#actually insane it scratches my brain like nothing else

[lesbianfakir]

Not saying anything I haven’t already said but it’s 2 in the morning and I have feelings about this!! I want more queerplatonic art and interpretations in the tutu fandom sooooo bad. I keep coming back to how it’s so rare to have a show of this genre where the boy and the girl stay friends without any pressure to make their relationship “something more,” and that really resonates.

It’s not a bad thing but it’s a little sad to me that the tag is so focused on romantic shipping when there are so many other ways to explore the relationships in the show. I would love to see more people engaging with the text in ways that don’t fit in with the conventional relationship script.

Duck feels she is lacking in some fundamental human quality, a narrative that is so very often, an aspec one. For a show that’s so entrenched in amatonormativity I connected with the narrative of tutu in a way that I do with so few shows because it feels so fundamentally aspec. And I want to explore the shit out of that!!

The way the show develops it’s central relationships really resonates with me—rather being built upon some nebulous attraction the foundation of many central relationships come from a place of deep admiration. There is no expectation that that admiration must blossom into romance. At the end of the day, the world is saved through a friendship. There’s no NEED for it to be anything else because that love is complete just as it is. There’s no lack felt—only the strength of what’s already there.

And that said, I feel like when engaging with fanwork that quality is often missing. The idea that these relationships hold the same strength and validity whether they’re platonic or romantic doesn’t always carry through. And don’t get me wrong, I love to see a cute couple. But I wish there was more exploration of the weird nebulous up to interpretation not-quite-romantic, not-quite-platonic relationships the show gives us. It can go either way so it’s so strange to me that fandom tends to gravitate towards only one outcome to these options

Anyways, this is my rallying cry, JOIN ME IN QUEERING PRINCESS TUTU

#don’t mean this in an accusatory way at all #fandom tends to be biased towards shipping #and hell qprs can be a form of shipping like I am very much part of this #and that’s just how it is it’s not good or bad it’s something people enjoy doing #BUT #it’s funny to me that the fandom darling pairing is NOT explicitly romantic yet 99% of the fandom stuff for them is romantic #there’s just this massive gap that is left somewhat unexplored #also I’m gonna say it #unpopular opinion perhaps #the lake scene is soooooooooooo good if you take it platonically #like #as a thing between friends?? #actually insane it scratches my brain like nothing else #FUCK yearning they r besties #(tho I love a good yearning) #princess tutu #lea talks #super sleepy so apologies if this doesn’t make sense #I must go to bed

[goosewriting]

Hello! I'd like to request a Donnie x reader with scenario 19, pink 38 (with Donnie saying "don't go on that date") and pink 30 said by Donnie for the love confession?

Oh, the irony (rottmnt Donnie x reader)

scenario 19: A realizing that they have feelings for B when they see them with someone else. prompt 38: “Don’t go on that date.” “Why?” “You know why.” “Say it.” prompt 30: “I want you. All of you, and not just halfheartedly, but wholly. And maybe that’s selfish, but I don’t care.”

summary: Donnie finally understands why he doesn’t want you to go on a date with someone else. 

relationship: Rise!Donnie x GN reader

warnings: none, fluff! a smidge of angst if you squint

word count: 1.3k (this one kinda got away from me but i regret nothing) 

A/N: gosh i love me a donnie who takes the initiative! and the pink 30 prompt 😳 *swoons*

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

– – – 

Lately, Donnie had been seeing you hanging out with that one classmate quite often. You would sometimes leave earlier from the lair than usual, because you were meeting up with them. Or you would decline his offers to come over because you had already made plans. When he asked where you were going, it always included this person. And for some reason, it was starting to get on his nerves. 

Every time you mentioned their name (which Donnie felt was way more often than necessary), he felt something bubbling up within him. And the fact that he couldn’t figure out what that feeling was… It was driving him insane. This unknown sensation felt sticky, like it was a parasite he couldn’t get rid of, and it made him moody and irritable to the point where he couldn’t even stand himself. And that did not happen often. 

After what felt like an eternity of trying to analyse and understand this horrendous feeling, he decided maybe you could help him out. Donnie hadn't seen you around much lately actually. Probably because you were off somewhere with what’s-their-face, he thought with a grimace. 

So he left the lair and made his way to your place. Him coming by unannounced wasn’t really that rare, it just had been a while since he had last visited. Once he arrived, Donnie knocked on your window and searched for you with his eyes. It was evening, your lights were on and you hadn’t closed your curtains yet, so he could see inside. 

Donnie went through what he wanted to say in his mind while he waited for you to come open the window. He hadn’t reached any conclusion of what the feeling was yet, so he was trying to find the words on how to describe it to you, but all his thoughts escaped his brain like sand running through spread out fingers once he saw you. 

Somewhere in his brain, Donnie had long admitted that he found you easy on the eyes. Scratch that, he thought you were gorgeous. But in a platonic, observing-from-afar kinda way. Right now though, he couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming your figure as you opened the window and turned around again, walking to the mirror. He also saw your mouth moving, but didn’t register what you had said at all. 

The turtle blinked a couple of times before stepping into your apartment and giving you a once over from the side: you had put on one of your best outfits, it accentuated everything perfectly and clung onto your body just right in all the right places. Dragging his eyes back up to your face after shamelessly checking you out, he saw you fixing your hair in the mirror one last time, before you gave up with a huff, and you turned to him. 

“Earth to Donnie” you chuckled, crossing your arms over your chest. “I asked “What’s up” twice now, are you okay?”

“Where are you going like that?” is all he managed to say, and mentally slapped himself in the face for sounding so demanding, ignoring your question entirely. 

You were a little taken aback by his abruptness, and your arms fell to your sides as you narrowed your eyes ever so slightly at him, trying to understand where that came from.

“On a date” you answered after a moment, adding that your classmate had asked you out. 

Donnie felt his heart sink into his stomach, his chest tightened, and his breath hitched. That’s when he finally understood what that nagging feeling was: jealousy. 

Green really isn’t my colour… Oh, the irony, he thought with a bitter smile to himself. 

You were still standing there, gauging his reaction, and waiting for some sort of response. But the turtle before you just stood there with an expression you quite frankly couldn’t read. You gave your wristwatch a quick glance, and cursed at the time.

“Listen, I have to go-” you started, already turning around to grab your things.

“Don’t go on that date” Donnie interrupted you, taking a quick step forward and grabbing onto your arm, pulling you back to him.

“Why?” you retorted, and tried prying off his hand, but he held on just a little tighter. 

“You know why” he whispered. You looked up at him, and he had an expression like you had never seen on him before; crestfallen, yet soft, and full of… regret? You took a step back with a scoff, finally getting out of his grip.

“No Donnie, I don’t” you said firmly. “These last few weeks you’ve been acting super weird and you wouldn’t even let me approach you.”

“...I have?” he asked, and you could tell he genuinely had no idea what you were talking about. 

“Ugh, yes!” You went on, telling him about several situations where he would dismiss you every time. Donnie was now deep in thought, trying to remember all these events, and lo and behold: he had ignored you every time because he needed time alone to figure out that annoying feeling. 

Realising how he had essentially pushed you away when all he actually wanted was to spend more time with you, but he was too thick-headed to realise that, Donnie brought both hands to his face and groaned. He needed to fix this, and tell you how he felt ASAP. 

“So, Donnie” you continued, as he was still not answering. “Tell me: why shouldn’t I go on that date, with someone who actually talks to me?” 

To your surprise, the turtle took your hands in his, and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to collect his thoughts. When he opened them up again, they were full of determination and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I didn’t realise I blocked you out. I’m sorry, I really am” Donnie started; his voice was soft and genuine. “And I’m sorry it took so long to understand it myself, but you’re right I’ve been weird lately. There was this strange knot in my stomach that I couldn’t figure out, and I needed time to do that. And I now regret it very much that I pushed you away when the answer was you all along.”

Donnie’s hands squeezed yours, his eyes full of a fire you didn’t know he had in him. Your knees weakened slightly and your heart skipped a beat at the way he was now looking at you so intently, almost pleading. 

“But now I know what that feeling was: I want you. All of you, and not just halfheartedly, but wholly. And maybe that’s selfish, but I don’t care. So please… Don’t go on that date.”

You could feel tears starting to prick behind your eyes. Were they from joy, relief or frustration? You weren’t quite sure yourself. Truth is, you had been head over heels for Donnie since day one. But you had accepted that he would never like you back, so when your classmate reached out and you started hanging out more, you saw it as an opportunity to get over the turtle and move on. And you would have been successful, if it hadn't been for him coming in that day out of nowhere. 

And now here he was, essentially telling you that he felt the same way about you as you did about him. 

“You idiot” is all you could mutter out as you pulled Donnie in for a hug, and you clung onto him like your life depended on it. To your surprise and relief, he hugged you back just as hard. 

“I want you too. Always have” you said, pulling back to look up at him but not letting go yet. “Since I’m already all dressed up, how about you take me on a date instead?”

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [more info in my pinned post!] @hearteyedracoon, @maribatshipper, @whygz, @lovelylovelydreams, @o0-starboy-0o, @xnorthstar3x

#goose feathers #500 goslings event #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt 2018

[clovrtree]

Rereading your fic AGAIN after discovering it maybe 1 and a half weeks ago, it’s SO GOOD. It scratches my brain nice. I (and many others, I’m sure) think about Peter meeting the Batfam all the time. Or Marvel and DC crossovers in general, but Spider-man mostly.

I like how you add details about Peter that I at least wouldn’t have thought about. You literally point out (in your most recent chapter at least) that he’s not a baby. Sure, he’s 16, but bro is solving calculus and a lot of other mathematical junk on the DAILY. I didn’t even think about that. Especially with Tom Holland-Spider-man. Because the kid is so smart, but he acts silly, so people forget he’s not an innocent naive baby.

And he’s so strong he doesn’t even KNOW (he knows but none of us think about it enough.) The texting bit at the end of the recent chapter pointing out Peter pulling away from Dick like it was nothing (because it IS nothing to Peter) made me remember “Oh yeah, he’s literally Spider-man. The guy who caught THE WINTER SOLDIERS METAL ARM MID-PUNCH.”

Also off topic, but I love how everyone in the Batchat has their own texting style to help tell them all apart. That’s super creative (you’re so creative it’s insane).

Peter is the silly and I love him 🫶.

Actual question though, why does he have that white streak in his hair? Is it because he basically died via Thanos Snapped™️? Or something else? Or for design reasons because all the cool characters have weird hair 😌

I can’t wait to see what else you come up with, best of luck with senior stuff and all that. Your fic and your art are awesome and I like looking at it C:

(That one video you made with them and the “Do you think we’re siblings in every universe?” trend?

OW??? OUCH??? OWIE??? It’s so good but at a cost 😞)

Thanks for existing :D

I got this ask last night as I was getting ready to leave work, and I got to actually read it when I got to my car! It really made me smile- I love hearing from everyone, and seeing you and so many others being so enthusiastic over this story makes me UNBELIEVABLY happy. Thank you SO MUCH for all of the support <3<3<3<3

Peter's hair is something that was pointed out in the first chapter, and that alongside his other physical changes are key to part of the plot that I can't talk about yet </3 I do think that his hair being white does make him look cool tho lolol even if it's not the main reason for it!

#batman #spiderman #dc x marvel #batfam #batman spiderman crossover #dc comics #batman and robin #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #peter parker #bruce wayne #batfam plus peter parker #marvel #dumpster diving for treasure

[previousloversandmuses]

FREQUENCY: Episode 6 - A Soldier Boy Story

FREQUENCY:  A Soldier Boy Story

EPISODE 6: “You Make Me Feel So Young”

WORD COUNT: 7736 (sorry)

PAIRING: Soldier Boy X Reader 

WARNINGS: (NSFW) Foul language. Offensive slurs. Violence, depression, and mentions of suicide. Slow burn. Drinking, and drugs. 

A/N: This story is dark, and covers mature themes. The main character, as well as other major characters, are offensive in nature, and may offend some people. Please peruse with caution, and remember that this is fiction. Reader discretion is advised. Please message me for any questions, comments, or concerns. 

Masterlist | Taglist 

Everything was exactly where she usually would have left it. Hm, he thinks. Totally stumped. She’s never gone this long without telling him. Her apartment, vacant and cold, hadn't seen her around for about a month, and neither had he. Not since the last time she had come over, at least. 

He stalks around her place. Taking a peep into the fridge, only to be greeted by the smell of spoiled milk. He grimaces, shutting it so hard the door comes off of its hinges. Fuck. He leans it back up against the body of the refrigerator, not really bothering to fix it. Maybe she wouldn’t notice? 

He takes note of her bedroom. Her worn laundry is still in the hamper, including that little get up she had on the last time she came to see him. He reaches down into it, grabbing onto the black lace underwear, and taking a deep whiff. Still smells like her, which surprisingly brings him little comfort. He knew she did her laundry every day, or else the smell alone would drive her close to insane.

He rummages through her drawers, observing that almost all of her undergarments are gone. She’s also missing shorts, flannels, and her hiking shoes. Okay, he thinks, perhaps she’s just gone home for an extended period of time. Perhaps she is angry with him because of his reaction to her most recent proposition. Lord knows when she’d be back. But he knew he could always check. 

Leaving her apartment, her black lace underwear stuffed into the sleeve of his supesuit, he knocks on her neighbors door. He knows they are home, he can hear them. An older woman answers, her eyes wide, mouth dropped. 

“Good evening, ma’am, I was wondering if-“ She passes out before she can answer. 

Great. 

He knocks on the other neighbor's door. He stomps his foot with impatience. His lips formed into a tight line. He crosses his arms over his chest and swallows his irritation with feigned patriotism. 

“Hello Sir, would you mind if I asked you a quick question?”

The man stammers, completely dumbfounded.

“Wow! Homelander, what a wonderful surprise,” He turns to look over his shoulder. “Honey, come look! Homelander is here!”

John rolls his eyes, only to resume his pleasant expression once the imbecile turns back to meet his gaze. 

“What can we do for you, Sir?” The idiot asks. 

“Well, I actually had a question about your neighbor.”

“Which one?” The man beams, a goofy grin on his face. His wife joins him at the door. 

“My God! Homelander! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Homelander smiles back at her, nodding his head. His irritation becomes a lot more difficult to hide. 

“Yes ma’am. I was actually asking your husband here a few questions about your neighbor.”

“Who, Old Emma?” The woman asks. “She’s demented. Whatever she did, we had nothing to do with it.”

He raises an eyebrow at them, shaking his head. 

“Uh…no, no, not the old—I was asking about your young neighbor. Apartment D.”

“Ohhhh,” They both say simultaneously. The woman slapping her head, showing her idiocy. “Well, we don’t hear much from her, right Steve?”

The man looks at his wife, nodding, turning back to John. 

“She in some kind of trouble? Not one of those supe terrorists, is she?”

“No, no, God no.”

“Is everything alright? Anything we should be worried about?”

“No, just curious about the last time you saw her.”

The couple turn to each other, scratching their heads. Visibly searching their brain for some sort of answer. 

“Maybe a few weeks ago? She’s quiet. It’s not out of the ordinary. She usually comes and goes late at night anyway.”

John sighs, nodding to them. 

“Alright, thanks anyway. Sorry for bothering you two. Stay safe out there, okay?”

As he begins to walk away, Steve, the husband, calls after him.

“Hey homelander!” John turns back to them, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Do you mind if we get a picture?”

Kill me now. He thinks. 

“No, not at all!” He walks up to the two of them with open arms. 

The two of them eat dinner every night together for a few weeks. He comes home from a long day of work, which again, he chose to do willingly. Something she still thinks is a feat in itself. He slips off his boots, and lays down on the couch. He’ll turn the TV on and flip to whatever channel is showing reruns of M.A.S.H. Although he does happen to enjoy Two And a Half Men, he was good friends with Charlie Sheen's father back in the day.

Last Tuesday she had borrowed one of Amas cookbooks, deciding on a southern style pot roast. Didn’t look too hard. You just stuff everything into a crockpot, wait eight hours, and call it a night. 

By the time he got home the house smelled heavenly, and had been obsessively deep cleaned by the freak herself. He had noticed during their time together that she had to deep clean every few days, otherwise it’d drive her up a wall, and she’d start acting like a deranged mental case. Although regular, established, modern people would just refer to it as irritability. He will never not call her out for it, no matter how many times she tells him that upsets her. 

Because of this interaction, his enjoyment of smelling whatever she had cooking for him would usually be cut short, ending in some ridiculous, twenty minute bicker. The two of them are equally hard-headed, and would never admit they were wrong. At this point they both give up, and begin to eat in silence, on the couch, side by side, watching some sort of movie. Finally beginning to talk normally from some obscene observation on his part. She’d never say it, but times like that she did find him funny. 

He was crass, and gross, and condescending, and simply everything she thought she’d hate in another human being. But, unfortunately, there was a part of her that found it charming. And come present day, she realized she might be sad the day he doesn’t come home to bother her. She’d been by herself for so long, the idea of even any sort of companion drove her crazy. But she had gotten used to this. And his nightmares had gotten at least a little better to the point where she could fall asleep without headphones, and lie back, being soothed to the sound of his steady heart beat. 

All that is short lived when she wakes up to a screech, or a shout--or something. Either way she knows it's him. 

Typically, in this situation, or what she’s done so far to cope, is turn on “Swan Lake” on her headphones. She cranks it up, rolling her eyes, and flipping over on her side. Facing away from his side of the house. But tonight, after a particularly heated conversation about the Star Wars Prequels, she can't help but feel a tinge of guilt.

She lies awake, staring at the ceiling, her box fan only doing so much to conceal his soft whimpers of misery. She gnaws on her lip, her heart aching with a sudden remorse for the oh-so-broken man that lies tortured by his own sleep. When was the last time he slept a full night? She thinks. When was the last time he woke up feeling rested? She knows he's strong as steel, and biologically augmented. He probably didn’t even really need the sleep. But mental anguish? Cognitive health? She knew from her own experience that can take a toll on even the strongest of Supes. Take John, for example, even he was a loose cannon for Christ's Sake!

She sighs, standing up, and making her way into the living room. It’s at least worth a try. She didn’t even really know what to try. She was never one for comfort, even with the likes of John. Hell, she didn't even know how to expect people to comfort her! 

He lies on the pull out bed, resting on his side. Small, innocent, puffs of air fall from his lips. He almost looks sweet like this. Like a little boy, so wholesome and demure. She's sure that won't last long when he wakes up. With this man's amount of pride, she's sure he'd have her in a chokehold for even thinking consoling him was a good idea. 

She softly sits to the left on him, making sure to not create too much noise. Did he wake up to stuff like this? Could he sense her presence or maybe he's well equipped to military style combat even when half asleep? She definitely wasn’t willing to find out. 

Another round of his wimpers start up again. She looks around awkwardly,  unsure how to go about this situation. She reaches her hand down, it hovers over his damp forehead. He’s going to snap my wrist, she thinks, grimacing. She bites her lip in preparation. Anything to get this wild, uninhibited man to have a full night's sleep. Shit, anything to get her to have a full night's sleep!

Fuck it. 

She begins cascading her stiff hand through his wet hair. She's moving like she doesn't have control of her arms. I look disabled, she thinks, shaking her head. It was a funny sight. If she were to tell someone she had cerebral palsy, she’s sure they'd believe it. She snorts at that. What an awful thing to think. She had definitely been hanging around him too much. 

He shifts over onto his back in his slumber, her hand moving away from him quickly. She eyeballs him to make sure he's not awake. His little breaths continue to puff away. She sighs in relief. She watches as he stiffens up, his whimpers bubbling from his throat again. Her eyes widen. She drops her hand back down to his scalp and begins to scrape her fingers through it. He starts to calm down. Like magic, she thinks. She shuts her eyes for a moment, suddenly desperate to feel any sort of electrical current dancing around underneath the top layer of his skull. And she does. It lights like a wildfire as his nightmare begins to calm down--

That is, until he nearly breaks her wrist, of course. He's up with a jolt, as he wraps his hand around her delicate, unaltered bones.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He demands, her eyes going wide.

She tries pulling her arm out of his vice grip, her bones creaking under the strength of his fingers. 

“You were having a nightmare,” She argues, slightly embarrassed. “I was trying to help.”

He laughs at her, dropping her arm into her lap. He stands up, separating himself from her.

“Only little boys have nightmares, and last time I fuckin’ checked, I’m a grown man.”

“You have kept me up every night for a week now.”

“What happened to your phoneheads?” He demands. “Those keep you from hearing things.”

She rolls her eyes at him. Hearing things. Whatever gets you to sleep at night, pal. Which was, obviously, nothing. 

“They are uncomfortable.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m uncomfortable when you come and caress me in my sleep-” He stops himself, thinking about that statement for a second. Well, maybe not that kind of caressing.  

“You’re perverted.” She already knows exactly what he's thinking.

“And you don't listen. How many times do I have to tell you I dont have fuckin’ shell shock?”

She shrugs, “You’re gonna have to keep telling me, because thirty years of captivity seems like it’d do a lot to a guy.”

“Yeah, well, maybe to one of those pussy desert storm vets. Those are the ones who were left fucking half-retarded.”

She stands up, scoffing, brushing past him, and walking back into her room.

“You liked it,” She states. “It shut you right up.”

He stares at her.

“But okay, tough guy, I won't do it again.”

He looks down at his feet, kicking at the floor. “Good, glad we're on the same page.” He says.

She closes the door on him. 

John has been sitting in Vought Security for the past four hours trying to find any surveillance he could of her quiet escape. He just wanted to make sure she really did go home. That she wasn’t flaking out on him. That she wasn’t abandoning him. Not that he cared or anything…

“Doesn’t she have a tendency to take out security cameras?” The young intern asks. 

He had stolen her from her minor duties as a security assistant. She wasn’t even sure what she was doing.

“Yes, but don’t you think we’d at least see her take them out?”

“Yes Sir, but if she left, then I’m sure we would have seen her leave by now.”

“Don’t question me. Filter through the next hour, I’m sure we’re almost there.” He breathes down her neck as he hunches over, getting himself closer to the screen to see.

And anyone could have missed it, but he didn’t. There goes her shitty old car, flashing past the screen.

“There,” He shouts. “Go back, pause it.”

The young girl sighs, rewinding the footage, and stopping on the blurry still of the car.

“There she is,” He smiles, “Now where the fuck are you headed?”

The two of them sit there for another hour as they watch her car travel from camera to camera across the city. That is until she reaches a big dumpster behind some shitty supermarket on the outskirts of Queens.

The camera on the lamp post that recorded this had to be at least twenty years old. It looks like it had been filmed on a fucking microwave.

“Is there any way we can make this image clearer?” He asks, gesturing to the screen.

The young intern shrugs, pressing some buttons, and filtering out at least a little bit of the grain.

“It’s not much better,” She sighs.

He pats her shoulder, she goes stiff, ready for this loose cannon to fire any second.

“This works.” He states, yanking her out of the seat and taking her place.

He gets obnoxiously close to the screen, squinting his eyes, and watches as Freak throws something into the trash can.

“Is that a body?” The intern gasps in horror.

John rolls his eyes, “No, it's not a fucking body.”

He begins to rub at his chin, “...At least, I don’t think so…”

The girl reaches over his shoulder, clicking a few buttons, then walks over to the printer and hands him the location.

“This is where this camera is located. I doubt whatever she threw out is still in there, but it's worth a try, I guess.”

“Wow, thank you so much for your input that I definitely did not ask for.”

Deadpan. The girl would rather him put her out of her misery by this point. They stare each other down pathetically for a moment, before he shoos her away to go about the rest of her day. 

He waits for the young girl to leave. Sighing as he turns back to the screen, he watches as Freak hops back in her car and drives off. He keeps the speed of the footage up, and only a few seconds later does he spot a homeless man walking over to the dumpster. He pauses the video quickly, putting it back into real time. The homeless man looks around suspiciously, before launching himself over the side of the dumpster.

John is at the edge of his seat. Please, Christ. He thinks. He begs. Anything that will get him on her trail. 

After a few minutes, the homeless man pops his head back out. He hops back onto the ground, something shiny under his arm. Maybe a laptop, he thinks. He follows the man on nearby security cameras until he reaches a pawn shop. The man is in there for a good five minutes before he walks back out, envelope in hand. He immediately walks next door and into the liquor store. Typical.

This is worth a try, John thinks. Although, this was recorded over a month ago. Even if it was sold, he's sure they wouldn't mind giving him the information on who bought it. I mean, he is the Homelander for Christ's sake. 

With that in mind, and location of the pawn shop in hand, he makes his way out of Vought Security, and then launches himself out of the tower. He’d find her. Even if it was the last thing he’d do.

They didn’t talk for two days after the nightmare fiasco. He’d come home to a dark house. She was either asleep, or hanging out with Ama until late. She never told her what really happened, just that his senile ass was getting on her nerves. 

All the young adults on the res had plans to go out on friday night. He didn’t really know what that meant. Partying wasn’t like it used to be, and he isn’t sure if he would even like to party at all. 

“You coming tonight?” Asher asks, taking a drag off a cigarette.

He and Ben lean up against a brick wall outside of the diner that they all frequent for lunch. 

“What’s it we’re doing exactly?” Ben asks, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and up to his lips.

“It's like a bar honkey-tonk.”

“A honkey tonk?” Ben grimaces.

“It ain’t too bad, they barely play any country, either. Usually old classics, disco, that kind of thing.” Asher adds.

“Old classics…what the hell does that even mean?”

Asher laughs. Ama and Freak had ended up telling the rest of the young people on the res about Ben. Who he was. Why she broke him out. What the plan would be come summer.

A lot of them were hesitant at first, and for good reason. The Soldier Boy they knew had not necessarily been too kind to them. He understood their resistance for acceptance. Hell, he didn't even really want to be talking to these people anyway. The further they stay away, the better. But, of course, that wasn’t how it seemed to work. Everyone had been harassing him about stories from the past. Hell, he was once the most famous man in the world at the time. 

“Old classics…80’s and under.”

“80’s and under?” Ben gapes. “Spare me.”

“Your version of old music is what…Beethoven live?”

Ben shakes his head, laughing.

“Fuck you,” He drags from his smoke. “So old music, drinking, and dancing?”

“Think you can handle that, old man?” 

“We’ll see.”

Asher finishes his cigarette, dropping it to the ground, and crushing it with his foot.

“There will be some girls there too, I’m sure. Plenty for you to choose from.”

With Ama and Freaks' admission about who Ben really was, also came everyone knowing that the two of them weren’t really together. He didn’t mind…Or, at least he didn’t think so. A few days after they let everyone know, Ben watched one of Ama’s brothers pull Freak off to the side of the outdoor pavilion. He rested his arm above her head and looked down at her with a glowing admiration. Soft, big puppy dog eyes, doing what they do best. A look she seemed to send right back to him in return. She had never looked at him like that.

Did he even want her to? He swallowed that feeling down before he let himself answer. 

“I’m a little rusty. I’ll come out for a little while and then turn in.” Ben sighs, still smoking on his cigarette.

“Your choice.” Asher shrugs, beginning to walk back inside the diner.

In theory it would probably be best for Ben's mental health to at least try to stay out later. Be social. Did he have to talk to women? No. These were baby steps. He could stay out, drink with the few friends he’s made, and listen to songs that made him feel comfortable. Think back to the good times. Hell, he might even get to see Freak let loose. 

“...Christ on a cross…” He lets out a heavy groan. He had almost forgotten about what happened a few nights ago. There's no way she’d be going out, he thinks. And even if she did, she sure as hell wouldn’t get anywhere near him. 

He felt bad for his reaction to her sweet gesture. How it was purely innocent, and kind. Something he rarely saw from her. She wasn’t cold-- well, not really. It was more like the idea of letting herself become comfortable with someone was, shocker, uncomfortable. His response to the situation ended up making him look weaker than what he was afraid of. He was acting like a little boy terrified of catching cooties.

He had always considered himself to be an open book, because to him there wasn’t much to be open about. He didn’t have any feelings that weren’t manly, and if he did, they were suppressed by bouts of irrational anger and rage. Reactions which he's sure led to his existence as a lab rat for thirty years. 

He was cold to all of Payback, especially Noir, who was always agreeable and pure. And even to Countess, who he claims he loved. No man would ever treat a woman they cared about that deeply with such discontent and hatred. He acted like she made him sick. He’s sure he had even slapped her around a few times. But he was so arrogant, and she wasn’t built like regular women. He thought she could take it. She was strong. She needed that treatment. She needed that to be stronger. 

In reality, his behavior all led him right back to his father. To his silver spoon childhood. His father, who was a disgrace. His father, who was unfair and disgustingly evil. His father, who was everything he turned out to be. Ben's personality was purely the result of mistreatment. Of parental negligence. Of deep rooted insecurity. Worst part is, he knows that now. He's been having to live with it. He’s been having to deal with these weird, foreign, repressed emotions. Ones that bubble to the surface as a short temper that's taken out on another broken human being who doesn’t deserve it. 

He remembers dinner with her about a week ago. She was freshly showered so her hair was dripping wet, making a little puddle on the floor. The back of her shirt damp, and sticking to her skin. She was ridiculously shiny, which was the result of some face mask from the nearby pharmacy. It smelled like blueberries, and he’s sure she could tell. Most definitely an overpowering mixer with their steaming plate of macaroni and cheese. She grimaced as she took a bite. 

“You put a lot of effort into yourself for a girl who’s so set on dying.” He says, breaking the silence. He had been refering to her planned suicide mission in the coming weeks. 

She widened her eyes at him, setting her fork down, and reaching over to take a sip of her water. She had been exhausted that day. There had been a big music festival thirty miles down in one of the valleys. That's all she had heard and felt for the past twelve hours. A little self care is what she needed. Anything to treat her pounding headache, and sore muscles. 

“I would've done it a long time ago if I wasn’t so set on revenge.” She stated, rubbing the sides of her temples with her fingers. 

He shakes his head, putting his fork down.

“You can’t let these people have such power over you.” He argued.

“I’m too tired to have this conversation right now.” She sighs.

She pokes around her plate with her fork, resting one side of her head on her hand. He watches her as she mopes.

“Y’know, sometimes people in my blast zones don’t even die they just…end up losing whatever fucked up thing the V did to their DNA.” He tries to act nonchalant about it.

She looked up at him. It was a sweet gesture, she thought. He obviously didn’t think she was worthy of dying. Worthy of throwing her entire tortured life away. He was willing to help her find an alternative to her suffering. The question was whether or not she was willing to do that. And at this point, she didn't think so. 

“Ben, it’s a nice gesture, really.” She smiles weakly.

She had always thought she was one of those people who were born to die. Like her whole purpose in life was death. That her existence had a deeper meaning, and that she wouldn't die in vain. She’d die in sacrifice. In the way she wanted to. She thought it was beautiful that she would be the final factor in her demise. That cancer, or John, or Vought, or an atomic bomb--any outside source wouldn’t have the ability to take control of her ultimate cessation. 

“We can keep you at a close distance so you wouldn't get hurt. It’d be quick, and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like today anymore.” He sounded excited almost.

“This thing that V gave me, I hate it,” She starts. “But I wouldn’t know how to live without it, either.”

He nodded along. That he understands. 

“Like today for example; the ground is shaking, I feel it everywhere. It gives me a headache, raises my blood pressure. And the sound, the fact I can hear the bass from thirty miles away. I mean, to say my ears are ringing is an understatement. But, at the same time, the way I experience music is an incredible gift. I can hear chords and choruses and notes and keys--things machines couldn’t even be able to pick up…Without this curse, I would be just an empty shell. I wouldn't know how to live. So I guess, maybe the real curse, is just continuing to exist, compound V or not.”

By the time John gets to the pawn shop it had already been closed for thirty minutes. He lands just as the shopkeeper is locking up for the night. The man’s coat flies up from the force of John's arrival. He jumps in response. He turns to face him, John already putting on a shit eating, manufactured smile. The man freezes, dropping all of his belongings on the ground.

“How are you this beautiful evening, Sir?” It had been raining all day.

The man stammers, searching for some sort of coherent response. John grits his teeth. Deep breaths. He goes out of his way to continue the conversation. 

“I’m looking for something that may have come through in your shop, do you mind if I have a look?”

“I-I-I…”Almost there, it’s nearly out. “I’ve just closed up for the night Sir, can this not wait until m-morning?”

Sorry--wait until morning? Does this absolute fucking imbecile retarded fucking moron not understand who hes talking to? John stalks up closer to him, the shopkeeper trembling enough to drop his keys onto the ground. John watches them as they fall, only to turn back up to the man.

“You gonna pick those up?” John asks, cornering him.

“Uh, y-yes sir.” The man stutters, squatting down and picking up his keys. 

“Good job,” John praises. “Now, are you going to unlock this door and let me inside or am I going to have to force my way in myself?”

The man audibly swallows, turning back to the knob and unlocking the door with an old, rusted key. When the door opens John is hit with a waft of moth balls, old cigarettes, and dust. God this place was a slum. Who the hell would buy anything from there and expect it to be any quality higher than dog shit?

“Are you looking for anything in particular, Sir?”

John scans the room. There is furniture; some old and ripped, some newer and draped in red velvet. There is a section for jewelry, he's sure none of it is real. There is silver, china, guns, knives, japanese art, again, definitely not real.

“Do you have any electronics?”

The man gestures down in front of him. There is a glassed case that houses a few flip phones, a handful of Blackberry’s, some walkie talkies, and, Ah, laptops.

“We actually just got in a few new flip phones, Sir,” The man leans in closer, looking around, speaking under his breath. “Including a first generation keypad Nokia.”

John snorts, shaking his head. Unbelievable. 

“I’m actually looking for a laptop.”

The man takes a deep breath, “Aw man, we just sold our last one today. Microsoft Windows I think.”

John feels himself getting agitated. He’s sure he can no longer hide the look of discontent on his face. 

“So, no apple computers then?” 

“N-no, unfortunately not, sir.” The man swallows hard again.

John takes note of his blood pressure. One-eighty over ninety. He must be hiding something. He begins to laugh at the man.

“What was your name?” John asks.

“A-Akash.” He stutters, his palms beginning to sweat.

John could smell it.

“Okay, Akash,” John leans in closer, grabbing him by the collar. “I know an apple computer came through here a few weeks ago. And I’m gonna assume by the pounding of your heart rate that you bought it off of some homeless guy for thirty dollars and some change.”

Akash nods, beads of perspiration forming at the top of his hairline. 

“And I’m gonna bet that since you got such a good deal on a new, nice laptop, that you decided you were gonna keep it yourself. Is that right?”

Akash squeaks something, but John can hardly understand him due to his crushing vice grip.

“Sorry, what was that?” John says, pulling Akash up closer to his face, his feet hovering off the ground.

“Y-yes!” Akash cries, “P-please, Homelander, I have a family at home. Take whatever you want!”

“Where's the laptop?” He asks.

The man points down to his briefcase.

She stands in the kitchen, doing her makeup in the reflection of the microwave. She likes the natural lighting. She turns around, reaching to grab the controller, and turning the TV on. The New York news station is reporting about some Pawn Shop that caught on fire. Good, she thinks. As long as it has nothing to do with Ben. She's relieved to know that the two of them continue to be white noise. 

And ugh, speaking of Ben, she prays he won't be going out tonight. Maybe he’ll continue to be antisocial and isolate himself at home, watching reruns of “Happy Days”, and snorting mountains of benzos. She's tired of getting them for him. 

After she finishes up on her mascara, she walks back into her room and slips on her dress for the evening. It's black, tight, vintage Guess. She had gotten it from the consignment store the other day. Everyone had planned on going to dinner first, but most of the guys had a long day. They would rather go home and relax, and then go back out later in the evening. The club had alright bar food anyway. Well, at least from what she can remember. 

Smoothing out the edges of her dress with delicate hands, she sits back down on her bed, and turns on the TV. Waiting for when everyone was ready to go out. She’d rather be ready early than having to scramble during an already stressful evening. She hadn’t gone out in ages. 

As she settles back onto the pillow, she hears the front door creak open. She goes still, hoping he won't come in to bother her. He doesn’t, just goes to hop right into the shower. He must be going out then, she thinks. And if he is, there is absolutely no way he's leaving after her. She will be fashionably late. He can happily go early and hopefully turn in before midnight like the old man he is. Anything to guarantee avoiding an unwanted interaction. 

She's still and silent as she listens to him get ready. Her TV on mute. Her face heats up as she hears the familiar zipper of his jeans. She had gotten used to hearing that everyday. He clears his throat, keys jingling as he shoves them into his pocket. The clock on the wall now read 9:03. People would slowly start to turn up at the bar. 

Suddenly his phone rings, the one that she got him from Wamart. It was a cheap flip phone that had minutes. He still didn’t understand how any grown man is ever able to type on the tiny little keypad. His whole fingertip takes up half the screen.

“Yeah?” He answers, opening the front door and walking outside. It was Asher. “I’m leaving now…No, I don’t know if she's coming…Well tell Ama to call her that’s not my fuckin problem.”

She hears Tough Guy’s big ass truck pull up outside of the house. It growls as it comes to a quick stop on the gravel drive. He hops in, hanging up the phone as he does so. 

Thats not my fuckin problem. What an asshole. 

She bolts up after that phone exchange. Her skin was hot. She was embarrassed. Why the hell is he acting like this whole situation was her fault? All she was doing was trying to help him! She stomps over to the floor mirror, reaching for the ties on the back of her dress. She pulls it tight so her waist cinches in significantly. She reaches over to her makeup bag again, adding a load of eyeliner and an even thicker layer of mascara. Popping off the lid to her perfume, she drenches herself in it, making sure to get all of the parts any man would love to smell. The places that catch in the wind, only to make their breaths catch in their throats. 

What was this going to do for her? What sort of gratification was she wanting here? Is this her way of getting back at him for being a piece of shit? By acting like a slut and taunting him with something he couldn't have? Maybe. She’s sure it might work. She’s sure it would do something. Even if he didnt feel that way about her. The fact that she was letting loose and having so much fun without him. 

But what if this made him angry? What if this backfires and he blows the whole place to the fucking ground with everyone still in it? Or worse, what if he decided to back out? He says “fuck you, and fuck the family,” and leaves in a cloud of dust? She’d really be fucked then. Well, her rational brain wasn't thinking tonight anyway. She grabs her keys off the console and says fuck it. 

The car ride there was hot, and sweaty. Tough Guys AC in his car had stopped working and he was too tired to fix it. Although he must've been 200 more pounds than Ben, he wasn’t blessed with the likes of Compound V. That shit made him a human heater. They had the windows rolled down, which made everyones hair look fucking crazy.

Once they make it to the bar, all the guys hop out of the car. The place is buzzing with people. All different ethnicities too, which surprised him to say the least. You’d think the rednecks would've ran these people out of town by this point, he thinks. One thing everyone had in common though, almost all of them were wearing cowboy boots. Ben felt significantly out of place, and not just because he was a century older. 

The inside of the club is blasting “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees when they walk in. Okay, he could get behind that. In the center of the dance floor is a good amount of people, mostly couples or groups of girls. Some of the couples were grinding up and down on each other. It was inappropriate beyond gross proportions. I mean, some of these girls were literally rubbing themselves on these guys' thighs. The older crowd, anywhere between 40 and 70, stood by the bar, watching the dance floor. A lot of them were grimacing, although slightly amused by the ridiculous display of affection. Feeling the same way about it that Ben was. There were high top tables over there, one of them just freeing up as they headed over. The four of them wrap around the table, looking around for their friends. 

“I’ll go look for the other guys.” Tough Guy says, they all nod at him.

Asher looks around, craning his neck, searching for his girlfriend. 

“Ah, there she is,” He says. “Just in time.”

The music changes in the club “Who’s That Lady” By The Isley Brothers coming on. Ben turns his head to follow Asher. Ama and the rest of the girls begin to walk in the door. Perfect timing for this song, he thinks--And then his breath catches in his throat.

She walks in behind the rest of them, sticking out like a sore thumb. Girls like her beelong on the silver screen. They belong in films. On the cover of magazines. In art museums hanging up on a wall surrounded by a sea of onlookers taking her picture. She is it. She is money. She is light. She is so radiant in that tight, black dress he thinks the whole place quiets down when she walks in. Okay, he was not expecting that. 

The herd of girls say hello to him as they walk up to the bar. He nods, not paying attention. His eyes glued to the sight across the room. Adohi, the guy that had her up against the pavilion the other day, saunters towards her, two drinks in his hand. He passes her one, she accepts it happily, leaning in to give him a hug. 

“I'm surprised you could make it!” He yells over the music, she grimaces.

What an idiot, he thinks. Who the hell would forget that about her?

“Sorry,” Adohi says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just surprised you can even handle the music.”

She smiles at him, gesturing towards a pair of earplugs. She knew they didn't do much. But, those plus the gifts of alcohol made it much easier for her to tolerate. Once she got drunk enough her body would end up feeding on the sensation of the bass through the floor. She downs the drink quickly at the realization. Then starts sauntering over to the bar. 

She catches him in her peripheral, not daring to look at him. She knew where he was sitting the moment they pulled up. His heartbeat was so unique, it was easy to spot even from a mile away. 

“Freak,” He calls. Fuck. She wasn’t expecting that.

She looks over her shoulder quickly, not stopping her pursuit towards the bar.

“Hey,” She says, sounding completely uninterested. She said it in a way that you talk to someone whose name you don't remember. She is ice cold. Leaving him frowning on the chair.

Ouch, he thinks. This was going to be harder than he thought. Good thing he's persistent.

Throughout the span of the next few hours the both of them had their fair share of drinks. Ben was buzzed, and so was she. Not to the point where the two of them were incapacitated, but enough so the room was brighter, and they were significantly happier than they were the moment they walked in.

The two of them stood at opposite ends of the club all night. Both stealing glances, pretending that they didn’t catch the other one looking. She made it obvious she was putting on a show. Dancing with Adohi provocatively when any sensual songs came on. Ben gave up on moving slowly with women about an hour ago. After she had her first dance with Adohi. Currently, Ben sits at the bar leaned into a woman's ear. He has her howling with laughter, his hand resting on the small of her back. 

Ama and Asher watch from the entrance of the club after going outside for a smoke break. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. It was embarrassing, and immature, to say the least. These were two grown adults acting like petty teenagers to get back at each other for the sake of their own pride. They had had enough. 

Ama stomps over to Freak, who was currently grinding on Adohi on the dance floor. She was flushed and sweaty, her hair poofed up from the humidity within the club. 

Ama grabs her arm, “Mind if I steal her for a minute?” She asks.

Freak gives her a what the fuck look, as Ama drags her off to the bathroom.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to go alone.” She says, blatantly lying.

“Couldn’t you tell I was in the middle of something?” She asks as the two of them walk through the bathroom door. 

“Yeah, exactly why I pulled you out of it.” Ama pulls them into a bathroom stall. It's small enough where their feet are on top of each other.

“I was having a good time.” Freak argues.

“Adohi is three years younger than you and has a heart murmur, there is no way you are dancing with him because you want to.”

“I am so.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“You are not,” Ama argues, looking down at the time on her phone. “Okay, one second.”

Ama reaches up and ruffles Freaks hair. Making it sexier, messier, voluminous. Then she takes her thumbs and drags them under her eyes, wiping away the running mascara.

“Didn’t your mom ever teach you about waterproof?” Ama teases.

“I don't have a mom.” Says Freak plainly.

Right, Ama thinks. She then reaches to unlock the bathroom door and pulls them back out.

“Hey, I thought you had to go to the bathroom!”

Ama drags them both out onto the dancefloor, the familiar intro of “How Deep Is Your Love” beginning to play from the speaker.

“It, uh, went away?” Ama says, looking around for Asher.

He sees him coming towards her, and just as Barry Gibb begins to start singing, Ama pushes Freak into Asher, who pushes Ben into her. The two of them running into each other. Out of habit, Ben wrapped his hand around her back to steady her. Having no idea who it was at first. They both stare at each other for a minute, not knowing what to say. It would be too immature and awkward if the other decided to just storm off, leaving the other one alone.

Looking around, all the other couples slowly start to slow dance with each other. A new one coming off of the side lines and onto the floor every few seconds. Freak eyeballs him, then slowly lifts up her arms and onto his shoulders. Not looking him in the eye. In fact, she looks everywhere but him. The ceiling was interesting this evening.

He rolls his eyes at her. He was so sick of her acting like a little teenage girl. Although, he thinks he's no better. The two of them dance in silence until the song is almost over. 

“I’m sorry,” He says suddenly, breaking the tension. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

She blinks at him, tilting her head to the side. She wasn’t expecting that to come from him so easily. 

“I was just- It was- I haven’t…” He trips over his tongue trying to find the right words to say. 

He takes a deep breath, looking her in her eyes. 

The song switches to “You Make Me Feel So Young” By Frank Sinatra. They usually played Frank this time of night before the older couples decided to turn in.

“I’m an asshole, and I’ve always been an asshole. And I know that now and I’m trying to be kinder and to adapt but I don’t know what to do or what to say or how to even exist…” He trails off, looking over to the side of the club.

“I get it,” She says, smiling softly. He turns back to her as she continues “I have a hard time feeling like a real person too.”

He looks down at her outfit, his voice getting quieter, his eyes becoming heavy.

You make me feel so young

You make me feel there are songs to be sung

Bells to be rung

And a wonderful fling to be flung

“You look so beautiful.” He says.

“Thank you,” She says, her eyes watering, her throat dry.

She doesn’t think anyone has ever said that to her in her life.

He thinks he's never said it and meant it before in his whole life. Not until now. This was the first time in his life he's ever felt it. The first time in a hundred years. When he looked into the eyes of someone and had the answers to every question he’s ever asked. 

And even when I'm old and gray

I'm gonna feel the way I do today

'Cause you make me feel so young

“I’m sorry,” He starts, resting his forehead on hers. “This is the closest to home I’ve ever felt. I’m such an asshole.”

She looks up into his eyes with a misty glimmer, a devious gaze. One that holds the whole world within it. A soul pouring out into another. And he caught all of it in the palm of his hands.

She leans up and places a gentle kiss on his lips. He’s reluctant at first, but slowly begins to smile into it.

This felt like home.

Masterlist | Taglist | Episode 7

Taglist: @sl33pylilbunny @Lanassmarty @Sydneyyyya @1-800shootmeplease@muhahaha303@nancymcl@speedyrebelfan@ghh05ttt@agentorange9595@let-me-luve-you @peachytits @darkdahl @deans-spinster-witch @soggybasementfries @ladysparkles78 @madamthemoo @lyarr24@sadlittlecountess @mickaelly007 @mrscountryclub @vtheoneandonly @decadentanchorwerewolf @wonderland2022@buckybarnes-1917@rebeccathefangirl@daisy-the-quake @tiredbibi @greyish-wallpaper@previousloversandmuses@is-this-a-febreze-commercial@justrealizedimmascifygurl@broimamy@freewastelandstrawberry@breadsgalore@savagemickey03@franblaq6466@lustendreams@atinylittlebee @VtheOneandOnly

#homelander smut #homelander x reader #soldier boy #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader #homelander #jensen ackles #soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy the boys #jensen ackles x reader #soldier boy oneshot #the boys fanfic #the boys #jensen ackles smut #frequency: a soldier boy story

[dearspiritss]

2AM Thoughts on the Current Ghouls

Hear me out..

Mountain sits behind his drums the entire ritual, majority by himself, and everyone thinks that he wants to escape them. That he would want to walk around and entertain their thousands of fans just like Dew, Rain, and Phantom, but I think it’s the opposite. He enjoys the fact that he’s behind there by himself. This gives him a slight break from all of the chaos, it allows him to take out his frustrations and/or other emotions without causing harm to himself or others. He gets to observe everything as well, which he loves. The fans may go crazy over everyone else during the ritual, but they go insane for him at the end. People reaching out for his drumsticks gives him the only boost of confidence he needs.

The girls actually don’t mind their positions. Yeah, they do want to explore sometimes, but they’re content on where they are. Cumulus isn’t the biggest human fan, meanwhile Cirrus and Aurora are fascinated by them. Cirrus loves teasing and making the humans laugh during her Mummy Dust solo, and Aurora is in her own little world for the majority of the ritual. She has her fun at the end though, don’t worry.

Dew may act all big and tough, and oh so scary on stage, when in reality he’s the biggest cuddle bug you could ever come across. Yes, he loves watching his fans drool over him, but it can be a little much sometimes. As soon as they walk off stage, he’s glued to the person closest to him. He needs to recharge after working so hard to keep up his persona, and everyone is happy to oblige.

Shy little Rain is actually the slyest ghoul you’ll ever meet. His sweet and timid personality on stage is NOTHING compared to what he’s like offstage. He’s constantly found whispering teases into pointed ears. He’s also known to be somewhat petty, but I shall not discuss on that.

Phantom switches from confident and curious ghoul, to a timid demon-shaped puppy who just wants attention. Rituals wear him out quickly, he just wants to curl up into someone’s lap and get all the lovin’ he can take, but he’s just too shy to ask. Thankfully, Swiss completely understands and takes him into his bunk for a nice, long nap full of chin scratches and soft kisses to face. As soon as Swiss has his hands on him, he’s a purring puddle of ghoul.

Saved the best for last obv, Swiss. The horny, energetic, and feral ghoul of the bunch. While there are times he can be all of those things offstage, he’s normally the opposite. On a normal day, he’s laid back and down for anything. He’s one of the ghouls everyone goes to if they need a break from chaos. He doesn’t mind sitting in silence, cuddling, watching movies, reading- He’s there for them with whatever they need. I mean, he’s a multi ghoul, he’s good at everything.

That’s all my brain wants to say :)

#mountain ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #ghost the band #ghost band #GRRR I LOVE THEM #silly little headcanons

[skaruresonic]

Was looking through your posts about the metal sonic shenanigans, and this part really caught my interest

"Metal doesn't really say anything to imply existential despair in Metal Madness. He more or less just brags about how he's going to take over the world"

The guy who complained about how "mean and condescending" the heroes are being sure ignored this part. They genuinely made something up and then acted like it's true.

Playing the games actually isn't enough. These people can look directly at the source material and still interpret it as something completely wrong. Sonic "fans" are simply hopeless

I didn't touch on this in my reply, but the supreme irony of "Sonic's picking on Metal, he's so impossibly smug and condescending" and "nobody listened to Metal" when Metal was actively trying to kill them is too much.

Let that sink in. Metal tries to conquer the world and murder the heroes, is a misunderstood bby boy. Sonic says something snarky to him and runs off, that's unacceptably mean.

I just.

Metal threatened to roast these characters on a spit and blasted fire in their faces. What are you talking about, "nobody listened to him"? How much would you feel like playing armchair therapist for someone who just pointed a flamethrower at you five minutes ago? Why is this deserving of "aw, poor baby"? What about Metal's actions or words suggest he's crying out for help? One throwaway line about how he's no longer afraid? Does that honestly negate the fact that he's trying to conquer the world and rule as its robot overlord? Where in the games does it suggest Metal went crawling back to Eggman to ask him to remove his voice? Because even if you go by IDW's account and nothing else, Eggman still managed to remove the "rebelliousness" from his coding. The page on which Neo Metal says this furthermore implies the process was nonconsensual; it shows an unconscious Metal hooked up to a bunch of wires, and Neo later checking a computer only to see a screen that reads "NO DATA." And barring the fact that, during the Metal Overlord fight, Metal essentially said all that was in the past... Does Sonic have to asspat every villain who comes for his blood? Really? I also really love (read: hate) how they said Sonic's answer to Metal's question of "But why can't I defeat you?" was a non-answer. Say what you will about how weird "Because we're Sonic Heroes!" is, it at least makes sense given the game's overall themes of teamwork. Heroes practically hits you over the head with it. You can't say Sonic didn't give him an answer when the answer is staring you right in the face.

The thing is, I was open to being proven wrong when I opened up YouTube and watched the Metal Madness fight. I don't remember exactly what Metal said off the top of my head. I haven't played Heroes in a long while. There are a lot of games where my memory needs a refresher. That's why I decided to double-check, because memory can often be unreliable.

So then, actually watching the video, I paid attention to his dialogue, and... Well. The evidence doesn't seem to support OP's claims. I didn't hear any instances of Metal screaming about how his constant battles with Sonic and co. were driving him insane. What I did hear, however, was a good dose of egotism justified by the slightest veneer of an identity crisis. That's not to say the identity crisis wasn't a factor, just not the most important factor. Hence I think it's reasonable to assume it's erroneous to paint it as the only thing motivating Metal in Heroes.

More broadly, I feel like the type of post that really gets big on this site is the one that appears galaxy-brained and appeals to our emotions, but hosts a conspicuous lack of sources and examples. Feels over reals, so to speak. They use loaded language, make declarative statements about the characters, and usually don't bother with nuance.

And. Like. If you scratch even just a little bit beneath the surface, you'd find the series holds more nuance than it's commonly given credit for. So to boil things down as people often do is needlessly reductive. It doesn't always paint a whole portrait. There was a recent post that rubbed me the wrong way as well because it was worded in this style, claiming that Shadow's character could be pinned down to his loyalty in his relationships to others. I found that analysis lacking because it neglected the fact that self-determination is an equally important part of his character, and portraying loyalty as his most critical trait risks defining him through his relationships with others. Stuff like this by its very multifaceted nature necessitates the use of asterisks. And in addition to games canon, Sonic Tumblr tends to be allergic to qualifiers that may risk diluting an otherwise "powerful" message.

This type of post isn't confined just to Sonic fandom. It happens in Half-Life too. I'm just more inclined to give it a pass for a couple of reasons. One of those being that HL's lore is more full of gaps than Sonic's, so in some instances your fanon is as good a guess as the next fan's.

But with Sonic, it's immensely frustrating because we're often looking at the simplest possible context, and yet folks continue to ignore it. People are so desperate to make the series seem Deep and Mature that they'll make shit up that just isn't there.

The only way I can explain it atm is by comparing it to the "blood orange, she's so pretentious, shut up it's fucking red" meme. It's not blood orange, it's red. The game said it was red. You're just saying blood orange because you think reframing something red as actually blood orange will make you sound more sophisticated, when in reality it makes you come off as ignorant at best and tryhard at worst.

I keep circling back to this example because it's always salient in my mind as the quintessential "you are pulling shit out of the deepest reaches of your rectum" take: Shadow was tortured on the ARK. Nothing in the games, Shadow's characterization, or the material SoJ recently published suggest he was ever experimented on by the researchers at any point. He holds no rage towards the researchers and harbors nothing but loyalty towards the ARK and its memory. Hell, in one ShTH ending he calls it "sacred." (And I'm sure some edgelord will be like "that's just evidence of Stockholm Syndrome." okay sure Jan) The claim becomes even more tenuous when you apply even a modicum of logic to it, from any angle. Yes, let's jeopardize Maria's one and only chance at a cure with unethical experiments. Let's waste resources and risk Gerald's wrath by treating his son like a guinea pig.

Literally all people base this on is this archetype of the Evil Research Facility, as though the ARK and Aperture Science are somehow interchangeable. They don't actually seem to consider the ARK's specific situation and instead superimpose this platonic idea of Evil Research Facility on it in order to "flesh" it out. Never mind the canonically shady shit the ARK got up to by developing weapons of mass destruction, something Shadow says out loud with his own mouth in SA2. No, games canon is not enough to work with. Shadow needs to suffer in new and innovative ways. Ow the edge.

Feels before reals, man. (takes stiff drag on imaginary cigarette)

#asks

[clarajohnson]

the magicians s2e11

julia wanting to steal a kid's teeth but she promises she'd leave money she's the cutest oh my god

queen of the great worms, what if i need to borrow it super briefly

i think the underworld is very fun i always enjoy it in the magicians. well. Until I Don't.

some all time sleeves from margo

god literally every time i see idri i get mad which is not his fault but it does happen he is SUCH AN OBSTACLE !!!!!!!!!!

sphincter magic... we all need a healthy pelvic floor......... the chemistry jesus christ the chemistry

I FORGOT ABOUT SYLVIA oh what a gift this rewatch is

poor abigail being turned into a rat :-(

jeanbag chair yayyyyyyyyyyyy!

kady and penny the actual love story of the magicians

the senator plot is so fucking funny to me why did they think they had time for this

bowling incident my beloved. actually you know what entire bowling scene my beloved. richard my beloved. free trader beowulf my beloved. so many beloveds.

julia! i-- i got a strike! DWEEB !!!!!

whimsical is the mark of the stupid and the arrogant to attack what you can't comprehend. no i'm sorry you guys are whimsical as shit.

PENNY AND ZELDA PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

oh no, security!

oh senator john mulaney you scare me to look at too closely

oh my god i just remembered the alice's shade thing

shadeless julia is still so kind and wonderful which i think is a very important thing. i don't know what they mean for a shade to be, soul or something else, but i like seeing what julia is without hers.

WE WERE SO STUPID TO LOVE YOU !!!!!!!!

even when margo is just facing the consequences of actions she definitely took i'm like aw margo :-(

sylvia i am enchanted by you please say everything immediately

"truthied" one of those tiny worldbuilding details that scratches my brain so right

did not at all remember eliot putting her in the fucking dungeon oh my god? "make sure she gets the best room and see that she gets her coconut oil" WHAT IF I CRIED

qualice really not my favorite thing in this show but there is really something about the way his entire face crumples and softens any time he sees any version of her it's kind of insane

also forgot about reynard's awful misogynistic beef with olu like sure i'm not a big fan of her but you are a fucking creep little fox man

my god i remember NOTHING of this show even eliot getting booted from fillory was gone from my brain

free will, i exercise that shit

"i'm going to be back here for good one day and i am going to find you" is kind of unexpectedly destroying me this time oh christ on a cracker

#I CAUGHT UP !!!!!!!!!! #unauthorized magicians rewatch #the magicians #text

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

i've been living alone for a while now and i just recently moved in with a roommate. i grew up in a very... weird household haha, let's put it that way. one of the insane fixations my mother had (and kinda still does, but not as intensely) was with things being pristine/clean. she was always insane about things being damaged, and if you accidentally damaged something she'd flip her shit. every time i spilled anything on the tablecloth i got screamed at, since i was a toddler (and i was a clumsy toddler). got called a horrible, selfish child that doesn't deserve to have anything. she'd scream at me and tell me i only ever think of myself and that i care nothing for her or anyone else (over a literal dot of juice on the tablecloth). every time i accidentally ripped a button off, or tore a hole in a shirt, or scratched my shoe, or broke something, or if anything we owned showed signs of wear and use.

so today i accidentally scratched some paint off of my roommate's baking tray while i was doing the dishes. i was trying to scrub the tray clean and the paint just came off (it was a shitty tray lol). so after my classes, i literally went and bought her a new one without telling her, bc it was so ingrained in my brain that she'd flip her shit and i can't simply apologise, i must Fix It. when i came home, she was kinda silent and working on her laptop, and i was like ah okay. she's gonna flip her shit now. she's angry. i better tell her i bought her a new one. and i did, and she was like oh? yeah, it's literally a dot, it was a shitty tray anyways. and i was like oh, you aren't mad? and she was like omg no, why would i be? and i was like well. we have two trays now lol. and she was like yeah we can use the scratched one for things that are gonna stain! good!

and like. i am twenty fucking six years old i haven't lived with my parents since i was 18. came back briefly during covid, and then moved out again. and this shit is still so ingrained in my brain that it didn't even occur to me that it might not be a big deal. could have saved myself 15 euros :') but it's okay i guess haha. we have two trays now and i have learned about power of friendship and that some ppl are actually normal

#personal #idk why i wrote this it was just on my mind

[lihikainanea]

JUST THOUGHTZ

Okay so first and foremost, thank you to one of my followers for sending me this TikTok where the girl tries to convince her otherwise huge boyfriend that he is, in fact....actually quite smol.

And like, what if tiger does this? Just because she’s bored, just because she’s kind of an asshole, just because of no good reason at all--she thinks this would be quite fun.

And it starts off small, innocent, innocuous. Just enough to kind of confuse Bill. It’s champagne Fridays and the nice champagne flutes are on the high shelf safe out of the reach of a clumsy tiger, so maybe when 5PM (oh who are we kidding--3PM) rolls around and tiger is finishing up her work day on the kitchen table, Bill pulls a frosty bottle out of the fridge.

“Oh honey, hang on,” tiger coos softly. And there’s just a hint of....sympathy? Pity? in her tone. Bill watches her, confused, as she gets a stool and pats his arm.

“It’s okay little guy,” she says. Bill feels placated, he feels confused, he feels miffed. He watches in total bewilderment as tiger steps up onto the stool and gets the champagne flutes, hands them to him.

“Height isn’t everything,” she gives his cheek a pat.

“I...know?” he mumbles.

But then she’s sitting at the table again, tapping away, and Bill has no idea what just happened.

And then it just gets so much worse, and so much more confusing for Bill.

Maybe that night tiger wraps herself around him as the big spoon, pats the top of his head lovingly. She has one hand rubbing his back, the other through his hair, Bill’s face is smooshed in her chest and he’s feeling so warm and snuggly and a little drunk from the bubbles.

“It’s okay you know,” she murmurs soothingly. Bill is already nearly unconscious so he’s not sure what’s okay but that’s alright.

“Being tall isn’t everything.”

Bill furrows his brow, unpastes his lips from her chest.

“What?”

“Shhh,” she soothes, “I’m okay with it.”

Bill pushes back from her a bit, looks at her like she has a second head.

“Okay with what exactly?” he asks.

“With this,” tiger says innocently, “With you.”

“Tiger--” he starts; but then she scratches that spot on the side of his ear that physically makes his brain short circuit and he just groans.

“Shhh,” she says again, pulling him back into her chest. “Sleep.”

But then like, the next day it gets worse right. Tiger is feeling like being an even bigger asshole.

“Hey bud,” she says softly, and Bill looks up from the crossword puzzle he’s doing at the kitchen table.

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever wish you were....tall?”

Bill’s eye flick up over his glasses and he quirks a brow.

“You mean taller?” he asks. Tiger takes a sip of her coffee.

“Aw bud,” she says in that same sympathetic tone and Bill slams down his pencil. “No, I mean...tall.”

“Tiger, are you shitting me?”

“I’m sorry, I know you’re sensitive about it,” she says, “And I just....I want you to know it’s okay. I’m okay with it.”

“With what.”

“With you not being tall,” she coos, “Bud, I love it. I stan me a short king. It’s okay.”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind,” he deadpans, “Tiger, I am tall.”

“Bill it’s okay, I’m fine with it,” she placates. Bill’s eyes are getting progressively bigger and more wild.

“There’s--there’s nothing to be okay with,” he stammers, “I’m tall.”

“It’s doesn’t matter bud,” she says, and just to be an extra asshole she goes even further--”Who cares what anybody else thinks.”

“Are you high?” he snaps. She gets that same look of pity on her face that makes Bill irrationally angry.

“It’s not always about height Bill,” she murmurs, “You have so many other incredible qualities.”

“I know that. And it’s not even about that,” he shakes his head as if to clear the fog of this insanity, “Tiger you are literally the size of a fucking hobbit, have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Fuck societal norms, fuck all this pressure on men to be tall,” she continues, “I love you just the way you are.”

“I am tall,” he all but shrieks, and then tiger goes in for the kill shot. She sizes him up, purses her lips.

“I mean, Alex is tall,” she says, “But you’re special in your own way.”

Bill almost flips the table.

#BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drabble #bill skarsgard fic #bill skarsgard fanfic #bill skarsgard fiction

[silvernyxa]

Ooooooh I read through the Luv on TV posts and I am HOOKED. Have you written a fic or anything anywhere? It's soooooo good and I'd like to see more!!

unfortunately theres no fic! doing a full fic for this AU would like actually take me forever to write, but i might end up doing little snippets here and there!

in the meantime, tho, here's some of my initial notes 👍

Patrick and Joe still meet in Borders, but all talk of starting a new pop punk band is just that. All talk. Fall Out Boy, before it’s even called Fall Out Boy, dies right then and there. Patrick doesn’t end up sharing his demos, doesn’t meet Pete Wentz, isn’t cajoled into becoming a singer. 

Without a band to focus on, Patrick goes on with his life. He graduates, goes off to college, graduates again, and he finds himself back in Chicago living in a shitty apartment working a shitty retail job because it turns out, there’s kind of nothing to do with an English degree. 

It gets to the point where the only conversations Patrick’s really having is small talk with customers and clipped reassurances to his mother that he’s fine, yes he’s eating his vegetables, he’ll come see her next weekend maybe and yeah he kind of does need help paying rent. 

Maybe some of the wires in Patrick’s brain are a little crossed, or his morals are a bit looser than the average person’s, or perhaps he’s just gone crazy from standing at a register all day- whatever the reason, Patrick makes the very logical conclusion that to solve his social problem, he needs to steal a dead body. 

Patrick’s the kind of guy who just knows weird shit because his mind is constantly searching for something to scratch that itch for knowledge and the depths of the internet is a wonderful place for that sort of thing.

Patrick is also the kind of guy (or, he likes to think of himself as the kind of guy) who can learn anything he sets his mind out to. Drums, trumpet, foreign languages, coding, how to break into a morgue, how to get bloodstains out of your carpet before your landlord sees, you name it. There’s a plethora of online forums that Patrick has to make sure to clear from his search history or better yet he ought to just destroy his whole laptop. 

His robot’s kind of a weird guy. Patrick doesn’t know if it could even be considered a robot. He’s just…weird. He’s not got the best control over his body. He seems to be insanely freaked out by small moving creatures, so Patrick has to keep scaring off the feral alley cats that gather on his fire escape. He doesn’t sleep and sometimes just sits there staring at Patrick, quietly watching, his screen flickering in the dark of the night, both alive and dead at the same time.

But Patrick likes him anyways. There’s nobody else in the world who can keep up with him, match for match, when it comes to quoting 80s movies (it definitely helps that he’s, like, basically a walking talking computer) He doesn’t get annoyed in the way other people tend to do when Patrick goes off on a ramble, and even seems actually interested to hear what he’s got to say. He treats Patrick’s shitty GarageBand tunes like they’ve been composed by fucking Mozart and the impressions don’t piss him off, either, and he doesn’t leave. He stays and he lights up when Patrick gets home from work and asks how his day was and it’s fucking nice, so yeah, Patrick likes him.

#its called luv on TV bc that is the first fob lyric i found with the word TV in it lmfao #fob au: luv on tv

[nokingsonlyfooles]

And this is why I am insane now

WHY IS IT DISPLAYING LIKE THIS? LITERALLY EVERY OTHER FEATURED IMAGE DISPLAYS IN FULL!

I wanted a better theme. I have spent two days reformatting so I can use this one. I will need to spend many more. BUT THERE IS LITTLE POINT IF THE DAMN THING IS STILL GOING TO GRAB THE CONTROLS LIKE A BOEING 737 MAX AND PLOW ME INTO THE TERRAIN.

I don't even have the strength to explain the little dance I need to do to make my work legible again. I can't actually code a whole website from scratch and it wouldn't matter if I could because that's not how WP works. This stuff I'm doing isn't even future-proof because I can't build a site with the new "site wide editor" interface. The damn thing is almost entirely unusable. If I do it that way I'm gonna look incredibly freakin' generic and I'll still have to reformat everything for the privilege of looking minimalist chic. That sort of thing clashes very badly with my art style, all of it.

I made some new buttons and accordions. They work for now. But I'm incredibly nervous about the way they load. It seems like there's a default that loads first, and then my style loads on top of it like a skin. That is way more complex than it should be and I expect it to break at any time - like everything else broke, necessitating this overhaul. I put a lot of work into getting them like that... I put a lot of work into all of this, but it's getting more and more convoluted and fragile.

I am hoping like hell something about the image loaded wrong the first time and it's just like that in my cache, even though I've changed the name once. I don't have the energy to screw around with my cache on this new computer now. Maybe tomorrow. Well, it's after midnight. Maybe today.

And Milo's cards seem to have vanished. I have a new format for those that is ENTIRELY text-based (I'll have to explain eventually, but I just can't now. It's much less complex and less likely to fail, and it's accessible, but it has little personality and I'm not 100% it works on mobile.) but I need to reformat EVERYTHING. It is taking A LONG TIME. Because of weird errors like the above.

I was so excited for this theme's category tag feature. I can theoretically serve you content so prettily! But, right now, I haven't even successfully reformatted all the new stuff. And Tin Soldier is a train wreck that is only partially legible in dark mode if you're patient.

People who need accessible content, please believe me, I am not trying to screw you. The tools they're willing to let me have are stupid, unless I want to pay hundreds of dollars on spec for various upgrades... And even then they're still gonna be stupid, just with fewer standard features dummied out on purpose. There are no descriptions on the above images or on many at my site because I get so damn tired doing everything else. (Also, the box they give me for typing alt text is comically small.)

I know someone who knows how to code for real and he offered to help, but... Well, first off, this isn't normal code. If it were normal code, I'd be building a little Angelfyre page with nothing more complicated than an image and a midi. And I don't wanna inflict this on anyone.

I don't know what I'm gonna do, but it can't stay like it is. I'll sleep on it and have a look at the options when my brain's working. If it ever works again.

#tin soldier and soldier on #updates

[jeanmoreaux]

Can tiktok pls die

Literally I feel insane that not more people are actually trying to actively get word around that it’s just brainrot and people (unintentionally—-or intentionally) ridiculing themselves (this does not include some healthcare and nonharmful hobbies related to art at the very least)

I’m rambling but do u feel me I’m losing my mind

Like what’s so cool about dancing in front of your phone like a teletubby. It looks and is stupid

“dancing infront of your phone like a teletubby” 😭😭 i am cackling omg!!!!!! but yeah i agree a lot of the tiktok content i have seen through other people or on here/on youtube is mind-numbingly dumb. and a lot is also just straight up rotting people’s brains (i don’t think i have to talk about how easy it is to spread misinformation or radical content). there’s some good stuff on there too (good educational content or funny skits) that should reach a wide audience, i guess (i just see the peer reviewed stuff). idk i feel like since i have never been active on tiktok, i don’t even really know how bad it is, but what i see from the outside is enough to make me want to keep my distance. there is a part of me that understands the appeal of it, but personally it doesn’t scratch an itch for me. there is absolutely nothing that tiktok offers that i couldn’t get from somewhere else, so it has been very easy for me to stay away from it. additionally, i have zero chill for content that doesn’t satisfy a need i have. idk i just get so easily bored with hollow media. it’s the same with shows or youtube: i immediately lose interest and move on if i am not emotionally invested in something. like, ‘i’ll not only move on but i’ll switch mediums because i didn’t care for two videos in a row’ level kind of bad.

#flip side is that i’ll also stick around for too long when i am emotionally invested #or worse. emotionally attached to individual characters or some small elements of the story. #even when the piece of media starts to suck i’ll keep subjecting myself to it against my better judgment. #looking at you shameless……👀 #anon #answer #i am so sorry this answer is only tangentially engaging with what you said #it just flowed out of me lol #but i feel you completely #have a lovely day <3

[skele8rity]

🎶✨when you get this, put 5 songs you actually listen to, then publish. Send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨ HEHEHEHEHEH 💖😎

tumblr deleted my response the first time i tried answering this 🙃 i wrote a nice long message about how this was really nice and unexpected but the gist of it was it was really sweet and im grateful, thank you for sending one fjdjf

rain; unprocessed. a really unique sound and incredible writing from the whole band but id be lying if i didnt say the guitar and vocals were very attention grabbing to me! an emotional pick but one im really fond of. also theres gays in the video and thats a win for me, even if its a tragic song and narrative! (cheating but you should also see deadrose. i go crazy for the video every time)

stranger things; periphery. im insane for peripherys sound overall actually but this is imo one of their most fun to listen to, interesting songs. many different parts that still manage to stay cohesive. i think the shifts between the FUCKING METAL and the pretty parts are really good. fun lyrics. i follow the drummer on youtube. misha too. the guitarists are insane??? drift compatible. chef kiss very good

king; tesseract. another one i go insane for, and also really love to pop on the stereo when i hop in the car. im not kidding i turn it up all the way sometimes until i can literally feel my bones rattling JFJSKG its very good. another band absolutely WILD at shifting smoothly between these absolutely gorgeous pieces and FUCKING METAL... and another instance where i really love the drummer lmfaooo he does these really cool polyrhythms i just. BRBRBRBvrbrbrbr. i go crazy for. King. Powertrip Music. enjoy.

dark eternal night; dream theater. ive been listening to them my whole life but i didnt get brain cells to recognize it until like... octavarium? first live concert was the album that this song comes off of and motherfucker i set the bar high for everyone else forever LMFAO dream theater scratches the brain like truly nothing else. mike portnoy might not be in the band anymore but im so glad he was here for this album because the sound is perfect.

euclid; sleep token. i had to add sleep token because i saw that you listen to them at least a little bit. when i heard the ending of euclid i cried. this whole album is good. preceded by take me back to eden? this song hits like a goddamn train, but so does the rest of the album. a lot of variation in it! but thats what prog is about 😭 euclid changed my life and my brain chemistry, forever ascending over the fact it reprises my first BIG favorite song from them at the end. annihilated me. will do it again.

#the idea for this one was 'metal' or 'prog'... #mandiemegatron #skelly speaks #music #return to sender

[griddleharkakalockedtombbrainrot]

New on fanfics I will probably never write:

In which I return to my initial idea where Harrow is going through a time loop with added spice: she's over 400 cycles in, has seen pretty much everything, and just goes totally renegade. She deadass looks her parents in the eye and says, "The Emperor can go fuck himself. If he's so afraid of what's in the Tomb, he should guard it himself." She also communicates with the two hundred souls inside her, figures out how to wander the River without needing to be a Lyctor. She fucking makes friends with the Resurrection Beasts. She tells her entire House to go to hell and essentially blackmailed everyone into treating Gideon better, if not well. She pretends to be indifferent without the rancor in the books, so basically, she's like, "Nothing matters. Griddle, I don't care about anything anymore." Then she turns around and makes sure Gideon gets enough food, keeps Crux from harming her, makes sure she gets what she needs, and just generally treats her well in a vague, "I have the emotional awareness of s pickle jar way," and Gideon is super confused but also concerned, so ends up attached to Harrow anyway. They get the invite to the Lyctor trials, and Harrow mutters, "how pointless," and basically asks Gideon if she wants to leave the planet by pretending to be her cavalier. She can join the Cohort if it pleases her once they're off planet. Gideon goes, "???" But stays because she can tell Harrow is actively going out of her way to create a train wreck and wants to know why. No one is prepared. Especially when Cytherea attempts to kill Harrow and Harrow pulls off a few things that definitely should not be possible. And Harrow is just totally nonchalant about everything.

Oh, and the RBs once in Harrow’s head will become the most batshit insane peanut gallery. To the point where Harrow is going to ask aloud, “Can’t a girl talk to the voices in her head without having them talk back for once?” Unfortunately, Palamedes overhears and is Concerned. Because he has been watching her try increasingly off the wall shit and succeed, when logic says it should fail horribly, as in brains-splattered-on-the-wall horribly. So he’s just internally screaming the entire time and trying to help Gideon keep her necromancer from dying or some shit. And like, basically, Harrow always makes sure she gets the worst of things and the others get out of situations with minor scrapes and scratches while she coughs up half her body weight in blood and says she’s fine. 

Gideon is simping over Harrow, and Harrow fails to notice this. 

Harrow, after saving Dulcinea from Cytherea: “I am the worst trash in existence.”

Dulcinea: “No, you’re not??”

Harrow, casually flipping over the entire empire, saving lives regardless of whether they’re BoE or Cohort: I have no regard for human life. I am an abomination.

Gideon, We Suffer, everyone else: No??]

And Alecto is awake and just literally chilling and watching Harrow wreck shit and only stepping in when it looks like Harrow might actually die.

#tlt #the locked tomb #possible spoilers #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #in which harrowhark communicates with her 200 #because if she's going to have voices in her head she should have fun #everyone is going to be confused #and harrow wants it that way #the resurrection beasts are snarky #alecto ships griddlehark

[fbfh]

STAR ANON HERE... I'm just curious what are your fave emo bands....

STAR ANON MY BELOVED!!!!! HOW ARE YOU DOING I MISS YOU <333 first of all, amazing question. I know the defenition of the emo genre is a little loose, but my favorite emo/pop punk bands are currently palaye royale, fall out boy (obvs), and paramore.

palaye royale own this fucking ass okay. remington leith.... ooooh my god. he has singlehandedly made me reconsider my stance on rpf. vampire!remington???? oh my god. oh my god. if I could drown in his voice I would. his cover of closer my nine inch nails actually brought about the second coming of christ. at the very end of no love in la where he goes "I SAID THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS LOVE IN LaAaAyEeee-"????? dead. actually dead. the boom is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard in my life, line it up is my FUCKING ANTHEM, and dying in a hot tub live is my favorite video on the internet. I don't use the phrase "eargasm" every, but I genuinely can't think of any other way to describe remi's voice. Emerson is an amazing drummer and incredible artist (I am SO jelly of his ability to draw architecture) and Sebastian is a brilliant guitarist and is the brain cell posessor (and probably has to routinely keep remi from jumping off stuff and breaking a limb with only partial success.) the grittiness and sincerety and emotion in remington's voice really just scratches my brain in a way that nothing else does. If I could get his voice made into something tangible I would open my skull and rub my brain against it for hours. I fucking love him.

fall out boy need no introduction. "doing lines of dust and sweat off of last nights stage just to feel like you" from 27??????? lives in my head rent free. been into some of their absolute headbangers from american beauty/american psycho and infinity on high recently like novocaine, jetpack blues (i'm sorry but "do you reMEMBER HOW WE USED TO SPLIT. A. DRINK. itNEVermattEREDWHATitwas. I think." I WANT THAT TATTOOED ON MY FOREHEAD!!!!!!!), thriller (OFC) and i've got all this ringing in my ears all singlehandedly describe my brain chemistry. that's what dopamine sounds like. ALSO fourth of july will never not sound like season 3 of stranger things to me. yk all the promo art where they're all turning around???? that but in gif form while the first few notes are playing. I wish someone would make a slightly harringrove centric edit of the starcourt mall incident and the fair and everything. if anyone knows about any season 3 fourth of july edits PLEASE send them to me because "i'm starting to forget just what summer ever meant to you"????? pls

PARAMORE. FUCKING PARAMORE RAISED ME. paramore got me through my teenage years almost singlehandedly. I remember when after laughter came out. I fucking love this is why. It's almost all I've been listening to. all we know is falling???? brand new eyes???? literally paramore have ZERO SKIPS it's insane. also (maybe I just haven't heard of them) but it's really refreshing to have a female lead singer in a pop punk band bc (again as far as I'm aware) that's not as common as having a male lead singer and IF I COULD MAKE MY INNER MONOLOGUE BE HAYLEY WILLIAMS VOICE??????? PLS- listen all I wanted was you is amazing obviously but my heart?????? MY HEART?????? I wanna scream that at someone and mean it. bucket list. I can't even reccommend any paramore songs bc if I try to think of good paramore songs I'm just going to list their discography. no fucking skips and I stand by that. Hayley's solo albums also feel very twilight bella swan depression forest angst core which I FUCKING ADORE. first thing to go is tattooed in my brain, specifically paired with this scene from the greatest romcom of all time french kiss. match made in heaven.

also lip candy don't have a lot of songs out yet AS I AM TYPING THIS I JUST SAW THEY RELASED AN ALBUM????? BRB LISTENING TO THAT NOW but they sound like what I thought teenager music would sound like when I was a kid (like they nailed it fucking perfectly) and have a very nostalgic feeling and sound to them which I adore. if you stay home and never be the same fucking slap. they slap and a half. it's giving demigod adventurecore roadtrip music.

#going through a moderate family crisis so I'm answsering asks to distarct myself!! #song recs #also i'm listening to lip candys album and it does in fact slap

[crimsun-n-clover]

im into a new girl. i mean, not really a new one. i mentioned her in an earlier post

figured out that i’m not really attached to the other girl i talked about. she’s great, but she’s wayyy too much like me. it’s good to have things in common, but when it’s to the point that we both have hallucinated the same shit it’s a little off putting. not that she did or said anything wrong, she’s super sweet and i like being around her, i just don’t think we’d make a good couple.

anyway. new girl. gotta come up with a fitting name eventually because her actual name is almost obnoxious and i love it. we met on my fandom instagram account through a mutual friend putting us in a groupchat together.

she’s an amazing artist and we obviously share interests. and she’s hot. like. fucking stunning. so i was just gonna keep that locked away in my little brain like a normal fucking person until one day she randomly unfollowed me and followed me again. which was weird, because we’ve been mutuals for months, but it put the thought of her stalking me into my head and there’s no prying that shit out. like. what were you looking at huh? nothing to see here. just a bunch of text posts and if you’re willing to dig through the highlights there’s some more personal stuff. and then immediately after that i’m on her close friends?? and she tagged me in the next post she made??? weird.

but that was the catalyst to me going huh. i guess i’ll allow myself a bit of swoonage. i told mickey and she lost her everloving shit man. she goes full conspiracy mode because “stevie, that’s what I DO when i like someone she’s into you :)))” kid. sweetheart. i hope you know that you’re the statistical outlier in every situation and i won’t assume that anyone else does that.

so a couple days ago new girl posts about how she wishes she had a girlfriend for valentine’s day. that she’s so hot and interesting and it’s absolutely unbelievable that no one is taking an interest in her and let me just say, i gotta agree. of course, she’s wrong, IM taking an interest, but i’m not gonna be weird about it. i take some screenshots and scratch out her username and send them to mickey. she. goes. fucking. FERAL. “STEVIE ITS MEANT TO BE LOOK AT THE ROCKY HORROR POSTER IN THE BACKGROUND” kid i’m gonna rock your shit if you keep feeding into this and make me all mushy and useless again.

of course, she went to revisit the screenshots and yelled at me for scratching out the username. because i know she’s a meddling bastard who will insert herself. she spends a solid two hours vetting everyone i’m following and can’t find her because the girl is on my other account. absolutely rabid dedication. fuckin adore this kid man. my stalking skills are superior and i’ve already scoped out her pinterest and it made my chest hurt because damn. she’s so. sigh.

this story is kinda nonlinear at this point. shit kept going down for me because the girl live-streamed a few days in a row and i’d join a reasonable amount of time after she started (like. 30 seconds) and just dwell in the chat while like three other people maximum were there. she would end the lives sometimes if no one would join and talk to her on cam but she always went on right when my parents would get home so i couldn’t join. she’s so charming. let me just. list some shit

we already got some stuff in here so. does art, same fandoms, likes rocky horror, feminine, all that shit. she also does roller derby, archery, carpentry (she has this dollhouse in her room that she built herself it’s SO FUCKING RAD), boxing, sailing, cheerleading, all sorts. she likes literature and fashion and apparently grew up in a cult? she kept dropping absolutely insane lore. “oh yeah i got a knife pulled on me at school for being gay haha” and the way she talks she’s so charismatic i hope i die. she’s so enthusiastic about her interests like “i was looking at a boat today that can get up to ELEVEN KNOTS” cool im obsessed with you

she’s so my type i’m gonna rip my skin off and give it to her. she’s feminine, she’s bubbly, she’s fucking weird, kind of a bitch, has strong (correct) opinions, that’s like everything im drawn to romantically. personality big enough to keep me balanced out, knows what she wants so i can enjoy my acts of service love language, LITERALLY MY TYPE.

im so fucking mad. she lives in toronto and i have absolutely no chance regardless. im just a little terrified of her, especially dming her. when i can see her face in the lives it’s wayyy easier but i’m so intimidated by her typing style yk? fucking whatever man i’m being dramatic.

it’s three in the morning so it’s technically february 8th. one year since the initial breakup.