#we all have the same brain worms besties

[dumbslxtclub]

you’re on your own, kid | e.m - part nine (bonus chapter)

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: we learn the root of eddie’s longstanding guilt as he navigates the crossroads of your relationship.

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 19, anxiety, angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, not beta’d

word count: 2.8K+

a/n: cheeky little bonus chapter for you!! wanted to give eddie his moment in all his angsty glory, big shoutout to my bestie @dickfics69​ for beta reading this one and working with me over zoom to flesh out these thoughts. hope you enjoy!

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog  @reidstea @sashaphantomhive  @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86  @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2​

↳  one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight  / nine / ten / eleven

Part Nine: You Sunshine, You Temptress

The door swings closed behind Eddie, and shock hits him like a freight train bulldozing through his momentary confidence. The warmth of your skin still lingering on his fingertips, the flushed-pink of your lips practically grazing his still imprinted in his mind. Heart pounding, hands shaking, and the faintest smile playing on his lips. Fuck. He wonders if he should celebrate or criticize his actions, but he’ll have time for that later.

Lucky for him, it’s hard to sift through the onslaught of thoughts flooding his brain over Squid’s vocal crying bouncing off the thin walls of the living room. He flicks on the near-by lamp, illuminating her still bundled-up figure in the crib, squirming around in the confines of swaddle.

“Hey, chunky monkey.” Hands outstretched, he places a hand behind her head to support her neck, worming his other hand to her lower back. Lifting her up and out, he quickly readjusts to rest her into a cradle position. With her head nestled into the crook of his elbow, he begins lightly tapping on her side and bouncing gently. “Shhh, let’s give your mom a quiet night tonight, yeah?”

Sighing, he makes his way to the couch, assuming the same spot the two had spent a majority of their shared night. Once comfortable, he runs a finger delicately along her rosy cheek, mouth wide open to release a plethora of screams at maximum volume. He traces along her chubby cheek, around her eye and across her eyebrow, lightly stroking the bridge of her nose. With this new contact, the tickle must be relaxing to her with the cries slowly weaning off. He’s learning to read her like a book, desperately flicking through the rolodex in his mind searching for what might calm her down. And so, he continues the motion with the corners of his lips still upturned as he studies her tiny face. Up and down, small circles, repeating the motion until her cries morph into coos and soft grunts. Eyes fluttering open, she takes in the faintly lit room around her. Eddie grins as he sees her big brown eyes, gazing up at the plaster ceiling with the occasional babble. 

“There she is.” Pulling his feet up onto the coffee table, his knees are faced skywards in a semi-supine position while he relaxes back into the cushions behind him. With a dramatic huff, as if Squid weighs a tonne, he maneuvers her into the groove between his legs. With her head nestled comfortably between his knees, face now eye line with his, he gives her sides a small tickling squeeze. “Couldn’t sleep, huh? Yeah, me neither.”

Although he’s positive she couldn’t identify him at barely six-weeks old, he feels his stomach backflip as her eyes bore into his with a sense of recognition. Familiarity. Safety. Her cheeky face lights up at the sight of him, shooting him a wide and gummy smile, nestling further into the comfort of her swaddle. 

And then, it hits him. She was crying because she just wanted to see him. 

His heart swells, letting out a soft exhale, pure affection bubbling in his chest and threatening to boil over. God, Eddie wishes he had Jonathan’s camera with him right now, wanting this image immortalized forever. Another picture to add to the pair taped in his locker, getting to see that smile every time he swung open the metal door. But simultaneously, he would not wish for anything to take him out of this moment, no desire to see the perfect image in front of him through a lens. It wouldn’t compare. Wouldn’t even come close. It’s like he’s meeting her for the first time over and over, intently examining her features. He can’t believe something could be so small. So new. So perfect. And, as much as he hates to admit it, he thinks she might be growing into her head. Time to think up new ways to get under your skin.

The two sit there, the faint hum from your fridge the only sound aside from Squid’s gurgling as her eyelids grow heavy, unable to fight off the call of sleep any longer. Her lips contort into an O-shape as she yawns, all the while Eddie runs the back of his forefinger along her chin. And, for the last time, her eyes catch a glimpse of Eddie’s before closing to the world, adequately settled once again. The pair sit in silence, Eddie taking to playing with her mess of hair as he waits for confirmation that he can put her back in the crib without waking her. There’s no doubt she’s Steve’s daughter with the amount of soft, brown hair adorning her head. He takes to mindlessly combing it with his fingers, first brushing it all to one side as a sort of comb-over. Unsatisfied, he brings all of the hair to the middle, smiling giddily as he clasps his hands together in an upward motion. He continues brushing her hair inwards, watching his creation come to life. The mess of hair takes the form of a mohawk, the world’s smallest metalhead sleeping peacefully before him. He chuckles to himself, giving her cheeks one final squeeze before carrying her back to the crib. 

There’s a particular chill to the mid March air, the promise of warmer days a luxury not yet granted to the town of Hawkins. Amidst the leaves kicked up by each breeze and the occasional cluttering of a metal can along the gravel, Eddie sits with his knees tucked to his chest. A moment of sheer solitude alone on the steps of your trailer, embers from his cigarette being prematurely carried into the wind. Nestled between his middle and forefinger, Eddie’s lips wrap around the filter, taking in a long drag of tobacco, allowing the haze of smoke to fill his lungs as it has countless times before. 

He’s not unfamiliar with the early hours, the eerie loneliness it brings to those few unfortunate enough to experience it. Intimately acquainted with the hues of gray and purple penetrating through the thin covering of lingering cloud forms, the view grounding him numerous times after waking from yet another nightmare depicting red skies and suffering. Images burned into his mind’s eye, inescapable and so tangible he feels he could reach out and touch them if he so desired. Breathe in the dense fog, allow it to coat his lungs with a thick layer of desperation. Wrap his fingers around Steve’s dirt-covered bicep, try helplessly to pull him to his feet. Press firmly into the wound carved deep into his abdomen to stop the waste of blood seeping out. Every night, no reprieve, reminded of what he didn’t do. 

Hands shake subconsciously as he once again returns the cigarette to his parted lips. It’s been the same story stuck on repeat like a broken record since the day the group returned without one member. The story that resulted in countless nights of lost sleep. The story no one is more desperate to believe than Eddie. 

He couldn’t bring himself to accept any other versions of the events, not with the implications they carry. And yet, day by day, his perfectly crafted web begins to collapse under the weight of new information. Carefully spun silk methodically weaved into a pattern of his choosing, now fracturing and threatening to break apart. How could he begin to explain it to you? And how could he ever expect your forgiveness once you knew the truth?

He wonders some days if it’s possible to be completely consumed by guilt, swallowing him whole and plunging him into a purgatory of his own creation. He should have told you. He should have told you the first night the group returned, at your trailer. Before he knew about Squid. Before he began to care. Before he grew attached.

There are facts, and then there are assumptions, hopes without tangible proof growing more and more likely to be true. Dustin and Robin were as bad as each other when it came to making mountains out of molehills, finding the smallest pattern in their daily lives and deconstructing it until they inevitably arrived at the same conclusion. With each speculation, Eddie grew increasingly more anxious, hoping to keep their conspiracies out of your earshot. But he couldn’t deny the mounting list of strange happenings. Robin’s recollection of the flickering lights in her home, divulged mere hours after Squid was born. Strapping the carrier to Eddie’s chest before running to a strangely familiar van sitting in the Hawkins supermarket parking lot, its occupants spent the day seeking her out. And then tonight, a frantic Dustin peddling his bike all the way to the trailer park, breathless and shaking as he announced the news before whisking Robin away. 

Owens found something. 

That was all the information Eddie had to work with at the moment, and he would love to say it was all he was privy to. Ignorance is bliss, and he was afflicted with too much knowledge. 

He allowed you to feel hopeless.

He encouraged the intimation that Steve was gone. 

He did all of this, knowing fully well that Owens had been looking for Steve since day one.

Guilt morphing into pressure, sinking him further into a dark sea of half-truths that should never have been spoken. Haunted by a pact made by the group, covered in the blood of others as they crawled out of the remaining gateway to a life now unfamiliar to them. He knew what he was getting into.

Shaking his head, he stomps his long since burnt-out cigarette butt to the ground. Eddie knew better than to let you in, to grow as attached to the pair of you as he’s become. His miserable existence is a movie, the ending of which he’s seen dozens of times before. A jangling of keys, a slam of a door, a scuffling of rocks under worn tyre. Everyone leaves, eventually. Yet, he can’t shake the feeling that he may be in too deep this time, finding pieces of you in the deepest recesses of his soul. Like children exchanging trading cards to complete their own collection, going out of their way to fulfill what the other lacked. He could have kept the first exchange civil, one acquaintance looking out for another during a time of need. Whose need was greater was something Eddie failed to consider. A burden in his childhood, unwanted by his parents and discarded at the first possible chance. A failure in his adolescence, rebelling against the status-quo and reducing himself to a portrait of what the world expected him to be. And at rock bottom, as he trudged along the gravel driveway of the trailer park he called home, gut heavy with culpability and survivor’s guilt. Plagued by his past, and hopeless for the future, he heard it. Your wails cut through the silence of the park, a physical manifestation of the despair looming in the night air. The kind of anguish that he has seldom vocalized, but is intimately acquainted with. Like a wounded deer on the side of the road, body weak with suffering and begging for mercy, he approached your door with an air of humaneness. Armed with only his innate sense of compassion, he comforted you from a distance, keeping his walls firmly in place. 

Walls that were being deconstructed brick-by-brick with every late return overlooked, every firm kick beneath tender skin, every soft exhale as sleep danced across your eyelids. His carefully constructed edifice of detachment now non-existent, uncomfortably open to the uncharted terrain that comes with emotional involvement. And he can’t help but fear that his intentions have turned self-serving, enjoying being at your beckoning call. Willing to crawl to the ends of the earth if it puts a smile on either of your faces. 

Selfish.

The week following Squid’s birth, Eddie picked up a shift at the auto-shop after reassurance that his presence wouldn’t be needed around the trailer. He planted his decade-old backpack at his feet before the metal lockers, clicking the combination he was assigned until the access was granted. From the front pocket, he rifled through until his fingers found the glossy paper of the fresh image. Securing adhesive putty to the four corners of the sheet, he mounted it in his locker beside the ultrasound, pressing it down firmly with his thumbs. A scuffle of boots on laminate flooring was followed by his co-worker’s cheery voice. 

“Look at that! Your girl had her baby, hm?”

Eddie spun around to the older man beside him, his wide grin openly displaying neglected and yellowing canines. 

“Oh, yeah. She did.” Eddie shuffled uncomfortably, wading knee-deep in the waters of the lie he’s created. The man scooted closer, studying the image. “Her name’s officially Audrey, but I’m still rooting for Squid.”

Bob (maybe Ed, who cares), face gruff with deep-set wrinkles in his crow’s feet, chuckles at the image. It’s not hard to imagine the image evokes memories of his own children’s births, kids who have long since moved away and now try to call once a month. 

“Congratulations, son. That girl looks like she’s got a good head on her shoulders." His oil-stained forefinger indicates to you, wide grinned in the hospital bed. Eddie smiles.

“Yeah, she sure does.”

“Take good care of ‘em, you’re a lucky fella.”

And with a squeeze on the younger boy’s shoulder, Eddie’s co-worker retrieves his lunch pail from his respective locker and pulls an old baseball cap over his balding head, bidding Eddie farewell. The two innocuously spoken words reverberate through his mind, heating his heart in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. 

Your girl. 

The dam breaks before Eddie is cognitively aware of it, suppressed emotions boiling over like an unwatched pot on the stove, neglected and unable to be further contained. Hot tears streak down his wind-burnt cheeks, hand quickly finding his mouth to stifle his untrustworthy exhales. He squeezes his sleep-deprived eyes shut, relishing in the burning sensation on his waterline. Every fiber of his body urges him to let out a scream into the quiet trailer park, as if that will absolve the heartache in his body. Instead, he resorts to choking out unsteady gasps of air between his tightly linked fingers, the steady stream cascading from his eyes along the grooves of his cheeks. He validates his greatest fear, allowing his guilt to overwhelm any self-love he granted himself. He didn’t deserve this, he didn’t deserve you. A boy in man’s clothes, playing house with the girl next door, as if that would make him feel whole. 

And it did. It made him feel needed. 

Wanted. 

Loved. 

He was quick to shut down your admission earlier, but still endures the aftermath of the shared sentiment. Sometimes, I’m glad he’s gone. What a fucking awful thing to think, let alone speak into existence. Of course, he felt no judgment when the words softly left your lips, understanding completely where you were coming from. But now, he can’t help but think of the implications should Steve return. And all will be right in the world. Squid’s dad will be back in the picture, something he always longed for her to have. A position he was happy to fill in the interim, now surely slipping from his grasp. What could have been, destined to exist as unlived dreams tucked into the bottom drawer of his mind. With all the love he has for the two of you, and he doesn’t know where to put it now. It’s too heavy to carry on his own. 

His gaze flickers to the temptation of the unoccupied trailer across from him, his bed empty and awaiting. 

Cold. Desolate. Lonely. 

The familiar comfort it brings, however solitary it may be. He was used to it. But after all he’s experienced, he’s not sure if he can go back to that way of living. His mind goes to the little girl, snuggled up in her crib, blissfully unaware of the plight around her. And you, wrapped up in cotton sheets and exhaustion, waiting for him to return through your slumber. How easy it would be to lay down next to you on the plush mattress, wrap his arms around you and hold you close to him as he longed to. To inhale the scent of shampoo lingering in your hair, press his lips to the nape of your neck, feel your warmth beneath his undeserving lips But, then again, how could he deserve such an unearned luxury?

Instead, he remains paralytic for a moment longer, occupying the space of limbo between his two comforts. A man destined to fail from the moment he was born, he cannot envision a scenario in which he is absolved of his guilt. 

His heartache. 

His love.

#eddie x reader #Dad!Eddie #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #pregnant!reader #singlemom!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader

[neonscandal]

Hello...just want to say, so happy !! Finally my best friend who is anti-shipping in shounen (and love to make fun of me because I have ships in every shounen that I watched/read), said that he can't find any het explanation for Gojo/Geto and Bakugou/Midoriya relationships...

Especially when I showed him your posts (that is based in canon and so true). Thanks for sharing your wonderful posts....

What do you think about JJK s2 op1 and ed1? I can't believe when I reas that the op is about geto from gojo's perspective (so romantic)....

OH ANON. HAVE I GOT SOME BRAINROT FOR YOUUUU. I've also noticed some of my older Satosugu posts are attracting attention and subsequently feel like I need to just list out all the most tragic things about them that I hold dear in a separate post because you've basically prodded a festering wound within me.

Re: Your last ask (maybe the same person?), I really only tried to focus on stuff that's already been animated because I try to avoid spoiling the fun for everyone. 🥹✨

It's hilarious that Gojo/Geto and Bakugou/Midoriya are the two relationships that stick out specifically considering their creators intently make them complements of one another.

Gege Akutami cited specifically that Gojo and Geto were designed to be a duo in an interview with Mandou Koboyashi (shout out to twitter user @/soukatsu_ or @soukatsu here as the real MVP for translating and adding further context for other fans). Fans seem to recognize their yin and yang design everywhere. There are countless salt and pepper shaker videos set to Ricky Montgomery's "Mr. Loverman" on tiktok, I'm positive. This is despite being marked by their dissonance.

Kohei Horokoshi has Bakugou and Midoriya recognized as two halves of the same whole by other characters in the story, most remarkably All Might who in many ways carves the deepest chasm(s) between them. The wax and wane of their unique development as individuals being integrally related is also something to note.

But this isn't unique to these two stories. I haven't even watched Naruto but know that Naruto and Sasuke serve as the sun and the moon to one another (literally within the story, their seals and by design/disposition) and I'm sure we could find this in other shows I haven't hyperfixated on haha

There's probably nothing new I can add to the MLM shipping discourse in shonen/seinen genres that hasn't been said, especially when it's been so eloquently broken down by IG user @/ariavelz. I also think there's a fair amount of queerbaiting in mainstream media and anime alike. Five seasons of Free! comes to mind...

Now the MUSIC!? In JJK? Bestie.

S1 already had me gagged with this brain worm. But, the fact that the song playing during Yuta and Rika's final moment in the fight vs. Geto and subsequently during the final moments Gojo and Geto share in that alley in JJK 0 was called "This is Pure Love"??? That's when I knew there were some Satosugu's on staff at Mappa. I don't think we need to dig into the parallels of how Yuta's fondness for Rika being the catalyst for her becoming a curse was the same way Gojo's fondness subsequently led to Geto's "comeback". Gojo, based on his experience at the time, said "love is the most twisted curse of them all" and time showed him just how twisted it really could be in season 2.

NOW THE OP!? It's just so lonely. Their cursed techniques being at odds with one another is so tragic, in a sense, and ultimately creates this divergence from one another. Geto, a genius of diligence, nobly consumes and sullies himself with the curses he has to imbibe like a martyr. Gojo, a genius of happenstance, is pristine. Born into privilege and untouched by the need to work hard or literally touch curses which Geto later grows to resent.

Meanwhile, Gojo's largely a product of isolation as imposed by his status and cursed technique and "Ao no Sumika" or "Where Our Blue Is" by Tatsuya Akitani waxes on about how, despite his best efforts, he could never reach Geto. The irony. As the story continues, we do, in fact, see that Gojo's never changed in the canonically affectionate way he regarded Geto. I think about this dissonance a lot. Literally, how did your Six Eyes miss that?

We could have shared everything. // Little by little since that day, // The curse of me being different from you grew thicker. The sorrow behind your smile, // All the way, I’ve regretted missing it. // To you, who bloomed and fell away as a fruitless flower, // Farewell. Our blue still lives, // Our blue is still clear. // No prayer or word could ever reach you, // No matter how close they could get to you. // In such a color as if it were a silent love, // Or as if it were a summer rolling down a cheek. // I’ve got a curse word for you stuck in the back of my throat. It is the unvoiced voice that says, // “We’ll see each other again, won’t we?” // Like star grains in an infinitely expanding galaxy, // Spilling through the gaps between my fingers

Now, I initially assumed the EP was from Gojo's perspective because Geto only seemed to smile in his presence (who's blushing face are we trying to see, afterall?). However, it is said to be from Geto's perspective and that, too, makes sense. Two viewpoints acting as bookends of the history between them.

I think what's sad about it is the way in which Gojo's POV is centered wholly on Geto, regardless of who or what he became; whereas Geto's perspective is more broadly applied to Gojo in part but also his own turmoil and moral dilemma.

Part of why Geto is thrown into such chaos is because of his inherently principled existence and yet, he is still the moon to Gojo's sun (Naruto, what are you doing heree?). Where Gojo always held a place for Geto, I think Geto assumed that his radicalization and subsequent defection marked a departure from Gojo because he was never really one to exist in shades of grey. Even if his impetus for this new society was ultimately to protect Gojo (and others like him) in the only way he felt he could.

Before my goodwill crumbles away, // I should have told you everything. // In a life descending and dissolving into the night, // Fuzzy emotions, a flickering light. With nothing to search for, love sways. // Living while concealing, // Hence, the moon is dark, head in flight. // Today, unable to go anywhere. // Sleeping, sleeping towards a brand new morning, // Loneliness under crying Though I understand a wounded heart // Why do I end up hurting and leaving the same scars? // Labeling it as ego, grouping it all together, // The true essence of you and me, burning transparently. Longing for change, but the feelings stay the same, // Only the form crumbles away, // Holding onto the hand of hope, your ghost Realizing that something seemingly everywhere // Exists only here, // In the trivial silence of the night. // Only I, residing in memories, awaken It exists only here. // I want to touch you, // Even with trivial conversations. // Show me your blushing face once more...

Pardon me, anon, while I burst into flames after reflecting on all this. 🫠

Edit: just adding this visual for everyone because SAME. 🥹

#neon asks #manga with me #manga with me jjk #we are the strongest #satosugu #stsg #jjk #jujustu kaisen #anime #manga #character analysis #shipping dynamics #shipping discourse #mlm #meta #jjk meta #meta analysis #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #suguru geto #geto suguru #gege akutami #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk brainrot #satosugu brainrot #satosugu angst

[chknbzkt]

Even more Ruin spoilers under the cut:

I had a massive brain moment about how Moon and Sun’s virus works, how it affects them both and how it’s managed to isolate them from the rest of the bots and each other!

I’m thinking back on Moon’s dialogue, just how spiteful and angry at Sun he is, it’s far more obvious than in Security Breach because he’s too busy to playing cat and mouse with Gregory to really elaborate further. And of course Sun is obviously Not pleased at the idea of letting Moon out at all, Moon clearly has a reputation for doing… something. Perhaps many somethings, who knows

But god, “no more light, no more Sun,” that’s far more forthright when it comes to the pure resentment that seems to have considerably worsened since SB. And the tables have finally turned, with Sun out in the same position of helplessly watching as his counterpart runs the show, powerless to change much save for the occasional lapse in control when Moon is flashed with a sufficiently strong light source (alternatively, the VANNI mask lets you approach the DA as a whole even while unfettered so long as you don’t take it off, and Sun is clearly stuck in alternate reality while Moon is off his entire rocker).

That constant loop. The Daycare Attendant isn’t just one entity, it’s two (now THREE but that comes after the fact). The Vanny Virus can’t just aim for one at a time, the other can take over and possibly fix them both.

So it had to get creative. Turn them against each other.

First it chose Sun, actually.

I am fully in the ballpark that Sun is also infected, he’s just affected in a way that isn’t straight up aggressive physically, but rather behaviorally. It starts out subtle. Heightened awareness but with an added touch of robo-anxiety and a strange new penchant for poking and prodding at people out of mistrust. It’s a slippery slope that gives way to an avalanche further down the line, you’ll see.

It chose Moon’s head to gradually worm it’s way into next, seizing him at opportune moments during naptime all of a sudden and retreating just as fast so he couldn’t retaliate and right himself. Build Moon a reputation as the dark and scary one, which he sadly already had even before his infection. Lean into it. Make it worse.

It’s hard to explain yourself and your actions to the increasingly testy bestie that literally lives inside your head when the thing causing you to act this way falls away and leaves you wondering if you really did intend on dropping little Darla from the balcony into the ball pit. The virus weeds into your mind and makes you feel okay with doing things you never would have otherwise.

But of course, that’s when the virus starts really amping up and finding ways to make Sun feel justified in his flimsy convictions and eventually plunge off the deep end into a spiral of conspiracies and unhinged ramblings. It ends up being horrifyingly effective when coupled with Moon’s rapidly deteriorating mental state.

He’s a thousand times more volatile and very quick to sever trust, Gregory my guy didn’t even do anything and my man Sun is pointing fingers to find someone, something, ANYTHING to blame for things going wrong around him he’s just that paranoid and out of his gourd.

That’s how the virus got him. Severe mania and trust issues out the wazoo. He’ll be cordial and nice sure thing, but you Must. Obey. His Rules. No exceptions. Even if you don’t technically do a thing wrong, if anything bad happens, Sun is quick to jump to the corkboard laden with sticky notes in his brain and somehow find somebody to pin blame on, regardless if the justification has any weight 💀

There is no three strikes with Sun. You get one (1) ☝🏽 chance, that’s it.

I also realized something really sad… how long prior to Security Breach had Moon been locked away inside Sun’s head? And how much longer after we turn the lights back on, at least until he breaks free again come Ruin? Idc how far gone you are under the Vanny Virus, being held a prisoner inside your own mind cannot possibly be good for the brain box

But the thing is… Sun thought in his virus-addled state that what he was doing was good for both of them. It’s only a matter of time before Moon straight up kills someone acting more and more Like That, so at some point one of Moon’s ‘mishaps’ ends up being the straw that breaks the camel’s back and he goes out of his way to ensure Moon can’t hurt anyone anymore. Nevermind that Moon needs him more than anyone at that point in time.

That’s how the negative feedback loop started. The Vanny Virus made them hate each other, and slowly but surely enlarged the rift between them.

And things escalate the longer the DA goes unchecked.

Sun is terrified for his counterpart, but also for himself. The virus takes advantage of that by giving him this holier-than-thou complex that makes him feel absolutely sure things are better this way, he knows best, Trust No One, they could get scrapped after all! He’s protecting them. He’ll do anything to keep them safe.

Moon is further pressed upon by the virus, unmitigated by Sun’s former assurances and comforting presence as he recedes, ravaged by the virus and eventually becoming the monster the kids (and now Sun ffs) believes him to be. He’s so cripplingly lonely and antsy locked inside their mind. He yearns to be free, he’s angry he’s being pointedly ignored, and come Ruin he’s determined to show Sun how alone and isolated he’s felt for months (maybe longer!!!!)

I have Thoughts about Ruin’s portrayal of Eclipse, but it’s clear that they are brand spanking new to the DA’s shared body and mind, so they get a separate post,,

-

I hope this post reads well, I’ve cut and pasted things and moved so much shit around that I fear readability is out of the question, but this has been in my drafts for days and I neeeed somebody to see the inner machinations of my mind on that daycare bitch, ok

#ruin spoilers #fnaf ruin spoilers #fnaf security breach #fnaf ruin #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #bzkt spkz #IVE CONNECTED THE DOTS #IVE CONNECTED THEM #GRAGHHHHHH

[the-blue-marshmallow]

Wolfstar hand kisses

Here I am again with the worms. Enjoy this thing, whatever this is.

Also, a little competition(?). There is a certain typo in the text that is very much intentiomal and is a result of me and bestie being sleep deprived at like three in the morning. Those, who will find it and comment, get my eternal love (and a cookie).

Remus Lupin would like to call himself a reasonable man. He would also say he had immaculate control of himself, considering his many years spent dealing with his unfortunate lycanthropy. Remus rarely got distracted from his goals, he also wasn't too quick to anger. The teen was usually the brains of their pranks, quick to make up lies to cover their mischief. But so help him god almighty, he would lose his mind tonight.

Sirius Black, the inarguably most desired man of their year, was currently laying on Remus’s bed and twirling his wand between his long and thin fingers. He was reading his herbology book, probably studying for the upcoming test that loomed over the Marauders’ heads.

-Hey, Remy? - his voice was an innocent sing song as the teen pulled Remus’ attention to him. The taller man hummed in response. - Did you know that Asphodel is part of the lily family?

of course he knew. He was already done studying for their test, so it would be obvious to him. That, however, didn’t mean Sirius needed to know that.

-Oh, really? That’s interesting. - Ouch. He sounded tired, more than usually. It was only a few days after the last full moon and his voice was still hoarse.

-Yeah, I know. We should give Lily Asphodels for her next birthday. Maybe she could dry them and use them in her potions. - Sirius’ eyes twinkled prettily in the warm light of their room and for a moment Remus forgot how to make air move into his lungs.

Remus smiled at his dear boyfriend with a gentle look in his eyes.

-Why not. Just remember to order them a couple days before so we won't have to steal them from the greenhouse, okay? 

Sirius only nodded with that wide grin he got when he was excited about something and went back to his textbook. He started twirling his wand between his long fingers again. A shiny ring that Remus has never seen before catches his attention.

-Is this one new? - he wrapped his fingers around Sirius’ own and pulled his hand closer. Sirius dropped the wand on the bed and scooted closer, resting his chin in his palm.

-Yup. Pandora made it. She found the rock last Saturday when we went to the lake for a picnic, remember? - Sirius sounded awfully proud of the shiny ring. That wasn't an unusual thing for him. He loved showing off the things his friends made for him or gave him. Sometimes he reminded Remus of a bird, making a little nest on his bed. He would pile all of the shiny things in a very specific spot that would be the same without fail every time it was stocktaking time. He would pull Remus next to the bed and show him every single rock, ring, piece of glass or can tab. Sirius was very fond of stealing the tabs on the cans his friends had. Sometimes he would be so quick with it they wouldn't even notice when he took them. 

-Mhm, i do.

Remus gently took the ring off and looked it over, observing every detail. He put it on the bed with the most gentle move he could muster through the shaking of his hands. 

He slowly removed every ring from Sirius’ pretty fingers and put them in that spot. He rubbed the spots they revealed. Sirius’ skin was so much softer than his. Where Sirius was all soft lines and thin skin that was awfully smooth (probably from the cherry hand cream he was fond of so much), Remus was rough skin and scars. His hands were bigger, sturdier, more square. Remus’ skin was covered in tiny scratches and scars almost constantly. Sirius would say it was his anemia, Remus would every time try to convince him it was actually just bad luck. Sirius’ fingernails were perfectly manicured almonds with trimmed cuticles and sometimes even a shimmering nail polish. Remus’ nails were more square and rarely kept in a state that maybe stood next to presentable (it was usually when Sirius insisted on doing his nails with him. Remus liked it very much. He would disappear you quicker than James catches a snitch if you ever told anyone that.). 

When all the rings from Sirius’ fingers were securely laying in their little spot on his bed (why Sirius always demanded to do the showcasing on Remus’ bed was lost to him (he learned a long time ago to not think about Sirius’ life decisions)) he pulled his hand closer to his face.

-Your hands are really pretty.

Remus’ voice was a soft rumble as he turned his hand this and that way, observing his skin. Sirius smiled and his expression melted instantly. Damn that observant bastard. Maybe Sirius played dumb most of his life to get people to do things for him, but he was far from stupid. He had two perfectly working (and looking) eyes and he knew how to use them. Right now those eyes told him that the cold of the early autumn night got to Remus and his bones were aching. He would probably have to take out his cane soon.

-Are they? - Sirius cooed at him softly. He let Remus have this moment and enjoyed the rare softness his dear boyfriend was showing him right now. 

Remus rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless.

-Yes, they are.

He pressed the softest kiss imaginable to Sirius’ wrist, holding his hand gently in his own trembling grip. He moved up, pressing little kisses higher and higher, over his wrist and palm. He stopped at the spot where his fingers started and turned Sirius’ hand over. He kissed his prettily pink knuckles and moved down. Around his thumb, on the back of his hand, over that one vein that always seemed to be there, nicely protruding from under his thin skin, his lips made their journey already engraved in his soul.

He tried fixing his grip on Sirius’ hand but hissed and let go completely.

-Remy? Are you okay? - Sirius’ awfully sweet voice hit his ears. There were suddenly thin fingers gripping his own in a gentle touch that made him want to weep.

-Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little achy from the cold.

They both knew it wasn't fine. The aching always started in his knuckles and then spread to his wrists, elbows and everywhere. Sirius decided one winter to knit him gloves and then have Lily, the lovely woman that she was, enchant them permanently with a warming spell. Although Remus’ hands got too big for them and the charm faded, he still always kept them in his trunk, safely tucked among his treasures.

-Well, if you say you’re fine, then you’re fine.

Remus knew Sirius wouldn’t drop it. He never did. He would find some sneaky way to make him feel better, just like he always found a way to get Remus to tell him he loved him.

-I think your hands are pretty, too. They’re the prettiest necklaces.

Sirius had a serious (no pun intended) look on his face but broke after only a second under Remus’ gaze and started giggling wildly. The sound tugged on Remus’ heart painfully. Call him a masochist, but he was happy for this pain.

-Okay, okay. But seriously, they are pretty. Because they’re yours.

Sirius started rubbing his knuckles in a completely not suspicious way. He picked up his wand, not suspicious, muttered something, also not suspicious, and tucked the wand into his bun. Remus felt heat spread over his fingers, Sirius’ rubbing only making the heat rise and melt deeper into his aching fingers.

He huffed out a breath but let Sirius do his thing, knowing how important this little ritual was to his dear boyfriend. And okay, maybe having the absolute prettiest person on the planet rubbing his aching knuckles gently while rambling about which crystals were the prettiest wasn't so bad after all. But you wouldn't catch him saying it.

And then, unfortunately for Remus’ poor heart, Sirius leaned down, held his trembling hands in his own and started pressing gentle kisses to every single knuckle on all ten of his fingers. Remus grumbled and tried pulling his hands away.

-No, Remy. Please let me. I wanna do this for you. - Sirius looked at him with the prettiest eyes in the universe and something in Remus crumbled. - If not for you, let me do it for me. I like to keep my jewelry in good shape.

He slowly relaxed his hands and let Sirius do his thing. His touch was gentle, like any pressure would cause him pain (which was actually probable, just not now. It got worse the colder it was, and during winter even holding a pen or squeezing his fingers together was just too much). The warmth seeped into his bones and spread through his body. The stress of the fool moon, annoyance over his slowly slowing down bones and anger over the whole world really, because why were there so many things that annoyed his dear boyfriend and why couldn't he fix them right now, slowly seeped away. His head started dropping and it was hard to keep his attention on Sirius.

-Hey, Remy? Let’s go to sleep. We can shower in the morning.

Remus quickly gathered Sirius into his arms and laid them both under the blankets, securely pushing Sirius’ lean body into his chest and wrapping his own long limbs around him. Right before and right after the fool moon the wolf in him would get possessive of Sirius and the only way Remus could sleep was with his painfully familiar body held in his arms. 

He sighed happily into Sirius’ lavender smelling hair (because of course Sirius would give up his painstakingly crafted hair care routine just to use the shampoo that least irritated Remus’ sensitive nose around the full moon) and squeezed him tighter. The warmth of Sirius’ body pressed into his own seemed to soothe his perpetually cold and aching limbs and slowly lulled him to a deep sleep, uninterrupted by pain or nightmares.

#wolfstar #marauders #marauders era #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #not beta read we die like me rn #this was made for one (1) person

[fox-guardian]

So 1) info dump me on the stoker swap au plz. Share the shenanigans. The drama. The Memes. And 2) Is the time travel au done for? I started following you for your art for that ages ago, and I honestly wouldn't blame you for not doing it if you didn't want to, but I've kinda been holding out hope to maybe see an update on that? Please? 3) Your Version of Danny my beloved

I'm gonna answer these in reverse

3) thankies he means so much to me <3 I'm rotating him in my brain regularly <3

2) I don't wanna say it's "done for" but it is definitely on the backburner. I had wanted to rewrite it since the show ended to rework a few things. Ultimately it'd be the same story, but in more of a "somewhere else is the past" type of thing. I may not finish writing the fic, especially since I write So Much but not very often so it makes it hard to want to rewrite a fic that already has 30k words and not much has happened yet plot-wise, but I may still make art/comics for it. Or even post what I currently have anyway if anyone would want that. But idk if it'd be worth it rn since there's so little plot. We shall see.

I do still think about it often, though.

1) YEEHEEHEE

In my brain I'm already on s3 and trying to figure out how all that would work out since Sasha being alive (because danny saves her with the power of the buddy system) changes things if you can imagine. Like a butterfly effect, so many things are now changed. But I still want Jon to run from the cops so leitner needs to die, but that'll be hard to initiate if Jon isn't running from not!sasha.

God I can't wait to get to the archive era. I'm still writing research, but hopefully I'll be done establishing everything I need to in a couple chapters and I'll be able to timeskip to Jon's promotion. I'll probably have to cut a few things out of the main fic but know that I WILL make stuff for them anyway, like a spin-off fic with missing scenes and whatnot or comics. I just REALLY want Jon and Danny to infiltrate a drag show for followup reasons with Danny as a drag queen and Jon as his little buddy/assistant/whatever, but I don't think that'll fit into the main fic aksjsksjd If I wrote every little field work adventure I want them to go on I'd never finish it.

I also can't wait for Tim to meet everybody. He's gonna become besties with Sasha so fast. He is GOING to adopt Jon. He's going to be Normal about Martin most likely. And he is GOING to punch Elias in the face AT LEAST once.

And wtgfs.... ough. I can't wait for Danny to meet Melanie because I already had him make a GHUK reference and I just. I can't wait to write that. He's gonna be normal I think. And Georgie and the admiral.... oguohugoh

Also I love Danny. I do. But I can't wait to cause him pain <3 he's gonna get so very wormed and also kidnapped <3

#fg's answers #asks #the magnus archives #tma #stoker swap au #tma time travel au #i think that was my tag for it

[river-ocean]

River, bestie, from the OTP questions, 57!!!!!! and if you wanted to illustrate it with a short drabble, listen, who am i to complain about it (of course about piarles)

sol you're literally my fic manager you shouldn't be encouraging the brain worms

57. Who is the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart?

They're terrible at grocery shopping. They always promise to make a list for the next time they go, but they never follow through with that promise. They go in with a vague idea of what they need, and constantly have to pull up emails from their trainers about what they're supposed to be eating.

Charles tries to make a plan when they walk in to the store. They get a shopping cart, and he puts on his best serious face and looks to Pierre.

"We will be efficient today, Pierre. We just need to get enough to get us through until Wednesday since we will be traveling anyway," he says to his boyfriend.

"Sure, Charlo. We'll be efficient," Pierre smirks. He knows this shopping trip is not going to be efficient, but he'll humor Charles.

"Should we start with produce?" Charles asks, and Pierre gestures for him to lead the way.

It seems like it's going well until they get to the apples. Charles squints at the tags on the apple kiosk, reading off the names to Pierre and debating the merit of the different varieties. Pierre just grabs a bag and picks out the ones that look the best. He's less concerned with the variety and more concerned with making sure they're not bruised. Charles walks off and starts looking at the bagged salads. There's probably a bag at the back of their fridge from the last trip here.

The next aisle is cereals and muesli and granola, and Charles is immediately overwhelmed. It's the same grocery store they always go to and nothing has changed but it's like he's stepping into a grocery store for the first time every time they come here. Pierre walks down the aisle and just grabs the things they normally get and tosses them in the cart.

Charles gets ambitious and decides they're going to have a steak dinner at some point this week.

"For what, Charles?" Pierre asks.

"To celebrate...making it to the halfway point of the season!" he decides.

Pierre would've agreed irrespective of Charles' reasoning.

But a steak dinner means they need to go back to the produce section to get the proper accompaniments for a steak dinner, and the cycle repeats itself until they have an assortment of produce that they'll have to get creative with to use up before Wednesday, dry goods that will thankfully be fine when they get back, and two steaks to celebrate making it to the halfway point of the season.

Charles complains about how many bags they have to carry and how heavy they are. Pierre thinks about all of the things he's going to have to cook before Wednesday.

They find the bagged salad at the back of their refrigerator when they're putting away this week's groceries.

#sol lets me get out the brain worms sometimes #piarles #piarles ficlet #otp ask game #f1 rpf

[jmdbjk]

They are fine.

Rest easy, they are busy either enjoying a little time off OR working their asses off OR possibly a little of both: work hard/play hard, that’s a good mantra.

I know there’s a lot of fictional drama on the timeline and whatnot...you have to trust me and just ignore it. Jimin and Jungkook are fine. Trust them.

It has only been a little over two weeks since we’ve seen them. And JK popped into Insta to say hello the other night. Be patient. 

Think about it: he has mentioned Jimin each time he was answering questions on his instagram stories. Just like during a V Live when 45 million comments are streaming by as the V Live is going on, I promise you, JK had 45 million questions to choose from. Ok, maybe 45 million is an exaggeration, but he HAD A LOT! He chose to say something about Jimin when the opportunity arose. 

"But he also said the same thing about Tae the last time,” you say?

Yes, he did. Think about that. How many ridiculous things do you think he had to read through about Tae (from the cult) to finally see one that wasn’t stupid to comment about? 

It was one that was identical to the one he answered regarding Jimin. Which he answered first. If the one he answered about Tae proves something, what does it prove? Then all the ones he answered about Jimin proved much more. If the ones he answered about Jimin are fan service, then so was the one about Tae. 

I’m gonna tell you this, Jungkook’s not into fan service. In fact, none of them do it. They have been wayyyy past that point for years and years. Jungkook is allowed to say stuff about his bestie, Tae, and mean it.

They play around on stage, they play around off-stage. Because they want to, because they like to have fun with each other, tease each other. Especially Jimin and Jungkook. They have fun at work, then they go have fun after work. GOOD FOR THEM! 

Judging from Jimin and Jungkook’s behavior while they were in Las Vegas, from what we saw with our own eyes on V Lives and during the concerts as well as several first hand stories from workers at a restaurant of them being together after hours, to watching Jimin wait in the car for Jungkook at the airport after landing in Seoul...THEY ARE FINE! Don’t worry. Don’t start doubting. Trust them.

During these lulls, the worms start crawling out of the woodwork and start trying to dangle their twisted ideas in front of everyone, especially dragging up stuff they’ve twisted from 5, 6, 7 years...A LONG TIME AGO, because that’s all they have and especially lately, their made up stories are getting shot full of holes BY JUNGKOOK AND JIMIN THEMSELVES!! Honestly, I can’t wrap my brain around those idiots and their intense desire to be stupid. Just ignore them.  

Trust the guys, we will see them again soon. We will see behind the scenes, we will see V Lives, we will see lots of stuff. Trust them. 

#jikook #kookmin #minkook

[vvanessaives]

i have the brain worms bc of that post yesterday and now i can't stop thinking of ves/nix wedding so

they are going to steal the wedding dress. fenix is like i want my baby to look beautiful :)) and vesper is like i don't even like dresses. so they show up to some kind of fancy shop, fenix sees the price tags and needs to sit down. decision was made that they are going to steal all their wedding clothes.

wedding favors and confetti are A MUST. FENIX WANTS the few little guests they have to receive a little gift world be all dammed. i have no idea how confetti are called in english and its probably impossible they would find those little confections anywhere so they will need to switch to anything else, a little smth sweet for the good wishing. favors are another problem, what should they offer? i absolutely want that to be smth funny, smth ugly too, the thing i wish for isn't coming to me rn so i'll need to think more about but i just know it needs to be trash

also just bc it's extremely funny: serenade tradition. just fenix + daniel & nader singing terribly some kind of romantic song to vesper but ofc they are so bad at that. vesper wants to disappear and die

i mentioned italian wedding meals in that post. buffet / two primi / two secondi / fruit / cake. all of this from 2pm to fucking 11pm even. since they have so little guests it's not a big deal and nader's mom can cook perfectly well so she will care about that. ves & nix fighting over what they are going to eat, nix wants risotto with seafood (so true bestie me too) ves doesn't like seafood and she wants smth like fuckin carbonara. nix is losing his mind bc YOU DON'T GET IT I'M SOUTHERN ITALIAN A WEDDING WITHOUT FISH IS AN INSULT. so true bestie 2.0. thank god there are 2 choices...

tradition would want that the mothers would take care of things like bridal trousseaus, buy the bouquet and the veil for the bride and so on so forth but ofc...we don't have them here. generally it's missing that sweet little gestures of family going "i will buy this for your wedding" so daniel & company will do their best to take that role

also i said panam is the bridesmaid and daniel is the best man and lore wants that these two are the ones that should give THE BIGGEST gift to the newlyweds. panam gets away with it easily and gifts smth sweet, smth her and ves share memories about even. daniel is losing his mind. he's like WHAT THE FUCK i'm supposed to gift to these fuckers i am BROKE. and he probably thinks to give them like...a coffee machine? and he's thinks he got away with it until nader tells him he bought a car for them (hes lying to mess with daniel) and daniel loses his mind again

first dance as married couple....sobbing my eyes out on this one, probably vesper would scream at all the guests to turn around and don't look at them bc she's embarrassed. song is going to be almeno tu nell'universo by mia martini bc i have the power here and bc song is 1. beautiful 2. words feel like a wedding vow itself. "you know, people are weird / first they hate each other and then they fall in love" (<screaming ves/nix a lot here and it's literally the first words of the song) "you, you who are different / at least you in the universe / you will not change / tell me that you will always be sincere / and that you will really love me". literally no english word can express the raw emotion this song has it makes me lose it

also first dance with ur parents..we don't have this one either. daniel is going to dance with vesper like he is their dad and i'm not crying this is just sweat i swear. that would be embarrassing so they are probably just messing around but it's a sweet moment

my fave thing ever: when you get married here you get on your car and go honking everywhere in the city, just loudly making noise sometimes with some of your friends following u and doing the same thing. universal italian signal that someone got married. i'm making them do this too who cares. imagine the damn mess they would make, i love this

so many brain worms i have i think i'll just write this fic FUCK

#rena.txt #i'm like planning an italian wedding this has me euphoric AKDJSKDK and i didnt even get to the part of the ceremony itself...GOD I NEED TO #WRITE THIS FIC I ABSOLUTELY NEED TO. HEALING.

[inkburnt]

I’m Not Scared

One-shot inspired by a creepy but fantastic little audio clip made by my bestie @featherburnt. The brain worms were ravenous. I think this is going to be the first of many I write, taking place in the Silent Hill-like setting of a perpetually work-in-progress collab fic we gush madly about. Posting it here first before I decide if it should go on AO3 at all. :x Enjoy some hopeless boys.

Fandom: Devil May Cry Teen–Mature // M/M // Words: 3,438 Characters: V, Garrett (male OC belonging to @featherburnt) Relationship: V/Garrett Warnings & tags: V is not part of Vergil, V’s name is Vitale, horror themes, ghost towns, fear Ship & series: Love and Harmony Combine

——————————

"Garrett, come here." 

The violet glow of the cane threw a small but appreciable light over the spines of binders he couldn't really read. But these were collections of records given the dates written and the uniformity of the labels that bore the same handwriting. Coming to a dress shop was as useless an effort as it was attempting to read a language he did not know, but still he pulled a binder from its nook; and dust that had settled for decades was suddenly disturbed, and thickly took to the air only for V to blow it away from his face. He grimaced when he succeeded in causing it to whirl largely in place. With his mate joining his side as reliably as always, he passed the thing to Garrett's hands. "There are more just like this," he explained, "and the dates descend." He held his cane above the binder for its light. V watched him turn it over, open it, skim through the pages.

"It's just for bookkeeping," Garrett revealed, unimpressed, "nothing useful." 

"This shop must have been in business for quite a while." V wasn't any more interested in that than Garrett was, as they both had been searching for information beyond profits and losses. The kind that may give them some clue. Mannequins left standing and dressed were the last remaining evidence of an era passed, its fashions outdated. A relic, this place, and something that better deserved to be preserved and admired by posterity than to sit here forgotten and wasting away. V found fashion magazines and catalogs laid out over a table and spared the time to flip through some, and he was ever gentle in his handling of old things as he slowly turned page after page. On fading photographs, the violet light cast an unusual tinge.

He did not enjoy being here: the dress shop was one of several sites they had come to, and each one worsened V's opinion of Goussainville Vieux-Pays on the whole. The plane crash had not been responsible for the decline in air and atmosphere, the deterioration of things and areas away from the site that had almost appeared organic, bodily. Decay was an odor V could not put out of his olfactory nerve since he had set foot here. The sounds of modern planes passing overhead were nonexistent—impossible, when a large airport operated just outside the village. Ghost towns were not this dead. Garrett had done a fine job of finding this one. Maybe too good a job.

Dulled footsteps and flipping pages were the only sounds heard for what felt like miles. V knew the former came from somewhere behind him. "If only we could find that boy. He knows more than he's told us. I feel we were wrong to let him slip through our fingers. There is something unnatural here." He thought it was his fault the teenager had gotten away from them. The only living soul encountered since setting foot in the village, and there was no way to know where to find him now. V had begun doubting what he'd seen and heard when they first crossed paths, fearing tricks of the mind—or tricks of the dead. But wasn't that paranoia on its face? Oh, this place was beginning to take its toll. 

That there were dead here was no question; that they haunted this land was certain; that they reached out to V was, unfortunately, a fact. At the very least, he could gather that they were sorrowful but refused to take it out on him. Still, to assume that whatever was wrong with the village was due to their presence would be an impulse borne of ignorance. V could honestly say nothing had been further from the case. Ghosts were remnants of human life, human in their own way, and though the village was brought into being by human hands and inhabited by human lives, the very last vestiges of humanity had long abandoned it, its ghosts bound here by supernatural laws and their own melancholy. They affected little to nothing within the village.

Here, there was something invasive and dark, eclipsing all the rest. 

In all this silence, V felt almost unwelcome. He poked and prodded where he had no right, and if he were any more mad he may claim the place was rejecting him for that. But pages turned, the light of his cane was revived when it died, and his nerves fared no better now than they had on first hearing the boy's warning. On alert, high alert, and he had four demons at his side to pounce the second the alarm went off.

The waste in pointlessly browsing fashion catalogs made itself apparent when V grew bored with it, but a part of him, and a large part in fact, preferred this to facing the soupy, impenetrable fog that lingered beyond these walls. It had been thinner earlier in the day, or so he imagined. The Eiffel Tower had been visible beyond the village borders, hazily yet unmistakably before the horizon. But in recent hours, with the descent of the sun, he thought he’d lost sight of it entirely. He needed only to glance out the windows to know how hopeless an endeavor it would be to navigate the ruined streets under all the gray cover. So he flipped more pages, exhaled his boredom—a clever mask for nerves. Leave it to his mate to come to his rescue, who had an arm to bring around V's waist. “Garrett, I’m fine.” It should have gone a ways in comforting him, but he was put off entirely by this village saturated with grief and an element that was sinister. Did it show that plainly, to Garrett, even in the dark? V thought he’d been masking it better than that. It did not help matters to sense that what should have been warm flesh was hard plastic pressing into his right hip. 

V looked to his left to see Garrett, but he jumped out of his skin when he didn't see him and gasped in something like abject terror. In pulling to the side, the arm on him caught tighter and it sent V into a primal fit of panic; and his cane landed desperate blows on the thing to beat it away, and he was freed only for his back to meet something heavy when nothing had been there before. He whipped around to lambaste the second horror and had nothing short of a panicked yell for his fate. A warm hand caught his arm before he could find his freedom by way of a serious beating, and in his surprise he released the cane from his useless hand, its clatter ignored but its violet light missed in the dark.

He feared for his life, hissed his rejection of the thing that seized him, he knew nothing but the rush of blood in his ears and the eyes and nose and mouth that sized him up. And he almost instantly reeled as he stood rigid, completely unaware of the tears in his wide, fearful eyes. He came within an inch of whaling on Garrett.

Resistance coming from muscles turning to jelly was only a product of instinct. Shaking lips parted but no sound escaped. V heard a voice call his name, or he heard something, anyway. His mind was in severe disarray and it barred all reasonable thought. Large, green eyes stared too long at a face he wasn’t sure he remembered—until, in the seconds that passed, he realized no harm or horror was coming. His name was repeated, a human arm came about his back, and calming words that had been filtering into his brain were finally beginning to hold sway. It proved enough. He wouldn't have spun around to look behind him for that thing that had grabbed him earlier if he wasn't assured of the man arresting him now. That was Garrett, thank heaven. V remembered his grip, the sound of his worry, the faintest trace of smoke, of course he did. This small confidence was enough to let V lean into him, but very much in a state of flight as his eyes kept wide and trained on the darkness behind him, expecting a horror to drag him back. Comforting assurances were heard above his ears, barely above the sounds of his own haggard breathing. And with them, an orange glow in the murk, a flame held out. Like so much the child who hid their head beneath the covers, V wanted to close his eyes and will it all away; but he heard nothing monstrous, saw nothing alive, felt stillness all around. Dying violet light mixed with smearing tears obscured his sight, but he allowed Garrett's protective pull that brought them even closer. In darkness was danger, so V could only think to grab onto the thing that gave him security.

"V, it’s just a mannequin." 

Garrett had comforting strokes for his back, but as much as V felt like a fool, he also thought his mate was wrong. No doubt about what he saw now by fire light, but that gave him no sizable comfort. The fiberglass, lifeless human shape before his eyes was in fact fiberglass and lifeless, and displayed no fashion, and somehow remained standing after receiving blows V was certain should have dropped the thing to the floor. He could not have been mistaken about what sent him into a panic. He was touched with intelligence. That scared him. "I felt it move. It touched me.”

"You could have bumped it."

"No. Nothing was around me." The uncanny likeness to a human face, with painted eyes and lips, inspired more discomfort than a clothes rack, a tree branch, or a garbage can ever could. He hated the human in the nonhuman. Studying the mannequin’s face and form only discouraged him from looking at it any longer, so he turned away and shut his eyes now that he knew no beast or ghoul would try to take him from here. If he had been in danger, his familiars would have known the way they always did, and they would have peeled from his body to assail the thing that aimed to bring him harm—and for that, he knew they needed no permission. Did that suggest his reaction was baseless? That he was wrong for privately accusing his mate of exercising rationale? None of that held any water so long as he remembered what he had felt, assumed what that meant to him, and he was aware that the entity at fault remained among them. No comfort in any one of those thoughts. What could he do but bring his face to Garrett's neck, and try to contain the collapse of his nerves while he had his moment. He only breathed while Garrett pulled him closer with the two arms necessary to soothe him.

How could something so stupid scare him so badly? There had always been worse, and he laughed in its face when his odds were poorer. Oh, the humiliation and all of its implications, and he loathed it. 

Part of cowering went into recovering composure. At least Garrett would never tease him over things like this, and he was ever sincere in the way he would soothe his mate and offer every protection. Until now, V hadn't realized that his hands were like hooked talons, grasping at Garrett's jacket like they belonged to a threatened animal. But there was life in lifelessness, or at least a level of sentience that knew what it was doing. There was intent in inanimate limbs, a defined goal, a reason for movement and for touching V. If it was only to frighten him, to push him out of the shop, it may yet be satisfied. The desire to stay here had evaporated in an instant.

Right now, Garrett’s preoccupation lied with comforting him, so while he allowed V his time to gather his wits, massaging his back was the second-best thing Garrett could do. He pressed his lips to the top of V’s head for a subtle peck. “It’s okay. I gotcha.” The shame of it was that Garrett hadn’t been there the moment V sprang from the danger. He’d only caught the aftermath, and even then, he couldn’t see what V was seeing: he couldn’t see the harm the mannequin posed to him, logically speaking, and given that it was dark inside the shop... But who was he to doubt in V? The oddest things did tend to happen around the warlock, which was unfortunate half of the time, and only helped play at Garrett’s heartstrings. His words were above whispers, soft and grounding. “You got nothing to be afraid of anymore.” Though it irked him that he couldn’t have, perhaps, paid closer attention and stopped this before it started, at least he’d been there at all—albeit at some risk of having himself hurt by V’s cane. He’d felt it directly to the face one or two times, and neither were actually pleasant.

The warlock in his arms grumbled against his throat. “I’m not scared.”

“V...”

As if on command, he leaned back to look at Garrett. Even in the unaltered darkness, their eyes had found one another. And there was a furrow to V’s brows, the mark of stubborn pride. “I was startled,” he reasoned, as if that had made any significant difference.

The single flame ignited, held at the pair’s side for the comfort found in light amid darkness. “Swee’heart, there’s no shame in being scared, especially for good reason.”

Garrett was only meaning to comfort him, but V didn’t like to be seen through as if a strip of cellophane. But the wetness to his eyes likely didn’t help matters, and he’d forgotten about it until now, when he tipped his head down and brought a finger to his eyes to wipe the lingering tears away. How childish of him, and he hated that too; though perhaps not as ardently as he hated the sudden heat brought to his face as he guessed that embarrassment made itself manifest. “I cannot be afraid of a mannequin.” 

“V, you yelled. And you were whiter than a sheet. You scared me.”

“It was a bad surprise, and I am not scared now.”

“Okay, you weren’t,” Garrett finally relented, only sympathetic where he should have considered being impatient instead. But he wasn’t that kind of man; at least, not that kind of mate. To V. “You’re not scared, pretty boy. I believe you.” He believed in the same way he pretended not to see the shimmer in wet eyes, or the pink in pale cheeks; but at least it went a ways in giving V some relief. The sweet thing tried smiling for him regardless, bringing a hand up to pat him lightly on the cheek.

Garrett shouldn’t have to see this, no matter that V had his utmost respect or that he would always mean well. Some things simply had to be kept private, there was some shame one simply had to live with. With a spare hand, he persuaded Garrett’s away from his face. In drying his tears, V brushed off the remnants of his panic and his humiliation, heart rate be damned. He returned his gaze to his husband’s before it was missed, with new resolve summoned to the surface of peridot pools. It was forced, it was a fraction, but better that than enduring fright. He’d at least banished the rosiness from his face. The demon’s flame warmed the cool air, its orange glow revealing a little more detail than V wanted it to—but he was grateful for that anyway, as he was for the faithful anchor on his back: Garrett’s hand again.

He exhaled a breath as he bent over to collect his cane, and held it by its handle not because he needed its aid, but because he didn’t want it being yanked by some unseen force hidden in the darkness. He could do well without more contact. And another scare. “Something is here, and I think we’d be wise to take its hint,” he suggested once straightened. In his voice was an element of haste, his usual cool having taken a backseat to a more primal urge. Even with what he anticipated to encounter out in the fog, he was immediately convinced that out of doors would beat whatever was inside this dress shop by a mile. In spite of overarching discomfort, eye contact with Garrett was a little easier now that V wasn’t the center of attention. Still, he did not distance himself from his mate. He knew that the mannequin was there, it and its friends. Garrett didn’t argue him his point, but agreed with it and took V’s free hand without offering when steps toward the exit were taken.

To him, it hardly mattered how he would lie to preserve V’s feelings. What mattered was how he would protect him and preserve his life. Garrett would not dare to let him walk out of here without a proverbial but physical lifeline, and the connection that came from joined hands was one often sought after. V didn’t fight it when their fingers laced. V didn’t have to be honest with him, either. Body language spoke all.

The poor thing was tense, but he was trying not to be. In his experience, it wasn’t often that inanimate things would come to life and reach out to him. The surprise in that, and in feeling a limb on his body in such a fashion that triggered souring reminders of long-held personal fears, worked as one to unsettle him so completely that he would want to be anywhere but here, and it succeeded. Garrett was sanctuary, so to him V stayed close. The twosome left the past very well in the past and the door to close slowly behind them. They hadn’t heard it, and they hadn’t looked to make certain. Outside, the world was gray and dark, and cold, and a new sensation of oppression lingered like low cloud cover, suspended above their heads. The fog sat thickly, obscuring visibility to the point that nothing beyond a foot in front of them could be made out with detail. The setting of the sun changed things; far be it from V to have ever expected a change for the better.

“We’d be better off if we got outta here.”

The urge to agree was powerful, but it wasn’t defeating. Rather than look in the rough direction they’d come from, V stared into the fog that went on with no apparent end, deeper inside the village. He wondered about that boy from before, worried slightly over his safety if he had somehow lived in Goussainville Vieux-Pays. This place was no place for anyone still alive, much less for children and the ill-equipped. It wouldn’t have been right to leave him here, but it was the desire to discover the root of what was so twisted about the village, and potentially set it right, that motivated V to want to press on. He’d experienced a lot in his lifetime as far as the diabolical went, and he knew that, in general, it was best to nip a problem in the bud before it spread, grew, evolved, bloomed. Perhaps it was a stretch to assume already that devilry was at play, but if not that, then what else? His hand squeezed around Garrett’s, tense for half a second like a pulse, before relaxing. A silent signal to him that freedom would be a way off yet.

“You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough.” Words spoken aloud, but they were meant for himself to hear. An unfortunate reflection on V’s modus operandi, his usual attitude toward a question that begged answering, a problem that begged fixing. There was the need to remind himself of that, as if he’d had a duty to fulfill by instinct alone. It is never enough until it’s too much, and he doesn’t tend to know that until he’s over the edge and wishing he’d never tipped over it in the first place. Garrett had to learn that about him the hard way, but at least they always lived to tell about it. A tug of hands, a look of sorry dissent, and though there was initial resistance from his mate, V began on his way in loving company, in search of the supposed problem, the answer to the burning question.

What is happening here?

#devil may cry #dmc fanfiction #dmc5 #dmc5 v #dmc v #v dmc5 #v dmc #v x oc #V is not Vergil #featherburnt #universe: Love and Harmony Combine #fic: The Cult of Moloch #I'm gonna start posting about this fic because it's tasty. #I think if I write more one-shots for it I'll post them all as a collection on AO3. Since they're pretty small. #ANYWAY. EAT.

[elius-learns-to-write]

hi! omg i luv ur blog 💘 can i request/suggest (kinda angsty but then fluffy) where r has trouble sleeping and a lot of nightmares/anxiety & mother!nat is there to comfort her? 🥺 like the whole team is super understanding and comforting but especially nat (bc we love mom nat around here!) anyways thanks so much ily bestie!

Hey Bestie! thank you so much for being patient and for supporting my blog! I know this has been in my inbox for so long but still! here it is. Sending my love to you <3 i have just realised that there is not a lot of comfort in here oops.

warning: this does include details of death and blood so keep that in mind if you read this <3

It’s Okay

You had always gotten nervous in public spaces 

Or at night when you couldn’t sleep

Or when you didn’t know all of the details of a plan 

Or when it was 3am and you were too scared to sleep

The point is you always seemed to have 100 thoughts plaguing your mind 

“Y/n sweetie I’m gonna need you to concentrate on my voice okay?” Wanda's voice waded through the watery noise in your head. You knew she was right and that logically there was no reason to be so upset, but you just couldn’t help it. It had all started after the group had decided to not tell you about the meal they had planned at this fancy restaurant that Tony wanted to try and of course this had sent you into a spiral and you were now very very aware of every possible outcome. “Come on kid, you’re alright, breathe slowly” Tony tried, or was it Steve maybe it was Bruce. When you got like this, voices sounded the same and nothing felt real. You couldn’t breathe and that was your main worry.

The team had gotten used to it and always reassured you that it was okay 

They didn’t mind and would always be there

And no matter how much you appreciated all of the support there was 1 person the team always knew to call

Natasha

Crash, thud, bang. The noise coming from outside the room had woken you from the sleep you had allowed your brain to indulge in for once. Whenever you did this though your mind would be over run with the horrors of life and death. 

Peeling the covers off of you, you slowly crept from out of the bed. Where was the rest of the team? Had they woken up? You hadn’t heard anyone else get up but in your hazy state of mind shrugged it off as them just being deep sleepers. Something you would later regret telling yourself. 

As your hand pulled the handle of your room down to open it you heard another noise. Laughter? Hesitating you looked around in the hope of finding a clock but as your eyes frantically moved in an effort of finding one the floor seemed to start to sway beneath your feet. Soon the darkness engulfed you.

For the second time that night your body jolted forward and you gasped for air, the dryness of your mouth hitting you like a punch to the gut. When was the last time you had a drink? Where did the laughter go? Why had you passed out? So many questions and yet it felt like you were trapped in an endless game of hide and go run with a twist, you didn’t know who you were running from and how much time you had before they found you. 

Before you could even begin to think logically again the loud twang of metal hitting the ground sounded from down the hall. Slowly stepping outside the room you had woken up in which you had realised wasn’t your own, you guessed you had been in Steve’s bedroom which was odd given that he wasn’t in there. Maybe he was out helping Bucky with his nightmares? 

Bare feet slapping against the cold marble floor of the tower you tried to navigate your way through the dark to wherever the team had gone. The sounds of machines whirring stopped you, the lights must be getting turned on. Sure enough, bright white light blinded you, spreading through the faster Pietro could run. Blinking away the pain and blind spots from your eyes you were met with big red letters painted on the floor.

 ‘The crowds will come and flood your world, yet you will remain empty and incomplete’ the red bleeding off into a winding path that would probably lead to whoever had wormed their way here. Even with this in mind the words seemed to swim through your mind; you had always felt empty even when your life was full but you never told anyone but Natasha and she would never tell anyone your secrets she had promised. She wasn’t like that. Repeating that phrase like a prayer that would save you, you followed the red wet paint. 

Red can signify many things: energy, passion, lust and the one you should have paid more attention to. Danger. 

Instead of being faced with some psycho who broke in all you were greeted with was the horrifying image of your family dead on the floor. Blood trickled out of anything it could noses, ears, mouths. Eyes open with a stare of pure terror. A scream tore its way though your throat. The familiar metallic substance flooding your senses. 

Knees crashing to the ground as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Because when you have nothing, when all you have is gone, what can you do but cry yourself a river and let your soul float away on the memories of simpler times? 

You knew your knees would bruise from the mpact but you didn’t care. You didn’t deserve to go through this painlessly after what they had gone through in their last moments. 

A creak made itself heard above the sound of your cries, head slowly lifting to see what it was, damaging your throat further when you saw the lifeless bodies of the avengers sitting up and staring back at you. Salty tears streaming even quicker as you tried to scramble away. Slipping on nothing. Suddenly the lights shut off again. You didn’t move. You didn’t scream. You didn’t even breathe. 

“Wake up y/n”. What?

It had been Nat that woke you up from the nightmare

Even though the whole team had been aware of what was happening all they could do was watch in horror as your body writhed in fear

After making your way to Nat’s room where you knew you would spend the night

Unable to brave it alone

You finally found it in yourself to talk

“You were all dead” you croaked from the cocoon of blankets the redhead had wrapped you in. sitting down next to you and wrapping her arms around your body, you found yourself desperate for the comfort of her hugs. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, just know that I will never ever abandon you. How could I leave my little sunflower to fend for themselves? You give me a reason to be better and I will never leave you. Nor will anyone on this team for that matter” she spoke softly, as if cooing a terrified animal out of their hiding spot. You had and always will have a family as long as you have Natasha. She would make sure of it. And soon you drifted off into a peaceful slumber to the sound of her sweet hums. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray, you’ll never know dear, how much I love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away”.

#The Avengers #AVENGERS ANGST #avengers imagine #avengers fluff #avengers x gender neutral reader #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x teen!reader #avengers x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda x teen!reader

[angelguk]

jock!jaykay is your favourite boy! yes, this a childhood bestie!au. jaykay is gym rat who likes invading ocs personal space and likes bullying his bestie for being small and weak unlike him. or alternatively the one where jeongguk realises his bestie has giant boobs. listen to best friend by rex orange county. roughly 2k words. this is brain spew. boobie ogling.

You love Jeongguk.

It's a natural thing to say; a platonic affection for him that has steadily grown over the past decade of your intertwined lives. But, you never expected to develop this level of affiliation towards him. It happened by mistake. He’d stumbled into you at the playground in the middle of recess during one lonesome afternoon. Soft brown curls a halo on his round head and his doe eyes sparkling as he mumbled a compliment at the sandcastle you were knee-deep in constructing. You’d taken one glance at the boy, noted how your stature towered over him and then immediately enlisted his assistance in completing the mammoth of the sandcastle you were creating. He’d lit up — bright like the burning sun behind his tiny figure —  jumping in with zero hesitation; small hands quick and sure as he stuffed sand into buckets. He never opposed any of your suggestions, considering them with a timid nod of his head and a tiny sheepish smile that revealed the delightful dips in his cheeks. It was beguiling, how quickly you grew attached to the smart but shy boy who’d wormed his way into your heart. Since then the two of you have been attached at the hip. Everyone knew you in relation to each other. Jeongguk wasn’t Jeongguk unless you were around and the same was for you. You’d spent sleepless nights at his house, huddling under the thick blankets of the fort you’d built in his living room, exchanging horror stories with the aid of a flashlight he’d nicked from his dad’s toolbox. Even his extended families adored you; random aunts and uncles sending cryptic messages via WhatsApp once every blue moon. And he knew yours too —  you’re certain that your mother likes Jeongguk more than she likes you. There was even a designated toothbrush for him perched on your bathroom counter, for days Jeongguk was too lazy to go back to his own home. It was wonderful, having that reassurance in your relationship, a steady rock that you clung to amidst the harsh wild seas of life.

And then puberty hit.

Suddenly, Jeongguk was taller than you. His jaw was more defined, shoulders broadening seemingly overnight. Your sleepovers vanished, Jeongguk preferring to hole himself in his room alone. He wasn’t the only one who felt the effects of your ageing. You never thought Jeongguk had noticed it, the way your body had subtly changed throughout your teenage years, the rapid blossoming of your chest because he always treated you the same. The shit-eating grin and snarky comments that appeared at the beginning of freshman year never subduing. That was until one day, he did notice.

“You stink,” you say. And it’s true. He’s just come from lacrosse practice, your bedroom door kicked wide open and his gym bag dumped on your floor. His smelly socks leak from the opened zipper, wafting through the room with dangerous intent. The smile he shoots in your direction grips your heart, digging deep enough to send a thrill through your system. You swallow hard, gaze ripping from his rosebud lips. It settles on your laptop screen with tangible resignation, the sudden spike in your heart rate not completely lost on you.

“Nice to see you too, bestie,” Jeongguk returns, eagerly padding over to your bed. You hold out a leg to his intruding figure, halting him in his steps. From here you can see the sheen of sweat clinging to his golden skin, the muscles in his arm defined beneath the loose fabric of his practise shirt. There’s a strange heat forming in your gut, and you have to take in a small breath before you can let your gaze falter on his. His honey eyes are warm, the glittering in his gaze drawing you close. Even the damp mussed hair on his head has arranged itself into perfectly defined curls. They tumble into his face, crowning him in an innocence that tugs at your heart. There’s an itch in your fingertips. You wonder whether you're allowed to tuck them aside, away from obscuring his pretty eyes.

“Do not come on my bed smelling like the pits of a sewer, Jeon Jeongguk.” You say that instead, settling your mouth into a firm scowl. He whines in relation, swift hands yanking at the hem of his shirt.

“I showered at school! I don’t smell that much — you’re being over dramatic.” Your mattress dips under the weight of his knee but the foot that smacks into his chest prevents him from crawling any further into your space.

“And yet I can still smell you — not my fault you can’t. You reek, Jeon. Go take another shower before you even think of lying on my sheets.” Your laptop wavers precariously on your lap when Jeongguk clasps his large hands around your calves, gently shoving your foot off his chest. You hadn’t discerned how… Big his hands had gotten.

The corresponding flutter you feel in your tummy the moment that realisation strikes feels like imminent death.

“Fine, fine. I’ll go shower.”  Jeongguk sighs like you’re the one causing him an inconvenience, shifting off your bed. Your mouth is already open, a retort tipping off your tongue. But then he’s hauling his sweat-drenched shirt over his head, the moment so swift and fluid you don’t even note how your heart halts in your chest. It starts a second later before abruptly falling into cardiac arrest because your gaze lands on his chiselled chest. You never truly registered how buff Jeongguk was. You knew he worked out, the insane regime he’d concocted the only thing he could talk about for months on end. Coach had him doing some insane sets at the gym and coupled with his weekly lacrosse practises it rapidly added up. You knew he was somewhat of a brawny guy. But Jeongguk preferred to wear his old baggy sweats around you and didn’t put much effort into his wardrobe for school. If it was black and clean it was going on. The look was effortless, simple and understated like Jeongguk was. So nothing could ever have prepared you for this. Hard lines of muscles forming his abdomen, flexing at the slightest movement as he tosses his shirt to the ground, a tiny ruffle of his curls accompanying the action. He’s glorious, warm skin glowing as if the sun is trapped within it. Perhaps you blink, blinded by the vision before you. An Adonis at the foot of your bed, shorts tugged low enough to reveal the band of his underwear. And, to make matters worse, the sharp-angled lines that direct your gaze right to his crotch.

You don’t think about it. You can’t. Another hard swallow hits your throat as you rise, arm outstretched to whack him hard across the head, the desire spurring in your guts short-circuiting your brain.

“Ow! What the hell was that for.” The pout he hits with you sends a wave of heat to your cheeks. You respond by landing a rough punch to his brawny shoulder.

“Why are you getting naked in my room?” Your voice sounds like an entity outside of your body, head still not comprehending the naked teenage boy in front of you.

“You told me to go shower!” Jeongguk retorts.

“Your house is a five-minute walk away! What made you think I meant in my house?” He catches the next punch you throw at him. There’s a thrill that surges fast when his large hands enclose around your wrists, grip taut. You tumble into his arms with a sharp tug, your chest colliding into his firm one.

“We used to share baths as kids. Why can’t I use your shower?” he murmurs. His voice is soft, wrapping around you promptly, like poison settling in your system. You abhor the tremor sweeps through you.

“Cause that was when we were kids! Look at you now! You’re all — all — all —,” your gaze falters downwards, hitting the rise of his pecs. It doesn’t take much for him to spot the heat that floods your face, a smile tugging the corner of his lips upwards.

“I’m all what?” Jeongguk implores. He flexes one of his pecs for good measure, a tiny laugh floating from his mouth when he spots how fast your eyes flicker from his chest.

“You’re a dickhead,” you retort, ripping your hands from his hold. Jeongguk lets you go, but when you glance up, there's a caution in his eyes that makes your skin prickle. “Go use your bathroom, you dingus. Come back when you don't smell like a garbage can.”

“But why,” Jeongguk whines. “Your bathroom is right there — like right there. It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

“Get out of my house before I kick you in the balls, Guk.” For some reason, you poke at his chest, fingertip landing right between the dip of his defined pectoral muscles. His hand snatches yours before you can rip them away, head cocking to the side mischievously. You know you’ve fucked up the second that smile hits his lips, the grip on your hand a warning.

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Jeon Jeongguk, you stupid bastard, you’ll end up infertile if I hit you the way I want to right now.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared.” He tenses his biceps on purpose, feigning a shiver at your empty threat. The quiver in your knees is betraying. “Like I couldn’t body slam you into this bed right now.” It’s like the light clicks in his head the moment the words drift from his tongue. You didn’t even get a chance to protest, a scream lodged in your throat as his arms swiftly enclosing around you, plucking you right off the bed as if you were a feather. He keeps you suspended for a moment, paying no heed to the pounding of your fists on his broad back, his shoulder digging right into your stomach before he flings you right back into the mattress.

“JEONGGUK!” If your laptop is broken you’re going to kill him. It’s as simple as that. He doesn’t give you time for recovery though, brain still whirring when his broad chest smacks into you. “Ow! What is wrong with you? Get off! Get off!”

The bastard giggles, smothering you under the weight of his bulky body, the mattress pressing hard into your back. You prod and pinch and punch until he grows tired of it, snatching up your wild fists with a quick hand. They hit the pillow over your head with a muted thud, arms stretched out as he shuffles over you. The movement has the material of his shorts bunching up at his crotch. You swear you don’t look, gaze shifting to the taut muscles of his stomach. But that’s worse, your thighs clamping together as heat blooms between them. You’re forced to settle on his face, a tiny whine escaping your lip as he traps you beneath him. But then you realise Jeongguk is not staring at your face, his honey eyes locked on the sway of your chest every time you squirm beneath him. You hadn’t thought about the shirt you’d yanked over your head when you’d gotten home today, picking it solely for the sun scorching outside. The heat had leaked into the house, warm enough for you to forgo one of your usual loose sweatshirts. But it’s a low cut, the rounds of your chest on display for all to see. Even when you lurch up, attempting to knee him in the groin, your chest bounces and his eyes follow, rose lips parted in thought. He catches your erratic leg with ease though, pinning you to the sheets effortlessly.

There’s a lot going on in your head, too much to sift through at the moment. But there’s no denying the fast flutter in your cunt, heat rippling through your nerves as you sit in a silence that feels suffocating. When bites his lip, you ignite. It feels like too much, too quick. A crack in the ice barrier between the two of you, the dam of unresolved emotions behind it threatening to break past and down you.

“Jeongguk…” You try, wafting through this sudden tension. He hums, a low sound that echoes deep inside of you. “What are you doing?” It’s innocent enough to allow the situation to dissipate, give the both of you a moment to gather yourself, sweep this under the rug and move on like it never happened.

He cocks his head instead, contemplating with a quick sneak of his tongue along his petal lips, still staring at your chest. “Uh, realising something.” He pauses like he doesn’t want to ask but question floats out like he can’t help himself. “When did your boobs get so huge?”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #jungkook drabble #jungkook this whole thing: *cocks head* #au: jock!jaykay

[stxleslyds]

Red Hood and the lost art of telling Joker to shup up.  

Okay, I know that I talked about Jason and Joker in a recent post but this is something different, I promise.

I really want to talk about how different Jason has been written since UtRH when it comes to him confronting Joker. Jason hasn’t been put in that position a lot but the times that he has, he lets Joker talk for far too long and actually pays attention to whatever he has to say.

The Jason vs Joker thing is basic in on itself and letting Joker talk isn’t exactly the problem here, the real problem is Jason letting Joker’s thoughts shape his future thoughts and decisions, I do understand that that’s exactly what writers want though, they want to build the problematic of: “Jason is just like Joker and the fact that he uses the name Red Hood only proves that Joker made who Jason is now”.

But the thing is that THAT problem is overdone at this point and the only time it worked was the first time it was brought up and it worked because Jason shut the Joker down.

Let’s see all the times (that I remember) the Joker and Jason have had a little chat and/or the times Joker’s words actually influence Jason’s thinking and decision making.

 Under the Red Hood – Batman (1940) #649

This is the first real confrontation we get to see between Jason and Joker after Jason’s death and it is beautiful. It's absolutely amazingly written, Joker goes on and on forever about how he killed Jason about how Jason is just as bad as him but that he is also just like Batman because he hasn’t killed him yet.

“You let me live after everything I did, you couldn’t pop my balloon. You just couldn’t. The apple doesn’t tumble too far from the paterfamilias. You are just like daddy-kins”

Jason lets him talk, yes. But he absolutely destroys Joker with what he tells him next.

“You couldn’t be more wrong about me. If right were a country on earth you’d be circling on the edge of the milky way. Yeah, I let you live but like always, every damned minute of your addled, posturing, psychopathic life, you think this is about you. You’re a worm. I’ve pitched you on a hook and dropped you into the brine. And I will beat the hell out of you Pagliacci because it was too much fun not to.”

“Listen to me Joker, I’m not you. I´m nothing like you. I know what I do and I know why I do it. You, you are, clinically speaking, a whack-job. But I know a secret, a good one.”

“You are not nearly as crazy as you would like us all to believe or even as crazy as you would like to believe. It just makes it easier to justify every sick monstrous thing you’ve ever done when you play the part of the mad clown. You are crazy, bubba, but you ain’t that crazy. Look at that. I wiped a smile off of Joker’s face. I have been waiting a long time for that.”

Everything about this is perfect, Jason gives Joker no room to mess with him. Whatever the Joker had planned on saying he had to eat because Jason wasn’t playing games and he was ready for any kind of lie the Joker had ready to tell. This is Jason Todd. He won’t let the Joker get under his skin because he knows the Joker and he, also, knows better. 

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #15

Here Jason comes across Joker during the “Death of the Family” event. In this issue the Joker has information about all of the members of the “Batfamily” and he uses that to mess around with each one of them, in Jason’s case he insinuates that he was present in very specific moments of his life when Jason’s father got shot, when his mother overdosed and when he was on his own before joining Batman.

Jason doesn’t quite believe that Joker was there but as the reader, we can see this sort of sense of doubt in Jason. He hesitates a few times before resolving that the Joker is playing with him.

But as far as this issue goes let’s just say that what the Joker says doesn’t get to Jason, this changes though in the issue that follows up this story.

Teen Titans (2011) #16

This is where that story continues and where Jason starts to buy the story that Joker is selling.

Joker convinces Jason that he has his father and Tim’s father and that the only way for Jason (or Tim) to save their dads is by killing the other (Jason or Tim). Tim doesn’t believe it but Jason is ready to shoot Tim almost immediately.

However, Jason changes his mind about killing Tim just as Tim comes up with a plan for them to not actually have to kill each other. Here is where Lobdell’s writing shows all of its flaws, Lobdell is so desperate to show that Jason and Tim are besties that he forgets that Jason had no reason to stop trying to kill Tim to save his shit father because it is later revealed that Jason truly believed that Joker had found his father and had him captive. It wasn’t until Tim explained his thought process as to why those men weren’t their dads that Jason just goes “you realize, of course, the only reason I didn’t kill you right off is that I knew your big brain will figure out some way out of this” HA, nice save Lobdell but I see right through your bullshit.

Jason bought what the Joker was selling and that is the beginning of Jason’s downgrade when it comes to not playing Joker’s games.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #17

Well, in this issue Lobdell goes back to Jason kinda not believing what Joker told him, and Jason asks Bruce of all people if he thinks the Joker truly “made him or not”. Bruce says that he doesn’t believe that and that he didn’t have anything to do with the man that Jason has become either. For some reason, Jason is actually happy with what Bruce said and for a couple of moments, Jason goes back to being sure that the Joker knows nothing and that he is his own man.

It doesn’t last long though. At the very end of the issue, the trap that Joker had set up in Jason’s helmet triggers and Jason gets his face fucked up with acid or something.

But that’s not all because a hologram of Joker has something to say: “you were supposed to be my masterpiece from start to finish. But you were too stubborn to stay dead. So here is what we are going to do… You’re so determined to be your own man? Fine, let’s start with a clean slate”.

Basically, the Joker insinuates once more that he had something to do with who Jason was supposed to become and that Jason isn’t truly “his own man”, This is all a setup for a very dense storyline that will be continued in this run later.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #18

In this issue, Jason is in a coma after he is dosed with that gas in the previous issue. The Joker isn’t really present in this issue but he does make an appearance as part of Jason’s “nightmare” while he is unconscious.

That’s not all though, Jason has an illusion of Ducra (someone that he appreciates a lot), telling him that “after you left the All-Castle after you went back to the world you continued to let your life be defined by the actions of that man. You became a killer, lashing out at people who may or may not have deserved it. Eventually, you will hurt all those you have cared for. In that way, how are you any different from the Joker?”.

In this statement, there is a lot of wrongs that can come from two places, either bad writing on Lobdell’s part or just Ducra telling lies as a plot point.

“Let your life be defined by the actions of that man” is a sentence that horribly simplifies Jason’s thinking during the events of UtRH, because while he did resent the Joker, his real problem was with Bruce who had not avenged his death by killing the Joker himself. Also, Jason was doing other things back then, like being a pain in the ass for Black Mask and disrupting the drug trade in Gotham as well as trying to control the drug dealing to children. So that little sentence is just a gross misinterpretation of the true events which means that Ducra was wrong, and “she” continues to be wrong when she says that there might be no difference between Jason and Joker.

Luckily Jason thinks the same because he tells “Ducra”: “…don’t you dare compare me to that monster Ducra. I am nothing like the Joker! Nothing!”

Once again please don’t be fooled by Jason’s thinking because in the next issue it turns around really fast and really bad.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #19

Just a heads up this issue has a change of writer, Lobdell isn’t writing this arc, the writer that gives us this hellish story arc is James Tynion IV.

All that talk about Jason not being affected or not believing what the Joker told him is yeeted out of the window and it’s not a fun ride.

In this issue, Roy and Kory find a Jason that doesn’t know who they are or who he, himself, is. This is because S’aru that little floaty little shit took his memories away after Jason asked him to do so, well Jason asked S’aru to erase every memory that darkness has touched (Joker) and he does that. But him doing that is apparently erasing everything which, holy shit, how messed up is that?

But let’s take a look at what Jason says before he gets his memories taken away: “Not only did the Joker almost take my face, but he tells me he might have manipulated my entire life from the beginning! Even the good is tainted by him now. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t have that kind of doubt. If you take it away, I can go on living. I can keep fighting”. So, yeah that was a pretty emo speech. But the thing here is that if Jason is asking this dude to erase every memory that has been tainted by the Joker and he erases all of them then we might be facing one of two situations, either Joker has been messing up with Jason’s life from the beginning or S’aru is just a little bitch.

We will later find out in #20 that S’aru and Ducra planned the whole thing, meaning that they took all of his memories for ulterior motives not because the Joker had actually tainted all of them.

For many issues Jason has no memories and now that I am revisiting these issues, I now remember the twisted and completely insane plot they came up with for the “League of Assassins” and Jason being the “Chosen One”, everything was happening in this run, my god, it's like they wanted Jason to be the center of every single trope in writing history.

It’s in issue #26 that Jason asks for his memories back but the Joker having tainted his memories or not isn’t important anymore to anyone, including the writer (because he is too focused on telling this messy story), Jason (because he has enough problems at the moment) and the reader (because this book makes zero sense and it changes the story and motivations every single issue).

But there is another truth to be revealed in the next issue.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #27

Jason has planned along Ducra and S’aru to give up all of his memories to be cleansed so he could defeat Ra’s Al Ghul. But (there is always a but) Ducra says this: “Your greatest enemy returned and nearly took your face away from you. And in the process, shook your sense of identity to the core” “The final battle here will take place in the Well of Sins, and with all the doubt and fear clouding your mind, it would eat you whole”.

So yeah, now we have confirmation from Ducra that Jason had indeed let what the Joker told him cloud his sense of self and made him doubt who he was and if he really was in control.

All that back and forth for these many issues just to say, yes, Jason let Joker’s words affect him.

So here it is, let Joker get in Jason’s head to build the plot of a story, fantastic, the story was a mess because it had so much information, the mischaracterizations of Roy and Kory were at their maximum potential, and in this particular story arc not only are the events of Red Hood: The Lost Days officially erased from Jason’s canon but something quite out there is added to Jason’s canon from before he was even Robin (that’s a whole different story that I won’t be talking about here).

What an insane ride this arc was. Definitely not the kind of story I enjoy in a Red Hood book but that’s just my preference.

*This whole arc was written by James Tynion IV.

Red Hood/Arsenal #11

Joker is dead during the events of this run but the person who has something to say to Jason about how the Joker made the person that he is now is Duela Dent (“Joker’s daughter”, she isn’t his daughter she just found Joker’s face somewhere and she puts it on and “becomes” crazy, she is an incredibly weird character).

She says this, “You’re a lot like dad in that way” to which Jason says “He is not my father. He’s not even your father” but Duela continues by saying. “You’re kidding yourself if you genuinely believe that. Yeah, he took your life but look what you got in its place, you ingrate. You got your freedom. You were reborn.” 

Jason doesn’t fall for it or anything of the sort but once again writers are bringing up the Joker as the maker of the Red Hood and “suggesting” that what Jason has been doing and who he has become is all thanks to Joker. The idea of Jason having no free will is still present in this narrative, even when Jason doesn’t believe it.

Red Hood/Arsenal #12

I talked too soon because in this issue Jason is having some weird thoughts.

“Funny, isn’t it, so easy to call Duela “crazy” because she wears a dead man’s face. Because isn’t that what I’m doing? Before he was the Joker, he was the Red Hood. So maybe the line between men and the Joker’s daughter is a lot thinner than I’d like to admit.”

Here he is comparing himself to Duela and to the Joker to an extent, writers often bring up the fact that Jason uses the code name that his killer once had and they have people or Jason himself questioning why he uses that name.

Personally, I don’t think there is much to build from it (at least not from the perspective of Lost Days and UtRH), it was just a joke, a morbid one if you will. He wears the mantle of the person that destroys Gotham and fills its people with fear while he is trying to control the city’s drug trade and trying to keep the people safe in his own way. And the way he wanted to do it is almost the complete opposite of the way that Batman does things.

I just think that he is being ironic and acidic about the whole thing. He has obviously moved on from the fact that Joker killed him but he has issues with the fact that Batman has yet another child working with him while the Joker is still alive. And Jason really wanted to make Bruce suffer, so him taking the name and a similar appearance to how the joker used to look is also done to get a reaction from Bruce.

I really don’t think there is any sort of connection to make between Jason and Joker beyond that, much like there is no connection between the name Nightwing and the Court of Owls. Even though Lincoln March tried to convince Dick Grayson that he chose the name Nightwing because Owls fly at night and that meant that he was supposed to become a Talon and all that Dick still didn’t believe it because he knew why he chose that name and no one can twist his reason.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #10

Finally, I can stop re-reading New 52 books, I don’t enjoy it but I have to do it if I want to talk/complain about stuff.

This one is a little different because while Jason does talk with the Joker, the Joker isn’t really there he is just part of Jason’s imagination just like the Robin Jason that he is also seeing.

In this story, Jason is helping Artemis discover who she is but he gets captured in Qurac, yup that place, and worst of all from where he is being held, he can see the place where he died. All of that is helping Jason have some very vivid memories/illusions. He does actively hold a conversation with the imaginary Joker and Robin Jason though, and he is also having a lot of thoughts that let us know how the Joker affects Jason.

“This is why it was stupid of me to come back to Qurac. Even to help Artemis, even if I thought I could handle it. Physically, I am alone, but in my head? I’m drowning in memories of the worst day of what was my very short life. The day I was murdered.”

That’s what Jason is thinking but what I write next is what Jason’s saying as he talks to the imaginary Joker.

“Not interested in replaying this over again, like I have every night of my life since it happened Joker”

So, we are told that Jason thinks about that day very often, the Joker might not be involved much in Jason’s books but he definitely has a bigger role inside of Jason’s head. They chat for a bit up until Jason decides to “kill” the Joker, he knows, of course, that it is not real but it does give him satisfaction. (If only they would have let Jason actually kill the clown for real, or at the very least chase him just to show the reader that Jason does actually want to finish the job since the Bat won’t do it himself).

Having said all that, Joker’s imaginary death doesn’t last long because Jason is trapped in his mind and the Joker is basically functioning on a loop inside of it.

That is where the problem lies in this issue because Jason is letting us know that he is still heavily influenced by what happened that day and that he hasn’t been able to walk away from it. But once more that’s not the worst thing, because all of these thoughts have led Jason to think that he (in the present and as a fifteen-year-old) is the one to blame for having ended up dead. Yeah, it is messed up.

This is what Jason says to imaginary Robin Jason, “He is never going to die, Jason. Not here. Not in my mind, not if at some point I don’t stand up and walk away from my memories. From you.”

This is a major downgrade, from the Jason that we had in UtRH because that Jason had moved on from the fact that he had been killed what he was looking for was for Batman to avenge his death. He had other things in mind as well, like I said before in this post Jason had a lot of things going on, killing Joker wasn’t his only plan.

And this situation (written by Lobdell) is also very different from what was going on in New 52 where Jason being influenced by the Joker was used to build a plot. This is just a writer letting us know that this “new version” of Jason hasn’t worked out his problems when it comes to his death and his killer. That means that we are going backward.

After he realizes that he was unconscious all that time and that he was being tortured he does get his shit together in order to get out of captivity and go help Artemis.

The Joker and that whole thing that happened in his mind aren’t mentioned again, it was just for the reader to know that Rebirth Jason has unsolved issues with his death.

Batman: Three Jokers #1

Oh yes, here we are, we have arrived to that dreaded book, awful writing gorgeous art. In this book, the “Joker made Jason as he is now” trope is at its full potential; Johns drives this hellish truck of a book at full speed into our homes and then ends it by giving us one of the worst takes on Jason Todd’s characterization ever.

But first, let’s talk about the Joker and Jason interaction in the first issue. As Jason and Barbara are left alone with the Joker that they came across moments ago the Joker begins talking because that’s what he does.

He says this, “I’m the loop-de-loop, the hamster-wheel-of-doom. The cycle of pain each one of you is trapped in. Take “Red Hood” here, for example. Have you ever wondered why he uses my former moniker? Who in their right mind would take on the identity of their killer? Am I right?”

He is obviously being a little shit on purpose and is waiting to see if somebody will take the bait. Jason is the first to talk and he says this: “I took it because I’m owning what you did to me. You made me into this. I will be your destruction”.

Congratulations Jason, you took the bait, and now Barbara will fight with you over it.

Jason raises his gun to “break the cycle” and Barbara is like “please don’t do it” and boy is Joker having the time of his life! Both of these idiots are playing his game, Johns really did both Jason and Barbara dirty with this.

Here is where THE problem with letting the Joker talk is. This Joker got under Jason’s skin in seconds and Barbara did nothing while it happened.

This is what the Joker had to say. “Let’s look at the facts here bat-people. I bashed this boy’s skull in. I killed this Robin” to which Jason says “You didn’t kill me, you only made me stronger” which is weird because the Joker did kill him so I don’t know what kinda comeback that was supposed to be but Joker wasn’t done because he continues by saying “Yes, you crawled from the shallow grave I left you in. You lived on to fight another day. Hurrah! You survived because of your tenacity! Or maybe… maybe I beat you to a bloody mess… I took you right to the edge… because I wanted to leave you alive.”

Great that’s where the clown is going, just fantastic, more of the “I made you” but that’s not all because the Joker tells Jason that him having hurt Jason wasn’t because he didn’t like Jason, it was all about Batman, Jason doesn’t matter.

But that’s not the worse thing that was written in this awful book, Geoff Johns seems to have felt that the trauma that Jason went through in the original “Death in the Family” story wasn’t enough because he decided to add something new.

That’s why the Joker says this next, “Do you recall what you said to me while I was breaking your head in with that crowbar? As your blood streamed into your eyes and your skull cracked? Because I cherish those words. I’ll always cherish them. ‘Please stop! Please! If you let me live, I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your Robin’” “And look at you now my little “Red Hood” shooting up people and making Batman’s life miserable! You are my Robin!”

What a nightmare Johns decided to put Jason and Jason Nation through huh? I hate this, this is the worst thing that has ever been written in a Jason Todd story (although I can say that about many things that were written in this three-issue book).

Jason kills the Joker after he says all that, Barbara does (for some reason) try to stop him from doing it but luckily, she can’t stop Jason.

But here is the thing, Jason killing the Joker doesn’t make me feel as satisfied as I would have liked, and it doesn’t feel that way because Jason let Joker talk for far too long and what Joker said ended up getting in Jason’s head and messing with him.

Batman: Three Jokers #2

Yeah, there is no rest for us, Jason Nation, in this issue Jason goes looking for another Joker to kill and he finds one but he gets captured. Johns really had to get Jason naked for Joker to torture him mentally and physically? Johns is, himself, a major red flag but that’s not what I am here to talk about.

In this issue the Joker that captures Jason has the same things to say as the other one, DC writers really have no imagination when it comes to building conflict between Joker and Jason, huh?

Anyway, Joker says this, “tell me something. Why would you put on that helmet and call yourself Red Hood after what we did?” Jason of course replies “Come on, is every one of you copycats gonna ask me the same thing? It’s a joke” the answer isn’t enough for Joker (the two of them that are here with Jason) so he continues talking. “A joke? We left you with brain damage and permanent nerve pain. Physical and emotional trauma so severe that the only relief you ever find is when you inflict pain on others. You and me, boy, we’re more alike than you’d care to admit. But you know that already. You nearly died and you blame the Batman. You hate him for it. Me too. You hate him most of all don’t you?”

Now, here is the thing, that whole thing is bullshit, none of it makes sense. From Jason having permanent nerve pain to Jason hating Batman the most, everything is a lie. And my confusion here is that I don’t know if I have to feel like Joker is doing it on purpose to be a little bitch or if Geoff Johns was on crack when he wrote this and he had actually never heard of Jason Todd in his life before.

The whole thing is a mess, it feels like he is writing Jason from an origin and story that we never read. I don’t know how to explain it, but the whole thing feels cheap, it’s a cheap trope and it’s a cheap take on who Jason Todd is, was, and will be.

The nightmare doesn’t end Jason Nation because these two Jokers have something else in mind, you see, if they said that they made the Red Hood when they killed Jason the first time, maybe if they kill him this time then he could possibly come back as the Joker. Yeah, this book did nothing for Jason.

Let’s make something clear, Jason does NOT hate Batman/Bruce for not being able to save him, he hates the fact that Batman/Bruce didn’t kill the Joker to avenge him. That simple thing doesn’t exist in Three Jokers and that’s why things like the ones that happen next are allowed to happen in this story.

Bruce and Barbara find Jason and when Bruce asks if he is okay Jason just goes berserk, he says: “Am I all right? What do you think Bruce?! You did this to me. You put me on this path. And I do hate you for it. For leaving me in the dirt. Replacing me one Robin after another without a thought.”

This, everybody is what you get when you mix bad writing with Jason being mentally manipulated by the Joker.

It's a shame that Jason is being treated this way at this point in time, in a book that came out in 2020 when Jason was able to shut the clown up with a knife and a couple of words back in 2005. What a downgrade.

At the end of this issue, Jason is safe and recovering but he still is in the same mindset, he says, “What the Joker said about how I’ve been on the path to being like them for years… they are not wrong. I don’t want to be like them though. I really don’t.”

It’s like a never-ending wheel of pain with this book. Jason is talking to Barbara when he says that and he is trying to look for comfort in her. And here is where the Jason/Barbara subplot begins and I only bring this up because something that happens in the next issue is based on the kiss that Barbara gave Jason but then was like “that doesn’t mean anything, I was just trying to comfort you”. Johns shouldn’t be allowed to write Barbara and Jason ever again.

Batman: Three Jokers #3

It’s in this issue that we find out the big subplot that Johns has prepared for Jason, are you ready for it? Yup, Jason should stop being the Red Hood because if he keeps it up, he will eventually become the Joker.

I know, I know! Jason would never stop being Red Hood, he is not on a path to become the Joker, that’s crazy! Jason’s Red Hood is a character on its own and he is amazing and just because he has different morals from Batman doesn’t mean that he is a bad guy! Right?...

“I’ll give up being Red Hood for us. I can be something else. Or I can be just Jason.”

To this day I cannot believe that those words supposedly were written by Jason Todd to Barbara Gordon after Barbara rejected him three times. The level of “what the fuck is this” is incredibly high with this one…

This whole book was a mess and I am so glad that it didn’t last longer.

Anyway, that’s it. In conclusion, Jason didn’t let the Joker get under his skin the first time they interacted after he came back from the dead but later when DC decided that UtRH was just too good of a book they came up with stories where Joker does get under Jason’s skin and Jason becomes convinced that he has no free will (or at the very least he doubts his free will) when it comes to him becoming his own man.

As I have said before, that for Jason Todd is a major downgrade. And it's one of the many things that hurts Jason’s characterization in current comics.

#jason todd #Jason Todd #red hood #Red Hood #red hood and the outlaws #red hood outlaw #three jokers #batman under the red hood #dc comics

[movietonight]

For the character ask game, could I please request Charles? Thank you ^_^

Yess thank you! I have a feeling each time I rewatch mash I have a new favourite character and this time it's that bastard (affectionate)

Favourite thing: from his first episode they make it so clear that he's on an equal level to Hawkeye and BJ not just surgically but intellectually in general (the snake prank) and just so complex. Also DOS my beloved obviously but I think that goes without saying. Last but not least he likes classical music <3 I listen to a lot of different genres but I have such a soft spot for classical music that every time he talks about it I'm just like yes bestie let's discuss composers or whatever <3

Least favourite thing: Well he is really posh and arrogant and bigoted and everything that comes with it (social darwinism and racism and classism etc etc). I absolutely can't stand posh people irl and I absolutely can't stand these attitudes but the thing is. It's just so very funny. I cannot excuse any of his views in any way and there's scenes I want to punch him so badly. But I love laughing about fictional posh people.

Favourite line: this is not a line but this is my answer and I can do what I want: the entire scene in run for the money where he listens to Honoria's tape

brOTP: Him and everyone I love when he gets along with people!! Those moments in Sons and Bowlers where he and Hawkeye actually have a deep conversation! In the same episode where he schemes with BJ together! The pranks! The hug in Temporary Duty! Oh and talking more literally Honoria of course. We know so little about her but she's my bestie

OTP: As I said before, I don't actively ship anything but I don't not ship anything. Enough people have lobbied for Charles/Donna on my dash that I have started to care about it and amended my hc from gayce (gay ace) to biace (bi ace) (I love portmanteau words). I have seen people lobby for Charles/Hawkeye which is something I had not considered while watching but as long as it gives me enough brain worms I'm in. I am legally obliged to mention the Charles/JFK joke I made.

nOTP: As I said I don't like how Charles/Margaret played out on the show but it could work if done differently I suppose. I am also not a big fan of the other two brief romantic encounters he had like nothing against Martine and Sooni but it just didn't work for me at all.

Random Headcanon: The reason why he so desperately wants to listen to Mahler's Kindertotenlieder in Friends and Enemies is because it's the anniversary of his brother's death

Unpopular Opinion: That is not a neutrotypical man

Song: the Mozart Clarinet Quintet as featured in GFA & Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture

Favourite Picture:

He has a little halo :)

#Ask games #I have so many thoughts about him truly a character of all time #You don't understand how many thoughts I have #Charles is the best fictional posh character #But just in general like I also love bbc Ghosts and Julian Fawcett is also so funny - he's a dead tory MP #And I watched the first ten episodes of Frasier and I was like omg even more annoying posh people #But Charles is the blue print #mash

[thepredatorywasp]

if you want Taylor asks I'd love track by track reviews of any of the albums you wish were talked about more!

okay one of taylor's best albums that isn't talked ab enough is my beloved speak now so here we go baby. i'm doing a relisten for this so i'll post this in three hours because every song is 5 minutes long aksjhdf

mine

everytime i think i'm over this song i listen to it again and i. just. i love her!!! is it a bit corny, yeah, is it funny to hear taylor swift singing "and we've got bills to pay" yeah. but "you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter" is one of her best lyrics!! and my soul still ascends when she sings "she is the best thing that's ever been mine"!!!!

sparks fly

everyone stand for our first horny anthem... i hope taylor brings this energy for ts10 because as much as i love the folkmore sound i need some bangers!! "drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain / kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain" is such a taylor lyric it's almost funny. i love how dramatic she's in this album and this song slaps! next!

back to december

the og 'tis the damn season <3 love the beginning notes so much and the chorus is very good!! i don't have strong opinions on this song but i do like it a lot! the tour version tho... when she starts to sing apologize... bestie </3

speak now

a very fun song! it's not lyrically amazing or anything but it's so fun and the way her voice sounds in this one is very endearing to me. tbh!! it shows taylor's strength as a storyteller, even when the story she's telling hasn't even happened to her and it's not relatable at all. what can i say i love her when she's bitchy "she floats down the aisle like a pageant queen / but i know you wish it was me, don't you?"

dear john

one of her best written songs and she wrote it when she was 19!!! i think it's a very heavy song and the fact that she said that she didn't want to sing it anymore because it still hurt is just.... ow. "long were the nights when my days once revolved around you" is an insane lyric, and the bridge is just... ah. the girl in the dress wrote you a song!! for speak now tv taylor should be allowed to murder john mayer tbh

mean

mean is fine i guess. i do enjoy me some banjo and the "someday i'll be living in a big old city" gets me sometimes but eh? i don't listen much to this song tbh! the bridge still gets me because she just goes for blood asjhfd

the story of us

taylor wrote this song for every single weird girl who had a weirdly obsessive friendship with another girl that had frequent and dramatic fights and that now in retrospective seems incredibly homoerotic. I'D TELL YOU I MISS YOU BUT I DON'T KNOW HOW, I'VE NEVER HEARD SILENCE QUITE THIS LOUD! what! a! banger!!!!

never grow up

skipping this one for reasons which have to do w the fact i'm gonna turn 20 and i'm gonna have to move out soon <3 the fact that i have to skip it means it's a very good song tho, but my mental state is not prepared lmao

enchanted

ah! one of the best songs of the album has arrived. "please don't be in love with someone else / please don't have somebody waiting on you" would seem like an insane thing to say after meeting someone one (1) time, but i suffer from the same brain worms than miss swift. still cracks me up that that dude answered with a cover and taylor didn't say anything. queen <3. love love love this song

better than revenge

if taylor changes this song in any way shape or form in the rerecordings i will stream the old version so much it will go number one. it's so fucking GOOOD i love how mean and cunty she is!! it's a fun song and i adore it

innocent

this song is very sweet and it's very well written but it's just a bit boring to me? idk!! i do thing it's a bit too long tho

haunted

this was my favorite taylor song for a long time and i still think it slaps. i always think of twilight when i hear it which is funny. anyways nothing taylor ever does will ever does will top the performance of this song which is *chef's kiss*. the dramatism? the fact that there's a bell for no reason? spectacular!! also her vocals on this song are insane

last kiss

i think this is one of my fave taylor songs and one of her best ones. "all that i know is i don't know how to be something you miss" like!! it does feel like that when someone leaves your life!! how can i become someone you miss now that you're gone!! "i'll feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe". top ten most devastating taylor lyrics! i love the way we see little snapshots of the relationship, the dancing, the way they walked, the talks at night... i love this song </3

long live

boy does this song get me emotional!! what a good album ending!! i do think it's very sweet how this was originally written for her band but ended up being for the fans as well (parasocial relationship aside ksdjhf). "it was the end of a decade but the start of an age" and "i had the time of my life fighting dragons w you" make me cryyyyy.

#asks #anon #anyways. this album is really fucking good!!! #there's bangers there's ballads there's silly little songs what else do u want #also ty for sending this u kept me entertainted for a good hour <333

[bonkmeonce]

I HAVE FUCKIN BRAIN WORMS RIGHT NOW

Egos princess bride AU😳😳😳

Actor Mark is quite obviously Prince Humperdinck

Dark as like. A goth Buttercup

WILFORD AS WESTLEY CAN YOU IMAGINE?? "They're quite comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future." "Why didn't you list that among our assets in the first place?" "As you wish."

Besties I am SWEATING

You can't tell me that Anti wouldn't be Vizzini, on god he would be perfect

Fezzik was a bit more difficult, but I settled on Jackieboy Man, because I think it would be hilarious if he had like. The same power as Fezzik but stayed the exact same size

"HELLO, MY NAME IS HENRIK SHNEEPLESTEIN, YOU KILLED MY FATHER, PREPARE TO DIE!"

The Count is totally JJ, I mean look at him...he has the potential to be totally evil

King of the Squirrels is the King of Florin. He still has the peanut butter beard

AND OF COURSE WE NEED A GRANDPA AND LITTLE BOY

grandpa is The Author/The Host

Illinois is the little boy,,,,just imagine GOD THAT WOULD BE SO CUTE

Please add/change stuff if you'd like! I read everyone's additions in the last couple of posts and they were all really awesome! :D

#markiplier egos #actor mark #darkiplier #illinois jones #wilford warfstache #the author #the host #jacksepticeye egos #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #henrik shneeplestein #jackieboy man #the princess bride AU #this movie is one of my favs #i could quote the whole damn thing #this wouldn't leave my brain until i wrote it down so #here u go #pls enjoy

[glazelilyy]

mans called my a blueberry pirate when I'm a foot taller than him💀

long inhale

Scatamouche, you are swine you vulgar little maggot. Don't you know that you are pathetic? You worthless bag of filth. As we say in California, I'll bet you couldn't pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel. You are a canker. A sore that won't go away. A zit on the butt of society. I would rather kiss a lawyer than be seen with you. You are a fiend and a coward, and you have bad breath. You are degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just for knowing you exist. I despise everything about you. You are a bloody nardless newbie twit protohominid chromosomally aberrant caricature of a coprophagic cloacal parasitic pond scum and I wish you would go away. You're a putrescence mass, a walking vomit. You are a spineless little worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. You are a jerk, a cad, a weasel. Your life is a monument to stupidity. You are a stench, a revulsion, a big suck on a sour lemon. You are a bleating fool, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying your alleged birth into this world. An insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody, abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who sired you and then killed themselves in recognition of what they had done. I will never get over the embarrassment of belonging to the same species as you. You are a monster, an ogre, a malformity. I barf at the very thought of you. You have all the appeal of a paper cut. Lepers avoid you. Because off your face the rabbit population actually decreased. You are vile, worthless, less than nothing. You are a weed, a fungus, the dregs of this earth. And did I mention you smell? If you aren't an idiot, you made a world-class effort at simulating one. You snail-skulled little rabbit. Would that a hawk pick you up, drive its beak into your brain, and upon finding it rancid set you loose to fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink shame of your ignoble blood. May you choke on the queasy, convulsing nausea of your own trite, foolish beliefs. You are weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. You are grimy, squalid, nasty and profane. You are foul and disgusting. You're a fool, an ignoramus. Monkeys look down on you. Even sheep won't have sex with you. You are unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention, and lost in a land that reality forgot. You are a waste of flesh. You have no rhythm. You are ridiculous and obnoxious. You are the moral equivalent of a leech. You are a living emptiness, a meaningless void. You are sour and senile. You are a disease, you puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meatslapper. On a good day you're a half-wit. You remind me of drool. You are deficient in all that lends character. You have the personality of wallpaper. You are dank and filthy. You are asinine and benighted. You are the source of all unpleasantness. And you're 5'2.

with love,

-kaeya anon💕

KAEYA NONNIE BESTIE PLEASE WE CAN WORK THIS OUT

the whiplash i received from opening my inbox and seeing A NOVEL

"and you're 5'2" KGHGJFKDGF NOOO :(

#sincerely: the stars—☆ #from my beloved kaeya anon—☆