#This guy is so absurdly shaped

[corriethosaurus]

WIP full of Medics. Got a page of doodles and a full piece on the way, OORAH. Second picture is brain barf stuff I did when I was struggling trying to draw him in the first pic, plus a doodle I did of him a few months ago where I was overcome by some strange power and drew him very nicely. I should probably do a character sheet of the mercs so they stop changing every time I draw them.

Is it obvious which TF2 merc is my favorite? Hm, it’s a mystery…..

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanart #tf2 medic #wip stuff #This guy is so absurdly shaped #I love it #Someone tagged one of my previous works with my user #Figure that’s a good idea to keep my stuff findable amongst all the stuff I reblog lmao #corriethosaurus

[the-witchhunter]

So Lucifer Morningstar, the fourth of the fallen, (retired) ruler of hell, the Devil himself, is a character in DC comics, appearing in the Sandman comics, his own solo run and various other comics

He is absurdly powerful

The thing is, Lucifer still has access to his Divine power, unlike other fallen angels, and is actually more powerful than other angels

What does this mean?

Lucifer was the guy that shaped the matter to create the stars, an ability he still has

Enter one Danny Fenton

“Omg(oh my ghost) I’m a HUGE FAN of your work”

Just Danny fangirling over the literal Devil because of stars and space

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #writing #danny fenton #space nerd Danny #lucifer morningstar #writing prompt #I just think it’s really funny #I gotta say Danny isn’t anywhere near Lucifer’s level #the guy still has power to manipulate and reshape matter of gods creation however he wishes #also has power over souls and ghosts are souls ergo he has power over ghosts #the thing Lucifer really hates is humans blaming him for their own evil #‘the devil made me do it’

[irndad]

in every other life- s.r.

a/n: my soul is in this mf fic. there's a lil sexual tension lol! this is a behemoth of pining. so much fucking pining. this guy needs you like air wtf!! ALSO the poem is from a book, the lover's dictionary by david levithan. summary: the love of spencer's life is also his best friend, and she goes on a few dates. he does not handle it well, internally. ft. metaphysics by our dear genius boy. wc: 3.3k (holy shit)

While he recognizes that no direct injustice has actually been done to him, he can’t help but feel that it’s so unfair. 

Because Spencer had never actually wanted much of anyone, actually. He was too much of a child through his entire education, and he’d found anyone that he’d even consider had almost instantly had dismissed him. He’d grown used to a life where companionship wasn’t a desire that crossed his mind. 

But he wanted her. 

His lovely friend, his coworker, who was the kind of lovely that it feels unfair you’d ever have to take your eyes off of. She’s the best person he’s ever met, the sort of wonderful you read about but never convince yourself you’ll ever see. He knows the shape of her, has her form memorized from watching, waiting for her to step into the office every day.  

It was only a matter of time until he wasn’t the only one with his eye on her. 

She’s actually absurdly easy to want. There’s nights where they watch something, often what he picked, Doctor Who or some other science fiction which would be great if he could focus on anything but her. Her warm disposition ruminating his too-small apartment with a kind of light that follows his every movement. He’d adore her even if she wasn’t, but it’s impossible to ignore how beautiful she is- the kind of pretty that you hardly expect to see in real life. 

“Hey you,” her so-sweet voice is what breaks him out of his daydreaming, and he looks up at her lovely face smiling down at him. Fondness seeps through her tone, and it’s everything he can do not to preen that her first thought at seeing him is one of pleasure. 

“Hey back,” he says, greeting her with a warm grin of his own. “How was your weekend?”

It’s a calculated question. 

She had canceled their weekly movie night. He’d tried not to look too disappointed, like the idea of her next to him on his couch, of her nimble fingers raking through his unkempt hair while something nice, but far less wonderful than his company played in the background wasn’t all that was keeping him going. These days, and he knows it’s likely delusion, that she sometimes seems to gaze back at him with a similar sort of desperation, hooded eyes and tenderness. 

It’s a liminal space, those nights. How can people be two things at once? You cannot be both in love and not. In the low-light of his place, under his blanket- it’s like Schrodinger’s experiment. She can’t love him like a friend and more at the same time- it resists the laws of physics. She is his best friend, a fact he knows as sure as gravity and the elements, and believing anymore than that- it’s asserting an impossibility. 

When they’re alone together, though. It seems like the impossible exists. 

But she’d canceled it, something she hadn’t done for the months they’d been engaging in their little tradition. So there had to be a reason. She sits next to him, her desk next to his. 

She looks a little disheveled, only in an adorable way- but a little like she’s been busy, like her flow is disrupted.

“It was good! I finally went out with that guy Penelope’s been begging me to let her set me up with.”

It’s all that he can do not to freeze up. 

Penelope has been trying to get her to go out with her friend Ben, which Spencer thinks is a stupid name, by the way, and secretly he’d been so, so pleased when she had brushed off the invite. It’s a dangerous thing, hope. He tries not to have too much of it, tries to savor the thought of her, of more for moments of particular vulnerability. It’s treacherous, to want her the way he does. He knows he can’t let himself feel it all the way. 

And logistically- romance is not a reason for a valid reason for him to be panicking the way he is, but all he can think about is the physics. Two opposite things cannot be true at the same time. 

“You know, studies suggest that even now, the majority of couples are meeting in person or through friends over any other medium.” 

It hurts to say. She’s part of a couple, one half a whole that he doesn’t complete. 

“Seriously? I’d have thought it’d changed by now. I guess it’s safer to date someone you know.”

She’d date someone she knew? Is that what she prefers? 

“How did it go?” He hears Emily ask, and this conversation is already the bane of his existence.

“Guys, it really wasn’t a big deal! We got dinner, it was just a little thing.”

Spencer isn’t experienced in dating, but he does know that dinner is a serious date. Coffee is a smaller thing, but dinner-

Dinner means she got pretty for him. Probably picked out a dress for the evening, spent time on a carefully manicured look. Spent hours of her precious, rare, time on him. 

It’s not fair how much he fucking hates this guy. 

“Dinner is not nothing!” Penelope squeals, and he would love to share in her excitement, except it kind of feels like a piece of his heart is being shredded. 

“Dinner means coming up to my place, have coffee, oh look who doesn’t have her hair done-“

Please kill me, he thinks. Please. 

“Oh, that definitely did not happen.”

Thank god. 

Except he can’t miss her flush, how her expression shifts- and he has the sickening feeling he’d be hearing that guy’s name again. 

When they all settle around the table, her doe eyes focused on gruesome images that were the exact antithesis of her spirit, he couldn’t help but feel that even if it hurt, there was finality. 

The cat was out of the box. Two things cannot be true at once, and so only one is- she does not love him, at least not the way he does. 

Ben, is not in fact, going away. 

If he had more willpower or self-preservation, Spencer would keep his distance from her, but the truth of it is that as much as he wants to be the person she turns to, her smile is most of why he can stand his job anymore. 

It’s a Tuesday, and everyone is grumbling about being pulled in early in the morning, but he’s just happy to have a reason to leave the house.

“Spence!” He hears her excited voice carry, the pretty sound picking his ears up at once. “I got you coffee. It’s hazelnut, and it’s like, 90% sugar. You’re gonna love it.”

She beams at him, and he takes it in his hands. Their hands brush, and he tries so hard not to notice how soft her hands are. Her name is on the cup, and an unconsenting fantasy of her name meaning that he’s hers creeps into his mind before he can bat it away.  

But her cup says Ben. 

“Thanks,” he says her name, tries to sound measured and friendly. “Coffee date?”

She preens, and god, if this guy doesn’t get how lucky he is it might be thing thing that actually sends him over the edge after all these years.

“Just a quick thing, we were just in the same place and he bought me a coffee, I’d already gotten yours.”

If there’s two roles he can fill and he doesn’t get to pick, if he’s stuck with friends, he’s gonna be great at it, and he’s gonna be grateful. Because knowing her is a grace in itself, the kind of thing you should could yourself so lucky to have. 

“He sounds like a great guy,” he hears himself say, “I’m glad you’re doing this.”

It’s the right thing to say. He’s sure of it. The thing he’s not sure of is why the smile she offers him doesn’t reach her eyes. 

The next time he notices the cracks in their relationship, it’s when they’re out. She’d suggested this bookstore-cafe kind of thing, and he’d jumped at the thought, all of his favorite things in one afternoon. He’d felt foolish spending so much time picking out his outfit out, wearing the blazer she’d once complimented-he’d actually stuttered so hard in thanks that Morgan laughed for a full minute when she left the room- but she always looked beautiful, and he knows he sometimes pales in comparison. 

“Oh, I love this one!” She thumbs over the spine of a thin book of poetry. She’s wearing a forest green sweater that hugs her frame, and a bracelet hangs on her delicate wrist. He loves looking at her, though he tries to conceal it. His goal of being a supportive friend includes trying not to make it that known how gone for her he is. 

“I don’t read too much poetry,” he admits, “But I’m sure you have excellent taste.” 

Her keen eyes skim through the pages intently, clearly seeking out a specific passage before stopping, gaze alight with recognition. 

Her tone is molasses-sweet when she begins reading, and his heart skips a beat.

“When I say be my lover,” her voice hitches, reverent of the quote and he is reverent of her, “ I don’t mean ‘let’s have an affair. I don’t mean Sleep with me. I don’t mean Be my secret. I want us to go back to that root. I want you to be the one who loves me. I want to be the one who loves you.”

It feels impossible to look away from her, doe eyes practically sparkling in the low light of the shop, and there it is. His heart’s in his throat. Of all the things you could have told Spencer he’d experience, hearing her lovely voice wrap around the words be my lover in hushed tone, in sacred sweetness, would never ever be one he’d guess. 

He’s not sure how he feels about the multiverse theory, but right now, he can feel all the versions of himself pressing right up against him. Can see into lives he doesn’t get to live, lifetimes where his love isn’t a buried, worn-out tattered thing to keep his ever-frigid chest warm. Versions of himself that in this very moment can smile back at her, warm and open and kind, and kiss her perfect smile. 

Because he would be her lover. He would come home to her, spend the rest of his life building a home that she could fit  into. It’d be easy, actually. She’s easy to imagine- nights of laughing in a shared kitchen, evenings where her company is a fine wine, sipped at leisure with the comfort of knowing it’s never going to slip from your grasp. 

“I like that,” he says, voice too vulnerable for his own good, eyes unable to tear from the eye contact. “I really like that.” 

In the root of it, he already is her lover. He is the one who loves her. She’s just not his. 

It comes to a head on a Friday. It’s a few weeks from he book shop, and the air feels heavier between them now. The last handful of Fridays he’s sat with the ghost of what used to be their plans, empty time lingering where in its’ place used to be her company. 

He doesn’t know if she’s been with Ben. He tries not to think about it. 

The sound of her voice lingers in his mind, sweet and bitter in his mind like old lemon candy, the kind his mother would save for special occasions. He’d spend any amount of money he had to hear her lovely voice say those words to him out of the context of a poem. 

At work, they seem almost normal. Like one of them wasn’t desperately in love with the other; like a genius and his lovely, incredibly empathetic, kind best friend. In the field, their actions flow together seamlessly. She is always the first to listen and to understand (and god, isn’t it intoxicating to have someone meet you in understanding) and there is nothing to suspect is off.

But there’s still a cloud lingering. The poem- the soft melody of her voice curling around the words, the request of it all, the way she had sounded so wanting- and then, there’s Ben. 

She doesn’t mention Ben to him, of course, but Penelope does. Penelope, all bows and bright colors and cheeriness keeps bringing the absolute worst news to Spencer with a smile on her face. 

He’s taking her out for drinks! Oh, he’s reading her favorite book, do you know what it is?

This anger isn’t an emotion that he’s familiar with. A roar of possessiveness, the bite of it not tempered at all by rationality. Has he touched her?

It seems almost a tradition at this point when she shakes him out of his jealous storm of thought.

“Spence?” she muses, “You alright?” They’re alone at his desk, everyone having fled for their own evening and weekend plans. This was one of the Fridays that she had agreed to spend with him, and he wonders if he’ll be able to handle the scent of her shampoo so close after such a lapse of the sensation. Will all of his judgement go where he can’t follow?

“Yeah,” he says, tucking his papers into his bag, “I’m excited for tonight.”

His place is actually a short walk from the office. He’d been embarrassed to show her the place at first. It’s all function over fashion, and a bit cramped, but she’d looked at as though it was made of something more, something good. She didn’t even tease him. It had actually been her idea, to start these movie nights. 

Ironic, really. 

The walk was pleasant, the weather a little frigid but still nice, and she looks beautiful under the setting sun. It’s incredible to him, how her lashes catch the light and make her irises look like polished stained glass. His favorite color. Through the looking glass of another life, he sees a version of himself that gathers her up in his arms. In this daydream, she grants him one of her smiles that seems to carry its’ own light, and leans into his body like it’s the only thing that keeps her steady. It’s so clear. On the other side of the veil, he kisses her reddening nose, and keeps her warm himself. 

In the here and now, Her coat is long, and hangs low by her ankles. It’s an elegant thing, like the woman who wears it, and Spencer would be grateful for a lifetime of just looking.They stop in front of his door, some invisible force stopping him from entering. 

She sheds the coat inside his home. It smells like the candle she got him for his birthday, a reminder of her grace. He’s saved a bottle of wine for them, a sweet thing for the sweetest thing he’s known. 

“I’m sorry,” she speaks the warmth of the beverage on her tongue, and it should feel abrupt but it doesn’t.

“What for?” He can’t imagine what she would have to apologize for. 

“I know things have been…off between us,” she says carefully, considering the phrasing of each word. He watches her with a reverence, his hazel eye brimming with affection with nowhere to go. “You’ve been so great through it.”

Her legs are thrown across his own, and she’s dangerously close to sitting in his lap, but not exactly. He’s missed having her this close, the last time she’d been in his orbit was before she’d had reason to be gone. She smells floral. He fights With limited filtering through his already treacherous mind he thinks, He can’t take this from me. I still get her like this. 

“I’m not entirely sure what it is.” 

She slowly shuts her eyes, go for a moment to somewhere he can’t follow. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold. 

“This whole Ben thing.”

“Oh.”

Logically, it always had to come back to this. Someone else had the good fortune to know her like this, to be the person she reads poetry to in deep meaning to. 

He’s been stealing moments from someone who’s not his to take them from. 

“I don’t even know how I wanted you to react.” she murmurs, staring at the rim of her glass. 

“I just want you to be happy” His voice is something low, grit in the sound of it. His hand rests on her thigh. There’s warmth blanketing the room and he wants to kiss her. He wants to kiss her all the time. 

She laughs, but it’s not her normal laugh. It’s tinny and a little bitter. He pushes his luck, and reaches out to brush the side of her face, moving the hair but still holding her face. Her breath smells like strawberry wine and temptation. 

It feels different tonight. Low light and tension that could be sliced with wire. Every part of her is in reach, and something in the air makes all of this talk of relativity, of physics, moot. 

Like maybe he’s not in the only world they don’t end up together. 

Her face is warm and soft under his touch and he loves the sight of her. He’s never touched her like this. Every point of contact feels electric, addicting. 

“What is it? The Ben thing?” He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to hear. What he wants, is for her to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that she picks him-

“I only went out with him the once.”

“What?”

“I told Penelope I was still going because it made her happy and she said I couldn’t keep going to your apartment and reading you poetry and call that romance.”

Romance? 

Wasn’t it romance, though? 

Her eyes widen in something akin to horror. 

“Shit, Spence- I’m sorry, that is so fucked of me to say-“

“You,” he tries to say calmly, “aren’t going out with Ben.”

She blinks. 

“No?”

He has spent so much time living in other lives, existing in the minds of versions of himself he wasn’t lucky enough to be. Drinking coffee imagine a life colored in her presence, falling asleep yearning for the presence of something lighter than what he has to carry. 

He can’t exist in two places. That was the entire basis of the experiment. 

He moves his other hand to hold hers, and somehow she’s shifted to being on top of him, and he looks up at her with unwavering desire. 

Spencer isn’t good at wanting people, but it comes naturally with her. Less of an action and more an urge, a course of motion to which he is at the mercy of. This is what leads him to close the gap between them, and kiss her. It’s 

Her delicate fingers run through his hair, and she can’t be close enough, please, and he could spend the rest of his life kissing her, actually. He probably will spend the rest of his life thinking about the soft sigh he pulls out of her. 

“I want it to be me,” he manages to say through shallow breath, still so close that his lips brush hers every other word, “I want to be the one you pick. I want it to be me.” His hazel eyes seem to shift in the moment, swirling with emotion. 

She brushes a lock of his overgrown hair out of his face. He normally shaves when he sees her, but he’d been so busy that he’d forgotten, and felt embarrassed of it now. That is, until she runs her index finger along the edge of his jawline.

It’s then she leans down and kisses him again, pliant and good, his hands around her waist. He breathes a prayer into her mouth, one that hopes that she never ever comes to her senses about him. 

“Spence,” she says, her voice golden silk, a kindness.  “There was never anyone else to pick.” 

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in Your Area

Chapter 2

It was a very weird ride. Danny felt like he was an authority on uncomfortable and strange conversations, given his bizarre family and all the experiences he'd had: but it was exquisitely uncomfortable sitting next to his bride sacrifice and making conversation.

The guy didn't offer his name. He was- honestly, he was built. Danny tried not to get caught visually measuring how absurdly broad the guy's shoulders were. He was weirdly offended that the cultists had sent him someone who was more ripped than he was.

"What's that?" The guy prompted. Jason. This guy's name was Jason. It was a little hard to keep in mind given he didn't really look like a Jason. He looked like… The Red Biker 👻😱🩸 or some shit.

Danny mentally rewound his own babbling and brightened when he realized that there was at least some interest in NASA's newest telescope. He infodumped on rote. It genuinely was an interesting topic! But he'd told 3 people about it already so it didn't take all of his attention.

At one point, Jason pinched his middle finger and used the grip to pull off his glove. Danny swallowed. He tried not to stare at the first glimpse of skin. It was not super light or super dark– a little tanner than Danny, maybe. Not that that said much when he was living like a cave creature in a dorm room, trying to get the grades to be an astronaut.

'He's human,' Danny thought. Of course he was, he'd been sent from earth, but-

He just felt like a ghost.

The confusion put his hackles up. It was weird to perceive this guy as a possible threat. But he wasn't! He was just some hot dummy who got caught by friggin Jeremy Waters. Jeremy. Come on. It didn't get much sadder than that.

But overall? He could see why the Infinite Realms had gotten mixed up enough to accept this guy. Red was definitely weird enough to be a ghost, dressed up for the combination war front/biker bar/club. He hadn't made a move to take off his ugly motorcycle helmet the whole time they'd been talking. It was kind of creepy, to be honest.

The most disturbing part was that he smelled, like, really good. He smelled like sexy death and Danny kinda wanted to roll around in it like the world's most educated cat.

It was with some relief that Danny bounded away from his semi husband, up the stairs to Clockwork. "You know who it is and why I'm here!" He hollered, hands making a megaphone shape around his mouth. "Help me! I'm too young to be a child bride."

"Technically," Clockwork said, floating pleasantly into view, "you are too old to be a child bride. As you are not a child, Danny."

He waved that off. "I'm a kid on the inside," he dismissed. "And 19 is basically a high schooler."

"As you say." Clockwork drifted away. Danny followed. "How is your university coursework?"

"It's fine." Danny shrugged. "The Gen Eds are giving me war flashbacks to Mr. Lancer, though."

"You liked him," Clockwork said.

Danny bristled. "I did not!"

He kinda had. Mr. Lancer could have been a lot worse.

That was beside the point. Danny caught up to his ghost mentor. "I can't be distracted from this," he said, aiming for stern. "There's some human out there who wants to go home. I also want him to go home. How do we make that happen ?"

"Why Danny, have you forgotten about portals?"

Danny scowled. "You know what I mean," he groused. "I want to send him home single. Unattached. Not married to me at all."

Clockwork finally stopped moving and looked directly at him. His large eyes held only a kind of curiosity. "I suppose that you could banish him. That would have the effect of ending your relationship."

Danny hesitated. He'd learned that accepting suggestions on their face could go very badly. "That seems kinda harsh," he said. "Would there be any repercussions of that?"

Clockwork hummed from the back of his throat. "Yes, it would prevent young Jason from becoming a ghost when he passes again. Excuse me, I want that shelf behind you."

Danny moved out of the way on reflex before he processed those words. "That sounds bad."

The older ghost seemed to shrug. "The Ghost king can banish ghosts, and your paramour is ghostly enough to qualify. It would solve your current dilemma."

He deliberately chose not to respond to the word 'paramour.'

"I'm actually looking for a solution that doesn't interfere with the state of his soul and afterlife," Danny said dryly. Then he blinked. "You're really gonna call him Jason?"

Clockwork reached up and withdrew a metal object from the shelf. It clicked in his hand. "Indeed."

Danny waited for another divorce suggestion. When Clockwork didn't give one, he groaned. "How do I find another solution?" He asked, tired. This was another test, wasn't it? It was a chance for him to problem solve on his own.

That netted him a beaming smile. "You should take him to the royal library."

"And look for information about ghost divorces?" Danny asked. Clockwork gave him an enigmatic smile.

He chose to believe that was a yes. Danny patted his mentor's shoulder. "Thanks!" He shouted, already turning on his heel. "I'll do that. Have a good day!"

"Goodbye, Danny."

Jason hadn't moved at all, sitting weirdly tense and tall in the passenger seat. Danny gave him a nervous smile as he jumped in.

"Did you find out anything?" Jason asked. His voice was even enough to obscure whatever it was he thought, and the helmet made the words come out kinda flat and mechanical.

Danny winced. "Yes and no," he said, trying to find cheerful. "The first solution seems kinda bad, to be honest, so let's go to the library and look for another one!"

"...Ghosts have public libraries?" Jason said.

"No," Danny said. And then he frowned. "Maybe? I don't know. I haven't seen one but I haven't been here long. We're going to Pariah's creepy old castle to look at his library." He started up the Specter Speeder and took off. "It's big. And he was a real creep, so he probably had, uh." He cleared his throat. "Paramours." His face was getting hot and red. Maybe it wasn't obvious. He tried to look unaffected. "Probably why that ritual was out there," he babbled. Wow, the minutes separating their destinations felt very long when he was digging a verbal hole. "He probably had a lot of sacrifices he accepted, maybe that's where the skeleton army came from actually."

"Skeleton army?" Jason managed to sound incredulous through the world's ugliest motorcycle helmet. "How do ghosts and skeletons both exist in proximity?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, if you don't need the physical body to exist, why would anyone retain their corpse?"

Danny laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's weird," he agreed.

'Don't ask me afterlife questions,' he mentally begged. 'I just work here. I don't know the answers.'

"Metaphysically-"

"Do you like sports?" Danny interrupted in a high voice.

Jason paused. "No. Do you?"

"...Not really," Danny admitted, thinking of getting ganged up on in dodgeball and knocked down in basketball.

They existed in what felt like a confused silence for a few minutes. Danny parked the Speeder outside of the castle and I clicked his seatbelt with a rush of relief. "We're here," he said. He threw open the top.

Jason didn't move from where he was flat against the backrest, only lifting his head. "... Should I come too?"

Danny blinked down at him and waved a hand in invitation. "Yeah, let's go. This is kinda my place now so I can invite you in."

Jason moved forward abruptly, like he'd just gotten unstuck from the seat. Something about it looked wrong to his hindbrain. But Danny dismissed it and started off at a jog. It wasn't his business if Jason was a weird little guy. (Weird big guy? It didn't sound the same, but Jason wasn't petite.)

Jason paused on the battlements. Danny looked back and tried to see it from his perspective. The architecture was jagged, pitch black, and without any of the friendly colorful touches a castle should have. "It's kind of creepy," he said apologetically. "Pariah has just the worst vibe. Rancid energy."

"...Is it smart to say that?" Jason wondered. He started walking again.

Danny shrugged. "What's he gonna do to me?" He asked rhetorically. "Get his butt kicked again?"

#red hot ghouls #dcdp #deadonmain #dp x dc

[eldritch-spouse]

Remember this?

Here's a guy that's definitely not meant to be on Earth.

Somewhere, the forces that be botch a massive specimen transportation operation from planet A to planet B. A series of system failures occurs, and strangely shaped pods are ejected into the vast nothingness of space. One of said pods contains a lifeform belonging to a species that was meant to be studied in detail, except instead of landing safely where it should, this pod crashes directly into Earth, thankfully away from civilization.

The creature inside is largely very disoriented upon their arrival, more than that, it's dying. The atmosphere around it won't allow the lifeform to breathe properly, so it crawls and wheezes its way over to a river and stuffs its head in it, finally recovering. That's exactly how they're found too...

Held in a highly specialized infrastructure, while not exactly being badly mistreated, this extraterrestrial is being documented extensively. Some curious things have been found.

They're intelligent. Although an undeniable and difficult to circumvent language barrier is very much present, it's evident that the lifeform can reason in a similar manner to humans, displaying this early on by remaining calm and mostly pliant next to armed humans, understanding that these others could hurt them without needing many hints;

They're social. The lifeform has responded to attempts at social interaction with its own strategies, and seems to have two main methods of vocalizing, primarily through the cavities in its chest. The larger, top depressions seem to emit rough, branch-like noises, while the smaller orifices produce melodious signals, both of these combine to create a very peculiar and complex language;

He's a male. Observed when the specimen opened his own absurdly long slit, at the (slightly forceful) request of investigators, exposing a myriad of genital appendages particularly associated with males. Not all of them are capable of ejaculation, and some seem to be purely auxiliary to the task of mating, leading to a lot of speculation regaining the anatomy and practices of females of the species;

The filament on his head is a mood indicator that will glow a variety of hues at different intervals to transmit messages;

The buds on his pelvic area are erogenous zones;

The protrusions on his forearms are residual;

Although the lifeform doesn't display a demanding sex drive, when they find someone they deem compatible and attractive, the ensuing mating session tends to last several hours. It's theorized that, if left uninterrupted, the specimen would attempt to mate their partner for more than 24h;

Unfortunately, the concept of naming oneself isn't exactly something he can grasp very easily, so there's neither a title nor a preferred method of addressing the lifeform. Curiously, they tend to have an innate ability to tell when they're being talked to, talked about or even thought of;

He's been nicknamed "Tentatris" and "Tetrils" due to how wildly confusing it is for investigators to try and decipher his anatomy, likening it to the organism equivalent of a tetris puzzle.

#pinnie's art #monsterfucker #alien boyfriend #terato #monster oc #monster boyfriend #terat0philliac #minors dni #not sfw #nsft #Tetrils oc

[powerfultenderness]

Hello there author! I know you're taking your time writing the chapter 2 but may we have Neighbor!König visiting y/n to her office, where könig drop off her things or she kinda forgot her lunch something. Thank you for the hard work you put into your fic! WE LOVE IT!

Ahh, i'm sorry! I guess I needed a little time off from writing, but I'm back! And thank you very much!

Lol idk what Reader does for a living, but it sounds nice! I hope you like it!

(Rated T+)

It wasn’t until an hour after your shift started that you realized you’d forgotten your lunch in König’s truck, and it was only because he texted you. You sighed and shot off a quick response, telling him not to worry about it. You can just walk across the street to one of the fast food joints and grab lunch there. You thought nothing more of it and got back to work. 

And you would have continued to think nothing more of it until you saw more than one security guard making their way to the front. Odd. You glanced at the clock, it was still a few minutes before your lunch break, and thus a few minutes before you could be nosy and check out what was going on. Well, at least that's what you thought just before your desk phone rang. 

“There’s a man here for you,”  the receptionist sounded a bit anxious. “I’ve got security keeping him in the lobby, but he’s insisting that he see you.” 

Oh! No! 

“Let me guess, big guy, like, absurdly big. With a scary looking mask?”

“Yea. Should I call the police?”

“Oh please don’t! He’s…harmless.” 

“Are you su-”

“I’ll be down in a sec!” 

Ok, you weren’t entirely sure he was harmless. He had told you stories of his time fighting in war zone conflicts, and though he never said it outright, you’re pretty sure he has a kill count that’s higher than one. But in this particular scenario, just visiting your office, as long as no one tried to fight him, you’re almost certain he wouldn’t do anything. (The thought never crossed your mind that the only other situation in which he’d react violently is if you were threatened in any manner). 

By the time you reached the lobby, there were three security guards standing a few feet from König. Two of them were very clearly nervous. They’re not at all in any kind of shape, one of them is on the elderly side and the other on the pudgy side. The one young man that is in any kind of fighting shape honestly looks so small compared to König. 

“Oh, you can let him through, he’s with me!” You spoke up in a loud, clear, and forcibly cheerful voice. 

You were glad for the time it took to get to the lobby, it’d given you just enough time to think of what to say to security. You weren’t entirely sure on where you stood in relation to König. What were you supposed to refer to him as? At this point he was more than just your neighbor. You could say he was your friend, but somehow that didn’t feel like enough either. Yet to call him your boyfriend or partner felt like a stretch. (He was just a really nice neighbor, who was also a good friend, who you maybe sometimes had a little bit of a crush on). So, for now, he was just “with you”. 

König was used to having his orders followed. It had been years since he had been denied access to anything and these small men that pretended like they could stop him, all while shaking in their boots, were beginning to…annoy him. Just when he was about to push past them, he heard your voice declare that he was with you. 

It was you who slipped past security as you lightly ran up to him. “König!” You smiled and, much to his surprise, pulled him into a quick hug. 

Just like that he forgot about the way dealing with these civilians that worked with you had made his anxiety flare, how he wanted something to fight, to put his physical energy into. It all melted away as his world shrunk to just you. Your body flush against his for a single moment, the soft touch of your hands on his back. He was so tempted to lift his hood and bury his face into the crook of your neck, to inhale the intoxicating aroma that haunted his dreams. He almost whined when you pulled out of the hug, one of your hands moving to the bag that he was carrying. 

"I thought I told you not to worry about it?" 

Before he could stutter out some excuse, you turned around, to the little audience in the lobby, and he had the urge to pull you behind him, to shield you from their eyes. They didn't deserve to look upon you, and certainly didn't deserve your attention. 

Perhaps you thought this too (not quite) since you turned back to him and motioned back to the entrance. "Let's go sit outside, it's nice out." 

He would follow you anywhere, especially when you looped your arms around one of his like that. You led him to a side patio, where a couple of picnic tables and benches were set up under comfortable shade. There were already other people seated in the area, but one look at him and they returned to their business, better to ignore the frightful stranger than to antagonize him. 

You chose a picnic table furthest away from others and took your bag that he had still been carrying and set it down. "Do you have to leave right away?" 

“No.” He shook his head as you sat down on the bench facing outwards.

“Good, then, want to join me for lunch?” 

He sat down next to you, glad that he didn’t have to try to squeeze his legs under the table and probably bang up his knees in the process. He realized, a soft smile pulling at his lips, as you turned to start digging through your bag that that was probably the reason you sat this way, for his comfort. 

He shook his head when you offered a share of your food. "I don't want you to get hungry later." 

"Please, you've seen me buy car snacks, you really think I don't also have desk snacks? I would be just fine even if you hadn't brought my lunch, which, thank you, by the way. This is really nice of you." When was the last time someone had been so thoughtful? 

"You're like a squirrel." He laughed as he accepted the offered food.

"Psh." You playfully rolled your eyes and softly bumped your shoulder into his arm. "If I'm a squirrel, what does that make you?" 

He was silent for a moment, head slightly tilted to the side, before he looked at you, eyes crinkled under his hood in a way that you’d come to recognize as a smile. "A dog." 

"A dog?...But dogs are always chasing squirrels!” You then gasped dramatically, "don't tell me you want to eat me!" 

König fought down the sudden surge of heat brought on by the memory of a dream. It made his responding laugh a bit too loud, a bit too awkward and forced him to attempt to cover it up. By growling and leaning down quickly to nip at your shoulder. 

"Ah!!" You half shrieked and half laughed as you leaned away from him just enough to get out of his silly attempt at biting you through the hood that covered his face. "Stop!" You finally managed through giggles. 

He pulled away with another playful growl and snapped his teeth at you twice. "One day I will catch you, Squirrel." 

"Yea? Then what?" You laughed again. 

He was quiet for just a second too long, eyes boring into you a bit too intensely. He even dropped the playful tone in his voice, now deeper and rougher than you were used to hearing. "I'll eat you." 

It’s a good thing that you weren’t eating or drinking anything at that exact moment or you would have choked at the way it sounded! He certainly couldn’t have meant it like that! You chuckled and looked away from him, hoping he could not tell that your thoughts were less than appropriate. 

Finished with the main part of your lunch, you opened the packed snack cake and portioned it in half, once again intending to share with König, but he shook his head. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t like this particular snack, not that he’d ever go out of his way to buy the like either, it’s just that he knew it was your favorite. Though, you must have sensed that, as you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him.

You portioned an even smaller piece, “not even a little taste?” And held the piece of confection up at level where you assumed his mouth was.

König froze, if you were offering to feed him…

You reached for the edge of his hood and pulled it forward, giving you room to slip your other hand under it without revealing his face. The backs of your fingers lightly ghosted across his chin until you held the treat near enough to his mouth. Though he remained stock still, eyes never leaving yours, his lips wrapped around the offered treat and his tongue barely brushing against your fingers. 

It was hardly a bite, and his lips and tongue had hardly touched your fingers for half a second. You smiled, hot in the face, and pulled your hand back, “good?” 

He hummed and nodded. “Very good. Sweet.” 

As if your face wasn’t burning enough! 

You looked down at your portion of the sweet treat to realize there was a dab of cream on your finger still. You glanced back at him, not completely titling your head back up, casting your eyes in a coquettish shadow, and licked your finger. “Good.” 

König quietly grunted, one of his hands landing on your knee as he leaned in a little closer to you. He didn’t know why. He just needed to be closer to you, needed to feel you. 

Your breath hitched but you pretended not to be affected by his touch as you quickly finished off your lunch while his fingers fidgeted with the hem of your skirt. You then grabbed his hand, gently squeezing before you pushed it off your knee. “Unfortunately, I am not a general that can dictate my own break times.” 

“What?” 

You cleaned up what trash was left from your lunch and tossed it in a nearby bin. “My lunch is just about up.” Sure enough, an alarm on your phone sounded just as you returned to the table.

König frowned, it felt like he just arrived! How could your lunch be up already? “Oh, let me.” He stood up and grabbed the bag you had stored your lunch in. An excuse to visit you later.

“Thanks.” You started to walk back to the office, him right beside you again. “And thanks again for stopping by. Can you still pick me up after work?” “Yes. Five?” “Yep!” 

König is practically walking on air after lunch, though eager for the end of the day. He couldn’t wait to see you again. 

[Neighbor König Masterlist]

Neighbor König taglist (blurbs): Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed.

@warrior-of-justice  @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout

#anonymous #könig x reader #könig x fem reader #neighbor!könig #blurb #short #fun fact: in the first draft when he bites her the hood doesnt get in the way. and he practically left a hickey on her neck #but i thought that was too forward! so changed it a bit #i was thinking of qing this up for lunch. but i think i'm gonna nap for lunch instead.

[reanimationstation]

BEHOLD. JACK DESIGNS APLENTY TO MATCH WITH THESE SAMMY DESIGNS. I had so much fun designing and drawing these guys, as I wanted to make Jacks that specifically complimented their Sammys. LONG WINDED DESIGN NOTES UNDER THE CUT

Pair 1:

i knew that i wanted to make at least one absurdly tall Jack and he was a perfect candidate

matching music tie and bowtie!!!

i love height difference sam and jacks and jack deserves to be the taller one sometimes

this Jack is probably Dominican. gotta get that latino rep in here lets gooo 💪😎 (lighthearted)

their shirts are the same shade of white which you'll see again in the third pair

iirc i wanted to give tribute to TIOL so I made this Jack orange, though I kept it leaning yellow to better compliment Sammy's blond tips

i think this Jack is the prettiest

Pair 2:

i originally wasn't planning on giving Jack dyed hair but I thought it would be cute for both of them to have it dyed since this Sammy has bleached hair like his VA. I tried to keep it subtle since he already had so much color on him that I didn't want it to look overcrowded

I love red/pink Jacks but instead of a sweater vest I gave him a normal vest since I feel like I don't see that a lot on Jacks?

i tried to lean into more mischievous vibes with him because I think more Jacks deserve to be pranksters, as a treat

he also looks chill to counterbalance a pretty high strung looking Sammy

this Jack is very very loosely inspired by someone I know irl. not really appearance wise, just through vibes

i don't think these two are dating but they are inseparable as per usual

Pair 3:

the glasses on Jack were a last minute addition because i KEEP ON FORGETTING TO GIVE CHARACTERS GLASSES

the green sweater and hat match his Sammy's green eyes (not pictured here). i like to think he does this on purpose

they both have gray hair because i think its so pretty

i think this Jack is probably the cutest

this pair is comprised primarily of soft shapes

Jack's hair is actually inspired by someone i used to know!

Misc. Notes:

i need to give more characters glasses

i forgot facial hair existed oops

i didn't set out on designing them with the intention of making the first pair both Black and the second pair both Asian, but I do think it adds something to how they operate as a pair. you gotta stick together, y'know?

in the initial sketching process i wasn't planning on drawing Sammy along with the Jacks but i realized very quickly i couldnt design them without their Sam there. they are a set! do not separate!!

this does mean that there's a scrapped Jack design sitting in that file...alone....Sammyless.... very sad. I gotta get that man a Sammy

#victors art #jack fain #sammy lawrence #sammy x jack #batim coffeecake #bendy and the ink machine #batim #batdr #THE LAST IMAGE DESCRIPTION KEPT ON MYSTERIOUSLY DISAPPEARING DESPITE SAVING IT. LETS HOPE IT WORKS NOW

[dairy-farmer]

Meta Prostitute Au? Oh~?

Imagine this, Bruce and Dick break up a Meta slavery ring. Save the day! But realize? Oh shit! One of these guys is ABSURDLY High Risk for re-capture, because of his power. What is it?

"Fantasy Shape". He "goes to sleep", his power reads your mind, and shape-shifts him into whoever you find most attractive. Plays out sexy scenarios until it can sense you are satisfied.

People would BURN COUNTRIES to get their hands on this kid.

Bruce looks at Dick. Who looks at Bruce. And? Agreed. Kid was never here, they are taking him and putting him up in a nice apartment somewhere. The kid is like "cool. Free house. No wrinkly creeps."

Time passes.

Kid is now a twenty something. Dick is Nightwing. Jason back alive but estranged as hell. Damian barely settling in.

Kid would like That Gucci Shit. Has a VERY profitable ability. Time to become a sugar baby! Batman says "are you TRYING to get murder kidnapped?"

Now Twink counters with "then pay me" and transforms. Is, by the very nature of his powers, COMPLETELY unaware of WHO he turns into. He's not gonna remember ANYTHING. Just wake up, probably sore, and hopefully about to get paid.

Which is why he's completely unaware~

That he turns into Tim Drake with a puss.

Perhaps even early in his Robin career. Maybe in the Sexy Costume version. Maybe both. Maybe he looks like the Robin Bruce JUST saw, but with a pretty pink slit a handful little tits. Blinking up at him with those big, trusting, needy eyes. Oh he feels so STRANGE, Bruce~ won't you help him?

It's like a gut punch.

He can't. He... he doesn't. W-Would NEVER...!

But there it is. Proof of what he wants. Teary eyed and needy. Begging him to come closer. To "help" him.

Bruce knows for a fact Tim is cis-gendered. Has... has, perhaps, had thoughts he shouldn't. Lingered on reports and video feed of those rare few incidents, when for whatever reason, Tim was made... softer.

He shouldn't.

But... some desperately justifying part of his brain hisses, if he DOESNT? The Twink will try and find someone else to pay him. Get in over his head and probably die. We're basicly saving his life!

His resolve crumbles.

And somehow? He even SMELLS like Tim. The fantasy flawless. Teasing pretty little tits. Being so gentle, at first, with that virgin little hole. Hearing his Robin whimper and cry out in pleasure as he fucks him. Teases his little pink clit and stuffs him deep and full. Dragging him up and down like a toy to be filled with seed.

Everything he denied himself.

He doesn't have too anymore, does he?

Twink gets his Prada and Bruce gets an outlet. Which makes Duck suspicious. Because Bruce is NEVER this calm and reasonable. They fight about it on the roof. Bruce desperately glad Dick didn't actually SEE, what Twink turned into. But ultimately? Dick has to agree. Better this then unnecessary risks.

He talks to Twink.

Who would pass up Nightwing? Even if you couldn't remember it?

Nightwing will never admit to ANYONE what happens. Tim with a puss. His perfect "girl", huh? Arms held out to him, loving smile in place. Waiting for a kiss. Dick is going to hell. He cant bring himself to care.

It's so good he could cry.

But two for two acting fishy? Jason snoops. Working boy, huh? Tries to interview him. Twink panics at the sight of a Crime Lord. Tim + Puss+ Jason's shirt + He forgives you. Come get some.

....OH. So THATS why they come here.

Jason... should... should say no... he thinks, even as he's getting naked. He gets sounds out of Not-Tim that put porn to shame. Were the puss not temporary and shape-shifting, Twink would ABSOLUTELY be pregnant. He gets breakfast.

And frankly, Twink has the morality of a prison shank. When Damian tracks him down? Well? Pay him and he'll show you, bat-brat. WHY Batman visits this "den of iniquity". Seething, Damian does.

Turns out he? Really, REALLY wants Sexy CEO Tim with a Puss to admit he's a better Robin but then pin him to the floor and ride him. Call him pet names. Just milk him DRY with his sexy, sexy, CEO femdom puss.

Damian stumbles home vaguely shell-shocked and Reflecting On Some Stuff that he learned today.

And Tim? Has been having the time of his life, getting off it, since day one. Because he was stalking Batman. As usual. It's his go-to comfort activity. And he is starting to seriously consider getting a magic user to give him some sort of gender swap medallion or something. You know... for Vauge Bat Reasons.

Oh look! Nearly time for Bruce's weekly "extra patrol route". Better get the lube and get comfy~ Tim's got a show to enjoy.

-🐼🐼🐼

good for tim 😍😍😍!!!

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

[levy120]

Might as well throw this out there instead of just spamming the folk on discord, because I was just working on a little ficlet for Captain Laserhawk when a horrible epiphany struck me.

None of this should have come as a surprise because Rayman outright says so, says that ‘Eden saved his life’ and that ‘he'd be nothing without them’ but it passes so quickly with so much going on and so many worse revelations to come that we hardly get the time to stew on what. that. means.

Let me set the scene for you.

You are Eden, all new in power and, ready to shape the world in your image.

The hybrids are fresh in, they are your product, your campaign, you introduced them to the world.

But the general public has not been kind to the aliens from dimension X, so why would they be kind to hybrids. But you need this to work because they are the backbone for your entire corporate machine.

You start opening jobs for hybrid people especially - outside of their designated purpose to feign integration.

Jobs like PR and customer complaints, for people to vent and people who can de-escalate.

And suddenly this weird little alien dude is there to apply for the position.

And you say "but we're looking for hybrids. You are not a hybrid"

And suddenly that thing gets desperate. It has a degree, by what it's saying it's absurdly overqualified for the job. And here it is glorifying a callcenter job because literally everything else it tried did not work out. It doesn't say so outright but you can read between the lines when it says it's an ‘expert in dealing with criticism’ and that 'on the phone no one sees its face’...

You do not post a public job offer for ‘propaganda officer’.

Even just media representation or moderation is sth that you need to apply for, there are no offers unless you are already a big shot.

Rayman probably turned up at Eden looking for the lowest of lowest jobs and might have let a couple things slide during an anxious job interview that made Eden realize "this unique and quirky and marketable creature is so very VERY desperate. It's going to be eating out of the palm of our hand SO MUCH, no matter what.”

So they make a counter offer instead.

When Rayman says Eden took him in, it very much implies they 'discovered him' more than 'he actively approached them'.

You don't say ‘you'd be nothing without your employer’ or that they ‘saved your life’ for getting a job you apply for that you know you deserve. 

Job interviews are all about selling yourself and spilling confidence - fake or not.

"Here I am! You should have me because I'm the best possible fit for your company!”

Rayman's tale is very much NOT that.

The guy has been fighting rejection just to be rejected more and then comes Eden and preys on that very vulnerability.

Rayman is miserable behind the scenes, but there's such a disconnect in the way he acts to being treated unfairly and the way he talks about Eden regardless of that because what else can he be but grateful for even having gotten where he is right then to begin with.

#rayman #captain laserhawk #clabdr #speculation #fridge horror #yes there's a fic coming #Edit: The fic is here #It's “Alien in America”

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

My Hazbin God oc might actually be my fav character ive made in a while

only barely tagging this one this is for the mutuals who Get It

I can't help it i'm weak to Eldridge beings that are just some guy-bird- thing and I think actually committing to His Omniscience is one of the most interesting things to explore, why does He let these things happen?

He had this whole plan in place and He was prepared to love His fledglings while using them but He was unprepared for how absurdly and desperately He was going to love them and what exactly that love was going to feel like, how it makes watching them go through any pain feel like His own soul is being wretched apart

all this nonsense started with His Morningstar, even when they were just a thought He adored them too much not to bring them to life even if He knew they would never fit with orderly Heaven he was otherwise planning, one would bring ruin to the other eventually

maybe He should have just killed him before the apple incident and save everything so much suffering but then He loses 2 of His chicks, none of Lucifer's siblings could bear themselves after taking his life

and He could never bring Himself to do it by His own claw, coward that He is

and now He can't stop the project, His eldest hates Him for damning him, He taught Michael and Gabriel to be weapons before people, when's the last time He even spent time with Zadkiel or Raphael, He sacrificed too much to give up now, how lost would He be if he had to choose somewhere else to take creation, who does God pray too for guidance

He fell victim to His own determinism! Even when He was suppose to be making the choices that shapes that path! He regrets actions centuries before taking them and is so consumed by grief there's nothing else, even as Heaven crumbles to corruption and the tension with hell thickens to a breaking point

maybe there is building resentment for humanity and the things its taken from Him, the least they could do is kneel before their King and Creator

#hazbin hotel god #hover thinks thoughts

[this-acuteneurosis]

Random. But do you have any star wars fic recs ? Fics recs of any kind are welcome actually ^_^

Oh, uh, sure.

Let's see, I've mentioned @chancecraz a bunch of times, I love all their stuff, if I had to pick a favorite I'd say Of Queens, Knights, and Pawns but how does one really choose?

I've also mentioned @fialleril and Double Agent Vader, which really got me into the SWs fandom in the first place. I love everything I have ever learned, it hits me so hard in the feels each time. (I also really loved Sigyn's Saga if we're also talking not-SW stuff.)

I enjoyed The Desert Sun series by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning. (I will be honest, I have only read the first series I have not started Rise and Fall.) It's engaging and fun and thoughtful.

doing it by my lonesome and staring down the barrel of the hot sun by magneticwave are two fun Luke/Din stories featuring appropriately cute Grogu. I also liked pages filled with scribbled ink, which is an epistolary Padmé/Obi-Wan fic that had me cackling. (their non-SW stuff is good too, I especially enjoyed just me against the sky)

Other...serious(?) recs include: The Wingless Dragon by husborth if you like being sad and horrified about Vader's bad choices. Food Scandal by Malicean for some situational hilarity and for lots of OC perspective on Imperial bureaucracy (my other weakness aside from politics). PRojects IN Controlled Environments by Beth Winters for Imperial R&D bureaucracy, more situational hilarity, and very relatable coworker nonsense.

More silly/fun premises include: Compromising by samvelg, which inspired me to write a (very different) Piett POV of Luke and Vader nonsense. Memo: Jedi Maintenance (The Care and Feeding of Your Jetii) by RainofLittleFishes is exactly what it says and what you would hope for from such a title. Luke Skywalker is Altogether Too Likeable by Mokulule is another Piett POV of Skywalker nonsense.

As far as Non-Star Wars recs

It would be a crime and sin if I didn't mention Embers by Vathara , an Avatar the Last Airbender fic which honestly changed my life and how my brain was shaped.

World Ain't Ready by @idiopathicsmile is a Les Mis fic I've gone back to a few times. The dialogue is just really good. I spend a lot of the fic laughing, and also screaming at the characters.

I fell absurdly in love with Second person familiar, I think because it tickles some part of me that just dies over linguistics, and I'm a fan of pretty much everything @jackironsides has done for The Witcher.

Salvage by @muffinlance is a very fun Avatar the Last Airbender fic about Zuko getting reluctantly adopted by Hakoda (it's so good).

Finding the Line by Miss_Lazy_Tuesday is a Batfam fic that sort of ruined me at one point, it's fine. (I enjoy their other stuff too.)

The Angel of Hell's Kitchen by MarbleGlove is a Daredevil fic. I don't really go here, but this was about social structures, bureaucracy, and doing the work, and we all know I can't help myself.

Reconstruction by rageprufrock is the story of Stephanie Rogers, but like, it's Pru writing it. So. Characters are great. World building is great. Tension and longing and grief are great. I cannot stress enough how good the academic and news article asides are. Like, it's good. Incomplete, but so good.

Ordinary Numbers by BootsnBlossoms and Kryptaria, a James Bond fic that I keep coming back to because I too would be a sucker for someone who sent me needlessly expensive gifts.

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets is a Supernatural fic about poetry. I am not in this fandom, but again, my weakness for language gets me every time.

ever fallen in love (on national TV)? by ganymede_elegy is a GoT Jonsa modern Bachelor AU and...guys I cannot express how much I Do Not Go here, and how much I still recommend this fic. Like, it's just...I don't know. It worked. In spite of me knowing nothing about GoT or The Bachelor. wtf

survival of the fittest by cywscross is a short Naruto fic about a very unpleasant adventure for Sakura and Shikarmaru that just...worked. As a story. Dunno, I just really like it.

I could be wrong, I could be ready by harryromper is a Harry/Draco fic where they are disasters and traumatized, and it is about healing and building houses as a metaphor for overcoming trauma, and it's fine, I'm fine.

eternity will be born from hope by theseviolentdelights99 is a Yuri!!! on Ice fic that is about a time traveling Yuuri who (you'll never guess) goes back in time and does bureaucracy in his hometown and his sport to help the people that he loves. The unreliable narrator is excellent, the social media asides are wonderful, and it's not complete but it is exactly my poison.

(Wow, this is so long and all over the place...)

#fic rec #I did not think I would find this many things #huh #please tell me if a link doesn't work #there are so many

[arx-aru]

Is it established anywhere in canon whether the Godrick and/or Radahn cliques know Malenia has already made it back to the Haligtree after the Battle of Aoenia?

Curious cuz so far as I can immediately find the only acknowledgment of her escape prior to the Haligtree area itself seems to come from Commander O'Neil's Standard--

(I'm 99% sure O'Neil was part of the Malenian/Miquellan host but I don't think it's explicitly stated? he and the Cleanrot Knights around his arena are specifically non-hostile to each-other and share buffs, and he absurdly found Malenia's(?) discarded needle and protected it to his death even after being nuked by her)

And Gowry obviously hinges his whacky machinations on her being at the Haligtree (though it's probably more blind faith in his goddess than it is, like, solid intelligence...)

But both those guys and their associates are specifically Malenian or adjacent thereto... and, in light of the stupendous amount of bad blood and continued lethal(or worse) hostility between her and Godrick/Radahn's forces, it seems reasonable to assume the information wouldn't make it across enemy lines...?

The only(?) relevant sword monument makes no assertation on Malenia's whereabouts post-bloom too:

Gideon also seems not to know her whereabouts--or at the very least he feigns ignorance--

(the exception he's referring to here is Ranni)

If Godrick IS unaware of Malenia's successful exfiltration(thank you finlay very cool), it would serve as an interesting explanation as to the outwardly nonsensical distribution of his army in Limgrave and the Weeping Peninsula, I think;

(the banner icons are where he has soldiers encamped)

The guy has made zero effort to place garrisons to a) contain the Scarlet Rot of Caelid, b) contain the Frenzy in the Ailing Village, or c) Contain the beastman peasant uprising in Castle Morne's fief... all of which are catastrophic and increasingly existential threats to his domain. He COULD just be very, very careless and bad at basic warlord-ing, but in which case he surely wouldn't have survived the Shattering right???

But actually it maybe makes sense! His troops are dug in around the Weeping Peninsula with their battlements/ballistae facing away from the internal threats and towards the far end of the single bridge to Limgrave, completely neglecting Castle Morne and its satellite fortress which SEEMS dumb... bUT! the Tower of Return, with a direct gate to Leyndell, isn't protected by Morne whatsoever. And it's one of the few locations with his lordsworn still entrenched, despite everything else.

Soooooooooo Godrick perhapsedly is insanely hyper-fixated on catching somebody trying to flee from Eastern Limgrave or Caelid. He already broke the bridge connecting Stormhill to Liurnia, which means the only means of traversal from Caelid to the Snowfields by land would be through Stormveil Castle(which would be suicide) orrrrrrrrr the Tower of Return's gate.

His prey could be Tarnished, granted, but considering that he's a) already got that entire issues entirely contained by the far more formidable Grafted Scion at the Chapel of Anticipation and b) has forsaken 90% of his domain and powerbase on this endeavor, it seems far more likely that Godrick has long been all-in on catching Malenia.

Seem like a silly objective to trade a kingdom for? Not at all, unfortunately! The uh. The game doesn't talk a whole lot about it, but Malenia isn't just a shardbearer: she's an Empyrean. The component Godrick needs to become an Elden Lord (yes, he could aim for consort to Marika, but then he'd be beholden to Marika's order, and unable to shape his own blueprint for reality like Ranni can. If he managed to shackle Malenia then he'd be able to do the same).

...So Finlay didn't just save Malenia from death by Radahn, she saved her from being Godrick's, uh- well. She would've been in the same situation as Miquella(or what whats-his-face wanted for Ranni). It also isn't exactly... unthinkable, so to speak, that Radahn pre or post rot would have liked the same thing.

I mean. That was the goal of the Shattering.

The target on Malenia's back as an Empyrean is massive. And her fate, should she have failed, would have been exponentially more miserable than all the shardbearers'.

Small part of why it's cool that, unlike the other two, Malenia battled on the front lines and charged demigods on an equal or greater power scale. Add to the fact that she's physically disabled, actively sabotaged by an Outer God, and demonstrably less magically adept than her counterparts and her performance is all the more impressive.

#whether she could have escaped any confines upon waking #who knows. i mean girl's strong but she is weakened enough to be defeated by a dipshit Tarnished by the end of the Shattering #and other deities in universe have been confined / made subservient #so yeah i mean there's that #malenia #malenia blade of miquella #cleanrot knight finlay #can you tell i like them #because i do #elden ring #elden ring theory

[khufiya-khaufnak-antariksh]

So earlier today I introduced some of my WIPs to some new people, and I realised that many people might not be familiar with those two WIPs.

Kriya Petri: fantasy (with body horror & dystopian elements). Setting: A country called Fillor on a planet called Thuluke. In Fillor, to bind yourself to the one you love, you require a trinamate potion to seal the bond. 'Trinamate' is marriage (though that is a rather crude translation of the word). But to get a trinamate potion legally, the couple needs to be… acceptable. A man and a woman who plan to have at least one child. Yes, it's been 1000 years since the global apocalypse, but 'sufficient reproduction' is still a concern among the Filore people (plus it's a moral virtue for the Divine Monarchy, who reside on the cloudlands, with an iron grip on the institutes of Fillor). A potioneer wants to elope with their lover, but the pair is, let's just say, not acceptable. So what are they to do? The potioneer brews a trinamate potion on their own, finding the closely guarded methods & ingredients for the potion through who-knows-who, bunch of shady people. The potion explodes. The potioneer knows the punishment for something like this. They'll be condemned to Kaewoe (so will their lover, if anyone finds out), a realm so deep below the ground that it's close to the core of the planet. Kaewoe, where the mind & body are destroyed by the horribly high concentration of magic. Kaewoe, the names & lives & loves of all who enter it, all slowly turned to unknowledge. Good thing stealing identities is absurdly easy in Fillor! The potioneer wipes all memory of their crimes & love (or else the Thought magicians would know), flees to the city of Naebo. Their name is now Kriya Petri,

.

Welcome To The Real World: scifi, fantasy, surrealism, horror, tragedy

This one's in very early stages Inspired by Frankenstein Setting: The Great South Asian Rip in Reality, where physics (time & space both) is just completely twisted. The year is sometime in the 2070s. Sometimes it's the 2040s outside the Rip. Depends when/where you step out. Moh-maya, reality's very fabric & everything that keeps up the illusions that comprise reality, are very malleable in here. Main character: Kabir aka Moksh. A closeted Indian trans man who lives a double life, perhaps even a triple life. One in which he's a cis woman & a regular bright STEM student (STEM studies also include study of moh-maya). Another in which he's just some guy with good friends (the most authentic of his lives), where he goes by the name Kabir & uses moh-maya to present as his true self. If only temporarily. (it's painful, mentally & physically, whenever he has to revert to the female form). The third is some mad scientist bullshit, he's going by the name of Moksh among his fellow mad scientists & his main project is a moh-maya Frankenstein's monster that others can share their consciousness with, such that they can experience shape-shifting more easily & go where they physically aren't, do things they physically can't. Let's simply call it the 'entity'. Due to many reasons, creating this entity is pretty illegal. Hence the new name & collaboration with fellow shady people. the plot, put shortly: he starts doing vigilante justice w/the entity & then goes far & gets more & more consumed w/work & things go verrrrrrryyyyyy wrong despite starting with (dubious but) good intentions.

in this second one i neglected to mention the fact that you, as the reader, get front row tickets to the main character's spiral into madness & justifying murders thru the entity + the entity is a whole person & has opinions + a whole lot of other stuff, I DID mention that this WIP is in very early stages but holy fuck i could go on & on about it (just not in a way that can be packaged in a structured & sensible introduction)

#i have re-written the introduction to kriya petri so many times because it's hard to know WHAT parts i should talk about first #and this introduction still isn't concise. currently i'm not really in the phase where nailing the introduction is super important but #it's still at least a LITTLE BIT important. but i never seem to get it right. i think this one IS an improvement over my other #introductions to this wip because it gets the MAIN FOCUSES across (and even without talking about the other major characters it at least #touches upon the issues kriya has which will be common with the other characters. so it works). #still not entirely satisfied BUT this is my 'baby' wip cuz i started it when i was 14 and it's grown so much in the past 4 years #and honestly i should probably just read a bunch of scifi (finish octavia butler's series lilith's brood maybe since i finished the last #book recently) because before i wrote this intro. THAT was what made some of the worldbuilding aspects 'click'. #i really need to make the amphibious nature of the thuluken humans play more of a part in their culture as well! #i just realised that so many aspects of this world have been DISCONNECTED! they need to be woven together! #it's midnight and i'm sleepy. why am i sleepy i could be working on this (or on my college assignments [it's okay i've got a lot of time #for them & am making progress on them at a steady rate])

[alexis-royce]

Mr Pages- 4, 8, 9, 21

Ask game time!

4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?

Either more visual novels, or a prose novel! I think that it’s nice to have a little time to puzzle out Pagemanteaus, and spoken media might go by a little too quickly for that. Also, unless you are literally Stupendium, putting Pages into a musical would be doomed to failure. The difficulty bar is absurdly high.

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

I’m not a fan of questions like this! I think that unless it’s a genuine ethical issue like harassment, complaining about fandom creations is stirring up trouble and complaining about stuff that people make in their free time, for no pay, and often with no training. Also? The FL community tends to be pretty erudite and fun-loving. Everyone who memes on Pages gets the appeal! I always like seeing it, even if I’m too shy to interact sometimes.

So I guess instead, I’ll try to give advice? If you’re drawing Pages, I think that it’s fun to go exaggerated with the body language. Since you can’t see its face, most of the emotion will be stored in the pose. The other masters are better at acting spooky and stoic than Pages is. Pages is a fucking gremlin. ❤️

9. Could you be roommates with this character?

ABSOLUTELY NOT. My favorite characters are generally somewhat amoral and obnoxious, and Pages fits the bill for this. Let’s be real: Pages is a messy bitch who loves drama and canceling people for their problematic writing. Pages would take one look at a trans dude who writes weird smut with flawed characters and whoops I’m quickly dogpiled and in prison.

Pages is my worst nightmare but it is very fun to imagine a character (The Academic) who could survive it. Power fantasies come in all shapes and sizes.

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I love writing pagemeanteaus. IRL I struggle to verbalize my thoughts often, and though I have a large vocabulary, I tend to get stuck when I can’t remember words. Sometimes simple ones. It’s very frustrating to stand there trying to talk with a brain that just stopped working. So I love that while writing, I can just bullshit words instead. Whenever I stumble I can just cramsert whatever makes sense into Pages’ speechandering style of speaking.

On the other hand, I have difficulty balancing how romantic to make Pages, with how antagonistic. I know that my characterization is much less brooding and mysterious than in canon (especially MotR. That one needs for Pages to represent the masters as a group for most of its plot, so it comes across as much more muted). I tend to lean on Pages’ depiction in Hearts Desire, which is lullingly affable, until the instant it’s not getting what it wants, whereupon it can be venomous. But I get the feeling that Pages really does like human romance, and its desires would be a little more mainstream than the curator fight-flirting I tend to write. If I were trying to write as canonically as possible, I’d tone that stuff down.

But sadly, I love antagonistic nemesis comedic pseudo-romances with blustery infodumping old guys, so you’re stuck with me writing Pages with a very low spooky and traditionally romantic stats. It’s autism and slapstick murder hours 24/7 in my house. ❤️

#Sorry can’t write simmering and smouldering and tall dark and handsome #Too busy laughing and stirring my tea and nodding dreamily at the nerd who won’t shut up about the thing they like #Fallen London #Fallen London Spoilers #Mr Pages

[happyinjection]

♠️♥️High Card Short Story 1 “Mint Soda and Cafe au Lait Float”♦️♣️ (3/3)

Once we are done with work, let’s head out to our favorite pub, “Crazy 8”~

Original: https://twitter.com/highcard_pj/status/1530021332561170432?s=20&t=lLB3b2CH1n76STg9Xa0uNA

Author: https://twitter.com/poipheno

Artist: https://twitter.com/ebimoji3

Crazy 8 was a long-established pub located right next to the Old Maid branch of Pinochle Automobiles. Rumors had it that they had been in business for nearly 30 years.

The dimly lit interior was fully furnished with wood. The counter was gold-plated, reflecting the light. It gave off the atmosphere of an authentic Irish pub. Behind the counter, a neon lamp in the shape of the pub’s name glimmered.

“Yahoo, Master. I’ll have my usual ♪”

Chris rested his elbow on the counter, leaning forward as he called out to the manager of the pub on the opposite side. His name was Douglas.

“It’s you guys again.”

Douglas had a muscular build and cleanly shaved head, as well as an intimidating air about him.

“Even if you said that, Master, I’m sure that you’re happy to see us, your dear regulars, turning up often around here~ By the way, Finn, what are you having?”

“Beer.”

“You’re underage! Order something non-alcoholic!”

“Just kidding. I’ll have my usual soda.”

The bartender didn’t give a reply, but he immediately turned and walked away to start preparing our orders. Chris, who had picked a high stool to sit in, crossed his slender legs as he waited. I sat down next to him.

“Finn, are you hurt anywhere?”

“Oh. My fist hurt a bit from when I packed those punches, but it was no big deal. Shouldn’t I be asking about how you’re doing instead?”

“Not at all ♪ I don’t even need to eat my Fudgees.”

After a moment, two coasters were being slide out onto the counter. And then, a glass filled up to the brim was put on each of them.

“You guys should not come here in the first place if you’re not going to drink alcohol.”

That said, Douglas placed Chris’ favorite drink, the cafe au lait float, in front of the latter, before turning his back on Chris instantly and without courtesy.

“Master, even if you’re spitting such mean words, you’re always giving us freebies. For instance, the float is bigger than usual today. Isn’t it amazing that he never made a big deal out of these kind gestures~”

Chris put his thin lips against the straw and began sipping. “Hn~ you see, it is similar to Vietnamese coffee, in the sense that it has condensed milk poured in. Definitely rich in calories~”

“Ew, it’s like you’re piling something sweet on top of something even sweeter.”

I stuck my tongue out in digust, frowning. As I was about to sip on my own drink, it suddenly came to my attention. In the soda, there were a number of tiny leaves floating around. Furthermore, a slice of lime was stuck at the rim of the glass.

“What is this? Isn’t it different from what I asked for?”

“Mint, huh. Then it must be virgin mojito. This is another special service from the Master, so make sure to drink it gratefully.”

“Vir… what was that? But I, hate veggies. Including greeneries, leaves, and the like.”

“Mint is not a veggie, though.”

“I see. Fine, I’ll try to drink it, why not, I’ll try.”

I put the straw in my mouth while stealing a glance at Master. His back remained turned on us as he was wiping on a glass. It followed that he turned on the TV installed near the ceiling using a remote control.

“Mnn! Who could’ve guessed that this drink tastes absurdly good?! Thanks a bunch, Master!”

With his gaze fixed on the TV, Master resumed wiping on the glass using a towel. Meanwhile, I downed my whole glass of mint soda in one gulp, slurping it noisily up to its final drops.

“Seconds, please!”

“Keep your pace slow.”

“Bossy, ain’t ya? I can drink however much I want.”

“Gah, what an insolent brat. Well, whatever. Speaking of, you did a great job today. Even though you claimed that you were simply doing it as a hobby, I have to admit that you’ve got some skills in boxing.”

“Our opponents were just lacking. I could say the same about you, I mean, you were the one displaying that flashy combination of Muay Thai and god-knows what other martial art techniques.”

“I was somewhat forced to learn them after I joined Pinochle, that’s all there is to it. Afterall, I’d rather not become drenched in sweat.”

“Eh, but you should absolutely teach me sometime.”

“Did I hear that right, are you looking forward to get all sweaty with me?”

“You’re being creepy again.”

“Reporting from Gibbs Street, earlier this afternoon…”

Interrupting our conversation, the voice of a reporter blared out from the TV, dropping the name of a street which sounded familiar. It also seemed to grab Chris’ attention, as he immediately spun on his high stool to get a better view of the TV.

“An incident just occured in which a group of mafia were attacked by unknown assailants. According to the police who arrived at the scene, someone is believed to have intervened in a drug transaction between the mafia. The items were stolen from a museum, with the market price of—”

“…”

“…”

Chris and I stared at each other with wide eyes.

“Um, Chris……. isn’t this a bad sign? But we won’t be showing up on the headlines, will we?”

“High Card” was a secret organization operating under Pincochle Corporation. The true identities of its members must never be revealed to the general public, and anyone who’s not involved in the business was forbidden from knowing the existence of X-playing cards.

Tiredly, Chris laid his wrist across his forehead, sighing.

“Come to think of it, I didn’t expect that gem to possess such a high value.”

“I-I didn’t do anything, I swear! It’s their own fault!”

“Finn, we’re completely innocent. We don’t know anything. We didn’t do anything. Isn’t that so?”

True, true. I rapidly nodded in agreement.

“I will submit my report to jii-san and tell him that we were not involved in anything. And then I’ll call it a day and go home right away. It would take time, but this whole incident would get swept under the carpet, eventually. Uh, and, just for the record, do not ever let Leo catch a wind about this.”

“…Sounds like it’s gonna be a big pain in the ass.”

“I hope that would solve the problem. For now, fingers crossed…”

Chris raised his glass of cafe au lait float. I copied his movement with my own refilled glass of mint soda.

“Good work today…….”

When we clinked our glass together, both of our hands were still shaking so pathetically that a clattering sound could be heard.

♠️♥️♦️♣️

TL notes: I’m in no way a professional translator so if you find any mistakes, please do not hesitate to inform me right away. I love the High Card gang and I found it very unfortunate that while it is meant to be a multimedia project, I can’t seem to find the translated versions of any materials (beside the anime) anywhere (if this is against copyright, I will take it down). Hopefully this small TL would help international viewers gain better understanding of HC universe and characters. The author of these SS himself said that he hoped fans would have their “so that’s what it is!” moments when they watch the anime after reading his short stories. So with that in mind, let’s enjoy High Card together~

#highcard #high card #finn oldman #chris redgrave #short story #hcss #translation

[nhstadler]

So, I'm half done with the next chapter and I thought that I would post a short James POV in the meanwhile. This is the "shag nook scene" from chapter 40. I hope you guys enjoy :)

HOW NOT TO BE A WOODLEY

 A B S U R D L Y   S M A L L   S P A C E S

“Are you mental?” 

I’m close enough to see the light grey flecks in Seth’s eyes as she looks up at me and my breath hitches in my throat like I’m fucking twelve years old. Obviously, I haven’t thought this through. At all. I might as well be mental.

“Someone’s coming.” I try to sound like this is nothing; like I don’t care that she is in my arms and I’m reeking of sweat and dirt. But there is hardly any space to move, nothing else to look at but her. “I’m already on thin ice as it is.” 

I realise then, a second too late, that my hands are on her waist - that they shouldn’t be - and I let go immediately, ignoring the violent jolt in my stomach. “I can’t be caught after hours or Minnie is going to lose her shit.”

Seth narrows her eyes at me and I wish I could look away. But I know that it’s useless; this close to her, I don’t have the energy to pretend that I even want to look at anything but her. 

“You’ve already been caught, Potter!”

“I have?” I grin at her but she doesn’t seem to find me even remotely charming.

“I am a bloody prefect!”

“Yeah. And you were creeping around Slughorn’s office with a heart-shaped card and you’re currently hiding behind an ugly-arse painting of a weird troll way past curfew. Shady as fuck, Woodley.”

She’s pressed against the wall, her head tilted up towards me, and it’s all I can do not to lean in, not to touch her, not to kiss her, not to tell her that she is fucking beautiful, even when she glares at me like this.

“You hauled me into your disgusting shag nook, Potter,” she hisses and something behind my chest pulls taut, twisting itself into something heavy and unshapely that sinks to the bottom of my stomach. 

Of course, that’s what she thinks of me - that I’m a heartless shit who fucks girls in secret passageways.

“What the fuck is a shag nook?” I try for nonchalance, because my only other option is to pathetically spill my guts to her about how I haven’t been with anybody else since New Year’s. Because I can’t bloody stop thinking about her; about her red dress on my bedroom floor and her blonde hair spilled against my pillow.

“You know what I mean.” She is still frowning at me but, even in the darkness, I can see her blush as I lean a little closer. 

I swear to Merlin, this girl is going to be the end of me.

“I actually really don’t. Enlighten me.” 

She breathes out a humourless laugh and then shakes her head before looking away from me. “Forget it.”  

Right.

She thinks I’m mocking her; that I find this amusing when, really, I’m mortified that she still sees me like this - that she’ll never see me as anything more than a dumb, immature fuckboy. 

“Is that really what you think of me?” I say before I can stop myself. “This is not - I’m not…” I press my lips together as I try to come up with the right thing to say. But I always fuck this part up; say the wrong thing, ruin everything. I’m good at that.

“Well lads.” Slughorn’s voice is louder now, cutting through the weird mood like a dull knife. “It was a pleasure as usual. I have to say that American Bourbon really was delicious.” 

Seth gives me a wide-eyed look and then her lips twitch, like she wants to laugh but tries really hard not to, and I’m possibly on the verge of losing my shit. This is bloody ridiculous. I’m trapped in an absurdly small space with the girl that I’ve been desperately trying to stop obsessing over for months while my Potions teacher is blocking the only exit, talking about fucking American Bourbon.

At this point, I don’t think I’ll get out of this unscathed.

And then, suddenly, Seth moves and I look down at her, even though I should know better. She’s biting her bottom lip, her body pushing against mine as she shifts her hips like she’s trying to find a more comfortable position and I’m not OK. 

She cannot be serious right now.

I don’t think as I reach out and grab her waist, pinning her against the wall a little too roughly. For a split second, I’m not sure what I’m doing. My shit brain is not fully functional with the current lack of blood supply and there are too many things I want to do; I’ve wanted to do for a while.

But I can’t. Not like this. 

I push away from her, trying to create at least some distance between us, however limited it might be. And then, suddenly, I’m falling backwards, through the portrait of the ugly mountain troll and right in front of Slughorn’s feet.

#HNTBAW #hntbaw #hpfanfiction #nextgen #fanfiction #jamessiriuspotter #hownottobeawoodley #james pov #james sirius potter #aesthetic #Spotify