Fire Nation with his attachment to his son.  Iroh is in no condition to rule, nor does he want to.  Zuko will live, as per Ursa’s wishes.  Ursa doesn’t want to be here, you can free her from her obligation.

This is treason.

This is treason.

This is treason.

Those three words repeated in his mind even as he agreed.  

Leave and never return, he commanded her, your children will come to no harm.

She departed.  He tucked the vile vial into his sleeves and met a servant before he entered his father’s room.  He ushered the servant away and dripped the poison into the tea, hiding the vial within his robes.  

The look of distressed grief on his face wasn’t entirely fake but it suited his purpose nonetheless.  

Head hung, Ozai ignored the look of irritation the resting Azulon shot him, straightening, rigid, thoughts running a thousand words a minute as he extended the tray to him.

The deed is done, father, he stated.  

He would never forget the pleased look on Azulon’s face.  

He could have stopped him from drinking the tea.  Perhaps he should have.

You’d order me dead with just as much pleasure, wouldn’t you?

Die, father.

He merely knelt quietly by the bed as his father lectured him about understanding.

I understand nothing, father.  These words went unspoken.

Ozai sat in that room until Azulon passed in his sleep just as Ursa said he would.

He told the servants that his father, heartbroken at Lu Ten’s death, passed away last night, after asking him to inherit the throne in Iroh’s stead.  

He was crowned Firelord that day.

He saw Iroh in the crowd, standing in mute confusion.  

They spoke after the ceremony.  Cordial.  Distant.  Like strangers.  Despite his best effort, he could not discern if Iroh knew.  The two went different ways and hardly spoke.  As much as they claimed it to be because of their duties, there was an insurmountable rift between them, and they both knew it.  

As Firelord Ozai retreated to his quarters, he realized that nothing had changed.  Crown or not, he was still the unwanted, weakling prince, overshadowed by his brother.  

He stumbled into the role woefully unprepared, cursing his father for all the useless lessons he was taught, but managing nonetheless with a contagious confidence and deadset passion for furthering the Fire Nation and the world.  

With Sozin’s Comet a few short years away and one talented heir, Ozai was well-set to become the most famous Firelord in history.   The one to end the war, unite this fractured world …  Like a phoenix, he decided, remembering one random legend he had been required to read.

A Phoenix King, one to burn this world down and rebuild it anew.  

His father didn’t matter.  His wife didn’t matter.  His brother didn’t matter.

What mattered was the Fire Nation and the glory the Firelord would bring it!

And glory he brought.

The populace was wary of him, for a time; he was not their beloved prince, but he proved himself–he was not a military leader and very few military conquests could be attributed to his name, but he brought prosperity to the nation.  

He rerouted transport, he demolished old regulations his father didn’t interact with, he drove innovation and pushed the economy forward, applying upgrade after upgrade to the military–new weapons, new boats, new armor.  Tanks.  Drills.  Airships.  

All lead by the most powerful Firebender in the world.  

He was at the top of the world–or, perhaps, not yet.

But he would be.

And then, he was sitting in on an ordinary meeting–nothing special, a strategic meeting held by his generals–his own strategic ability was lacking.  Bujing, a good companion of Ozai’s–and his father’s–likely one of the pillars that kept Ozai’s reign strong, was talking of their next strategy to overcome Earth Kingdom forces when someone spoke against it.  

Prince Zuko.  

Ozai’s own son.  

Ozai frowned with a low growl.  Of course, he could have settled this the very same way Azulon handled Ozai so many years ago–strike Zuko down where he stood and called it done, but that event, so long ago, still brought bitterness to Ozai.

He would be better than his father.  

Your disrespect will be settled by Agni Kai, Zuko! he commanded.  Of course, Zuko would lose.  He would be publicly humiliated, but the disrespect would be settled and all parties would be satisfied.  He would fight in his general’s place, of course.  No one insulted his generals, not even his own son.  

There was a certain brazenness he appreciated in his son’s outburst.  It was better than the reclusive, childish, soft boy he so commonly was.  If it wasn’t so inappropriately timed, he might have praised him for speaking his mind, for a leader needed to know how to do so, but, this situation was not the right time.  

And Zuko promptly threw that respect away.

On the battlefield, in the sacred trial of Agni Kai, surrounded by their peers, Zuko refused to fight.  

Speaking up in the war room was a childish mistake that needed to be reprimanded.  Refusing to fight an Agni Kai was an inexcusable crime against their very culture.  An insult to your opponent, the ritual itself, and the very nation.

To refuse to fight the Firelord was to ask for death.  

Stand up and fight, Prince Zuko! Ozai warned him.

Stand up and fight for your honor!  Ozai commanded a second time.

Where was that boy that spoke so boldly?  Where was that strength?  Why was there a cowering, snivelling runt before him instead of a prince?  Frustration mounted in Ozai.  Step by step, he watched as Zuko refused to move.

Twice now this boy had narrowly escaped death.  

Had destiny spared him simply to force Ozai’s hand now?  

Suffering will be your teacher.  He brought his hand down upon Zuko’s face.

He was spared once more.

Ozai walked away, not looking back at his fallen son, instructing the servants that as soon as he awoke he was to be banished from this Nation, only to return if he hunted down the Avatar.  

It was an impossible goal.  Utterly cruel, and the only way to settle the debt he incurred by refusing to fight.  

He would never return home, and given his subpar abilities and public humiliation, it was for the best.  

Ozai had a talented heir.  There was no reason to have a worthless one hanging around.  

He was both bothered and pleased to see that the event drove Iroh off as well.  

Ozai refused to think of it.  

He had his daughter.  She was all he needed to ensure the future of the Fire Nation.

Nothing would stand in his way.  

Not even the conveniently timed return of the Avatar.  He promoted Zhao to Admiral, tasking him with doing whatever was necessary to take down the Avatar.  

He failed, thanks to Iroh.  

News of his brother’s treachery made his blood boil with a rage he hadn’t felt for the man in years.  

He knew he should have prohibited him from going with Zuko–no matter how eager he was to have him away from him.  Now, Iroh wasn't only a failure, but a traitor as well.  

Good thing he had an answer for that.  

His daughter, beloved daughter, so much like him in his youth, so eager to please, so eager to be useful, and he, unlike his father, more than willing to give her a chance.  

Bring back your traitorous uncle and your failure brother, he commanded, and she grinned.  

The war raged on.  Failure and success danced around one another–courtesy of his daughter and his son, and not always in the way he predicted.  

When it came right down to it, Azula and Zuko both lied to him, and Zuko betrayed him.

He should have known better than to trust them.

But it was no matter.  The day of the comet was upon them, and he would take the world into his hand.  He would burn it to ash and he would reign upon it and grow a new world of unity from those ashes.  

And who could stop him?

The kid?  

He was almost laughable with his preaching and his weakness.  A leaf compared to a phoenix who would burn with a mere brush against his wings.

And then the leaf was whisked away and in its place was a typhoon.  It’s everything Ozai can do to survive and like most fights in life it took only a single mistake before he's slammed upon the ground; his doom drilling for his face.  

He closed his eyes.

The end did not come.  

The kid comes to the ground–looks away.  Disgust and anger fills Ozai–sparing one's enemies is for the weak–he is not weak and he will not be spared.

He will kill the Avatar or die trying.

An attack.

A counter.

He's restrained and the Avatar is touching him and he hates it and it’s the most unsettling feeling he has ever felt and dragonflies are crawling on him and within him and he sees things and he feels kindness and love for the first time except it isn't him feeling it it’s the avatar-boy and he sees his past and he sees his father and the pain and hatred and the jealousy and the years and years of dedicating himself only to be scorned again and again.

And then he's waking up only to learn that a hundred years has passed and the Fire Nation has declared war on the world and all of his people are dead but kindness and mercy must prevail over all and I cannot kill, I cannot but then he's facing down a helpless child, a child who disobeyed the laws of the land, a child who was too arrogant for his own good, a child who made too many grave mistakes and the smell of flesh is indistinguishable.

He sees his father, a merciless shadow of fire.  He feels the pain of neglect welling beneath him.  The welt of being whipped.  He sees his brother–his back as he walks away.  He sees his mother–only a blur as she ignored him.   He sees his wife, bickering and demonizing him, in love with another, hatred in her eyes.   He sees a kingdom who doesn’t care about the second heir.  He hears the servants complaining about caring for him.  He would scream, but he is physically incapable of doing so.  He sees himself in the mirror, donning the Firelord’s robes and he hears the oath he swears to himself.  He hears him swear to bring honor to his ancestors.

He sees a world of unity under the Fire Nation’s, under the Phoenix King's single rule.

He sees a world of unity under kindness, love, and mutual understanding.  He sees the avatar boy and his friends, having lost so much, but gained, too.  He sees their journeys.  He sees the Water Tribe, he sees the fights with the Fire Nation, he sees the gradual friendship with his failure son.  He sees them journey through the Earth Kingdom, and to the hollowed Air Temples, and he sees them somehow find happiness in all the despair.  

He’s met with the realization that there’s a lot in the world he was deprived of and something in him breaks.  

The world goes cold.

In the distance, something is screaming.  

He collapses.  

Words were said.  He remembers asking what that blasted avatar did to him.  He got an answer that came from a nightmare.  

The cell is cold.

It is, but Ozai would be cold even if he were on fire.  The cell could be described in many ways, but most of them escape Ozai’s notice, as he’s far too focused on the gaping hole inside of his chest.  It doesn’t quite hurt–it’s merely the type of annoyance that’s far too obvious to ignore.  It’s frankly quite surprising when he catches his reflection that there isn’t a literal hole there.  

Contemplation.

Even if his mind feels like sluggish, cooling magma, it isn’t as if he has much else to do.  Pick at his skin.  Claw at his chest.  Snap at whoever comes to look at him as if he’s some sort of circus animal.  Throw the food given to him.  Lay on the pathetic excuse of a blanket.  Cry.  Curl up in an attempt to find any sort of heat.  

Repeat.

The only indication of time passing is the steady decline of his reflection in the cell bars.

He punches it.

Sometimes the guards tend to him.

Sometimes they don’t.

Sometimes they make it worse.

It doesn’t matter to him.

He eats because his stomach won’t stop screaming at him.  It stays down most of the time.  He gets up and walks in circles to try to ease the pain in his joints.  He rubs his eyes to try to ease the strain from staring at darkness.  

He acts tough when visitors arrive, but he knows it’s nothing more than a pretty lie.  He's dead inside and he curses that Avatar for making him live like this.  

But…

He doesn’t know how long it’s been.

He doesn’t care to know.

He finds himself falling back to old habits.  The phoenix calls to him.  He's picked himself up before, he can do it again.  

So he thinks.  As visitors arrive, he sets any seed that may grow into his escape.

Will he pick a fight with Zuko or the Avatar?  No.  Certainly he acts as if that’s his goal–threatens Zuko no shortage of times, but his only goal is to escape.  He lost to the Avatar at his most powerful, he isn't foolish enough to try it again, no matter how tempting the idea of vengence may be.  

(The sight of this cell was more than enough to deter him.)

And so he laughs.  He may be burnt to ash, but, no, no, dear readers, it takes more than that to keep Ozai down.  

–

Notes: From Ozai’s point of view. Don’t be surprised if things are biased.

This is the canon I default to in the absence of other muns. If you write one of the characters mentioned here and don’t agree with their portrayal, we can talk it over.

#|| OZAI | lord of fire. #|| OZAI | HEADCANON | reborn in flame. #|| OOC | out of character.

[screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms]

Vent

Just me screaming into the void, feel free to keep scrolling

TW: Death, cancer, anger, heavy, swearing

Fuck I hate cancer so much! Like so fucking much! It has taken away a few very important people in my life already. While it dose not make it better, those people got to live a life, they were older when they passed. I knew that young people can get cancer, I guess I was just fortunate enough to not be faced with it till now.

My cousin, who is one of my best and closest friends, still so young, as terminal brain cancer and fucking hell it sucks! Watching him struggle with not being able to keep up with his physically taxing passions, watching him struggle with the way his body is reacting to treatments. Watching his Wish (dream trip with Make a Wish) get taken away because his condition worsened and can no longer fly safely might have been the worst. Having to watch someone so young deal with something and not being able to stop it is a feeling I can't describe, only that it is all kinds of horrible. Everything seems to be happening so fast yet like slow motion at the same time.

It makes me so frustrated when people keep saying that he will have a miracle and get better when no one has ever been cured of the kind of cancer he has! It feels so disrespectful and mocking, but I know they are coming from a good place, witch if the frustrating part!

It all just sucks! Knowing that all the plans we made for the future, all the trips, jobs, birthdays, adventures are not going to happen. How do you just keep going when someone who is such a huge part of your life, who was supposed to be around for all of it, is just not going to be? How are you supposed to keep going when the person who grew up with you won't be around for the rest of it?

I wish you could get better! I Fucking hate cancer!

#sorry for the downer post #today was hard #fuck cancer

[firespirited]

Here's how I use shinigami eyes (not saying you have to do it this way)

I see a post that’s got a red name and click which leads straight to posts that have been heavily through the terfosphere, usually marked 'terfs do touch' 'rf gc do interact' and some of my muted tags. I open all the non red urls who reblogged from red urls, scroll to their main, ignore any intro and read one page of their blog. If they're cruel to a trans person within 10 posts they get marked. That's the low bar to pass. Ten posts without obsessing. Read more for length and word blergh.

The point of shinigami eyes is to mark transphobes not just radfems, it's just that radfems are bigoted 95% of the time, and a bunch that say they're not radfems/terfs have a post explaining that they don't align with the feminism part (anti choicers, women libertarians...). It's also important to keep going when there are no terfy indicators as there are a bunch of right wingers who also enjoy blogging about trans people as 'cringe content'.

It feels like doing something useful by not making trans folk have to see that vileness and I feel a strange responsibility as a brit and a feminist who started with the radical texts and knows them well.

I don't care who created the extension, it's useful and I can't exactly be picky from my slave and blood mineral computer chips on billionaire monopoly software.

There are things I'd very much like to discuss without it getting co-opted by bigots or turned into pile on fodder. It happens so fast and with such ferocious accusations that you have to be in a good head space and towards the start of the day so you can disable reblogs or delete a post if it gets into the wrong hands. Right now I'm marking about a dozen or more a week, it doesn't make you feel safe writing anything when you feel you have to check all reblogs on a post because a bunch won't be marked as haters before it's too late.

Word blergh ahead :

I want to be able to talk about what it means if scotland and wales leave the UK for someone who has family in all, about our femicide epidemic, about the teachers having to learn to deprogram boys from manosphere ideology, about women in stem, prison abolition, how alienated I feel from gender performance, how I think Dylan Mulaney is the most annoying toxic positivity theatre kid turning transition into hashtag content I can't stand her she's not even mean just so confident in her ignorance, and can I rant about women enforcement of patriarchy while also running support networks within churches but always being on edge for what they will or won't refuse support about, girl bullying and teen girl pressure hurting deeper, trans folk helping me rediscover gender euphoria and also how I find rupauls drag race reductive and catty. How I'm still furious the covid vaccine wasn't tested on pregnant women and we don't have data about covid and womb damage/period disruption when given the kind of cells involved we really should be seriously looking into it. I want to talk about male violence or female labour exploitation with the understanding that we're talking about the social constructs that we're all tangled up in. I want to talk about ugliness, medical misogyny, all the adhd things my dad could get away with

and I can't without having to stick asterisks everywhere saying I don't believe in gender essentialism, i do believe in patriarchy and if this doesn't apply to you congrats on being one of the good ones there are good people and my experiences as a woman are not universal

and I hate transphobes so much for hijacking what should be basic human rights for their culture war of distraction when we have so so many problems to deal with and yet this issue is so important because it's breaking the sex binary and comphet down and they're so scared they're recycling the anti-gay talking points without even filling the serial numbers off! The disruption to ideas about patriarchy is worth the fight even if there weren't flesh and blood humans getting hurt (it's a strong motivator though ilu all my gnc and trans friends).

I get so tangled: I think sending death threats is wrong, i regularly call for the death of the pope and posted about stoning king charles yesterday. I have catholic friends. I'm problematic and enjoy problematic media. I'm conflicted when I see quotes from books that helped me understand why I was so miserable back then and why the world was so unfair so much remains true. Those books also left huge fragments that didn't fit and by all that is dear to me: working class and black womanists provided the missing pieces then trans and non binary folk added more and then the disability activists who'd read all that and had more nuances to add, my heart.

I have so much I've held inside because of people who can't even be bothered with Dworkin's evolving philosophy of gender or that maybe we might have learned a few things since the Sixties because they take individuals like me and throw them to mobs and I really don't want to retraumatize my trans friends either. Aaaaargh.

It's complicated. I'd rather have to censor 'kill' and have hate speech enforcement to be able to speak openly about feminism or gender in general without the bullies swarming. I know for many that's just talking about any politics and it's silly to complain when I'm not even trans just a 'traitor' to these women but Tumblr had been safer, it's certainly a place where I haven't been attacked as much for being socialist. The mobs on twitter were frightening in scope, the ones on tumblr accused me of things that felt horribly personal. I feel like a big coward for not wanting to deal with fallout so I haven't shared some of the amazing feminist reading and learning I've been doing the past few years.

#saf #Personal #Long post #I hate reactionaries so much #Rambling about not being able to ramble safely #May not be coherent. It's been a rough day

[missmonsters2]

HERE WE GOOOO 🖤 first one i'm thinking soft!dark wanda - reader finds their own body in the attic but doesn't remember dying, only their married life with wanda

oBVIOUSLY we gotta kick off spoopy drabbles with the loml & ofc I love that you started it with some real horror 🖤

pairing: Soft!Dark Wanda x Reader

warnings: soft!dark wanda is the warning. very ominous tones.

count: 1.1k

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There's no concrete proof that it's your body.

After all, you're staring at a thick metal cylinder case melded shut with not even a glimpse of what could be inside. It could be empty for all you know. Nothing more than a metaphor for those who linger.

But you know.

There's something sick that pulls at your stomach as you look at it, something gnawing and digging underneath your skin. It draws you closer and closer despite the ice in your veins and the rigidness of your limbs. That's how you know.

You've spent hours and hours with your eyes unmoving from your coffin.

Strange, you laugh humourlessly to yourself. You don't recall ever seeing this metal contraption.

There are plenty of things you remember. You remember this attic, the never-ending smell of baked goods and cinnamon, the sound of laughter in the house. You remember being married to the most wonderful woman you had ever laid your eyes upon.

But you don't remember this casket in your home.

You don't remember dying.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Before

"Do you think we got married too quickly?"

Wanda turns her head to you, finding a frown on your face as you scroll through your phone.

"No," Wanda answers as she rubs your arm. "Why?"

You sigh. "Everyone in my group—friends, families, coworkers—has apparently been talking behind my back. They're surprised I could get married to someone after just 6 months of dating."

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth before gnawing on it. "I mean, I suppose it's rather unlike me..."

Wanda merely chuckled before she tugged at you until you were in her lap.

"I think you should praise me for being able to sweep you off your feet," she teases as she pinches your side, causing you to yelp. "But time is relative, honey. Some people know maybe after years and years of being together. Some people, like us, know four months in. I think we're lucky to know quickly that we want to spend our lives together, don't you?"

You let out a content smile as you lean your body into Wanda's, relishing her warmth and security. You wrap your arms around her, pressing a kiss against her lips before you rest your chin over her shoulder.

Wanda had shown you love could be so tender, so fulfilling. She had shown you that partners could be competent and accountable.

You had gotten a glimpse of forever with her love.

"So very lucky," you agreed before you teased. "Hopefully this isn't doomed to end like everyone's saying."

Wanda laughed.

"I would never let this end."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now

She was here again.

Wanda came by every day—always at the end of it. After work and whatever responsibilities took hold of her, she would come to you.

And she would sit for hours and hours and hours in silence as she sat unknowingly next to you as she stared at the casket.

The first night you realized you were nothing but the lingering air left behind, you heard her crying night after night. Your heart ached at your grieving wife, who apparently—was grieving so hard she couldn't even bear to give you a real funeral or burial spot.

But you knew grief had a strange hold over people. And for someone like Wanda, who has faced more loss than anyone should ever have to lose, maybe one more person was the tipping point.

"Why did you go?" You heard Wanda mutter to herself. "How could you let this—us—end?"

You watched Wanda swallow the lump in her throat harshly. You looked down to the ring in Wanda's fingers—The ring that should be on your left hand.

She fumbled with it in her hands, the diamond she bought you digging into her soft skin.

Her grief was your fault. But maybe it was Wanda's too—for not doing better to keep things from ending. If she did, maybe 'us' wouldn't be separated by breathing atoms and lingering air.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Before

Love bombing. Mania. Obsession. Adrenaline.

Wanda's love is an exploding grenade only ever capable of going off over and over and over. She's the first date butterflies and nausea that never seems to go away. She's the wave that only ever seems to build and is never ready to crash.

There's a part of you that does love it. You love that Wanda can love you like it's always the first month of being together. It's always all-consuming, and you had longed for such a love for such a long time.

But despite time passing, it feels like you never get past the honeymoon stage. Even though you've talked about all there is to talk about, you feel like there's a wall. There's a wall that can never come down unless the wave of all that's Wanda comes crashing down too.

But she never does. Wanda takes you higher and higher with no lows in sight.

People are usually happy about such love, aren't they?

"Wanda, I need more," you beg her. "I can't—we can't keep going on like this. It's not good for us. How we are...I wanna grow old together."

But Wanda just stares at you like she always does.

Focused. Manic. Obsessed. Hers.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now

This is what it looks like for Wanda to crash—for her wave to break down her wall.

It's ugly.

Nothing like the first date butterflies at all.

Mascara stains. Despondent. Anger. Constricted pupils.

Still, the obsession lingers. Maybe that's all Wanda is ever truly capable of.

You turn your attention away from her and back to your metal casket. You wonder if Wanda hates it—not being able to see you.

The night seems to finally come to an end as it does every night. Wanda crawls towards the welded metal, a hesitant hand out before touching it.

"We don't have to grow old at all," Wanda says quietly. "Growing old means one day, things will end—and I told you I'd never let things end."

Wanda strokes the surface softly, your ring clanking against it softly. "We'll try again. We'll try as many times as it takes until we're perfect. We're so close, honey," she sighs before the corner of her lip quirks slightly upwards. "With the amount of times I've gotten to know you, maybe you'll praise me if I can sweep you off your feet and get you to marry me in three months."

With a kiss goodnight to the cold metal, Wanda gets up and silently leaves the room, leaving you with the looming shroud of metal.

The house is always the same. The smell of cinnamon and baked goods never goes away because you think it comes from the many times before. You weren't wrong when you said it was unlike you to ever fall quickly—a few lifetimes could never constitute as fast.

You never remember much, but you never remember dying or ever seeing this casket.

You wonder if you can convince her this time to grow old with you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #soft!dark wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #dark wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #mm.drabble.wanda #mm.mydarkfics

[absolutepokemontrash]

Kid!MC/Teen!MC Needs someone to go to Parent Teacher Interviews for Them and Guess Who’s Available?

Masterlist

The brothers being bad babysitters/dad figures is something I love very much, I bet you all could already tell that considering the Fic/Headcanon series I have going on. I would just like you all to know that Asmo’s section is based on a true story. Anyhoo~ onto the Headcanons!

Why? Why Him? (Lucifer)

Is MC really dumb, or are they just a kid? No one knows.

Obviously MC asked Lucifer, the only competent one in the house, the most professional, hard-working, controlled-

MC got their things together and gave Lucifer the run down on their teacher(s) before Lucifer got too absorbed in extolling his own virtues in an intense internal monologue.

News flash Lucifer, this isn’t a Shakespeare play, you can’t have a dramatic monologue or soliloquy about how great you think you are

At the actual meeting, if MC is in there, no, MC is not actually in there. Lucifer will speak to the teacher as if MC isn’t there. As someone whose not a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down kind of person, Lucifer expects the teacher to behave the same and not spare MC’s feelings.

Feelings do not deserve to be spared if MC is being a nuisance. No fake-kid/little sibling of his gets to be the class idiot!

If MC’s doing very well academically, he expects to be pointed at projects or tests they’ve done and the grade on it. It really makes him proud to see MC doing well.

Even if they’re not the best academically, if they’re not failing and they’re doing well in other aspects of school, he’s proud.

If MC really struggles in a school environment and just hates it there but they’re still keeping their head above water, they get a head pat of approval.

On the drive home, if MC came with him to the parent teacher interviews and everything went well, he just happens to turn onto the street that has a Baskin Robin’s or something of that caliber.

If they didn’t go, he picks something up on the way back.

No fun treats if MC is being a disruptive little heathen in class, no kid under Lucifer’s care is going to be the class Mammon. Not on his watch.

MC was busily stuffed their face with the treats that were gifted to them. Lucifer had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at the kid’s blatant disregard for basic table manners when it came to sweets.

“Is everything the teacher said true?” Lucifer asked, MC looked up at him with a smile.

“Yep!”

“Good, good.” Lucifer held out his hand and patted them on the head. “You’re doing well. Keep it up.”

“Geez,” MC mumbled as they continued to stuff their face. “Can you get anymore affectionate?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, MC. It’s uncouth.” Lucifer said sternly. “Besides, I’ll have you know that many people enjoy my headpats. I’m quite affectionate.”

“Really now? Name one person.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He and MC stared each other down, one pair of eyes much more nervous than the other. Spoiler, MC was still calmly eating their treat as they maintained eye contact.

“…Cerberus.”

“If you’re reaching for Cerberus, you’ve already lost.”

…his pride was under attack. Right in front of his desert…

“You’re grounded.”

“Worth it.”

*Rides by on a Skateboard* School is for NERDS (Mammon)

Pff! Stupid human! He’s not goin’ to some lame parent teacher conference-

Wait! What’s with that face?! Ugh… fine. MC’s gone and forced his hand with those damn puppy dog eyes…

Mammon does not dress up for this event, he dresses like he would every day, maybe throw on some designer stuff to let all the parents and teachers know he’s hot shit.

If MC goes with him, he pulls up in his beloved car and takes up two parking spaces (pure evil.). Every parent present already hates him, but at least the other kids there are impressed with MC’s sweet ride. MC would have gained some street cred if Mammon hadn’t managed to trip up the stairs to the classroom in front of everyone.

He’ll act way to casual with the teacher, turning the parent chair backwards and sitting down so he can lean on the seat.

Mammon gets bored crazy quickly while the teacher lists and explains all the stuff the class is learning, so his eyes begin to wander to any and all displays in the classroom. Projects, annoying posters, class pet, anything is more interesting than this teacher’s explanation.

When MC finally becomes the main topic of the interview, he’s all ears. MC’s doing great in school academically? Ha! Nerd! Maybe giving MC a playful noogie and interrupting the whole interview wasn’t a good idea, but whatever.

If MC’s failing anything, or just isn’t that gifted when it comes to grades, it’s very much a “Aw man me too” from Mammon.

This teacher is speaking with the Great Mammon, the first demon in RAD’s history to fail three semesters in a row. If this teacher thinks bad grades will phase him, they’re dead wrong.

Grades don’t mean anythin’ about smarts anyway! I mean, look at him! He’s a fuckin’ genius but he can’t get through a history test without sobbing even though he LIVED THROUGH MOST OF IT.

MC gets treats no matter what’s up in class. Though, if MC didn’t go with him, he’s likely to forget and just order something for the two of them when he gets back home.

“Goddamn teachers and their rambling!” Mammon whined, grabbing a slice of pizza from the open box on his coffee table. “You owe me, MC! Ya really do!”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” MC said, they leaned over and rolled a pizza slice into a pizza-scroll then proceeded to eat it like a veggie roll. “How do you think I feel, listening to them every day? You know how long it takes to get to the actual class material?”

“Five years?”

“Ugh! Five years if I’m lucky! I swear, I know more about my teacher’s grievances with like… five of my classmates than I do about trigonometry, and guess which one’s on the test next week?”

Mammon winced in sympathy, then remembered he was supposed to be whining and went back to it. “School’s shit and a waste of money, ya should drop out as soon as you can and help me run my new business.”

“You mean your pyramid scheme?”

“It’s not a pyramid scheme, MC! It’s legit! It’s a multi-tiered marketing-”

“It’s a pyramid scheme.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SOCIAL INTERACTION (Leviathan)

Everyone else must have been sick or something for MC to have asked Levi. He’d flat out refuse to go otherwise.

So, Levi couldn’t exactly go to the interview in his usual “I haven’t left my room or changed clothes in eight weeks” look. With the help of MC, he was able to find his military uniform at the back of his closet.

Asmo nearly fainted when he saw Levi in the uniform, not because “oooo, a man in uniform~”, it was because the outfit was so crumpled and wrinkled that it made it physically painful to look at. No time to iron and wash, the conference was in an hour!

Levi (and MC if they went with) rolled up to the school in a less than impressive ride, but one look at the uniform and all the other people present went “yep, time to be respectful (tm)”

For the first time in his life Levi was more intimidating than Lucifer! And he wasn’t even trying!

When the teacher starts explaining the course material, Levi spaces off in horror as he realizes he remembers literally nothing from school (AND HE’S STILL IN SCHOOL!) all that’s running through his head is “A squared + B squared = C squared” and “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”.

The actual interview was the least interesting part of the trip, the real stuff happened when Levi passed by some art on display in the hallway and something caught his eye-

Those colours… that hair… that adorable smile..!

IT WAS HER! LEVI’S PRECIOUS RURI-CHAN IN ALL HER GLORY!

Levi immediately started fawning over the art class fanart and by sheer coincidence, one of the kids walking through the hallway happened to notice.

The kid asked MC if their… parent and or guardian liked anime. MC responded with “obviously.” Levi then asked the kid if they drew his adorable Ruri-chan. The kid said no, and that they drew the My Hero Academia fanart a few rows down.

Levi was absolutely floored that there were two anime fans in one class, then his entire world shattered when MC explained there was more anime art inside the art room and other classrooms.

H-hang on… did that mean that… a lot of people here… liked anime..?

Levi needed a while to process. No snacks on the way home…

Levi and MC were sat in the back of their Uber, Levi, the Avatar of Envy himself, was having his entire sense of reality warped. S-so much anime fanart… in a school of all places..! What did this mean for the future of anime?!

“Levi. Stop.” MC sighed. “If this were an anime, the camera angle would be doing that thing where it’s right on the bridge of your nose and dramatic music plays in the background.”

“S-so many kids in your class like a-anime huh..?” Levi stuttered, weakly trying to smile. “Must be nice..?”

“Oh, that’s just my class. The other classes and grades have their fans too.”

“Oh… really?”

“Levi,” MC stopped looking out the window and looked at the otaku that was having a full scale silent mental breakdown. “Anime isn’t even a niche interest anymore. It’s a pretty casual thing to watch now. At least a third of my class watches- Levi?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH! ANIME! A THIRD OF THE CLASS?! ANIME… HIS PRECIOUS ANIME… WAS BECOMING A NORMIE INTEREST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

“Levi?” MC waved their hand in front of their spaced out demon’s face. “Leviiiii? Okay he’s dead.”

The Know it All (Satan)

Ah, a smart choice, MC. Satan would be glad to help further their education. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that the human’s brain is fed all that sweet sweet knowledge.

Satan can’t dress himself normally, MC had to coax him into a suit jacket, but he still only wore one sleeve.

MC was coming along to the interviews whether they wanted to or not, it’s important to hear what they need to improve on from the teacher themselves after all.

The two arrived pretty early, so Satan asked MC for a tour of the school. It was pretty tame until they reached the library. Satan was horrified at the state of some of the books…

Their spines lined with duct tape… pages missing and torn… someone apparently used a taco as a book mark…

The first thing Satan does when it’s time for his interview is demand the teacher take better care of the library, even though they’re not the librarian. MC tries to explain this, but Satan is too distraught to listen to reason.

He enjoyed hearing about the course material, but he made it known if MC thinks the assignments are too easy that they need to be given more challenging work. THEIR BRAIN NEEDS TO BE STIMULATED DAMN IT.

It was up to MC to either agree with Satan and nod to the teacher, or make frantic eye contact with them to try and communicate “NO DON’T PLEASE”.

Similar to (ugh) Lucifer, as long as MC is doing their best, he’s happy for them.

…but if they are in any way in the running for valedictorian he is HELPING THEM WIN.

He decided to stop at a cafe or bookstore to let MC pick out a “congrats on surviving your pitiful school” present after the interviews.

MC gleefully perused the shelves of the bookstore, there were so many books too look at…

“I’ll buy you as many books as you’d like, MC, just,” Satan shuddered slightly. “Promise me you won’t treat them like those poor library books…”

MC put their hand over their heart. “I swear on the duct taped book spines that I will never treat a book like that.”

“Good… good…” Satan breathed a sigh of relief and went back to looking at his book about cats.

“Are you… reading a Warrior Cats book..?” MC asked tentatively.

“Yes, why?”

“Satan, put that back.”

“I Will Seduce the Teacher For the Sake of Your Grades, Don’t Worry.” (Asmodeus)

Oh MC dear! He’d be delighted to go! Just let him get ready~

Asmo may not be the best choice, but he was at least going to be the best dressed person at that conference. (And MC just had to come too so all the other parents could be jealous of how well coordinated their outfits are)

He teased MC a little by saying he was going to flirt with their teacher to make sure they passed the class, but he was just kidding! …but he made sure to ask if their teacher was cute, he needed to know!

While waiting for his turn, Asmo flirts with some of the single parents, if he doesn’t see a wedding ring, they’re fair game.

Once his time slot arrived, MC realized that Asmo is one of those “my child has done and will do nothing wrong ever” types. This may have ended up working in MC’s favour if they were a class nuisance.

If MC is doing very well in sports, clubs, grades, anything, Asmo is fawning over them and gushing to the teacher about how great, smart and adorable they are.

Asmo surprisingly does not exactly flirt with the teacher, he was just teasing MC after all. But um… if MC’s teacher just happens to be cute and young, he may turn up the charm, just a little. Enough to make the teacher giggle and make MC cover their face in embarrassment.

After the interviews Asmo will probably schedule a nice day out for the two of them, shopping, a movie, mani pedis, something fun!

The real weird stuff happens in the months after the interviews… if Asmo did lightly flirt with the teacher, MC gets quite a few questions about their guardian. Questions that ask if Asmo is single in not as many words…

Oh lord, MC’s teacher developed a crush on Asmo.

Nail painting night was supposed to be a fun occasion, but MC was hopping mad and embarrassed. Asmo didn’t seem to notice as he continued to paint the little human’s nails.

“And then I told Phenex to get lost. The nerve of that little monster, right MC?” When MC didn’t reply, Asmo looked up and tilted his head. “MC?”

MC’s angry face would have been much more threatening if they weren’t just so adorable, but it was getting the message across.

“MC..?”

“Asmo.” MC’s glare deepened. “My teacher wants to know if you’re single.”

Asmo blinked a few times, before he hit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Really now~. I knew they’d be madly in love with me-”

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIS?!”

Oh My Demon King is That a BAKE SALE?! (Beel)

Of course Beel said yes! He’d gladly go to MC’s parent teacher interview!

He even put on a nice outfit :D he ended up looking a bit like a secret serviceman guarding MC, the tiny president.

Beel stopped for McDonald’s on the way there, all the other kids were so jealous of MC when they stepped out of the car eating fries.

But a little something something caught Beel’s eye when he and MC walked into the school… was that a… bake sale?

MC quickly explained that the bake sale was fundraiser for their class trip that year and the snacks weren’t complimentary. He had to pay.

And pay Beel did. He cleared out the entire table. MC’s grade’s overnight trip was going to be decadent as hell. That was no longer a crowd funded thing, that trip was privately funded by a tall buff ginger secret service member and this tiny in comparison child.

Kids are incredibly blunt, just like Beel, so when a random kindergarten kid wandered over, looked up at Beel, and very knowingly said “you’re very tall”. Beel was like “yeah”. The kid then said “what’s it like being that tall?”

Beel’s response to this kid’s question was to pick them up and hold them for a few seconds before placing them back down. For just a few moments this kid knew what it like to be over 6’4. Of course, more kids swarmed in and asked to be picked up.

Sure it was cute, but Beel now has an army of kids ranging from kindergarteners to third graders.

Finally, the conference actually began. Beel snacked the entire time and dutifully listened to everything the teacher had to say.

After the interviews are over, he checks with MC to make sure everything the teacher said was true and that they weren’t lying. If all was well, the two made their exit.

They stopped at Wendy’s on the way home.

“I’m so full…” MC groaned, Beel held up a massive cookie.

“So I can eat this?”

“No. Gimme that.” MC took a very defeated bite out of it. “My stomach says no but my mouth says yes…”

“I don’t want you to get a stomachache, MC,” Beel said worriedly. “No more snacks.”

“It’s a little late for that. It’s past nine and I’m still eating, there’s no way I’m getting to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Oh…” Beel mumbled. “I may have not completely thought this through.”

“*Snore* Huh? Wha? MC’s Grades? Uh… Fuck…” (Belphie)

MC must be failing a class or something because why on earth would they pick Belphie otherwise.

They ask him to go while he’s delirious from just waking up from a nap, he sort of half nods and mumbles some gibberish before going back to sleep.

MC had to basically carry his ass to the school. Belphie drooled all over them in the waiting room, and when it was their time to go into the interview, Belphie had to be manually put into the chair and slapped awake.

He barely listens, he just sits and nods along with whatever the teacher is saying. The teacher could say MC brought an alligator to school and he’d just go “uh huh…” “mmmph… yep…” “really now?” then yawn.

The only thing that could possibly get Belphie to be interested is if MC is studying space. If they are, than boy howdy is Belphie suddenly interested in their education.

Other than that? *snore*

If MC is in fact failing or doing poorly, MC’s teacher asks to see another one of MC’s guardians at a later date. Their plan failed miserably.

MC drags Belphie out of the school and yells at him for not helping them. Belphie, still sleep delirious, tries to press the snooze button. MC does not have a snooze button.

“Belphie!” MC shouted, shaking the Avatar of Sloth awake. The House of Lamentation’s resident bastard was somehow sleeping standing up outside. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

“Eh?” Belphie half-snorted and looked around confused. “What’d I do? Where are we?”

“At my school! You said that you’d go to my parent teacher interviews!”

“…MC I don’t think I’d pass well for you.”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AS MY GUARDIAN!”

“Sheesh,” Belphie murmured while he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. “You humans are so noisy.”

MC looked up at their dearest demon friend, and gave him their best glare. “I’m going to take all your fancy temperature changing pillows and switch them with normal pillows you traitorous bastard.”

#obey me #obey me! #obey me! shall we date? #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me! headcanons #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me! Lucifer #OM! Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me! Mammon #om! Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me! Leviathan #om! Leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me! Satan #OM! Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me! Asmodeus #Om! Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me! Beelzebub #Om! Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me! Belphegor #Om! Belphegor #Obey me MC #Obey me! MC

[simp4men]

Secret lover

AN: Vinnie streaming is my favorite thing in the world. Kinda pained me to write this tbh but shoutout to Vinnie’s future gf you better treat him right bc he deserves the world 

As I got done with work for the day I texted Vinnie that I was heading over to his place. As I got to the Hype House I made my way inside. I approached Vinnie’s room and quietly opened the door. I could hear him screaming from down the hall so I knew he was streaming. Our relationship was private and I wanted to keep it that way at least for the time being. I knew Vinnie had received hate in the past from when he was talking to girls and hanging out with them. People would start shitting on him and then shitting on whoever he was supposedly talking to. It was sad honestly he is only 19 and he would be one of the only people who would get hate for just living his life. His fans are the most possessive people I know. I mean in some ways I understand where they're coming from, like if we could all marry our dream guy we would in a heartbeat and I kind of understand the jealousy. 

That’s why I’m super private. All my socials are private and I don’t post any photos with Vinnie and make sure he doesn’t as well. If we ever go out in public I tend to stay a little behind him so people don’t think we're together. People might think that it's sad that we can’t share our relationship so openly but it doesn’t really bother me. I don’t want Vinnie having to deal with hate and I know I wouldn't be able to deal with it either. I also respect the fans too much to flaunt our relationship, I really don’t wanna hurt them. We have all had celebrity crushes that we wish we could be with, and then when we find out that there in a relationship it just crushes you, even though you know it’ll never happen. 

As I make my way into Vinnie’s room I drop my bag on the side of the bed and lay down on it. Vinnie turns around in his chair and smiles at me. 

“Hi baby” I whisper so that the chat can’t hear me 

He gets up from his chair taking his headphones off and comes up to me and lays on top of me laying his face on my chest. 

“Hi angel, I missed you so much.” He says 

“I missed you Vin, but what are you doing, shit what about the chat.” I say 

“Relax baby, they can’t see or hear us, don’t worry.” he says

He gets off of me and makes his way back to his stream. I end up just going on my phone scrolling through tiktok. An hour or so has passed and I can hear Hera meowing like crazy. I look over to the side where I see that Hera has managed to get her paw stuck in the wires. 

As I start getting up to approach her, I can see that she is right behind where Vinnie is streaming. Of course Vinnie is too invested in the game to know what’s going on. Well shit If I get Hera then they will be able to see me. But I can’t just leave her there so I make a split minute decision and go get her. I cover the side of my face with my hand to try and hide from the camera as I quickly run to Hera untangle her and bring her back to the bed. I sigh I don’t know what to do now. 

Vinnie’s POV. 

As I am in the middle of streaming, invested in the game, I quickly glance over to the chat and I just instantly see a bunch of messages commenting “Who’s the girl” “Vinnie’s gotta a girl in his room” “Who is she” “Couldn't see her face that well but she’s pretty” I turn to face the bed and see Y/N sitting down with a stressed look on her face. 

“Hey chat, I’ll be right back imma put you on mute real quick” I say 

I take off the headphones and approach Y/N. I sit next to her on the bed and pick her up and place her on my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck and mine go around her waist. 

“Hey sweet girl, what’s wrong” I softly say rubbing her back 

“I’m so sorry, they saw me, I had to go and get Hera because her paw got stuck and she was behind you and I didn’t want to and I tried to hide my face but I’m pretty sure they still saw me” she says quickly 

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize, to be honest I’ve been wanting to show you off for some time now but I knew you wanted to stay private and I respected that. It was only a matter of time baby, you know they would find out eventually.” I say 

“I know, she sighs, but I wanted to wait a little longer. I'm just not ready yet. I don’t want you to get any hate, and I feel bad because I don’t wanna let your fans down, when they find out you're in a relationship they're gonna be heartbroken.” she says 

“I can’t be single forever Y/N. Look if they are real fans there gonna support me no matter what. I also don’t care about the hate anymore, you make me the happiest person. Your love for me outweighs all the hate I will get” I say 

“I love you Vin” she says 

“I love you, angel. Well since they kind of saw you already, can I finally announce that I'm a taken man?” I joke 

She laughs and nods her head. I give her a quick kiss and she gets off my lap and goes to lay in my bed again. 

“I’m going to stream for like 20 more mins but then i’m all yours pretty girl.” I say to her

I make my way back to the stream and put my headphones back on and unmute the mic. 

“Sorry, chat, I'm back. Ok so I’ve seen some of the comments and yes there is a girl in my room. I do in fact have a girlfriend and we’ve been dating for a few months now. Look I know I live a very public life and I do share a lot of that with you guys. But my relationship is one thing that we would like to keep private for the time being. So if you could all please respect that I would really appreciate it.” I say 

As I see the chat flooding in with comments, most of them are positive, I catch a few negative ones here and there but I’m genuinely surprised at how positive my fans are. 

“She’s so pretty” “If she makes you happy then i'm happy” “Respect dude” “Surprised you kept it a secret that long” “So that’s why you’ve been so happy these last few months” 

As I read the comments I can’t stop smiling. They all seem to love her already and she barely showed her face. 

“Thanks guys, yes she makes me so happy, I’m really loving life right now. Alright imma play one more game then imma hop off.” I say 

Once the game ends, I turn off the stream and head to my bed where Y/N’s on her phone. I get in next to her and pull her into my chest. 

“You know the stream seemed to love you btw” I say 

“Really” she says 

“Yup, I can’t wait to show you to the world once you're ready. I can’t believe your mine” I say 

“I’m all yours, Vin.” she says 

I give her a kiss and move her so that she’s laying on top of me, I love having her in my arms. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else. 

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x reader