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confessedlyfannish · 27 days

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Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff #but I also just want to post it and get it out there #fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them #im bad at multiple drafts #my writing #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #batman #i live to make everybody dramatic #but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic #lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade #and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so #he doesn't need to change for nobody #nor feels inclined to #also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable #jazz: let's unpack that #clockwork: we never do #jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true?#clockwork: ...#also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING #wish i could #that is cash money right there #shoutout to 11thsense

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sant-riley · 1 year

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[Task force 141 × Gen Z! Reader/ General headcanons] [p4]

A/N; I thought the hyperfixation was over but surprise it is not LMAO, sorry for the long wait, mentally I was fucked and just tired/burnt out

Ghost is the one who usually trains the recruits, which means he needs to demonstrate moves on. That's where you come in. You can see the recruits tension filled bodies stare at your own bc what the fuck you do mean this 6'4 man is gonna use a finishing move on you.

You crack jokes that Ghost would never hurt a fly before you're flipped on your ass and Ghost is leaning his entire weight on you.

They use you as weights, mainly Soap. It is not an odd occurrence for recruits on base to see you sit on Soaps back while he does push-ups. You usually will be scrolling on your phone on tiktok and Laswell just sighs and takes a picture of yall to show to her wife.

Ghost uses you as a barbell basically and you enjoy being manhandled so you're just happy to be there.

Soap likes to play fight, he will playfully hit your sides and will tickle you while you run around desperately trying to evade his grasps. The only time he stops really is when either Price steps in or when Ghost fucking clothe lines him and he falls on his face. Soap sees you giggling behind Ghosts body and rolls his eyes.

All the guys have you on social media, even Ghost though he notably has no pfp, a generic user, only follows you. He is the first one to like any of your posts and makes appearances on your account and no one knows it's him for sure.

Soap takes your phone and scrolls thru your folder of memes, sending whichever ones he particular enjoys to himself. He really likes reaction images and uses them with everyone and people just ignore it and continue on texting like he didn't just send a picture of a woman crying.

You like to send ghost references you're sure he will not understand and he feels his blood pressure rise every day.

When they learn if you can't, you know, drive for the first time is also a real good time. Ghost is in the back, a bullet in his forearm, Price shouting at you to floor it and by God you fucking floor it so hard Ghost slams his head into the wall of the car and passes out. Price screams that you should've been fucking taught this in training but you shrug your shoulders, knuckles whitened as you shakily haul ass to evac.

It's a running joke that Alejandro and Rudy want you on their team, they playfully try and make negotiations

"Come on, she would be happier with us, no?"

Alejandro has a hand placed on the small of your back, inching you closer to his side in the booth of some random bar yall were dragged too. You're blushing and sputtering bc oh wow two more very attractive men are asking to take you an-

"I agree with Colonel, we can work something out." Then Rudy goes and kisses your hand and Ghost feels his eye twitch and Soap is stanced the fuck up immediately, leaning over and almost pulling across the table.

"Yea no, you two can fuck off with that shit." He grumbles, squeezing his arms around your waist. If he was a dog his hackles would be raised and his teeth bared.

Rudy can't help but lean in and whisper to Alejandro:

"Realmente deberías dejar de bromear con ellos así" (you should really stop joking with them like that)

Alejandro turns and looks dead into Rudy's eyes and hits him with

"¿Quién dijo que estaba bromeando?" (Who said I was joking?)

"Colonel, with all due respect stop fucking with my men, they're gonna pop a bloody blood vessel."

Gaz and you go to cat cafes fairly often!! He finds it extremely relaxing and he often goes whenever he goes on leave with you. No he doesn't correct the batista who thinks yall are married. He says it's because of a discount (there is none).

Price simply loves when you come visit and spend time with him in the city, walking arm and arm while he hums and listens to you ramble. Whether it be about your hyperfixations, you venting or ranting, he's there listening while watching you intently.

Price walks with you inwards of the sidewalk, do not try and move bc he will glare at you.

Valeria, oh she likes you, one bc you're a cute little thing. But mostly because she knows it'll get under everyone's skin if she even makes a mention of taking you. It especially pisses Alejandro off so she makes sure she calls you princess and blows you a kiss when they close the container door on her.

Ghost likes to come up behind you and pulls on the elastics of your holsters really far and let's them slap against your skin to see you whine and whimper. It never fails to make him laugh.

Ghost will not hesitate to beat the shit out of someone who tries to do it to you though, esp a random recruit.

Soap likes to carry you around on his back, it isn't a strange thing but he just genuinely loves the feeling of you against him. He doesn't care if you think you're 'too big', he's gonna pick you up so be quiet and let him hold you.

You've stolen multiple things of their items, not even on purpose but they left it in your room and now it's yours.

You have a skull balaclava, Ghost once came in and said it was too small for him and threw it on your bed and left. He will feel his heart tighten in his chest if you wear it outside of base.

You have a shit ton of Soap's muscle shirts, he is not upset but he will smile so soft when he sees you walk around in it in the early morning, your hair a mess and still a bit of drool on your lips.

Gaz buys you your own hats in attempt for you to stop taking his. It doesn't help. He flicks the brim and always has some cheeky remark about it but he doesn't mind.

You have one of Prices' lighters that you stim with on or off mission. He doesn't even realize until one day you have a lighter with the England flag on it and you're playing with it bc you're anxious. He doesn't say anything though.

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @sweet-as-an-angel

@perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom @solarslushee @areislol

[If you want to be tagged, comment under my pinned post]

#ghost <3 #soap <3 #price <3 #gaz <3 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #gen z! headcanons #kayla writes <3 #cod #john mactavish x reader #fem reader

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sleepysnk · 6 months

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there’s some things i really wanted to talk about especially regarding my account and tumblr as a whole, so i decided to finally make this post as a way to sort of vent out my feelings on some things.

i’m not gonna lie, tumblr has become a very different place from what it was. i started creating content 3 years ago and it’s gone through so many changes (much expected). however, i don’t think tumblr has really changed for the better, especially when it comes to content creators. this used to be a really safe space for me to come on and create works for fandoms that i enjoyed, but recently, that safe space hasn’t felt, well, safe anymore. there is constant discourse everywhere on this platform and i’ve found that many people here are just extremely bitter? it’s almost like it’s become a mean girl center and it makes it difficult to interact with others.

obviously, this doesn’t go for everyone. i’m not trying to come at people specifically or cause issues, but i have seen my fair share of problems with people on here and some of it is just completely ridiculous.

next, i’d like to discuss the elephant in the room and that’s the lack of interaction/support to writers. it is just mind blowing to me that we as creators have to BEG our followers to reblog or even send us asks. obviously, some people are new to tumblr and don’t understand it’s algorithm, but there are people on here who just simply chose not to reblog for some reason?? it’s not only discouraging, but it puts less confidence in writers and then we aren’t motivated to create content. i’ve said this before, but there is no reason why a 2k note fic should have only 100 or so reblogs. likes mean nothing on this platform. it’s not Twitter. i genuinely have gotten so tired of repeating myself that i don’t even say it anymore because i know it won’t be acknowledged.

i understand people have lives, i do too, but it isn’t hard to send an ask to a writer about literally anything. i think the last time i had an anon ask was weeks ago and i genuinely get disappointed when i ask for interactions just to receive nothing? no one is obligated to speak with me or send me asks by any means, but a little “hey! how are you?” goes a long way. i probably sound ridiculous, but it’s just how i feel about the matter.

another thing that bothers me is when a writer doesn’t write smut or suggestive content, they hardly get any interaction. i’ve seen it myself before and i’m not sure why people just ignore greatly written fics?? i understand that smut is the main appeal. trust me, i 100% get it, but fluff writers hardly get any attention and some of the best fics i’ve read weren’t even smut related. i’m not saying every person here has to read fluff or angst fics by any means, but it makes me sad that people write these fics to hardly get any interaction because it isn’t smut content. the least y’all can do is reblog it.

to discuss my account, i honestly don’t really feel the most happy here. i don’t have as much motivation as i used to and i have contemplated removing my account, but i have some great fics i’d rather not have be deleted. i might start a new account for a fresh start, but i’m still not 100% on it.

and if you read this till the end, thank you! i probably sound like a whiny baby but i just wanted to express some of my feelings because it’s been weighing on me a lot recently.

#summer rants #uhhh #yeah!#lowkey needed to speak on this #also emmie thank u for being motivation for this #!!!!

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buckyalpine · 3 months

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Just venting for a second.

Why the fuck do people like this exist. How hard is it to not read something you don’t like. I’m genuinely asking. How hard is it for you to scroll by something that isn’t meant for you.

Don’t give me that shit if posting on a public platform form, anyone has the right to give feedback/ comment.

How much of a dick are you that your shitty comments just have to be voiced out loud to bring writers down. I’m not even talking about whoever this cunt is alone, I’m asking to this every account that goes out of their way to voice their opinion.

Don’t tell me I’m being sensitive either or to suck it up when you’re the one being an asshole. It’s tumblr. I’m writing made up stories about a character who doesn’t exist and you want to give me shit on ruining the fanbase. Ok.

Write your own fanfics if it’s such a problem but fuck off my page with telling me what you don’t like and don’t want when I don’t write for you in the first place.

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withabroken-heart · 12 days

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I FEEL SO HIGH SCHOOL

shinso x reader

angst, breakup, jealousy, general heartbreak sadness

its been a month since you called it quits, and shinso goes through your instagram late at night.

a/n: keeping tabs on him is what made me feel sane, to be honest. this one is a hugeeee vent and i hope you enjoy <3

a/n: TORTURED POETSSSSSSSS

1:02 am

he knew that realistically, he’d only hurt himself. social media doesn’t snitch on you when you stalk your ex, not unless your stupid or desperate enough to like an old post or hit ‘message’. and he knew you two weren’t talking right now.

it was a messy, messy breakup. to be fair, no breakups are seamless and fair. but yours was beyond just plain messy. feelings were unorganized, old sweaters tossed all over the floor in despair, and both your accounts were completely cleaned out online. he hated deleting his posts for you. but he only did it after he saw you do it first.

shinso was starting to hate his phone. mostly because so much of it was haunted by you. old texts, albums made for you, playlists of your songs together, but there was something about his and your instagram accounts that made it so hard. it was probably because social media is the place to share tidbits of your life- and a year of his life had been with you. but its over now. now what?

he couldn’t sleep tonight. he wanted to hear your voice. he called you twice and no answer. he knew deep down you were asleep, that you didn’t like staying up as late as he did. he wondered if you were dreaming about him.

he missed sleeping with you, so much. he missed getting to snuggle up next to you and drift off in your warmth, begging you to stay in bed with him the next morning. you were always an early riser. even on days you were apart, he missed calling you late at night. he missed falling asleep on the phone with you, not caring how bad it was for his battery life to do so.

he just fucking missed you.

he wondered if you missed him too.

after hearing your voicemail play out, basking in the sound of your voice apologizing for not picking up- knowing that that apology wasn’t meant for him anyway- he clicked instagram. his friends were up and active, spamming texts into the groupchat he was smart enough to mute. he knew they meant well, asking him for the details of your split and offering to spend time with him, but shinso preferred to hurt alone. maybe its because he knew that none of the people that cared about him could be you.

[y/n]_username: smileyy

————————————————————————

xx_yaomomo: CUTEEEE

alienqueen: HAIRCUT REVEAL??

heartz4uraraka: BABYYYY

he scrolled through your posts, looking at the comments your friends left for you. you got your haircut, something that shocked him. you always loved your long hair. you always loved him. thats two things gone.

[y/n]_username: on the edge

————————————————————————

xx_yaomomo: had so much fun w u <3

dkkknari: PHOTO CREDITS RNNN

ejk1rishima: yall [y/n] would not stop slipping 😭

[y/n]_username: @ejk1rishima SHUT UP

he knew his friends were your friends too. it was unfair of him to expect them all to suddenly drop you the way he did, but he never expected it to sting this much.

shinso knew that rooftop. it was the roof of your parents apartment complex. you used to take him and him alone there, claiming it was a spot you only wanted to spend with the people you love. he knew all the little stories, like when you were eight and you threw up over the edge of the building after eating too much ice cream, or when you had your first kiss with him at 2am.

it was a spot just for you two. at least, thats what you told him.

that spot was now filled with other people you loved. he knew it was selfish of him to hope that that place in your heart remains for him and only him, but he also knew it was wrong.

he wanted to be selfish so fucking bad.

[y/n]_username: <3

————————————————————————

shotdrki: beautiful <3

shinso turned off his phone.

he felt a knot form in his chest at the sight. he could put two and two together, seeing you with flowers, your favourite flowers, and someone else calling you what you are. someone that wasn’t him.

shinso knew why he had to end the relationship. he needed to focus on himself, on his hero career and he knew he couldn’t love you under those conditions. it broke his heart knowing he broke yours, knowing this was what he had to do in order for you to be better off.

she deserves better. he thought.

but it also drove him insane thinking about you being with another guy. it drove him crazy wondering who out there was going to be with you. who out there is telling you they love you, who’s holding you and fucking holding your hand.

it just couldn’t be him.

he couldn’t help himself, unlocking his phone and opening your messages. he removed the heart next to your name, only so that when he would call he wouldn’t be tricked into thinking you were still together. god knows he can’t go through that heartbreak again.

[y/n]: i wanna be yours forever

[y/n]: i love you ♥️

shinso felt the memory of your love roll down his cheeks.

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 year

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Yandere Best Friend part 4

tw: suicide mention, infantalization, rant in da author note, general yandere shenanigans, angst

also damn ageless and minors DNI please </3

my masterlist

hi guys heres another projection extravaganza becasue my paretns are not really supportive of my wish 2 have a gap year and i still gotta hustle even tho im so exhausted n tired and upset and need comfort and broken leg and feeling inadequate n everything so FAST bruh they said im SLOW cause im not in a universtiry by 18 </3/3/3//3/3/3 im tryine </3 but covid BAD and i turned 20 like fuckin last month which made me more shit

anyways enjoyyye

You haven't heard from your friend for days. He hasn't come to visit you but you knew he was working silently in the background when you received the news that your bank account wasn't in the negatives anymore and you no longer have to gouge your eyes out just to pay your student loans and medical bills. You breathed a sigh of relief when you realized that you don't need to file for bankruptcy to stop yourself from plummeting further.

Are you really free from all debt, though?

You really don't know how to proceed. What do you say to your friend? What is he going to do next? What does he expect in return? How will you do your taxes on this?

Sure enough, he returned to you. Still in a foul mood, but he is much mellower and he is leaning towards the heartbroken, sad side.

He went on a sobbing rant about how he wanted you to be spoiled rotten-- how he wanted to spoil you rotten, how he very much preferred you to be arrogant and entitled from being treated like absolute royalty. You could and would get away with anything. You would be above law and beyond.

You wouldn't have to be a commoner working hard to put food on the table, everything you need and wanted would be at your fingertips; no matter how expensive, immoral or illegal it may be.

He wanted you to be ignorant of poverty, deprivation and anything bad about reality. At least, you would be in bliss.

But now, you're hurt all over. Ruined and broken, tainted by the suffering of life. And, it was all his fault.

Your friend stroked your dry, sandpaper-like hands tenderly, morosely. It was such a shame, such a tragic fate you had. He promised you will never ever have to lift anything heavier than a champagne glass or handle anything rougher than silk. You will be pampered and have everything done for you to the point where you don't even need to think your own thoughts.

Drowsy from all the painkillers you had, your friend ran his fingers through your hair to tidy them. You didn't reject him as it felt nice, comforting, even.

He expressed a gentle, teary smile, cupping your cheeks with his soft, smooth and manicured hands. What a stark difference between his hands now and four years ago, you thought to yourself as he massaged parts of your face to stimulate blood flow and collagen formation.

I'll be back by seven. He whispered as he wiped the sleep from your eyes with his thumbs. It's now four in the afternoon, his phone is ringing incessantly and he lets it ring.

He eventually picked the call up while having a hand to pet your hair. You heard him confirm that he is going to a meeting of some sort, he informed the caller that he is going to be late. As he talks on, he leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead. A silent goodbye before he goes away.

He continues on talking over the phone, leaving the room without sparing another glance at you.

You watched him shut the door behind him and heard quick footsteps getting softer and softer.

You took the time to reflect on what had happened, it was hard to grasp that he wanted you to be... a leech? And, perhaps it was the painkillers dulling your comprehension skills but, what you took away from his venting was: his has a weird obsession with the appearance of your hands. Or with hands, in general.

Too tired to deal with it, you closed your eyes and let yourself drift to sleep.

You woke up, feeling transported into the past when your nose picked up on the familiar aroma of your friend's cooking. It reminded you of your adolescence, your teenagehood and the brief time he stayed in this house.

You rubbed your eyes and saw your friend setting up a wooden bed tray on your lap. It was propped up by its foldable legs.

You were presented with the dish you missed the most, the dish he cooked for you frequently in the past and the dish that made you regress to your teenage self. It was comfort in a bowl, it was a reminder that you had very little things to worry about when you were with him. He would always take care of everything for you.

You tried replicating this dish many times. You followed the recipe to a "T" but you could never get it right, no one ever did except your friend.

He tidied your hair and tucked some stray strands behind your ear. You were given the option to feed yourself or to have him spoonfeed you.

He didn't pressure you into choosing the latter when you picked up the spoon. But he did remind you that the offer still stands.

The room was devoid of sound, save for the white noise coming from your air conditioner and the non-stop buzzing from his phone. Your friend absentmindedly fidget with his golden promise ring as he stared blankly at your leg casts, you couldn't understand how he has the will to ignore all those notifications.

He wondered where your ring was. He did have a hunch that you pawned it off in desperation. But he didn't want to confirm it with you as it might just break his heart even more.

He has nothing else to say and so did you. Your friend found solace in your presence while you only found awkwardness. Unnerved, even.

Your friend was the first to spoke up. He earnestly apologized for his unhinged previous behaviors, all he actually wanted was you to be happy and at ease. He doesn't truly want to take your autonomy away from you, he doesn't want to treat you like a toddler who knows nothing about the world around them. He just found it necessary to bind you for a while, to stop you from hurting yourself further.

Your friend assured that he won't stop you from pursuing whatever you want. It is your life after all.

He is just there to prevent you from being unhappy from failing too many times. At least, to the best of his abilities. He is a strong believer that some "failures" are required to elevate happiness. For example, it would feel extremely rewarding if you finally won a competition despite relentlessly competing against the best contestants the world has to offer.

If you want to attain other qualifications such as a PhD of your choice, or even an entire field change, he will bear all the costs. He will provide all the resources you need and more, you won't need to worry about money, chores or food. He will be supporting you from the shadows.

He made sure that you knew there would be absolutely no pressure for you to excel or to even complete your course. If you think it's not worth the stress, you can just drop out anytime, money is not a problem at all. Take as long as you want, try again as many times as you can take. Your friend would only encourage you to do something if it truly makes you feel fulfilled, happy and content with your life.

You asked about starting a business of your own. His interest piqued and he found himself gleefully motivating you to do so; under the condition that the capital and any connections you need to get it up and running comes from him.

You get to keep whatever profit you make and You would have full control over your business, the vision and mission is yours to play with. He will give you a tutorial based on his experience and tells you what to look out for, he will perhaps give you some advice or warnings here and there, but it is ultimately up to you to heed it.

He will watch you carelessly mess around with a proud smile on his face. You can choose to make your own connections in the industry, you can choose to hire your own people, you can do all the research yourself, you can choose how you want to get the word out there or...

You could simply just simply let him and his highly talented, highly skilled, highly experienced teams handle it while you take all the credit as a self-made entrepreneur.

He won't interject with unwanted help, unsolicited comments or extra funds if you don't want him to. It's all up to your whims and desires. It's just a silly, fun, little game for you to feel joy and self actualization. But if he deems that you're hurting yourself, mentally and/or physically, he is shutting it all down.

No, he won't shame or berate you if your business wasn't successful. He wouldn't allow you to cast blame onto yourself. No, nothing was wasted. Don't you dare think of yourself and your efforts that way. There is no such thing as losses when it comes to you, he is too generous for his own good. You gained some experience, you had fun and you learnt a lot... and that's all that really matters to him. You could fall and choose to either get back up yourself (under his vigilant supervision), or let him pick you up. Would you like to try again?

What if, you don't want to do anything with your business anymore? Well, there are many options for you to choose from. You could simply just shut it down with no repercussions. You don't need to be involved in the headache of liquidating your company's assets or dealing with the law if you don't want to. Hm? Oh, don't worry about all the people who are going to lose their jobs. They'll find new ones eventually. Your friend could take them under his wing if you want him to.

You could just dump it on his lap to manage it while you do other things that you're interested in. However, he is absolutely not changing anything or implementing any new policies to save it from collapsing in on itself unless you ask him to. It doesn't matter if it's costing him millions of dollars in losses, it doesn't matter if it's a liability to him. It's your project and he has no right to interfere without your permission, who is he to touch it when "you" were the one who originally gave it life? He will keep injecting money in without getting anything in return, he will gladly keep a living corpse of an enterprise, a financial parasite, stuck to his name and company.

You could sell it. Even if no one wanted to buy it, your friend would. And again, you can choose to control it although it's under his name, or let him transform it into something actually profitable-- basically give up charge over your business. But, you get to take the authority back whenever you want, please don't worry about the legalities or moralities. This is your world and everyone is just living in it, including himself.

On the other side of the coin, where if your business is raking in massive profits, you would receive praises every minute from him and the people around you. You would be celebrated and worshipped by everyone. He will make sure of it.

I may know many things about the world of trading but not all. Not even close. I might need to learn a thing or two from you. He chuckled, propping his head with a hand.

You asked if you can truly keep all the profits to yourself.

Yes and no. He answered. You don't have to pay him back or give him dividends even though he is a major, active investor. But, if you ever decide to put your business out there for strangers to buy stocks, you have no choice but to give them their share of profits. He would reimburse them if you want him to.

Then you asked him, what if you were to have no aspirations, no goals and no direction to head to? Becoming a complete NEET for the rest of your life? And a degenerate one to top it off? Only hiding yourself in your bedroom, living off junk, hissing at sunlight and consuming more than you create. Be it in terms of food or creative medias.

He frowned. He believes every human needs a goal to work towards to, in order to make their lives feel worthwhile, enriched and enjoyable. A goal is a goal, no matter how small or ridiculous. Yes, he would fund your NEET lifestyle only if you have at least three hobbies that:

Does not actively cause bodily harm,

Does not cause mental, self-esteem deterioration,

Does not cause you to be numb,

Gives you true satisfaction about yourself; I.e., a hobby that is challenging but achievable, something that gives you healthy agency,

Absolute complacency is the devil in his eyes. He isn't going to let you fall into that pit of consumerism hell, he knows it is a slippery slope to despair, pessimistic nihilism and suicidal ideation. If you can't find a hobby yourself, he is going to find something that keeps the cogs turning. But just enough, he is never going to overwhelm or overkill it.

You gave yourself a minute or two to think. You then summed it up to being: Your friend sees his money and status as a shiny toy for you to play with, however or whenever you want. As long as you're not harming yourself with it. Strange how he contradicts himself when it comes to the topic of doing nothing in life. Nonetheless, you're glad that he would let you think for yourself.

What's the catch? You mumbled, he hummed and tilted his head towards you as he didn't hear what you said.

What do you want in return? You don't buy the fact that he's completely selfless and so fucking charitable.

He is. But only for you.

Your hand in marriage. He replied, promptly and bluntly. No bullshit this time, no more flowery language about how he wanted you to be happy and healthy. He would give all of that in return for you to be his and for him to be yours.

What if I say no? You continued. He stared at you in shock and a bit of hurt momentarily before expressing an incredulous laugh.

You don't get to say no. Not this time. He smiled, but you can see the corner of his mouth twitching downward. There was a bit of an angry growl to his voice, which sent chills down your spine. Regardless, you pressed on, asking what he meant by that.

I mean what I say. You decided not to press further after he said his ominous piece.

He continued on with a lighter note, cheerfully asking you when you want the wedding to be, how you want the wedding to be and who do you want to come. He gave you a period of two years to think it through, if you haven't come up with anything satisfactory or anything at all by then, he will proceed with his own plans. Your friend seems to have a Laissez-faire approach to most things, you wonder if that was the secret to his company's rapid and massive growth.

He paused mid sentence when he realized that you have finished your meal a while ago. He asked if you wanted seconds or if you wanted a chocolate bar for dessert.

You said you lost your appetite.

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iovesia · 1 year

Text

SWEET SERIAL KILLER.

❥⠀masterlist. ⠀:⠀ ( scream masterlist. )

synopsis: what it would be like to date billy loomis.

warnings: gaslighting. mentions of murder. fluff. mild angst.

pairings: billy loomis⠀𝒙⠀gender neutral!reader.

josie’s note .⁺ ˖ ⌒ this is a repost from my old account, but this time i actually fixed my grammar mistakes. your media consumption is your own responsibility, read the warnings and enjoy!— reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated !! ♡

⠀

Billy. Loomis. A relationship with him is not for the faint-of-heart, let’s be honest.

At first, he’d be your average-high-school boyfriend. He would drive you around, hang out in your room, having movie nights, that typical stuff. You’d think every was fine, until eventually his true colors start to seep through the cracks.

“Oh shit!” you jump, nearly spilling the popcorn all over the floor, as one of the camp counselors on TV gets brutally gutted.

Even though you weren’t the biggest horror fan, you tried to tough it out for Billy. You side glance over to the boy laying next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as he intensely stares at movie. It’s hard to miss the excited glint in his eye each time jason goes for the kill.

⠀

His love language is words of affirmation. Since his mom abandoned him, it left him with a lot of insecurities, so words of encouragement and telling him you love him, and you won't leave him eases his anxiety.

He’s much more introverted in comparison to his friends (friends being literally just stu 💀), so he tends to observe other people a lot. You catch him just staring at you for long periods of time, while at first you find it cute, at times it gets a little bit.. unnerving.

You two would sit on the window sill of your room, and talk for hours. Sometimes he’ll bring cigarettes— he doesn’t smoke often, but sometimes he does it to take the edge off.

He’s not big on PDA, so the most he’ll do in public is let you sit in between his legs if you’re at a party or something, or he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulders.

But in private… oh-boy.

He’s much more touchy-feely in private. He feels more comfortable now that it’s just the two of you, rather than having loads of people seeing you guys.

He likes to be little spoon, don’t even fight me on this.

Even though it’s hella greasy, he loves when you play with his hair. twirling it between your fingers, braiding it, or scratching his head is his kink. It makes him feel so relaxed.

He’d vent to you about his mom. You're his only safe space where can put his guard down (or at least some of it). You’d let him cry in your lap, and soothe him by running your nails down his back, or whispering comforting words.

He’s got some anger issues, because deep down he’s a very passionate person. So he tends to yell, and snap a lot.

He would begin to feel a little bad when he sees how you flinch at his outbursts. He’d mumble a quick sorry, and gradually calm down, or just leave you alone for a while.

Random head-canon, but I feel like Billy is one of those people who literally drives in silence. I'm sorry, I just can’t picture him listening to any music. But, when you are with him, he’ll let you play whatever you want.

His favourite holiday is secretly christmas. It reminds him of a time when him and his family were happy— it has a bittersweet sentiment. But he’s not gonna do anything big, like costumes or flashing decorations. You two would spend it together inside, watching christmas horror movies and enjoying each other’s company.

Now, getting into the less fun side of dating Billy.

Like I said before, he has a bit of temper. He’s very passionate about what he thinks, and he doesn’t have a healthy way of expressing that.

If you two disagreed about something, he would definitely give you the silent treatment. Or even worse, probably gaslight you into thinking you were in the wrong, and that you’re the one with issues.

“See! This is why I can’t talk to you about anything, [y/n]. You’re so goddamn sensitive over everything.”

It would get ten times worse after he gets arrested when Sidney calls the police on him. You’d obviously want to stay away from him, and so you do (unofficially breaking up).

You go a few weeks without talking or seeing him, but you can’t seem to shake off the feeling that someone’s watching you.

When Billy loves, he loves hard. He'd let you go, pretending that you're broken up, and let you blow off some steam. But, trust that a certain masked figure will be visiting you soon.

#☆. scream.#billy loomis x reader #billy loomis imagine #ghostface imagine #ghostface x reader #scream imagine #scream x reader #scream 1996 #skeet ulrich

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x-liv25-jamieswife · 12 days

Note

can I request some Gigi and Grayson hcs? (Not sure if that’s been done yet!)

gigi and grayson head canons

yesss, i absolutely love them. i hope we get to see them interact in tgg. @catapparently helped me with this one. like i've said in three of my other posts, i'm currently dying bc of my cramps so might be a little crappy, but i hope you like them<3.

gigi thinks grayson should loosen up and wear less suits so she buys him speedos.

they both talk about their favorite romance books bc gigi is clearly a reader and gray is secretly a hopeless romantic.

grayson gave gigi one of his credit cards for plushies and books

gigi regularly drags grayson out to amusement parks, arcades, and stuff. gray wins her stuff and she makes him eat corn dogs.

gigi dared grayson to put on a fluffy pink tutu and bows and twirl around the street

gigi talks shit about her crappy ex-boyfriends/crushes and grayson just sits there wondering why his sister has such horrible taste in men

they are both planning duncan's (sav's shitty bf) take down

gigi buys grayson flowers and takes one out of the bouquet and puts it behind his ear.

gigi, before she met lyra, made grayson a tinder account bc she thought he needed a gf.

gigi teaches grayson how to ride a bike (this dude didn't learn bc he always had someone to drive him places). he fell so many times, that grayson banged his head and ended up getting a concussion.

she takes videos of him and posts them on her tiktok bc her fans eat it up

gigi invited grayson to her prom (i think she's a year younger than avery so that means she hasn't had prom yet) and made him dance to the slow songs with her.

when gigi thinks grayson is overworking himself, she'll jump on him and start tickling him. she won't stop until he promises he's gonna stop.

grayson is the only one gigi feels comfortable venting to. she doesn't like worrying her sister with her problems, so sometimes she'll sneak into gray's room late at night and just talk to him about how much she hates having to pretend to be happy all the time.

although gigi never met emily, she absolutely hates her with a passion. grayson doesn't really like it when she talks shit about her, but knows what she's saying is true.

gigi has an obsession with grayson's baby pictures. she's literally asked everyone she knows if they have any, and has literally stolen phones to look at their camera roles to check for pictures.

gigi loves spying on people for absolutely no reason and will drag grayson along with her.

gigi has tried to cook food for grayson before but she ended up giving him food poisoning instead.

when gigi is feeling down, she'll get grayson to give her a hug bc, according to her, he gives the best hugs.

when she goes out with her friends to the mall, she drags grayson along to carry their bags

grayson only really laughs around her bc he finds her hilarious.

grayson literally hates slate (potential love interest for gigi, might not be one) (or any future boyfriends she might have), and will spy on her dates. he'll head to the restaurant they're eating at and hide behind menus and stuff.

gigi buys him clothes (other than suits) that she thinks would suit him. grayson only wears them bc gigi bought them for him (or that's what he tells himself, he actually kind of likes the clothes)

gigi gets xander to teach her how to hack grayson's insta so she can post cat memes on his account.

gigi has an obsession with iced coffees and milkshakes (overly sweet ones) and always gets grayson to have one when they go out even though he hates it with his entire being.

gigi practices her makeup on him. gigi always makes him keep it on so she can admire her hard work. sometimes grayson will show up at the family dinners with a full face of makeup.

gigi teaches grayson how to knit bc she loves it and wants to have someone to knit with

gigi loves reading romance books out loud. sometimes she'll be hanging out with grayson and just start reading the smut scenes out loud. grayson gets so uncomfortable, he turns red.

when she wants to take grayson out to the mall with her but he says no, she'll grab him by the ear and drag him out despite his protests.

gigi loves basic chocolate chip cookies, so grayson gets libby to teach him how to bake cookies, and he starts surprising her with some every once in a while.

gigi will get up really early and hide in grayson's closet so she can scare him when he gets up to get dressed.

gigi made grayson dress up as a tampon for halloween.

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #gigi grayson #libby grambs #the grandest game

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britishassistant · 6 months

Note

Bc I love badass yuu moments

I can only imagine if Villain!yuu got one of those.

Like, some other supervillain is trying to take their Territory and it would be a job to the league to take care off, but Crowley put them in charge just to prove something but THEN

This new villain kidnaps one of the first years or yuuken and Yuu goes full on super-badass-villain mode, noone tortures theirs, maybe, sorta, kinda, only friends!

Without any super powers Yuu banes the other villain like the goddam badass they can be and the boys are just .... "that was hot" "oh God I wish that was me"

Anonymous said: When things do go Villain!Yuu’s way, it helps cement that despite their pitfalls they ARE still Crowley’s chosen heir. A new gang try’s to edge into Yuu’s territory and start causing more devastating damage to the city? The next day news reports that old warehouse that the group was using blown to Timbuktu and all the gang members are now being treated for injuries that would have killed them outright if whatever caused the damage wasn’t so scarily precise. Those state officials that were swindling the water treatment plant? They can never work a job ever again with the shear amount of evidence of other crimes they’ve committed being leaked through their own social media accounts.

Thank you for the asks, dear anons!

“Well, aren’t you a sorry lot?”

Jack snarls, twisting in the ropes tying them all to the central pillar in the car park in such a way that the material digs in even harder into Ace’s stomach.

“Agh, quit, you ass-!” He’s barely able to gasp out alongside Deuce’s groan and Epel’s muttering of “Tight, tight, too tight!”

Ortho doesn’t say anything. Hasn’t since one of the guys who took them hit him with some kind of tazer-stick-thing.

The villain just chuckles, strolling around so he’s got a good view of Jack. “Really, when I heard the Supervisor was the Night Raven’s heir, I expected some panache, some machismo from the trusted minions they left guarding their lair. Not…this.”

Epel lets out a wordless growl of rage.

Ace is very aware of the pizza sauce stain on his pants, the beer he spilled on his shirt giving off a wheaty smell.

But he’s never been very good at keeping his mouth shut.

“And I expected that the biggest guy here would actually get his hands dirty rather than hide behind a buncha meatheads,” He calls out. “But I guess we’re all getting disappointed today, huh?”

There’s a pause, and then the sharp click of dress shoes against the concrete.

“I don’t know if the minger here really has the room to criticize, does he boys?” The supervillain makes a show of looking around the hired muscle pretending to lounge about the room, waiting for their mandatory laughter and agreement. “Especially not after the gaffe he pulled.”

Ace glares as this asshole gives him a truly unpleasant smile.

“A-Ace?” Epel says, peering at the side of his face.

“Oh? You mean they don’t know?” The villain mock-gasps. “Well, listen up kiddos, because this is how your little buddy well and truly fucked you over.”

“You bastard—!” Deuce growls, riled up already.

“There he was, ready and poised to hit some button to seal us in or shoot us or unleash whatever toys the Supervisor has tidied away.” The villain boasts dramatically, “But, in the hour of your deepest need, what does our friend here do? Does he act to protect the lair, his comrades?”

Sebek is turning red in a way usually reserved for those who insult his “Malleus-sama”, glaring furiously between Ace and this guy.

“No! Instead, our ginger minger abandons his duty so he can shove some whiny tot into an air vent!” There’s a raucous chorus of laughter and jeering that sets Ace’s teeth on edge. “And then he let himself go down trying to keep you boys from grabbing her! I’d be moved to tears, if it wasn’t so hilarious!!”

He feels his jaw grind so hard it hurts.

“What sort of moron sacrifices himself so a brat could get away?” The villain looms over Ace. “Some friendly advice, newbie. The infant and her sippy cup aren’t going to save you.”

The gob of saliva that hits him in the eye stings.

“Better that than going around with a face like some kinda freakish overgrown rat.” He snarks, the smirk on his face almost a snarl. “Seriously, have you ever even looked in a mirror? Or wait, my bad, is this what you look like when you’re actually trying to look normal?”

The laughter cuts off.

It’s fast enough that Ace feels the ropes shift as the others look around.

Blinking to try and clear his vision, Ace glances up.

The villain’s face has gone a deep puce, blood veins bulging in his forehead, eyes, and neck, a fearsome grimace turning his expression truly bestial.

“Tazer!” He snarls.

“But boss—!”

“Tazer!!” The villain roars, spittle frothing at his lips.

Some muscle-bound chump scurries up with his tail between his legs, offering that black stick that took Ortho out so easily.

It whines as the villain jams it on, sparks crackling off the end.

“A rat, am I?” The villain mutters, advancing on Ace as he presses himself back against the pillar. “A rat?! You dare…I’ll show you. I’ll show you what a rat looks like, you miserable, squirming vermin!!”

Ace can’t help yelping as he sees the baton come down, eyes squeezed shut—!

There’s a shout and a…caw?

Ace cracks one eye open.

The villain is clutching his baton hand, dripping blood from deep gouges into the meat of his fingers.

Staring after a huge, familiar black bird that’s flying off with the baton in its talons.

“Di-Diavolo!” He hears Deuce call out.

He watches as Diavolo soars up into the rafters, and merges into the darkness above them. Darkness, he realizes with a start, that has somehow grown teeming with thousands of beady eyes and rustling feathers.

Black birds.

Hundreds upon hundreds of them, staring down at them from the walls and rafters with an intent that sends chills down Ace’s spine.

“Wh-what the hell?!” Yells one of the thugs.

“You know, Ace,” Comes a voice that could be called nonchalant if it wasn’t for the slight tremor in its words. “You can be really cool when you let yourself be.”

Ace can’t help the grin that curves across his face even as he want to break down. “Like you’re one to talk!! What the hell took ya so long?!”

Yuu gives a tiny smile, and huffs a small, wry laugh.

Then the expression drops from their face, and the Supervisor glares imperiously down at their enemies.

“And you.” The click of their high heels is as sharp as their tone. “You’ve got some nerve, attacking my lair, hurting my minions.”

The villain scoffs, attempting to slick his hair back as he turns to face them. “The Supervisor, I presume? I’m—”

“I don’t care.” The Supervisor cuts in. “You’ll be nobody once I hand you over to that detective waiting outside. Nice guy, even bothered by a small timer like you.”

“Small timer?!” The villain growls, sweat beading his brow. “How dare you?!”

Grim lets out a low, growling cackle from where he’s lounging across Yuu’s shoulders, looking menacing for once in his life. “Yeah, rat-face! A rodent like you better bow down before the great Grim-sama!”

The villain bulges in anger, tremors wracking his frame.

“Ge-GET THEM!!” He yells. “BRING ME THAT UPSTART’S HEAD!!”

The thugs advance on Yuu, brandishing pipes and knuckle dusters.

“Alright, guys.” The Supervisor rolls their neck as Grim rises to pounce. “Lab rules. This’ll get loud.”

At those words, Ace’s eyes automatically shut again and he turns to press his face into Sebek’s shoulder, as he feels Epel press against his.

There’s a cacophony of caws and the rattle of their dropped cargo. The blinding blasts of light and BOOMS of the charges detonating flash against his eyelids, feeling the foundations tremble under him.

He opens his eyes to see the goons on the floor, groaning in pain.

The villain is the last left standing, heaving in outrage before charging at the Supervisor with a reckless, infuriated scream.

Grim rears up and unleashes a torrent of fire in the bastard’s face.

As he stumbles away, scrabbling at the flames on his hair and clothes, the birds descend upon him in a flurry of sharp beaks and talons.

With a yell he swats out, attempting to drive off the flock. And some of them do retreat, descending on the thugs that were trying to get up.

Creating an opening for the Supervisor to drive the baton into the villain’s throat with ruthless efficiency.

There’s the whine of electricity and a high-pitched scream.

Ace watches as the bastard topples to the ground.

The breath rushes out of him.

“Human!” Sebek shouts, blowing out Ace’s eardrums. “Quit resting on your laurels! The robot needs medical attention, urgently!”

“R-right!” Yuu straightens, rushing over with a pair of bolt cutters, babbling as they saw at the ropes. “I-Idia’s waiting back at the lair to fix him up, we’ll go out the back so we can avoid the detective, and the heroes. Diavolo and company will make sure these jerks aren’t going anywhere we don’t want them, and meet us back at the lair later. I don’t think they can arrest birds, so it should be fine?”

“Right. Let’s move.” Jack still has the burr of a growl in his voice as he shakes off the ropes, turning to Ortho besides him and scooping him up gently.

Epel is scavenging a pipe while Deuce is already up scouting out their escape route. Sebek begins bickering with Grim over whether he has to call him “Grim-sama” now or ever, taking a protective position at the rear.

Yuu falls back alongside Ace, offering a shoulder for him to lean on.

“Elena’s alright.” They mutter to him quietly. “She was in a bit of a state when she found me, but she’s home safe and sound. I promised we’d call in the car so she could hear you’re all okay.”

Ace can’t help the small grin that quirks his lips. “A~ah. At least that turned out okay. It’d be a real pain if she got herself kidnapped after all the shit I went through.”

Yuu smiles, broad and real. “Mr. Martin and Mr. Jon are very grateful to you, you know. I think they’re going to give you a present. A homemade sweater perhaps.”

“Geh!” He scowls at them. “What, is that some kinda punishment?! If they wanna reward me, I’ll take cash. Or food. Either or, I’m not picky.”

“The hell you sayin’, yer bein’ picky right now.” Epel interjects ahead of them.

Ace blows a raspberry. Jack lets out a chuckle and Yuu giggles next to him. Ortho somehow looks more like he’s sleeping than he did before. Sebek and Grim’s argument is reaching new levels of volume. Deuce is holding the door open to where the escape vehicle is parked outside on a double yellow line.

Ace lets himself be hustled into the car, and enjoys the moment of comfort and safety.

#twisted wonderland #twst #supervillain au #harassed villain yuu au #ace trappola #deuce spade #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #jack howl #ortho shroud #twst yuu #twisted wonderland yuu #twst grim #twisted wonderland grim #happy halloween!#points to anyone who can guess what the villain is twisted from

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pass1onepr1ncess · 4 months

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NSFW Topic Warning

Stark contrast from the posts I usually make, but this one's gonna have NSFW topics because I'm pissed off about things so be warned.

It's really been getting under my skin lately that non-fetishized lesbian porn made for and by other lesbians is SO hard to find. Another alter in the system, his name is Milo, is a stricly gay trans man and it's SO EASY for him to find content when he wants it. Even gay porn of trans men! But the second I go looking for lesbian porn, all I can find is straight women being sexy at a camera for straight men to fetishize. And I can tell because there is such a wide difference between the framing and videography and tones of fetishistic "#lesbian" content and actual sapphic content and the former just makes me feel so gross. I don't want to be fetishized, I just want to be horny!

I refuse to use PH partly because of the fetishization but mostly because of the mass exploitation and abuse that happens on there that goes completely unreported and unpunished not just of adult sex workers but also of children and teens that shouldn't be on camera in the first place. I normally use Twitter, but that's where my problem lies in trying to find decent content! I managed to find a singular good account, but not only is all of their content just the same maybe 7-10 videos reposted every month so there's NOTHING new, but they also repost straight content and while that's not, like, a bad thing I just want to be a lesbian in peace!! Without straight people!!

I vented these frustrations with a friend recently and he recommended a BDSM site but the thing is I'm not really into BDSM. I'm not looking for kinky stuff like that- not that anything's wrong with it. BDSM is genuinely one of the healthiest lifestyles I know of when done correctly- I literally just want vanilla lesbian porn made by lesbians for other lesbians! And for some reason, that's so much to fucking ask for!

I think the part of all this that really ticks me off is that content of gay men is so accessible. I can't even count the amount of accounts on twitter who are all gay men (cis AND trans men) making exclusively gay content for other gay men, but the fact that I can't even find ONE good account for lesbian content? It pisses me off!

In all the strides we've made in being a more accepting society of LGBTQ+, why the fuck is it so hard to find stuff like this? Why do the queer men get to have a good time, but I'm struggling to find ONE good source of exclusively sapphic content? Not to say that queer men have it easy, we're all struggling in the same boat don't get me wrong. But it just sucks that the sapphic side of the boat still has a good amount more water in it than the boys' side.

All of this in addition with the stereotypes? The whole thing of people expecting sapphic relationships to be a masculine, woodworking, flannel wearing butch and a dainty, nails and makeup, princess-like femme when there is SO much more than that! Butch4Butch lesbians I love you so much, Femme4Femme lesbians you are doing SO great sweetie. Lesbians who don't really fall into either category, you are incredible! Nonbinary lesbians, you're amazing and keep up the good work! Transbians, you are the bravest fucking people on the planet and I hope you get to fight God one day because you WILL win and you deserve that W.

Not to mention the weird purity culture involved with other queer people trying to palette us for straight people? Saying that lesbians as a whole are soft and nice and pretty? Girl, we're not all coquette and Lana Del Rey. Some of us are, sure, but there is literally no way to try and market lesbians to heteronormative society in a little bow because we don't all fit in one box! And yes, lesbians have sex! It's not all soft romance and cuddling and holding hands on cafe dates. Just like literally every and any other kind of couple, while there's still romance and cutesy moments we still get horny and worked up like literally any other person on earth (Other than asexuals. Not all of you, of course. Shout out to asexuals who still have sex, I see you and you are loved). And what happens when we do? We fuck! We have hot lesbian sex and it's great!

Also, might I add that it's really misogynistic to try and label lesbians as this group of pure, innocent, soft and fluffy group of women who couldn't possibly have a sex drive! Or on the other hand, saying that all lesbians are horndogs who can't keep themselves off each other- because I've seen that one, too! I hate being labeled like this, why is it SO HARD for people to just accept that lesbians are literally just people. We're just like everyone else- the ONLY thing different is that we don't wanna be romantically or sexually involved with men. That is IT!!!!!

And in terms of the lack of good sapphic content, it also goes beyong porn! Literally every sapphic show I've seen released in the past few years has been cancelled after ONE season and then a lot of it just gets deleted entirely so that one season isn't even available anymore!! But the you have Heartstoppers and Love, Simon and I just! I'm happy that we as a community have fought hard enough to have these things. I'm not trying to drive a wedge between the achillean and sapphic communities. I just wish us sapphics got the same treatment as the men do.

I love being a lesbian, don't get me wrong. But sometimes I am exhausted from being overlooked. From being glanced over and shoved into a box that I nor anyone else in that box fits into. I want to be a lesbian in peace.

#lesbian #sapphic #wlw #women loving women #rant post #Im angry and Im a lesbian and Im fucking fed up #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgbtq community #queer #queer community

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deadlysoupy · 4 months

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Faultline

Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Brainstorm/Perceptor, Brainstorm & Perceptor, Brainstorm & Nautica Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Mind Manipulation, Happy Ending

Perceptor is a hard mech to handle when it comes to his patience with Brainstorm. Thus, after Brainstorm gets his load of Perceptor's fury, the Ship's Number One Genius takes matters into his own hands — and attempts to make Perceptor fall in love with him.

It goes in the exact opposite direction.

my Secret Solenoid gift for @elmonstro !!! thank you @secretsolenoid-revived for hosting the event and being so very patient with me!! first time doing anything like this event and i had,, troubles. also huge shoutout to @trashhole who beta'ed this mess i wouldn't be there without them!!

posted on AO3 (requires an account) or under Read More for easy access!

It’s quiet in the lab today. Not a good quiet, not the kind of quiet that makes Brainstorm excited to get going and create something incredibly genius, and slightly explosive. Not the kind that makes him focus and drift from reality itself in search of the unexplored, to make the unreal, real.

This quiet had him slightly tilting his back to throw a look at a laser-focused Perceptor and envy the fixation he has had with his own project. Because he, as it stands, cannot get the anti-gravity blaster to work. Try as he may, re-wire, calculate from the beginning – nothing seemed to help. He considered banging his helm on the table, but that would only damage the equipment.

After a while of struggling, Brainstorm decided to seek assistance. Two heads are better than one, obviously – even if one is more genius than the other.

Which had been a bad decision from the start. And he should have known it, too, because whoever distracts Percy from his work is to be stricken with a fiery glare and such a passive look it could kill the desire to ask in just about anyone. Anyone but Brainstorm.

“Hey, Percy, do you think I should re-adjust this or leave it as it is? It isn’t working right,” Brainstorm says with a half-finished component in hand, its insides dangling in the air when he swings it. He slides into Perceptor’s line of vision, occupied by a biocell beneath his microscope. It leaves a silence hanging between them.

Perceptor doesn’t even blink, let alone vent in his general direction. So, Brainstorm tries again, the tone of his voice slightly more rough around the edges.

“He-ey, ships’ genius number two! Get out of your head, it’s begging you to dissect it, c’mon!”

His lab partner’s faceplate shifts from cold concentration to a slight frown, one you wouldn’t notice if you hadn’t looked hard enough. He notices it anyway.

“Brainstorm, whatever complication it is you have right now, I assure you, it can wait until I’m done.”

“Waiting would require patience! I’m kind of at the brink of my own discovery here – at least tell me if you think it needs work?” Brainstorm pleads, shifting his approach, his optics round, but Perceptor is unrelenting.

Brainstorm’s optic-ridges furrow.

“You’re mean, you know that? A real stick in the mud. A stubborn mule. A…” Brainstorm gestures his free servo in search of a new expression to throw. His vents get hotter.

“Are you done?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I distracting you?” Brainstorm’s wings flutter in exasperation as the air inside his mask gets a little too warm. “My work is important too, if you didn’t know! And I would love it if you could pull your helm out of your aft once in a while!”

Perceptor’s shoulder plates answer Brainstorm as he straightens up and looks at him with such a fire in his gaze that burns Brainstorm’s insides. His mouth a perfect line, but the sharp edges of his optics and the brilliant light behind them are what turns Brainstorm’s entire resolve around.

As he backpedals, Perceptor’s watchful optics follow him until he’s at his desk again, and only then does the scientist turn away to chip away at his work once more, as if nothing had ever happened.

Brainstorm has trouble forgetting the incident even hours after.

Truly, it is Perceptor’s fault. He is the one missing Brainstorm’s potential, his drive. Now his gun sits alone, it’s insides full of holes, and Brainstorm tosses it a look more than once like it had personally offended him.

So he does the best thing he can – he drowns himself in the work that most would call “unethical” and “useless”. What else is he supposed to do, really? It would not hurt to put his other work on a pause until he deals with his more pressing problems. Mainly – his lab partner being an uncooperative aft.

Days later, Brainstorm stares at a flat metal plate, its silver and smooth top reflecting his faceplate in a morphed and grotesque image, his servos firmly planted into the workstation. It had nothing Brainstorm-like in it – which is what makes his cords uneasy, optics never settling on one detail of the device.

Despite all of his efforts, despite the drive that went into his work, he couldn’t put it to use. He’s not that kind of bot – not even when he’s full of sadness and bitterness.

So, he puts it away in their lab, far from the prying eyes; he burrows it under the pile of other failed experiments and fried chips to be long forgotten.

At least his honour is saved.

That is, until someone else finds it.

Brainstorm never liked Whirl much. If it wasn’t him, then it was Whirl who could turn everyone's attention to himself, a chaotic force of nature. And sometimes – or most of the time, really, – he tended to cross the line.

“Oh, hey, what’s this thing?” he says, putting an eerily familiar disc in his servos, its shiny surface glinting in the lab’s bright lighting.

Brainstorm’s never run faster in his life. He does almost trample over the scrapped projects Whirl’s been digging through, but he catches himself in time.

“That,” he grunts while gripping one side of the machine to pry it away from Whirl’s claws, “is none of your business.”

“Stormy, you should know by now – everything is my business,” the menace answers back, his optic glimmering and squinting. The device is then pulled, but Brainstorm has a good grip on it, and he tugs right back.

Brainstorm dares a quick look to his left – Perceptor is too engrossed in his documenting to pay attention to them – which, in the heat of the moment, gives Whirl an advantage.

He pinches on Brainstorm’s pede and blunt pain betrays his reflexes. Whirl manages to pry away the machine and hold it above his frame while he helplessly reaches for it; his efforts in vain.

“‘Make-Perceptor-love-me machine’? Seriously?” Whirl reads out loud while Brainstorm struggles against his hold to snatch the device away. Out of all the things to label, he decided on that one?

“Wait, Whirl–”

“Oh, this is gold,” his optic shines with malice and Brainstorm only has two solid seconds before he can hold Whirl’s pedes to stop him from going straight for Perceptor.

They both topple down like cards, and Percy’s definitely noticed the fight by now. He peers from the table they usually keep the scraps behind, a little too close for Brainstorm’s comfort.

He pulls Whirl’s impossibly tangly pedes away from Perceptor – because the aft is long too, curse his impossible build – and Whirl huffs in effort, but Brainstorm notices the device is still in his pincers.

“Whirl, I swear to Primus, if you don’t stop I’ll–”

“Got it!”

Brainstorm gives Whirl one last pull and collapses on the floor backstrut-first. Tangled in a web of pointy joints, along with a couple of wires from the pile.

What he just heard could not have been anything good.

He grunts as he scrambles to his feet, some forgotten wire still stubbornly stuck on his servo, and looks up at Perceptor.

The disc looks tiny in comparison to their joints, but Brainstorm spots it on Perceptor’s pede as his lab partner pulls the device away, definitely making contact. Brainstorm doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or not; at least he can test it.

The reaction is delayed by two seconds, but Brainstorm catches the barely noticeable tremor and electricity running through Perceptor’s frame, starting at his pedes, and ending at his processor. Presumably, of course. Brainstorm’s wing twitches.

“Uh… hey, Perceptor, are you okay?” Brainstorm asks in a surprisingly small voice he doesn’t remember having.

He regrets ever having the idea of making such a machine in the first place.

Perceptor’s cold, unwavering stare gives him a chill. A loud thud makes Brainstorm’s frame jump as his machine is thrust into his servos. He scrambles to hold it properly, a stare etched into him.

“Get out of my lab. Now.”

Percy’s voice booms, echoing through the whole lab – their lab, as Brainstorm had priorly thought.

His processor can come to only one conclusion: he had invented the complete opposite of what he had intended to. Not this aggressive ignorance, not this hatred. He wanted admiration, not hate – not again.

He has no time to make sense of that revelation as he scrambles for the exit, pushing away the bots who had probably heard the commotion and came to poke fun at him.

He continues to his habsuite, the device close to his chassis, a slight fog creeping into the edges of his vision that doesn’t leave until he’s slamming the door shut.

Brainstorm slides down onto the floor, pulling the machine closer, almost crushing it with his servo – or hoping to, at the back of his mind.

The silence fills his processor and ugly static pours out.

How could he think it was ever going to work? He’s no manipulator. Making guns, weapons of destruction, and something that would twist reality and emotional stability of a mech is a night and day difference. He shouldn’t have invented this cursed thing, should never have been this angry, this pitiful, and frag, everyone was watching him, how is he supposed to prove he was good at something–

One, two knocks at the door tremble his frame as he presses against the door. A muffled “Hey, Stormy, it’s Nautica” beyond the door causes Brainstorm to shift in his seat.

No knocks come after, but Brainstorm’s emotionally aware enough that his amica endura is still there. Waiting to put a comforting servo on his shoulder – one he doesn’t deserve.

He manages a sigh that trails through his entire frame. Then he gets up and shuffles to the berth, his servos pressed tight against its flat surface.

The door creaks open, Nautica’s purple paintjob standing out from the shining light of the outside corridor against his dim room. “Hey, Stormy. Can I come in?”

He gives her a look that she reads as inviting, closing the door behind her. She takes a seat next to him, still servos on her lap.

“You know I’m here for you, right?” she says after a few minutes of silence. Brainstorm stares at the floor. “Whatever you need. And I’m sure Perceptor didn’t even mean it back there, you know how–”

“He did, though,” Brainstorm croaks out. Nautica’s frame leans closer to his. “I– I messed up. I wanted an easy way out, but I messed it up again. What kind of a scientist am I if I can’t even make a mind control device work properly?”

Nautica moves a little closer to him and puts her servo on his. “At least it worked, right? And we know the problem, so we can fix it.”

“But he hates me, Nautica.”

“You don’t really know that. I’m sure we can convince him to cooperate on a project with you. Until then,” she removes her servo that seems to leave the warmth on his plating well after their talk, “try and get some rest, okay? We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

She leaves him with a tender smile, shutting the door behind her, and letting him and his thoughts linger under the shadows of his unlit walls.

In the meantime, he figures out his next steps.

Next day doesn’t come easy, but Brainstorm is considerably more determined to mend the broken trust. His processor doesn’t scream profanities at him, at least, and he would consider it progress.

Nautica catches up to him in the hallway when he’s on his way to the lab.

“Brainstorm! Do you actually know what you’re going to do? This needs a plan or… something.”

“Nah, I’ll figure it out when I get there,” he says, waving his free servo that isn’t holding the culprit of his problem.

Nautica steps forward before he can enter the lab, his cool demeanour slightly broken. “Okay, wait, I have to confess something. I’ve already talked to Percy the night before: he agreed to help you with one project, as he’d said.”

Brainstorm arched an optic-ridge. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, but only one. So you have one chance, got it?” she says, as sternly as she can, yet Brainstorm can’t help but smile at her worrying.

“Aw-w, thanks, Nautica! You always know how to help out a friend.”

She rolls her optics with a fond smile before cycling and pushing him into the lab.

“Hello,” Perceptor and his carefully folded servos, along with the best passive-aggressive look, meet him right at the entrance, and Brainstorm has to take a step back to regain his footing. “How may I be of assistance?”

Brainstorm coughs into his mask. He vaguely registers the door behind him sliding closed, Nautica’s work wide and proud. “Well, now that you’ve mentioned it,” he dawns, peeking into Perceptor’s personal space despite his better judgement; the scientist leans backwards only slightly, to Brainstorm’s delight, “there’s this tiny little thing wrong with my newest invention. It is imperative that we work together to mend it, as a lot, and believe me, a lot, depends on its success. So, what do you say?”

Perceptor’s field shifts from passive observation to open disgust as Brainstorm talks. And it stings, of course. But, somehow, in the moment, he understands it. The loathing, unease, hatred, – those aren’t new concepts to him.

What truly intrigues him after a few seconds, though, is the cool response Perceptor gives him.

“Alright, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Because… huh? Perceptor, in his twisted mind, under the direct intention of outright hating Brainstorm’s cords, agrees to help. Brainstorm’s inner core dances to the feeling of appreciation, of simply earning Perceptor’s attention and kindness which he has always possessed.

They work in silence once Brainstorm expresses what needs to be done with the machine to “fix” it. Each on their own little workshop, pouring familiarity over Brainstorm’s processor, yet swirling with alienation.

He knocks a fragile chip off the table while fidgeting with the casing, his wings fluttering in desperation, and the sound bounces off the walls of the soulless lab. Perceptor only tosses him a look, but a look that Brainstorm will have to push to the back of his memory cords to make peace with.

He never wants to earn that look again. It makes his resolve to complete their work as fast as possible all the more potent.

Just two hours after, they have their pieces done and assemble the machine together. Their shoulders pressed close, but not touching, the invisible gravity pulling Brainstorm closer.

Staring at them is their own reflection, the two of them this time, the bottom of their faceplates inflated as if in a ugly mirror.

“Now, what are you going to do with it?” Perceptor wonders.

Brainstorm sighs as he takes the device in his servo with careful precision not to grip the wrong side. “Fix my mistakes.”

And he thrusts his servo into Perceptor’s chassis.

It does not have the same effect as Brainstorm has hoped. Instead, Perceptor catches his servo, but doesn’t squeeze it or draw it away.

So Brainstorm lunges at him. They fall to the ground, knocking some lab equipment on the floor, the sound of their frames making contact loud in his audio receptors. Brainstorm has to reach out in order not to collapse on Perceptor’s flat chassis completely.

Before any of them can adjust to this position, Brainstorm on top of Perceptor, their pedes inbetween one another, Brainstorm sticks the bottom of his doom on his partner’s chassis.

Perceptor has his optics closed. Until he shutters them on and off, letting the silence fill both of their cords. Another, familiar shock courses through Perceptor – Brainstorm can taste the electricity this time. His frame catches heat from underneath, and his own vents shorten.

A subtle sigh pulls Brainstorm out of the trance. “What did you do this time?”

And, Primus, how quickly his world can become right again. Perceptor’s voice is even, but Brainstorm catches the light in it, the teasing and love behind it. The notion almost makes him outright giggle – but he doesn’t have time for that. He smiles wide behind his mask anyway, Perceptor’s tiny smirk reflective.

“Oh, nothing, just goofing off. As usual.”

“You do not ‘goof off’, Brainstorm. On the side note…” his optics dart around, “why, exactly, are we on the floor?”

“Oh, right!” Brainstorm pulls his pede from underneath him for support and deftly stands up. He reaches a servo out for Perceptor, who takes it with a warm smile.

Brainstorm takes both of Perceptor’s hands once they’re up. He stares into his blue, genius optics, and his spark melts.

“Percy, I’m… sorry. I know you weren’t angry at me when you said those things, I know it because it’s right, but logic goes out the window when you’re… me. I’m sorry for trying to control you, for having those betraying thoughts. You’re the best lab partner anyone could ask for, and I’m very grateful to have you after so many mistakes. Will you… forgive me?”

Perceptor soon brushes his digit over Brainstorm’s servo. His faceplate warms, and Perceptor’s gaze is kind on him. “I will. I appreciate you telling me the truth. In honesty, I was not aware I hurt you. I apologise for that. In turn, would you be able to express your feelings more… genuinely next time? To let me know when you’re hurting.”

Brainstorm registers his wings flying up. “Oh, of course! Or, well, I can try, but that counts too, right?”

They laugh together, and soon find themselves taking apart the “Make-Perceptor-love-me” machine. Brainstorm flushes more than once. He doesn’t miss Perceptor’s shoulderplates nudging him, precariously.

Staying up until late, they walk past a lab table with Brainstorm’s failed experiment in complete disarray, wires and bolts pulled apart. Brainstorm doesn’t mind it. Not when he has the real thing right beside him, their servos interlaced.

#secret solenoid #transformers #maccadam #more than meets the eye #mtmte #simpatico #brainstorm #perceptor #nautica #my writing

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octaviareina · 3 months

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Breaking my hiatus from this account because I'm emotional about all the love Charles is receiving. And as I was scrolling through all the photos and videos, I found some ecstatic and curious comments about the motivation behind Charles receiving so much love, and a certain fanaticism (Italian men, you do everything and are the best for it), some questioned why the treatment wasn't the same for the other driver, some said Michael only received this love after winning a championship, that Kimi and Seb were loved, but not at the same level as Leclerc.

Let's go, I'm not going to give a concrete explanation, because there isn't anything concrete, these feelings are hard to put into words (hence, that's why are many demonstrations with actions for him), and for different people there are different reasons, but to try to simplify, Ferrari is the dream of many drivers because it's Ferrari, you enter history just by being there, it stays on your resume, who doesn't want that, it's an addition to YOUR story. But then we have this kid, who like us from day one, dreamed, cried, searched, and desired the red, he literally imagined the factory as something magical like Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, how many of us haven't thought the same or something similar? He has a sparkle in his eyes when he talks about the red, he respects the history, he respects those who came before him, and those who are with him. He doesn't make outrageous demands, he doesn't disrespect, and he never puts himself above history, (sometimes he should), he always asks for the basics, the minimum: a fast car and support from the team, and the rest he does, and man, oh man... he does, in moments when he only has to worry about racing, he works miracles, he gives us magical moments, but always at the end of the day it was never him, it was always the team, he never wants to go beyond for himself, he always wants it for the team, he wants to go far, but he wants to bring the team along with him. And maybe it's this common love that makes him drag crowds with him, the relationship of love between Charles and the Tifosi is one of the most genuine kinds of love. There's no way to explain it, there's no way to measure it, there's no way to buy it, it's such a pure and true exchange, there are no demands, there's just a "be with us, because we're with you", and that's the thing about Charles, he's one of us, there's an understanding, a comprehension so great in the relationship, because he knows exactly what we feel. We're connected by a cause, by the passion we feel for something, by the desire to live something extraordinary and glorious. But we don't rush (although impatience hits, because we know Charles's potential), we don't throw it on him as responsibility, we just know that one day it will come, and we'll be here when it comes, we support him on difficult days, just as he's there on difficult days, as he doesn't turn his back despite the frustrations of difficult years. What driver would endure so many bad days, without venting their frustrations, or taking on so many responsibilities that most of the time aren't even theirs?

Charles has this inviting aura, a glow of his own that lights up wherever he goes, that's why he's the sun of Maranello, and the il predestinato, there are so many things about him, and at the same time we lack words to explain this relationship... But in the end it's not necessary, he knows why we're here, and we know why we support him, in the end, it's the sharing and understanding of emotions, loving something in common that unites us. You just have to be a fan of Charles to understand, no matter what happens he has us, and that's why he never drives alone.

Ps: none of this photos are mine, I just save a thousand from everywhere, so... credit to the owners.

#charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #ferrari #scuderia ferrari #essere ferrari #forza ferrari #forza charles

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unearthlycat · 6 months

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jumping on this bandwagon i guess

#rain world

2 notes

🌀 trans-scension 🔁 goldenjetfish

✨ yeekoftheweek Follow

[Image: Navigation directions for a road with a roundabout. An alternate route goes directly through the roundabout. It is labeled "if you;re not a coward ;)"]

got this from my drone nav today

is my iterator fucking okay

👤 herecomestherainagain-deactivated1529700 Go home No Significant Harassment, you're drunk.

🪈 pipe--yard okay im like 99% sure this is fake but i just gotta highlight the audacity of saying "go home" to the guy whose house youre literally driving on top of

🪈 pipe--yard edit: IT'S REAL??!?!

wild-flower-ride-deactivated1532056 void and saints below yall really live like this

📿 guardianknittingneedles-deactivated1534459 Happy one solar-cycle anniversary to the drunk No Significant Harassment post

🪱 cutest-lil-pipe-beast Follow i've only seen this post in screenshots and i still can't believe it's real

🟩 nsh-heritage-posts Certified No Significant Harassment Heritage Post

#rule of laughter #happy 7 sol-cycle anniversary to the drunk nsh post everyone #tumbling stones heritage posts

89,762 notes

☁️ fourteenblueclouds

[image description: Two painterly images of the sky, as viewed from a Metropolis balcony on Five Pebbles during a dry spell. The first shows the sky, uninterrupted save for the spires of distant communications towers. The other, a single figure leaned over the railing of a balcony, looking out over the cityscape.]

the summers up on pebbles were always the worst, but as the end approaches i'm coming to miss them

#original art #artists of tumbling stones #my artwork #painting

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🗡️ nine-sharp-stones it really feels like everyone is ascending these days. this place is a ghost town. i just wish i could join them but i know i'll never be enough. there's too much of me. if i go it'll twist me into something i don't want to be. and all i can do is be afraid.

i miss my parents. i miss everyone. my best friend ascended last cycle. we couldn't be friends anymore because i was "holding them back".

i just wish i could have gone with them.

#vent #do not reblog #delete later

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🌀 trans-scension 🔁 halo-of-seven-suns

⛆ raindeerstampede-deactivated1534012 It still gets me every time that even living up here with an abundance of water, we choose to maintain a system of pipes to ensure access to it.

I have to pay a water bill.

It rains so hard every night my balcony has a hands-breadth of standing water when the shields unroll in the morning.

Does nobody see the contradiction here?

🪻 metropolitanghost Follow op have you ever heard of a drainage system

do you like. realize how nasy that water gets

and you want to DRINK it?

🧃 five-pebbsi-official Follow Why drink rainwater when you could be drinking Five Pebbsi, the official drink of the Five Pebbles Metropolitan Zone?

[five-pebbsi-advertisement.jpg]

Quench your thirst and contract 0 intestinal parasites! None!

🪈 pipe--yard

#wow thanks five pebbsi official brand account that doesn't sound suspicious at all

#thank you five pebbles official you sound very trustworthy #i am sure your drink contains nothing else that would be of concern

#what an incredibly trustable source! i am sure if i perform a search query for five pebbsi i will definitely not find anything concerning on the ingredient list!

🖸 pleading-intellects-hot-robot-bod

#it has WHAT IN IT

i would like to wish everyone finding out about the ingredients of five pebbsi from this post my Deepest Condolences but also, Rest In Pieces

#rule of laughter

35,045 notes

🪨 one-cup-of-pebbles 🔁 memes-to-make-you-ascend

[screencap: a greyscale photo of a cup of gravel tea, with two twigs artfully arranged on a plate. Caption reads, "Working on denying the fourth urge this week! #fourthurge #gluttony #graveltea #dietarypurge #releasethe4"]

these guys have got to be stopped

#i am losing my mind over this

4,823 notes

💬 wondering-ottoman 🔁 leviafantastic

🌘 lingeringluna Follow

[Image: a shiny chitinous box containing unidentifiable bluish-white mush.]

living block just got the new ration shipment today. what the [2].

🌘 lingeringluna this is what they feed the iterator technicians i think

👤 beyondthewinds-deactivated1528045 Technical side of Tumbling Stones, can you confirm?

🧮 sixgrains-official Follow yes i am a real iterator technician and i eat this every day,, for my lunch and for dinner i eat neuron flies. hope this helps

👤 beyondthewinds-deactivated1528045 Thank you, definitely official account of famous iterator architect Six Grains of Gravel, Mountains Abound

#this is an old and humorously meant post i know but… #but no really what?! #i knew it was bad for the stragglers but i had no idea… #at least once we all ascend it'll be a bygone worry i suppose… #tw gluttony

29,761 notes

🌀 trans-scension 🔁 halo-of-seven-suns

⛓️ atopthespires becoming an iterator technician with high ambitions but i'm incredibly clumsy, introduced to them on the first day of the job and i am simply so charming they cannot help but fall in love with me for "research purposes" and i become their specialist little technician attending their every whim despite being the least qualified individual to do so <3

⛓️ atopthespires some of you are very confused what i mean by this, so let me make it clear: i want to [U.] the iterator

⛓️ atopthespires

#op do you understand that the puppet is just a simulacrum of a body? #they are much vaster than your reproduction-addled mind can concieve of i promise you that

the simulacrum being puppeted by a vast inconcievable machine is part of the appeal. whats not clicking

⛓️ atopthespires

#you realize the councils would literally throw you into the void fluid vats for that right #if you don't get excommunicated first

might i introduce you to this Wondrous New Skill called: lying

#rule of laughter #heresy tw #not safe for worshippers

1,672 notes

#rain world #rw ancients #fake tumblr posts #suicide (implied)#religion (fictional)#also uh #disordered eating implications?#not 100% sure how to tag this #rw ancients are... something #also yes those are fake image descriptions/captions #i would love to make those paintings someday but i do Not have the time or skills for it orz #does this count as fanfiction?#fj.txt #i had way too much fun making this post and coming up with usernames lmao #EDIT: tumblr hid this post for having too many links i think oopsies!#does this show up in the tag now?

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acoldsovereign · 2 months

Text

{{ Okay, here we go. A better/proper post about it. I know, I know. "But you said you wouldn't post--"

I'm breaking it this once. Only this once.

I'm still a reforming sociopath so being sad/sitting with intense feelings is very difficult for me. Concerning the circumstances, I'll try to express myself properly without the fear of "feeling things wrong".

I'm still new to the RPC. I started in March 2023, it'll be a year soon. God, that's so fast. I made minor and major mistakes in the process of learning Tumblr etiquette, but I learned from those instances all the same and nobody heckled me for it. Nobody made fun of me at all. Aside from the one incident I had late last year (it wasn't anyone in this community, though they did have a DBZ character on their roster), I've had ZERO problems with this community. I may be annoyed at stuff I see on the dash, or at highly specific or miniscule things nobody else sees if I ever venture out of my safe bubble, but ... I never felt unwelcomed, excluding my beginning months (which was when I didn't understand Tumblr culture). That changed when I started following and talking to people seriously. Everyone, even the shy people have been nothing but sweet to me and you all still continue to be really sweet and kind to me, even going as far to remind me to take my time when I push myself too hard. DBZ wasn't my first anime (that honor goes to Magic Knight Rayearth, Sailor Moon and Rurouni Kenshin), but it was one of the most influential I've ever watched. Unlike most in the community, I have a tumultuous relationship with the series due to being bullied severely in my childhood/adolescent years. I wasn't "allowed" to like or enjoy it because I was a girl, and it was a boy's show, even worse, it was deemed "white people shit". (Yes, this was said to my face by kids my age).

It was so incredibly dumb and disheartening to never be able to enjoy things because I associated being liked with survival. And yet, I still found a way to enjoy DB in secret. I started with Kai reruns. As you all know, even though I started at the Saiyan Saga, it was the Trunks Saga that truly converted and changed me-- so much so that he's my favorite character hands down, even after all these years. I ended up finishing the entire series on an old computer I no longer have. The pirating website I was using had a little chatbox where people were doing script RP (aka they used asterisks and all that). I thought it looked fun-- so, I made an account, username and joined in. I was a female Saiyan character (because why wouldn't I?) and I discovered the world of RP that way; that's how I started. DBZ is why I'm here with you all. The cycle repeated again and all of my old RP partners were nowhere to be found when I logged in one day. I got bullied again (which deeply hurt and confused me) and verbally/emotionally harassed online until I changed my username and deleted the FC I was using (one of them even told me to uh, you know. Do the opposite of live). I searched online for other RP forums and found them; started on other sites until I found my way to Facebook. I learned I had a knack for describing things, and making wholly unique characters that breathed life into the series they were from. I found my home, you could say. I've been in many other fandoms, made good memories but the majority of them are unfortunately tainted with the cruelty and lack of compassion others had towards OCs, especially of the female kind. Even in the Naruto community years ago, I had been at the end of a "call out/ship-vent" post for something I had no control over (the situation was actually caused by the person who wrote it, worse of all).

When I RPed in the DB fandom on Facebook, the only things that happened were: people's feelings getting hurt when my villain OCs said something rude to their characters (I always, ALWAYS, warned the other person in advance just to make sure they were okay with it), and people (mainly male muses-- canon and OCs) trying to reform them through having crushes on them or being "nice" to them. Romance plots, basically, or hoping for it. Though the latter was sometimes annoying, I managed to have fun, still. (Funnily enough, it mainly happened to the Cyborg/'Android' OCs I had, and not my Saiyans). The former though, kept me away from writing any more villains/antagonists for a long time because I didn't want to harm someone or be the reason they had a bad experience with roleplaying. Quite some years ago, I abandoned it due to life responsibilities and all that. Had to focus on college. I've been doing this since middle school all the way up to high school. I'm 26 now. I've been roleplaying for 14 years. I started when I was 12, at most. That means I've been a fan of this series for that duration of time and even longer since I didn't know RP was a thing. Because of DBZ, I've had long distance relationships. Because of DBZ, I've discovered my passion of writing goes deeper than what I thought it did originally. I even discovered what fanfiction was, through RP. I met people in the past through RP that I've developed crushes on and went on to date online. Met my first cosplay community (when I started cosplaying), made friends with local anime-shop owners before they closed down for good. I had a freaking Future Trunks Funko at one point! And I donated it to the shop because I loved the owners so much that I wanted them to have what personally gave me joy. I tried to write Trunks at one point, tried to cosplay him at another, so on and so forth. As many downs I had being attached to this series, I had more ups-- and gods, were the ups so HIGH. So, I'm much more willing to work with the series and all of the IP, because the truth is, something keeps making me come back. And it sparks my enthusiasm.

I've been told since starting my blog that my enthusiasm is infectious and I'm glad it is, because the truth is: this enormous body of work deserves it. My enthusiasm is because of Toriyama. This blog is here because of Toriyama. No, seriously. He said we never got female Saiyans prior to Super because he never could settle on a design. Growing up, I've been told toxic things about this series (usually from my own ethnic group, immature boys and creepy, grown men), only to find out the dude struggled with indecision! He was just like me at the time-- a freaking panster! Talk about a relief! I belong here!! I've always belonged, as a female fan!! My Saiyans, whether in RP or fanfictions, were female for this explicit reason. Long story short, Maiz is here because he planted that seed. I just took it and ran. As you all know, Maiz originally came from a fanfiction herself but, her current personality, motives and goals came from another character. The version you're seeing and writing with was specifically tailored to the needs of the RPC-- a villainous female Saiyan (with huge amounts of much needed Saiyan lore backing her up). I created this blog with my decade long experience of writing in mind. I wasn't expecting much when my best friend Koji convinced me to try Tumblr RP. I was so jaded. I thank her so much because if she didn't, I wouldn't have refound my drive for this series. My neverending love for various aspects of DB would have just stayed between me and my close irl friends. I wouldn't have met any of you. I wouldn't be here at all, and neither would Maiz. I wouldn't be surrounded by beautiful, amazing people. I wouldn't be as motivated as I am to improve my writing and vocabulary. Just ... Gosh. You guys remember when I said I can't think of Trunks' backstory too hard/too long or I'll get sad and cry? Well. It's moved to "if I ever hear Heroic, Episodic or Heaven Sent Trunks, I'll get sad" now. Gotta laugh at myself a little somewhere. I'm getting better at being okay with being sad. Bare with me. The fact that he based my favorite character on the Terminator movies and Trunks existing was why I even got into sci-fi to begin with (Terminator, Total Recall, Stargate, Star Trek, etc), just makes everything I've been though with this series hurt that much more.

To make matters worse, the first time I ever wrote within the sci-fi genre WAS the fanfiction Maiz comes from. It was a rewrite of DB Super, starting with the Broly movie, so naturally I decided it should be a blend of that and Space-Opera. Sigh. Do you see what I mean? By why this all hurts? I wouldn't be here at all if I didn't take what Toriyama said about female Saiyans to heart. Being told I was taking this IP too seriously over the years has paid off. I'm glad I'm so damn stubborn and resilient. I'm glad I have tunnel vision. Others would've broken if they went through the bs I did. If I had to go get bullied for liking Trunks over Vegeta and Goku all over again, I'd do it knowing what I accomplish later down the road. (But you know, I don't need to be bullied again-- nobody does). There's much more I could say but I'll leave it here as I think this is a full explanation enough. Thank you, Akira Toriyama (and the editors) for the Trunks, Androids and Cell Sagas. I'm glad Western movies inspired you. Finally, thank you for existing.

#Tw death mention #tw death #OOC: Out of Limits #{{ I'm grateful to you Toriyama. Thank you so much. Just in case I didn't get the point across clearly enough. ;w;

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