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mrs-barnes-library · 1 year

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My Favorite Kakashi Hatake Fanfictions ⚡📕

(( THIS IS THE REDIRECTED POST BECAUSE OF THE TECHNICAL ISSUES I HAD ADDING LINKS ))

Fluff : 🌺 Smut : 🔥 Angst : 😭 None : 🌲 Incorrect Quotes : 💫 My Work : ✨💚 Dark content : ⚠

If you like these characters don't hesitate to check the new arrivals, I update every day according to my readings.

Kakashi Hatake ⚡📕 :

A Step Forward 🌺✨💚

First Kiss 🌺

How He Reacts To You Flirting With Him 🌺

You've Been Starring 🌺

I'll Never Drop You 🌺

Are You Wearing This Just For Me ? 🌺🔥

Don't Say That 🌺

Hot Things He Does 🌺

Nonsense 🌺

Return 🌺 - Bells 🔥

My Only 🌺

Treason ? 🌺

His Reaction For You Calling Him By His Full Name 🌺

He Walks On You Changing 🌺

I Want U 🌺

How He Is Around You When He Likes You 🌺

Mornings With Him 🌺

Is He A Virgin ? 🌺🔥

Being An Uchiha 🌺 ( With Itachi )

How He Falls For You 🌺

When He Gets Jealous 🌺

How He Apologizes To You After A Fight 🌺

Having Anger Issues 🌺

When Youre A Foreigner 🌺

I Can't Run Anymore 🌺

First Date With Him 🌺

Flirting With Him 🌺

Really Smart 🌺

Soft Kisses 🌺

When He Is The Little Spoon 🌺

Floppy Hat 🌺

Hands On Mine 🌺

What Is His Name ?!? 🌺✨💚

His Reaction To His S/o Offering Him Flowers 🌺

Witnessing His S/o Getting Harassed 🌺

Taking Care Of His Wounds 🌺

Learning His S/o Is A Witch 🌺

Drawing Him 🌺

Him Saying I Love You For The First Time 🌺

Soft Moment 🌺

Confessing To His Crush 🌺

Maybe I Should Have Taken Your Book Sooner 🌺

Falling Asleep On His Shoulder 🌺

His Love Language 🌺

Seeing His Face For The First Time 🌺

Truth Or Dare With Team 7 🌺

Strong And Indeppendant S/o Who Gets Trusted With A And S Rank Mission 🌺

Hand Holding 🌺

Tsunade Sending You Both On A Mission 🌺

Cuddles 🌺

Dummies 🌺

Home 🌺

Behind The Mask 🌺

Napping Tradition 🌺

Defiant 🌺

What Are We ? 🌺

When His S/o Loves Giving And Receving Kisses And Cuddles 🌺

Finding Your Sef Harm Scars 🌺

When You're On Your Period 🌺

A Nice Walk 🌺

With An Angel Hybrid Reader

Does That Mean I'm Not Your Friend ? 🌺

Reacting To Yo Wanting To Shave His Legs 🌺

Reacting To You Wearing A White Shirt Top But It Rained And It's Transy Now 🌺🔥

Late Nights 🌺

Stargazing With Him 🌺

Are We Close Enough 🌺

Soft Movie Night 🌺

Extroverted 🌺

How He Reacts To You Calling Him A Sexy Microwave Oven 🌺

I Said No 🌺

Dear Idiot 🌺

His Love Language 🌺

Worth It 🌺

Confessing Headcanon 🌺

Sleeping Headcanon 🌺

Reacting To You Having A Panic Attack 🌺

How He Hold Your Hand 🌺

Cuddling 🌺

When You're A Comedian 🌺

Flower Prank 🌺

Hot Water 🔥

Pollen Count / Hay Fever 🔥

How They 'd Fuck You After A Long Absence 🔥

NSFW Alphabet 🔥

Suddenly Telling Him You're In The Mood 🔥

Giving Him A Head 🔥

How He Reacts To You Using The Safe Word 🔥

69 🔥

Squirting 🔥

Blowjob 🔥

In The Other Room 🔥

Thigh Riding 🔥

Cockwarming 🔥

Him Reacting To Your Ahegao Face 🔥

Semi Public Sex 🔥

Tiny 🔥

Friends With Benefits ? 🔥

Listen 🔥

Showering For The First Time 🔥

NSFW Headacanons 🔥

Virginity Loss 🔥

Cockwarming 🔥

How He Seduces You 🔥

NSFW Alphabet 🔥

Sore Bite Marks 🔥

Movie Night 🔥

You Wanna Fuck Louder Than Them To Establish Dominance ? 🔥

Uh ! All Night

🔥

Jealous And Possessive 🔥

Don't You Know What You're Doing To Me 🔥

What If I Hurt You ? 🔥

Yandere And Jealous NSFW Headcanon 🔥✨💚

NSFW Alphabet 🔥

His Quirks When Making Love To You 🔥

Giving His S/o A Facial 🔥

Swallowing 🔥

Discovering You Can Squirt 🔥

Squirting 🔥

Sometime Reading Is Just Not Enough For Him 🔥 💚✨

Finally 🔥

Relationship Headcanon 🔥

Sleeping With Him 🔥

Dirty A-Z Headcanons 🔥

A Clone ? / Pregnant ( with Team 7 ) 🔥

Imagine : Undressing Each Other And Discovering You Were Both Part Of The ANBU 🔥💚✨

Catching His S/o Watching Porn 🔥

Anxious For Your First Time With Him 🔥🌺

Crying After Your First Time With Him 🔥🌺

Cockwarming 🔥

Couch Locked 🔥

Having Sex For The First Time 🔥

Crying After Your First Time With Him 🔥🌺

Y And Z 🔥

His Favorite Sounds 🔥

Bondage 🔥

In The Private Onsen 🔥

His Sharingan Activates When You Touch Him The First Time 🔥

He Likes To Throw Your Legs Over His Shoulders 🔥

Can He Find Your Clit ? 🔥

His First Time 🔥

Nice And Snug 🔥

How He Reacts To You Starting To Rock Your His Against His 🔥💚✨

He Like To Finger You And Eat You Out At The Same Time 🔥

Biting, Hickeys And Claiming 🔥

Shower Sex 🔥

That Moment You Tried To Top Him 🔥💚✨

Character Who Are Into Incest 🔥⚠

Morning After 🔥

Would He Handle Masturbating In Front Of You 🔥💚✨

Chat fics :

I Want U 🌺

Incorrect Quotes 💫 :

Little Bird 💫🌺

You Guys Kiss ? 💫😂

#naruto #naruto smut #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden smut #kakashi #kakashi fluff #kakashi smut #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake fluff #kakashi hatake smut #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake x reader fluff #kakashi hatake x reader smut #fluff #smut #miri-writes

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ametrictonofaudacity · 5 months

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Bonds 2

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Trans!Masc Reader

Warnings: mentions of kidnapping/captivity, manipulation, non-consensual touching (cuddles), general yandere themes. Reader has been pretty thoroughly conditioned in this, posted non-chronologically.

There is the soft sound of cracking flames and breathing filling the room, a thick, almost heavy heat that sinks into your bones and makes it hard to think. The logs had long since almost burned themselves out, casting a low, red light over the entire room, a far cry from the cheery yellow it had been not three hours before. Everything is dim and soft, the shadows jumping and dancing when the flames sputter and lick up the logs, refusing to die out.

You hum, sleepy and tired, and turn your head. It’s late, late enough that you wonder when the grandfather clock was going to swing open and let your siblings back into the Manor. Soon, you think. You hoped. It was exhausting, waiting up for them when you didn’t operate on the same schedule they did, unused to pulling long nights without rest and the intense exhaustion that came with what they did.

You huff, pushing the blanket off yourself. The heat was almost stifling, almost uncomfortable, and you lament the fact that you were allowed to open the windows. One gust of Gotham’s wind, biting and chilling and so very dangerous to those who either didn’t know to get out of it in the winter months or couldn’t, would bring relief right away, cool the room down instantly. It used to do the same to your old apartment, even if you hadn’t wanted it to. Wormed it’s way into the cracks and crevices around the windows, whistled loudly as it battered against the door.

Wayne Manor didn’t have that issue. You’re still adjusting to it.

The clock dongs, and you groan, turning your head over to look at it. Fuck, it was late. Late enough you should have gone to bed hours ago, but the silent Manor was almost eerie, the lack of your siblings or Father almost disturbing. Alfred was in the Cave, where you weren’t allowed anyways, monitoring the comms. And you, most likely, now that you thought about it.

The grandfather clock swings open.

You push yourself up, and there’s a strange mix of relief and anxiety in your chest. While you hadn’t, technically, been breaking any rules, you weren’t supposed to be up this late.

It’s Bruce who comes through the entrance first. There’s a heavy exhaustion written all over him, a tiredness that makes your chest twist with something that feels like worry and just might be. Your eyes skim him for injury, for blood, whether it was his or someone else’s.

“You’re not supposed to be up this late.” He frowns, all severe lines and frowns.

“It’s too quite. I couldn’t sleep.” You say, and that makes his shoulders soften, the sternness melting away into something softer, more sympathetic. He sighs, then pulls back his cowl.

“Right. I’m sorry we had to leave you home alone, it was all hands on deck tonight.” He apologizes, like leaving you home alone in the Manor is some great sin he had committed. It was fine. You just weren’t used to the quiet.

“It’s fine, Dad.”

You assure, and he hums. He doesn’t believe you, you know, but he doesn’t press.

The shadows in entrance to the cave shift, just slightly, and Cass melts into your view. You had never figured out how your older sister did that, melted in and out shadow like she belonged in them, but she had startled you more times than you could count doing that. Part of you thought she found it funny.

“Why don’t you let me put a movie on?” You offer, tilting your head. They were always exhausted after patrol, nearly always put on some nostalgic, gentle movie after a long night. You were pretty sure it helped them unwind after a harsh night. It would help you. It had helped you, after fights with them over things that weren’t important and nights when you hadn’t been able to think about anything other than freedom.

“Did you stay up for us? You know you have a bed time, yeah, baby bat?” Dick teases, and you hadn’t even seen him come up, too focused on Cass and Bruce.

“I do not, actually. Y’all just worry I don’t sleep enough.” You huff, batting his hand away gently. He grins, dragging you towards him. It’s not careful, there’s strength behind it, but not enough to hurt.

“That’s because you take after the old man and don’t sleep damn near enough.” Jason scoffs, coming up the stairs and into the room. Tim follows, then Steph and Damian. The only person missing was Duke, but Duke was at his uncles, out of state.

“Okay, well, do you want this stupid movie on or not?” You huff, annoyed. Dick still had you trapped against him, and you knew that wasn’t changing any time soon, so you resign yourself to another night of being forcibly cuddled until you fell asleep. If you were particularly unlucky Tim would manage to cling to you like an octopus and fall asleep, in which case you wouldn’t be able to move for the next day without fear of disclosing him, because any time Tim fell asleep he suddenly developed a death grip and a complete inability to wake up unless a bomb goes off.

“I’ll put it on! It was my turn to pick anyway, no matter what Jason says.” Steph volunteers, flicking the tv on and scrolling through the movies so quickly you barely even have time to look at the titles.

“Slow down, Blondie, fuck.” Jason grumbles, squinting at the screen in annoyance. “My concussion may be gone but that shits annoying.”

“You got a concussion?” You can’t help the barely hidden alarm in your voice. You can’t help it. It wasn’t like Jason had any brain cells he could risk losing, for one, with all the extensive head trauma he had already gotten, and for two, you were ninety percent sure he wasn’t supposed to be looking at a screen after getting one.

“Minor concussion. Practically babies first concussion. ‘Sides, Alfie already checked me out and deemed me a-okay.”

“He’s also benched for the next two days.” Bruce tells you dryly, and you snort.

“You’re as bad as Tim.” The puffed up offense is entirely warranted, and you laugh as he drags you against him, tugging you out of Dick’s grip. Dick pouts, predictably, and you snort, amused. Sometimes your older brother was just a little pathetic.

“Oh, bullshit.”

He snorts, settling into the couch. You end up curled between him and Bruce, and Dick pouts again, before he crawls across the top of the couch, splaying himself out to be in contact with all three of you. It’s borderline uncomfortable to look at, a delicate balancing act that came so naturally to him.

“We’re watching The Devil Wears Prada.” Steph announces. “Because we haven’t seen it in forever.”

“We watched it just the other night!” Jason argues, even as the movie starts to play. You settle further into Bruce’s side, who curls an arm around you lightly as he watches your siblings bicker.

“Fuck you, you don’t hear me complaining everytime you want to watch Little Women!” Steph shoots back, and you laugh.

“That is a goddamn masterpiece, you shut the fuck up. It’s way better than fucking- this shit!” Jason argues, almost genuinely offended.

“Shouldn’t you be intervening?” You stage whisper to Bruce, who shoots you an almost conspiratorial look.

“They don’t listen to me anyways.” You laugh, and it’s nice. Happy.

The sound of the movie and bickering and bodies shifting around each other is calming. Familiar. At some point you drift off, and you wake up to the familiar sensation of being carried in warm arms, safe and secure.

You hum, letting them tuck you in carefully, press a kiss to your forehead. You wouldn’t have, months ago, but now it was something long familiar. Welcomed, even.

You can’t remember what changed. You think you were glad it did.

#yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere platonic x reader #yandere platonic batfam #yandere dick grayson #yandere platonic batfam x reader

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batgirlzine · 3 months

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LEGACIES: a Batgirl zine has come to a close. While it technically wrapped up in November, there were severe personal complications before the holidays that resulted in the late conclusion of this project, so I apologize immensely to anyone who might have been waiting on another round of leftovers that I had not already touched base with.

For those of you who I have not already spoken to via email this month: this is Kye's mother, and I am finalizing things on my daughter's behalf as she has not been fit for the responsibility. I apologize wholeheartedly for the delay and unfair communication issues this has resulted in.

All remaining physical leftovers were shipped out at the end of October, and have been safely delivered by mid-November at the latest, as far as tracking and communication with customers indicates.

Digital Bundles were emailed out at the start of November, so if you have not received it, check spam, junk or promotions folders for your goods.

If you have had issues receiving either of the above, do not hesitate to reach out at [email protected] with questions.

With that, the project is a wrap. It has been a long one, for which we cannot apologize enough, or thank you for your patience and sticking with it, and ultimately supporting this project and its showcase of the Batgirls.

Please remember to give all the writers and artists involved love on the pieces they have posted, and the incredible work they put into this. It would not exist without them, and they worked hard not only through the project itself, but through several months of a difficult wrap-up process wherein they were forcibly left to wait without updates as well. Please send them your kind words on their pieces, as you have done through the project's email or direct messages throughout its run.

Thank you for your time, and for your support.

#batgirls #batgirl #batgirl zine #batgirls zine #production updates

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citrusy-lemons · 10 months

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pancake-cakes

tasm!peter x reader

summary: late night cravings bring out some deeper feelings.

author's note: HOLY SHIT, count on me to go MIA for a month after posting. honestly tho i'm so sorry, i've got school and extracurriculars and projects and shit and i haven't really gotten time to write and my schedule is still super hectic, hopefully i'll be able to get other stuff out soon but no promises :/

let me know what you think? constructive criticism is welcome and please be nice :)

see, the middle of the night wasn't meant for this. it's to sleep and dream and pee.

not for baking a cake without having most ingredients of the cake. but you'd gotten a sudden craving and it was a weekend tomorrow, so bad decisions were inevitable.

did you have a million assignments to do? maybe. but peter also had a million assignments to do and he was still here, so technically, he's also making bad decisions. he was aware of that fact.

mind you he did try to convince you to go back to sleep at first but you wore him down. he didn't put up a big fight, he never did, against you.

he's convinced himself that he was only there to watch over you and make sure you didn't slice a finger or spill the flour, not to help you out with your late night shenanigans. but he was cutting up the strawberries so, really, he didn't have a strong resolve.

"you know, i think that when the box says 'pancake mix' you're supposed to make pancakes," he said, turning to you, who was reading the back of said box.

were you trying to bake a cake in the middle of the night with pancake batter cuz you didn't have the stuff for the cake and didn't want to go to the grocery store to get it? kinda. would peter have gone and got the stuff himself if you'd asked? yes.

"i didn't listen to you the last 17 times, i'm not gonna listen to you now, and besides," you said, pouring the mix into a bowl, "a pancake is just a cake but made on a pan instead of an oven. we're just changing the recipe a bit," you shrugged, like it was obvious and he was the stupid one.

"there are so many things wrong with that sentence, i dont even know where to begin,"

"here's a hint, don't."

you were being mean, you knew that. you didn't mean it. peter knew that. and you knew that peter knew that but you would apologize later. he knew that. he sighed dramatically.

"you wound me,"

you rolled your eyes at that. pretending to be annoyed at him was easy. wiping the smile away from your face when you were around him wasn't.

"if i had a dollar for every time you're wounded, i'd be filthy rich."

he glanced up at you. he knew that that wasn't completely a joke, it had a bittersweet tone to it. was that the reason why you were up at this ungodly hour? peter knew that you'd been stressed lately, he didn't know he had a hand in that.

"hey, you wanna tell me what's up?"

you didn't meet his eye, but you did stop fiddling with the bowl. almost immediately, you grabbed the knife out of his hand, mumbling, "you're cutting them all wrong,"

you both knew that wasn't true. one of the perks of having grown up with may was that peter was a fantastic cook. he'd been doing this sort of stuff forever. you needed to get better at excuses.

he gently laid his hand over yours to stop you and said your name softly, pleadingly. a long pause. you complied.

"it's just that," you started with a sigh, and dropped the knife, "you're my best friend peter, and i know that being spiderman means a lot to you," hesitation creeps up as you get to the actual issue. peter senses a 'but' coming. you look at him.

"but you come home every night with bruises everywhere, in pain, and i know you say that they'll go away in the morning and they do but," you're rambling now, he doesn't stop you.

"you have to see it from my perspective, i-" another sigh, you look away, "i get scared, peter."

oh. you were worried for him. he wonders how he didn't realise that before. that time he came home with a stab wound and you looked like you were going to cry he thought you were nauseous at the sight of blood. peter was an idiot.

"i know i shouldn't but i dont like the thought of you getting beat up every night." you were talking with your hands now, "imagine how you would feel if i came home with bruises all over my body and told you not to worry and that i'll be fine in a couple hours." you looked at him again. there was a sort of pain in your eyes. peter wishes it weren't there.

"it doesn't feel good peter. and you assume that i'm supposed to be okay with it?" you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, turning back to the strawberries. your hands were shaking.

peter thought about it. about what you'd said. you were scared for him and he understood that. it couldn't have been easy to be with someone like him. but he couldn't very well abandon spiderman. it was a part of him now. he knew that you knew that, but at the same time, he understood your point.

he thought about how he'd feel if the roles were reversed. if you came home with the type of wounds he did every night, he would be terrified. he couldn't blame you, of course he couldn't.

but he was spiderman, he had a responsibility, an unspoken vow to this city. he had opportunities and powers that no one else did, and he wanted to do good with it.

he hadn't asked for it, but he still had it. if he gave up being spiderman, he didn't think his conscience would let him live with it.

"i'm not asking you not to be spiderman," you spoke, finding your voice, "of course i won't do that. i'm just saying..." you trailed off, unsure of what you wanted and whether you were allowed to have it.

peter took both your hands into his, silently begging you to look at him. you did.

"i know what you're saying, and i understand. i don't blame you, i get where you're coming from and i promise, i'll be fine," he said, softly. he knew you were anxious about his safety.

"i can't give up being spiderman, and i know that's not what you're saying, but you have to understand, i can't not do it, it's a part of me, and i swear i will be more careful," his brown eyes bore into yours, willing you to understand. you blinked and unconsciously looked to the floor.

"but what if, being careful isn't enough one day? what if it isn't just some robbers or burglars but some other things? what if it's one of those aliens or mutants or something and you can't defend yourself? what am i supposed to do then, pete?"

you closed your eyes again, trying to stop the tears. peter's heart was tearing itself knowing that he was the reason for them. how could he tell you that him being the cause for your tears hurt more than any knife in the world?

"hey, look at me," he said, searching for your eyes. you shook your head but looked up at him anyway, the tears in your lashes resolutely not giving in to gravity.

"nothing is going to happen to me. i've handled stuff like that, you know. i know you're worried and upset but i promise, nothing will happen. you need to trust me, okay? we're going to be fine. please, I need you to trust me."

he said your name like it's the last time he'll ever get to, not in a way a friend is supposed to.

you sniffed, "i trust you, i do. it's this city that i don't trust," you steeled yourself, "but if you're sure, and you believe we'll be fine, then i do too."

he cracked a smile then, and pulled you in for a hug. a tight one. neither of you let go for quite a few minutes. you relished in it.

"god, okay i know i'm being silly, i'm sorry," you said after you'd pulled away, rubbing at your eyes.

"you're not being silly, don't be sorry. it's completely okay and valid. don't ridicule your thoughts, you're allowed to feel," peter said, in a scold-ish manner that he'd no doubt learnt from may.

"and please step away from the strawberries, and go back to butchering your so-called 'cake'," he said with a teasing smile, bumping his hips into yours to move you back to the bowl of pancake mix.

you scoffed incredulously, back into your playful demeanor, "excuse you, i would have perfected this pancake-cake if i weren't feeling sleepy right now, so, unfortunately for you, you won't get to taste this deliciousness, whenever i do get to make it,"

"oh, what a tragedy, i won't get to torture my tastebuds with whatever concoction you manage to brew up,"

you shoved at him, not that he moved an inch, and grabbed the plate of cut strawberries.

"just for that, i'm gonna eat these strawberries in bed using your pillow as a table, and you know i can be a very messy eater," you laughed like an evil sorcerer and ran towards the bedroom.

peter, horrified at the thought of sleeping on a sticky pillow, ran after you, forgetting that he had sticky hands himself. (pun intended, i'm sorry i couldn't not do it)

"come back here you!"

the pancake mix in the bowl, the half pack of strawberries waiting to be cut, and the anxiety were all left forgotten back in the kitchen.

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star--joy · 9 months

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Repairs

In which Percy gets a date, is late to work, and fixes a broken espresso machine, not in that order.

Six Shot Americano Man leans over the counter, glancing at the scattered tools surrounding Vex as she kneels on the floor for easier access to the innards of her broken espresso machine “Hm. I could take a look, if you don’t mind."

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1395

Originally posted: 8/2/23

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49056469

“Is everything alright?”

Vex startles at the sudden voice, screwdriver slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor as her head jerks up, thumping against the counter-top with a painful thud. “Shit!”

“Ah, apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

At the counter of the small cafe, Six Shot Americano Man is staring at her. He always comes in ten minutes after open and orders his monstrosity of unsweetened caffeine. Normally, Vex has it on the counter waiting for him, but with her machine busted, there’s little she can do.

She presses a hand to the spot where she’d smacked her head, wincing at the immediate shot of pain. “No, don’t worry about it. I’ll have that Americano out for you in about…” she glances at the exposed innards of her broken espresso machine. “Well, probably not for a long time.”

Six Shot Americano Man leans over the counter, glancing at the scattered tools surrounding Vex as she kneels on the floor for easier access to the machinery. If it were anyone else, she might be annoyed, but Six Shot Americano Man is her favorite customer, partly because he’s polite, but mostly because he tips insanely well. “Have you called someone to fix it?”

��They won’t be here until tomorrow, and I figure I can’t make things much worse, can I? If I could just find out what’s wrong with the thing…”

“Hm. I could take a look, if you don’t mind. I’m rather good with these things,” he offers, stroking the stubble that’s just beginning to peek through on his jaw.

Vex peers at him with narrow eyes. Normally, it would be a quick and easy ‘no’ to a request like that, but, hell, she’s willing to try just about anything. After all, Scanlan had called out for his shift today, and although this hole-in-the-wall coffee shop is rarely busy, Vex doesn’t want to deal with a broken espresso machine by herself. Besides, Six Shot Americano Man hasn’t yet given her a reason to be overtly cautious. Fuck it. “Alright, but I can’t pay you.”

He shrugs off his formal jacket, walking around the corner so he’s behind the bar. “That’s not an issue. May I?”

She easily steps away to make room for him. “Be my guest.”

His face is quickly pulled into a look of consideration as he pushes the wires around to get a better look inside the machine. Vex leans against the back wall, keeping a curious eye on him as he fiddles with some mechanism or another, quietly muttering to himself. What little words she can catch are some kind of technical jargon.

“Have you worked on these before?” she can’t help but ask, watching his fingers move with practiced precision.

“Not this particular model, but I’ve always had a knack for machinery,” he hums, green eyes never leaving the task. Vex should probably be watching his fingers as they delve into the wires, in case this issue should ever arise again and she needs to fix it, but she finds herself studying the man, instead.

Objectively, Six Shot Americano Man is rather attractive, though that’s not a new revelation. It’s hard for anyone to not notice that the first time they lay eyes on him. Hell, when he first started coming in all those months ago, Scanlan had fallen over himself trying to land a date, though found himself unsuccessful. So, yes, Vex knew he was attractive.

Somehow, though, that had never really resonated with her until now. He’d always just been Six Shot Americano Man who tips well and doesn’t talk much, and Vex had been content with that.

So why is she feeling the sudden urge to have a name for him?

It probably has something to do with the small emoting of his expression, lips pursing and nose scrunching and eyes narrowing when he fiddles with what must be a difficult component. Or perhaps it’s the practiced, confident movements of his hands deep within the machine.

Either way, Vex figures it’s been a damn long time since she treated herself to a proper date with a handsome somebody. Might as well give it a go, now.

“You know, I see you nearly every day, but I don’t think you’ve ever told me your name,” she hums, trailing over to his side.

“My name is Percy,” he answers, only glancing at her for a second before turning his attention back to his work. “And you’re Vex’ahlia, if the nametag is correct.”

The way he says her name is strangely appealing, the syllables slotting together so perfectly when wearing his posh accent. “You can just call me Vex, darling. Everyone else does.”

She doesn’t think anything of the moniker, but it causes Percy’s hands to fumble for half a second. “Well. It’s nice to meet you, Vex.”

“And you, Percy.” If he were looking at her, she’d throw in a wink, but alas. “So, I have to ask, what keeps bringing you back here? You know there’s a Starbucks down the street, right?”

He laughs. “Is it standard practice to recommend the competition?”

“I would argue that this is more of a customer satisfaction survey. Something must be keeping you loyal to us, it’s only helpful to know what it is,” Vex says, finding herself leaning over him slightly.

Percy glances up at her, then looks away a tad bit too quickly. His cheeks are beginning to turn a dusty pink. “I like the quiet. Everywhere else is too busy.”

“So you like that we get bad business? That’s not very helpful for my survey.”

There’s a short pause before he says, “Well, the baristas also provide excellent company.”

Vex’s smile grows. “Hm, good to know. I need as much detail as possible for this survey, could you be more specific?”

“The one named Scanlan is particularly enjoyable.”

His voice is so deadpan that it takes Vex a long second to recognise it as a joke, but the smirk on his lips gives him away. She snickers. “Don’t let him hear you say that, he’ll start trying to flirt with you again.”

Percy grins as he pulls his hands out of the espresso machine’s innards. “I’ve dealt with worse. And… there we are,” he says, pressing the power button and watching with satisfaction as the machine begins to start.

Vex’s eyes widen as the screen comes to life. “No shit, you actually did it?”

“Did you not think I could?”

“Of course not! I just figured you couldn’t make it worse,” she admits, clicking the single shot button and watching with awe as espresso starts to pour. “That’s amazing!”

His preening is subtle, but Vex is good at reading people, and she can see the way his chin lifts and his smile grows a centimeter. It’s endearing. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Oh, shut up,” she scoffs, easily grabbing a cup and beginning to prep his Americano. “You just saved my ass. I’m never letting you pay for a drink again, they’re all on the house.”

Percy considers something for a second. “The business is already struggling enough, I don’t think that’s the best idea. Though, if you truly want to repay me, you could let me take you out to dinner. It’s not in any way expected, of course, but I would enjoy getting to know you.”

Her heart thunders with excitement, but she keeps her cool. “I suppose I can manage that,” Vex teases as she hands him his Americano. “You free tomorrow?”

“I can be,” he quickly agrees, just eager enough to be endlessly charming. “Here, my phone number. Just text me a restaurant and time, I’ll be there.” He quickly jots his number down on a napkin. “Unfortunately, I must get to work. I’m already late. I look forward to tomorrow.”

Vex blinks. “You were late to work to fix my machine?”

“I’d say the outcome was well worth it,” Percy hums, grinning wide. “I’ll see you soon, Vex’ahlia.”

She shakes her head, exasperation and fondness mingling together in her chest. “Yes, yes, I’m excited, too, now get to work! I’m not going to be the reason you get fired!”

He’s still grinning as he races out of the coffee shop, though Vex is pretty sure she doesn’t have much room to judge, given she’s doing the same. God, tomorrow can’t come quickly enough.

#vex #vex'ahlia #percy de rolo #percival de rolo #percahlia #perc'ahlia #critical role #vexahlia #crit role #bad news bears #tlovm #lovm #the legend of vox machina #vox machina

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buckyscombatboots · 2 years

Text

Monstertober Day 3:

The Scarecrow walks at midnight

Pairing: Scarecrow!Ari Levinson x Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, serious Non con, death, mentions of blood, asphyxiation/choking, bruises (not the kinky kind), Beefy!Ari (6,8ft), size difference, held down, chasing, p in v

Nicknames: Song bird, birdie

Word count: 2.3k

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭🎀 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

AN: My apologies that this is a bit late, I had some health issues yesterday which really messed up my whole day. I ended up changing it from Headless horseman!Bucky to Scarecrow!Ari, because I had such bad writers block when trying to write it. I hope y’all enjoy and like all the Goosebumps references ♥︎

You pull up to The Stanley's farm, you’d know the Stanley’s for a long time. Everyone in this town knew everyone, that’s how it always been. Which is why, when Natasha sent you texts saying to come find her in a corn maze. You knew this was where she was talking about and despite the fact that it was technically closed right now, you knew the Stanley’s wouldn’t mind. You hopped out of the warmth of your car and into the autumn night. You loved the countryside, but you hated the fact that there were no lights. You only had the stars and the moon to guide you as you stumbled across the rocky path towards the corn maze.

It wasn’t far, you could see the sign, but you could also see a foreboding wooden cross standing outside the corn maze that you’d never seen before. You stopped in front of the wooden cross, running your fingers across the red paint chipping off the splintering wood. There’s nails with shreds of fabric still tangled around the posts; there was something hung up here at some point, a scarecrow more likely than not “The shity neighbourhood kids probably ripped it off” you huff “Always ruining everything, they threw paint in the plaza fountain only last week.” You drag your hand to the apex of the cross, it’s warm. Peculiar. You brush it off, despite your uncertainty, and look back at the text Natasha sent you.

I’m in the corn maze

Bet you can’t find me, scaredy-cat 👻🐈‍⬛

She had some nerve calling you a scaredy-cat, who in their right mind wouldn’t be scared to go alone into a bloody corn maze at midnight. It was pitch black, aside from the piercing light of the moon that parted the slate clouds that drifted across the inky, velvet blanket of the sky.

You stand infront of the en tree dance of the corn maze. It’s marked by an ornate metal sign, with chipping discoloured paint ‘Stanley’s Corn Maze’ it said in a faded orange paint. It felt like the beginning of a horror movie. Two friends enter a corn maze at night, now you just need a killer.

“Natashaaaaa” you sing “where are youuuuuu?” You’d been walking for what felt like forever, your phone was only on 4%. Nerves were starting to prickle in your belly “Come on I can’t find you! I give up okay so let’s go! I wanna watch a scary movie. Oooo maybe we can watch ‘Stay out of the Basement’ that’s meant to be good.” You hear the rustling of the dying corn leaves being pushed aside behind you, but still no reply from Natasha “Nat, if you’re trying to scare me it ain’t gonna work. I can hear you.” You spin around on your heel. It was not Natasha.

It was a man, he looked to be well over six foot tall. From where you were standing he was an Adonis; a halo of blonde hair and bulging muscle. He stepped closer, you remained still.

In the moon's pale light you could see the dirty blonde hair, tousled and scruffy with loose bits of hay and dirt tangled in his locks. He had a thick beard and moustache, but the glow from the moon still allowed you to see his prominent cheekbones. His firm chest strained against the thin fabric of his red, plaid shirt. You could see the contour of his torso and arms, he was covered in muscle and towering over you. As he stepped closer, further into the moonlight, you could see his face clearer; there were two messy stitches on either side of his mouth, clotted blood surrounding the punctures and strands of hay protruding from his skin. As he neared closer. You stumbled backwards. Fresh blood coated his thick, veiny arms all the way up to his sleeves rolled at his elbows, the cloth of his sleeves stained and dripping “Where are you going little bird? I want you to sing for me.” The stitched corners of his lips stretched into a smile as he lunged forward at you, his heavy body's ungraceful movements allowed you to dart past him into the thicket of corn. Your hands guarded your face defensively as you dashed through the corn, the brown, aged husks and leaves whipping at your exposed skin “Birdie! I’m gonna find you!” His bellowing voice pierced through the deafening sound of your blood rushing in your head.

You paused as your foot treads on something squishy, yet firm, you turn your gaze to the floor. Natasha. She’s beaten and bloody, clothes torn and her head appears to almost be severed from her shoulders “Nat…” you whimper, her eyes are still open. You hear the jostling of corn. You have no time to close them as you take off again, the bleak night air drowning you as you gulp it down like a fish. The burning tears dripping from your eyes burn your icy skin, you turn your head back to try to see him. He’s not there. You practically jump out of your skin as you hear a loud crack of thunder rumble around you, then cold drops of rain begin to fall. The drops that sprinkle across your skin send goosebumps across your skin, your hairs prickling to a point as you shiver.

You need to keep running, despite your exhaustion you find it within you to keep going. You can hear the corn rattling around you from every direction, you were so disorientated. As you jogged through the maze you reached down to your pocket to search for your dying phone, that’s when all hope drained from you. You’d dropped your fucking phone. The rain began to pick up, turning from a light dusting to harsh, thick droplets that fell with such speed that it hurt your skin. You came to a halt in a patch of newly formed mud, what were you meant to do? You felt doomed, you could no longer restrain the sobs that left you, lip wobbling as you choked on your sorrows.

One second you're standing, the next you’re tackled to the ground. Your shoulder collides with the sludgy earth and air catches in your lungs as you let out a choked yelp. You smash your hands into the Scarecrow's strong chest as you writhe against his fierce grip, he only needs one of his hands to overpower you and pin your hands above your head. You’re forced to look at him atop of you. His hair is glued to his forehead with sweat and the moonlight causes the thin sheen covering his skin to glitter like tiny diamonds. He bends closer to you, hot puffs of air from his heavy breathing suffocating you. He presses his face into the crook of your neck; the bristly hairs of his beard scratching against your neck as he licks at your neck, he shoved his nose into your hair and takes a long deep breathe in “Smell so good birdie, better than other woman. Ari’s gonna give you pleasure now.” You thrash against him kicking at him, he ignores it and bends one of your legs over his shoulder, “Lie still, Song bird, gonna make you feel so nice.” He grunts as you kick at his face, catches your ankle in his free hand and squeezes. His grip strength is inhuman. You shriek as you feel your bones creaking against the pressure he applies, your bones threaten to snap.

“Stop! Stop! I won’t kick you please!” You scream, the agony sending shocks across your nerves and to your brain, a dull ache lingering in your skull. He lets go of your ankle and lands a powerful punch to your gut, grit your teeth and grunt “Oof!” acidic sickness rising in your throat, you swallow it.

“Other girl wouldn’t stop screaming. Squeezed her too hard. Always squeeze too hard, it was an accident. Not gonna squeeze as hard with you, Birdie, like you, like your voice, like your scent. Want you alive.” His large hand tears your shorts and panties with one pull, the display petrified you but it also made your pussy drip. He ran two fingers through your fold, collecting some of your slick and bringing it to his mouth. He sucked his fingers clean of your cream, releasing his fingers with a loud pop “Taste so good. Need to fuck you.” Ari grumbled, undoing his jeans, releasing his member that slapped against his clothed stomach. It was long and ribbed with a thick purple vein running up the shaft and patch of pale blonde hair dusted his pelvis.

You moved your hips away from him. He hooks his calloused hand under your knee quickly and pulls you closer “No riggling, Birdie. Don’t wanna hurt you.” The fear freezes you in place and he takes the chance to thrust all the way inside you, smashing into your cervix causing you scream out and thrash as his dick crams uncomfortable inside you, he’s too big. You can feel the rubbed texture of his cock as your walls clamp harshly in an attempt to push him out. He pistons his hips without a care, unbothered by your body's feeble attempt at rejection. Your shrieks appear to fall upon death ears until he lifts you slightly by your wrists and then slams you back into the ground. Your brain rattles in your skull as your head hits the floor; a pounding pain throbs across the back of your head, and you look at him with a bewildered expression.

“No, Birdie, you’re meant to sing nicely. No screaming, or I’ll squeeze.” His scratchy knuckles brushes away the tears flowing down your cheeks. You nod and whimper, fighting the pain and letting out soft ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s as he continued his brutal pace, bending closer to you pushing your legs into you, angling your hips so he could thrust even deeper. Spearing you all the way to the hilt of his girthy length, you let out a guttural cry as he grunted and groaned in response to his own wild thrusts. Heat spread across your back as his pelvis rubbed against your clit “Tight.” He growled, pressing a kiss to your temple, he smelt strongly of hay and dirt, but underneath that strong scent of petrichor was a uniquely manly musk. Your pleasure was interrupted as his hand released your wrists, he slammed his fist into the ground, snarling as he thrusted. The hand holding your knee squeezed extremely tightly, you could feel bruises forming under his touch.

“Ow! Ari! Squeezing too tight!” You yowled, he was going to snap your knee. You dug your nails into the back of his neck, his pace slowed; his hips stuttering as he came to a stop entirely.

“Sorry, SongBird. Won’t squeeze anymore.” For a man…Scarecrow who was raping you he was being surprisingly considerate. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against your reddened cheeks soothingly before pulling out all the way to his tip before ramming back into you, hard enough for your body to slide around in the mud below you. Your lungs burn and your throat is raw. You bite back a scream when his bulbous tip collided with your cervix once again “Close. So close. Sing! Sing for me Birdie!” You whimper and let out an involuntary moan as his cock rubs the sweet spot within you. His barred teeth soften into a smile at your moans, his free hand comes to neck and he begins to squeeze. You remember Natasha, the way her head laid in a pool of blood. How you could barely see any remnants of her neck. You began to thrash once again, Ari ignored you, lost in his own pleasure. You could feel his cock twitching inside, in your mind you pleaded for him to come. For it to be over. His thrusts quickened even more, his hips bashing painfully into your ass. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin overpowering the crackle of thunder. He threw his head back and let out a full bodied groan, which resembled a roar as he came inside you. The ropes of his come were cold, just like his whole body-ice cold, the amount of his spend was unrelenting. He released your neck, you let out a series of cough thanking God for answering you as took deep breaths of air. You’d never been so grateful to be able to breathe.

Ari still hadn’t pulled out, he was still hard. Your pussy was rubbed raw from his pubic hair, and your clit ached painful from the force of his pelvis colliding with it. Then his thrusts continued. He wanted to go again. You clawed at him and he pinned you again “Bad Birdie, not done yet.” He murmured. You stared up at the moon as it mocked you, moving so freely through the sky. You curse the moon for letting him come alive. Your thoughts begin to fade as you just gaze up at the moving clouds heavy with more rain.

Resistance was futile. So you just laid there taking it. You close your eyes, your head was heavy from the adrenaline crash. You hoped sleep would take you, and it did.

The orange, pink tinge of sunset colours your vision as you open your eyes. Your ears are ringing, a piercing static reverberating in your skull. Your eyes sting and your throat is strained and scratchy. You push your hands beside you, they sink into the mud slightly as you sit up. A dull pain radiates throughout the apex of your thighs and legs, the bruises that litter them clear in the garish glow of the orange morning sun. You look around you, there’s hay scattered across the ground and beside you is the Scarecrow, face down in the mud your phone beneath his freakishly human hands. The baritone sound of his voice echoes in your mind as you pull your phone out and turn it on. 1% battery…Better call the right person.

Tag list: @alina02 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @cevansgurl @getwellsoontana @bval-1 @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @flamefoxxrecs @savstranger @sojuxxi @cjand10 @sweetwrathoflilith @adoreyouusugar

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welcometololaland · 9 months

Text

technically thursday here, but whatever! have some WIP from product placement ;) TK and Carlos are still hung up on the red vs. blue issue which is really an excuse for me to wish carlos was in a different profession.

Thanks for the tags @heartstringsduet @carlos-in-glasses @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @three-drink-amy @lemonlyman-dotcom @freneticfloetry @bonheur-cafe i loved reading all your posts and they are in the queue ;)

When Carlos opens the door, he’s met with TK himself, an irritated expression on his face and definitely not unconscious.

“Babe, why are you knocking on—”

“Can I come in?” TK interjects in a huff. Carlos is extremely confused, but otherwise somewhat relieved, and he thinks it’s the latter which prompts him to stop asking questions.

“TK, this is your place too,” he says carefully, stepping aside to let his fiancé pass. “You don’t have to ask permission to enter.”

“I just wanted to give you the option of telling me to go and sleep at the firehouse,” TK mutters, attempting to kick off his shoes. “You know, because that’s all I do there.”

“TK—”

“You're a dick sometimes, you know that?” TK snaps, growling as the laces on one of his shoes get stuck underneath the other.

Carlos narrows his eyes, watching TK fight with his sneakers. “You’re the one that told me my job was basically pointless.”

“I didn’t say that,” TK says hotly, looking up. “I said that you do a lot of paperwork. Which isn’t even untrue!”

“It’s— It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it,” Carlos protests, even though his argument is sounding weaker by the second. To his credit, TK didn’t actually say that police work was a desk job. In fact, Carlos is pretty sure he said that.

Still, the stubborn part of him – which is definitely inherited from his father’s side of the family – refuses to let him back down.

“Well I’m sorry you’re so sensitive about people talking about what you do for a living,” TK replies.

“That’s not an apology,” Carlos points out. “Besides, you’re the one who got sensitive when I said that thing about eating meals and sleeping on shift, which is not untrue either.”

“But it’s not all I do!”

“And I don’t just sit there and fill out forms!”

“Well I guess you hand out speeding tickets,” TK says venomously. “But that’s still technically paperwork.”

“You’re only mad about that because you got pulled over the other week and I told you I couldn’t get you out of it.”

Somehow, through their bickering, they’ve brought themselves closer together. TK, now shoving his shoes somewhere in the vicinity of the rack, Carlos cornering him against the wall. It’s becoming abundantly clear what’s about to happen, and TK doesn’t seem to be keen on addressing it.

“TK,” Carlos warns, shoving down three thousand indecent thoughts as TK reaches for him. Instead of backing away, Carlos crowds him up against the wall and cups his jaw, thumb brushing over the apple of TK’s cheek while his fingers toy with the ends of TK’s hair.

“Carlos,” TK bites out, blatantly staring at Carlos’ mouth.

Carlos reaches his hand around further, threading his fingers through the soft strands. It feels familiar, grounding, and when TK pulls him in by the hips so they’re pushed into his own, there’s no mistaking where this is going.

“We said we wouldn’t,” Carlos gasps, wondering why they’re both so hard. It shouldn’t be normal to be so turned on from TK’s bitching, but somehow he is. He always is. There’s something about TK that is inescapable, even when he’s getting on Carlos’ nerves.

“We said we wouldn’t while we’re angry,” TK whispers, his nose nudging against Carlos’ as he slots their faces together, their lips millimetres apart.

“You’re not angry?” Carlos murmurs, rolling his hips into TK’s, even though he knows it's unhelpful to his prior statement.

TK whines in the back of his throat, something that does nothing but draw Carlos in closer. “I’m not angry,” he protests. “I’m frustrated.”

Open tag because it's very late but also tagging: @rmd-writes @rosedavid @ambiguouspenny @catanisspicy @noxsoulmate @lightningboltreader @nontoxic-writes @hoko-onchi-writes @sunshinestrand @jesuisici33 @orchidscript and @goodways FOR THE FIGHT

#i'm not angry i'm frustrated #some great arguments being made here #product placement #police work is a desk job: a dissertation by tk strand #all you do is eat and sleep on shift: a thesis defence by carlos reyes #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos fic #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes

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asshlyyyy · 2 years

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Number Deux Pt. 1 (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

No matter how much hate I'm getting I am still posting something out. Hopefully those anons won't find something wrong with this... and if you do... well... you got some issues. Also, if you ever interact with my page again I will be sure to block you.

Despite that, I am excited to announce my new series. Yes, Just The Nurse will get finished. I wanted to post out my new series before I finished off Just The Nurse. I hope you guys enjoy this one, because I have a feeling I will.

I hope it's okay that I used Austin!Elvis, but then again you can imagine Austin or Elvis for any of my works!

Part 2

Masterlist

Requested by: @bxbylexi23 "Can you pls make Elvis Presley x Assistant!Reader Forbidden love Series🥺🥺 I love reading your fanfic so much!"

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Fem!Assistant!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Female Assistant Stereotypes, Harsh Words.

Word Count: 4k

You tapped your pen against the leather cover of your very messy, yet readable notes. You had down all the important dates and times... when you leave, where you leave. When you arrive... where you arrive at. Where you're staying... all the technical boring stuff. Well, it wasn't boring when your boss was a fool.

"Yes, so we need to be at the airport tomorrow early morning... about ten. I'll be here ar-"

"Elvis, my boy!" The colonel walked in and immediately interrupted you. Didn't surprise you much, that's all that idiot did. He felt that just because he was Elvis's manager he can act all high and mighty.

Elvis turned to look at the Colonel, an obvious annoyed look on his face. Elvis was known to have anger outbursts here and there, but when it came to someone interrupting you... especially when you were explaining the schedule... he tended to get a bit more mad than usual.

"What is so goddamn important, that you couldn' knock on the door?" Elvis spoke.

"I got some great news. Scratch everything off the schedule. I got you on the Steve Allen show." You tossed the small notebook down on the top and shook your head.

"We leave tomorrow at eight in the morning. Don't be late my boy! Big things! Big things are coming!" The colonel yelled as he walked out of the house. Did he seriously come all this way... to say that one thing? You have got to be kidding me.

"'m sorry 'bout him." Elvis apologized for his manager. You let out a sigh and shook your head.

"You shouldn't keep apologizing for him, E." You turned your gaze at him.

You knew Elvis before the Colonel stepped in. When he first appeared at Sun Records your father immediately pushed you to help him. At first, you were employed under your father, but after he sold the contract... you well... you lost your job. That was until Elvis wanted to keep you and employ you under himself. You were extremely grateful for that, not that there wasn't anything wrong with sitting in the recording studio waiting for someone to come in.

"Well, he ain't gonna do it... So, someone has to." He sighed and rubbed his face.

"So, Steve Allen? You're really moving up in the world." You smiled softly. He chuckled and shook his face.

"I don' know... I just want to go back home. They don' like how I move." Elvis shook his head.

"Elvis, they're just jealous because you're stealing the hearts of many."

"It just don' understand why they want me on their shows, just to not let me be me."

"Well, you're rising up there quickly and well... when you get into your music... and your ya know... People mention how they can see your uh... ya know." Elvis started to laugh at that. You looked at him confused. Why was he even laughing? Was it something you said?

"Is it the people ya hearin', or is it your eyes." He winked at you. You rolled your eyes and let out a disgusted sound.

"You're disgusting," you commented and picked up your notebook. "Now, if you excuse me... I have to cancel some things."

You picked yourself up from the couch and moved over to the phone. This wasn't the first time to happen, and you knew it wasn't going to be the last. The Colonel was always known to for canceling plans or prolonging a stay.

You've been in New York for way too long now and you missed the fresh air of Memphis. It was overly stuffy here and not to mention people were just plain rude. However, all the tv shows in America were all filmed here. Yet, people were getting tired of the way Elvis acted on stage.

It was everywhere in the newspapers. There was talk they wanted to throw him in jail just because of the way he moved his hips. They called him a disgrace to all humankind. Elvis was far from that... he just moved the way he felt. It wasn't like he was doing it on purpose... it was his body... and his body was feeling the music.

Most of the time, your days were spent in an empty room overlooking the city. There was a piano and some foldable chairs around. That room drove you insane, even when Elvis was playing and singing... you felt trapped and locked up. It reminded you of a prison cell for some reason.

"Elvis the Pelvis. That's one of the most childish expressions I've ever heard coming from an adult. Is Mr. Allen gonna cancel me from the show?" Elvis asked as he looked over at the Colonel, who was staring out the window.

"Yes. Yes, he is. He is replacing you with one of the country's greatest singers." Colonel responded as he walked to the side of the piano.

"Mario Lanza?" Elvis raised an eyebrow.

"Someone greater." Just then you heard a set of wheels and saw three people walking into the room with a clothing rack filled with suits with bow ties and tails.

"The new Elvis Presley!" He boosted his voice, throwing his arms out... a wide devious smile on his face.

Oh hell no.

"Yeah, I snowed 'em! You just have to put on one of these tails here, and sing the Hound Dog. It's a light-hearted, sophisticated family show." Parker explained like it was nothing. Elvis got up from the piano bench and walked towards the clothing rack that held the clothes.

"I can't move in one of these." Elvis pointed out as he stood looking at them.

"And that is the point. Mr. Allen agreed only as long as there is no wiggling of those hips" Parker explained.

"I can't figure it out. My own mother approves of what I do." Elvis shook his head.

"Mmm. You have read the papers, my boy?" Parker asked as he stepped closer to Elvis. Scotty came up behind Elvis and handed him a bottle of coke, to try and calm him.

"Yeah, I read the papers. The papers say that I shot my mother and smoke marijuana." Elvis shook his head and took a swing of his cola.

"Your movement's in the style of a black man, and you have broken the segregation laws. So, let's follow the plan. It's a good plan."

"I woul-" you tried to speak up, but was immediately interrupted.

"The grownups are talking, Ms. Y/l/n." The colonel shot you a look before turning back to Elvis. You saw Elvis tense up by that. He hated every single time someone got interrupted.

"You do the Allen Show, family style, and then tomorrow we go back to Memphis and we snow them on the July 4th Children's Charitable Concert. And we put this whole unfortunate misstep behind us. Now, do you want to go into politics, or shall we stay in the show business?" Parker held a smirk on his face.

This was a bad idea... You can't just force Elvis to not do what he's good at. Not to mention... why would someone want Elvis on a family show knowing damn well his hips don't lie? You knew Elvis was conflicted... So, as you sat there watching those fashion people take his measurements, you spotted Scotty and Bill looking annoyed.

Much like you did, they weren't a huge fan of the Colonel. Hell, no one was. You looked over the contract and a lot of it was bull shit. The Colonel was really milking everything he could out of Elvis. In return, his friends and family were suffering. Not to mention, you got pushed to the side a lot.

The colonel wasn't telling you any of the dates you needed to know. He wasn't telling you the locations and time. He didn't share any information with you because of your gender. He felt... female assistants were to be as they were viewed. Secret whores for their bosses, and oh boy you were there to prove that fat fuck something else.

Sure, you were attracted to Elvis... and maybe felt something for him... but there was no way you were going to prove him right. You rather suffer than let the Colonel win. You hated when he won and he always felt like he deserved to win.

Plus, it was very hard to believe that Elvis would date someone like you. Considering he had literally hundreds of girls throwing themselves at them... and well... the Colonel said relationships were off-limits for him. Why? Oh because he wanted Elvis to always appear single in hopes fans will rise because they have a chance.

"Y/n, do you think I'm makin' a mistake?" Elvis asked as he sat down on the chair next to you. You turned your head to look at him. Everyone had seemed to left the room at that point. You were too stuck in your own thoughts to notice.

"Well... it's not you." You started off. You turned to look at him. He looked... disheveled... annoyed... upset. You don't blame him. He was just told that in order to stay on the show he had to play the part of New Elvis.

"It doesn't seem like you want to do it either." You pointed out, which Elvis nodded in agreement.

"He wants to put me in fuckin' tails. I- I can't even move around. How am I supposed to perform without being able to move?" He asked. It didn't seem like he was asking you directly... more like himself. That was always the case with these things. People loved Elvis for his music but hated how he moved his hips and legs.

"You're his monkey, E... in the end, a snowman will always just want money." You brought up Colonel.

"Do you think that's all he wants from me?" Elvis questioned. I mean, isn't that why anyone gets a job? There was something more to the Colonel though... It just didn't make sense.

"It's what anyone wants from you. Money." You said truthfully. All these tv show producers... they knew if they had Elvis... well the viewership would go up and bring in more money.

"Are you tryin' to hint at something?" He chuckled lightly.

"Please, I was employed under my father and got paid nothing to be your assistant. I do this because we're friends and quite frankly... your life is a mess." Elvis chuckled at that and nodded. It was true, with everything the Colonel had him do... he never knew when he had a free day anymore.

"Yeah, without ya... I wouldn' know what I'm doing." He confessed. You stifled out a light laugh and shook your head.

"You've made your way into Sun Records alone," you smiled softly.

"That I did," he nodded, "something just... kept bringing me back after that first visit."

"Singing will do that to you," you stood up and straightened out your skirt. You looked over towards the clock. It was near four. The show was either at eight or nine. Eh, the exact time didn't matter. You were hungry, and you bet Elvis was also.

"Do you want to get some food?" You asked, a slight tilt to your head.

"Depends, are ya askin' me on a date?" Elvis teased as he stood up.

"In your dreams, Presley." You gave him a sly wink and picked up your things. Elvis let out a laugh and shook his head.

The two of you traveled out of the building and onto the busy streets of New York City. God, you wanted so badly to be back in Memphis. There was nothing wrong with big cities, they just weren't for you.

"You missin' home?" Elvis asked from beside you. You nodded your head.

"Yeah... I just want to be able to curl up in my own bed." You explained and wrapped your arms around yourself.

"I get what ya mean... New York... it's not for me." He nodded in agreement.

"I don't think it's meant for anyone," you chuckled lightly. "This is home of Broadway... actors... Everyone is just rude also."

"Yeah, I get that." He nodded.

"Not to mention it's so stuffy. I feel like I'm about to pass out at any point."

"I'll catch ya if you do," He smiled softly. You shook your thread. Hopefully, it wouldn't come down to that. You two walked for a bit until you found a diner that was just down the road. It wasn't too busy, but you preferred it that way. You always felt more important when it was just you and Elvis.

"I don't suppose you take all the boys here, hm?"

"Oh shush," you chuckled and looked over the menu. "I ain't got no time for any boys. I'm busy keeping track of your life."

"You didn't have to take up my offer." He held his hands up in defense.

"Had nothing better to do, why not." You shrugged.

Truth was... you didn't want to leave. You have gotten to know Elvis while he was at Sun Records. He was an amazing person, a great friend. Sure, you guys would've continued to be friends... but you knew he would also grow distant so... you decided to work for him. You stay friends, and you're with him all the time. Sounded like a good time to you.

"Do you want to just share some fries and a milkshake?" You suggested.

"Oh, so this is a date huh? Sharing a basket of fries and a milkshake? One or two straws?"

"If you're good, two." You teased and pushes the menu off to the side.

"Ohh, treatin' me good tonight aren' ya."

"You'll need it, wearing those tails and everything." You chuckled lightly. Elvis stared at you and nodded. Sure, he didn't need an assistant, his parents could easily keep his schedule in check... but he didn't want you leaving his side. Ever since he first met you... he was quite fond of you.

"What can I get started for you two?" A waitress came over, trying her best to keep her excitement inside.

"We'll just share a basket of fries and a milkshake, two straws, darlin'." Elvis nodded at the waitress. She nodded quickly and walked off.

"She was a fan," You smiled.

"Ya think? Didn' act like one." Elvis looked at you confused. You couldn't believe that he couldn't tell. Then again, he must've not seen the restraints she held on herself.

"She's working, Elvis. She can't exactly be like..." you clear your throat," oh my god, Elvis Presley! I love you!" Elvis chuckled as you made fun of his fans, which you weren't. He knew you meant it in a nice way.

"Man, maybe you're the only fan I need. Especially when you got the voice of thousands." If you didn't know any better, you would say he was flirting with you. Yet, you were stupid enough to not notice it, because... how could someone like Elvis ever want to flirt with someone like you?

"Here's your food," the waitress came back and placed the basket and milkshake down. A strawberry one with a white fluffy cloud of whipped cream on top along with two cherries. She was smart, had to give her that.

"Thank you," you smiled. She nodded and sent you a smile with her cherry-red lips. She nodded at Elvis and walked away. Immediately the two of you flung for the cherries on top. You both took one each and popped them in your mouth. You were sure you two looked like little kids.

You two could talk for hours, and for hours you did. At one moment it was just over four, and the next you knew it was eight. You went through several baskets and several milkshakes. Your feet were perked up next to Elvis on the other side of the booth, and his hand was on your ankle, rubbing circles. It was like that for a long time, well... it felt like a couple of minutes.

Not to mention, your waitress was so nice. Elvis even gave her a pair of tickets to his next show. Well, mostly due to the fact that you were both probably extremely annoying. Staying there for hours upon hours. They probably never had that before. Most people came in, ordered a burger, and left. You and Elvis... oh no no.

"Shit, I- I can't believe I lost track of time. We have to get back." You stumbled as you noticed the time.

"What do you mean? We still got- oh fuck-" Elvis muttered as he realized how late it actually was. Elvis was quick to pull out his wallet and drop down some money before standing up and grabbing your hand. He pulled you up quickly and out the door.

"Give me a second, Elvis! Jesus!" You spoke as you tried to catch yourself. Not only were your legs wobbly from keeping them up for so long, but you had just down so many milkshakes.

"I'm goin' to get killed! We got to hurry!" He called back to you. If he was about to be killed you could only imagine way worse for yourself. The colonel would most likely point out how bad you were at your job. You were an assistant. You were supposed to keep track of time for god's sake.

Elvis was supposed to practice before going on television and now he wouldn't have time to do that. He had to be on at nine! God, you really screwed up now. You knew you wouldn't lose your job, but you knew the Colonel would try to convince Elvis otherwise.

"Where is that boy?!" You heard Parker's voice the minute you walked... well ran into the building. People were running around like crazy to find where Elvis was.

"Sorry sorry! We're here!" Elvis called out and stumbled out of his jacket tossing it towards you.

"Where the hell have you been, boy???" The colonel walked up to him.

"Y/n and I, we went to get food. Lost track of time is all." Elvis shrugged it off like it was nothing. Parker turned and looked at you. You already knew he blamed you. He usually always did if Elvis was late... which was hardly ever. You made sure he was always present and before time... Today... well... things just got out of hand...

"I'm terribly sorry... I- W-we really did." You stood up for Elvis. You didn't want him to get in trouble on your account. It was your idea in the end.

"Shut it, Miss Y/l/n, we have got to get this boy ready." Before you knew it the two of them disappeared. You let out a sigh and shook your head. You folded Elvis's jacket over your arm and walked over to the viewing room and sat down.

You were never really allowed backstage when he was on tv. You had to sit in the viewing room with everyone else. There was nothing wrong with that... you just wish you could've been there when he was most nervous. Helped calm him down a bit. You knew how he got... Especially at that Hayride so long again. He was more nervous than a fly on a boot.

This was the last show... tomorrow you go back to Memphis... and then perform at the stadium. It won't be so bad. You'll be back home, which will lighten your mood drastically. Not to mention you'll see your family again. You'll see Vernon and Gladys... everything will be better before you know it.

Before you knew it the show was starting. Steve was introducing Elvis and what tonight's show was about. Elvis walked out on stage with a massive smile on his face, though you knew he was dying inside. That's when you saw it... A hound dog being wheeled in.

"Oh no-"

You could tell by the look on his face that Elvis was horrified. He was embarrassed beyond repair. He wanted to sink down into the floor and lay for the rest of his life. This wasn't part of the deal... Parker just said he had to dress up and sing Hound Dog... not sing to a hound dog! Everyone around you practically gasped. Everyone was just in the blue as you were.

This wasn't good one bit. Elvis wouldn't recover from this... no no… if you had to guess... he would probably storm off. Try his best to roll with it... but he would be pissed and would run off. You quickly stood up and rushed over to the room that held the piano. You knew he would storm into there first.

You weren't scared when he got angry. You were used to you. Plus, he would never yell at you directly. He never wanted to yell at you. Sure, there were moments when something would come out, but he would apologize immediately. He cared about you and didn't want to hurt you.

As if it was clockwork, the boys walked in. Elvis was the most mad out of all of them, but you knew Billy and Scotty were just as mad and embarrassed.

"God damn it!" Elvis yelled as he angrily and quickly took off his suit jacket. He balled it up and threw it towards the window.

"He could've given us some warning. I- I- I know how to do a skit, I could've made it funny!" He paced around, arms flaring up in the air. He sounded like he was about to cry.

"The most stupid, embarrassing, humiliating thing I ever did."

"Well, what the hell do you want me to do about it?" Elvis looked at Scotty, on the verge of a breakdown.

"We're musicians!" Scotty yelled back.

"All right just calm it!" You raised your voice, making the all heads turn towards you. You weren't one to raise your voice unless needed so... and well... you always kept to yourself, but it was no use for these boys to fight over something they had no control over.

"Now no one here knew what was happening tonight! Ya got that?! So don't you go and blame Elvis, Scotty! Now what y'all gonna do is get your stuff packed and ready to leave first thing in the morning ya hear!"

"You don't understand Y/n! You weren't up there!" Scotty yelled towards you. At this point maybe Elvis wasn't the maddest. Bill didn't seem to want to engage, but you knew how he was feeling.

"Oh but I didn't watch now did I? I saw the dog and walked away, so no, I wasn't up there and I didn't watch. I know how embarrassing it must be for you boys, but you can't let this come between you two. No, go on! Get a drink and calm down! I'll see you guys tomorrow." With a huff, Scotty picked up his things and walked out of the room. Bill sent you a sincere smile.

"Turn off the light and lock the door will ya?" You asked Bill. He nodded and did as you asked right before he left. You walked over to Elvis and pulled him into a hug. His head crashed into your chest and his arms linked around your waist. Before you knew it, wet tears fell onto you.

"I know... I know..." You said softly and ran your fingers through his dark hair. "I know..."

This concert in a few days... you knew the Colonel probably wanted him to play the new Elvis. Whoever that even was. Because the new Elvis they put out on live television was not confident. He was... he wasn't even Elvis anymore. Elvis was conflicted... his head was probably a mess of knots right now. God, how you wanted nothing more than to know what he was thinking about.

You two sat in that room for hours. You couldn't even recall the time when you two walked back to the hotel. It was late enough for sure. The Colonel tried to barge in and talk to Elvis, but you weren't having any of it. Parker didn't have to go through what he had done to Elvis. He... He wasn't the one who was embarrassed in front of thousands upon thousands of people.

It wasn't funny... and it never will be. How Elvis would recover from this... you didn't know.

Want to join my taglist? // Let me know If I spelt any wrong! Everyone is Tagged correctly this time. There were a good amount of people I couldn’t tag, so please let me know if something is wrong.

Taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s, @mommy-maia, @yagirlalexx, @slutforblueeyes, @alligator-person, @diorxmimi, @anangelwhodidntfall, @pumkiinpasties, @djconde58, @starryhazee, @21bruhs, @girlblogger2002, @dollfaceyourfear, @smbonilla2002, @homebodybirkin2003, @apparently-sunshine, @dark-as-love, @pandora-journey, @hsstylesrings, @jeonggukschris, @4everrmore, @bewitched-tales, @thelaziest10, @butlersluvbot, @curatedbyemily, @lovingly-unlovingme, @starlight-jpg, @omegellenlouise, @gyomei-tiddies, @Chlobug07, @wandawiccan60, @re3kin, @Itzjira18, @passengerjett, @neepo, @vane28282, @emilykolchivans, @gothantoinette, @gruffle1, @aradevil, @ilovemuppets, @hangmanswhore, @theinvibislecapricorn, @hariestyles1, @annamarie16, @holliemahady, @misacc08, @Brighteyesscum, @marchingicenotes7, @callthedarknessdown, @domaniquessidehoe, @gay-af-satan, @skinnypantsmcgee, @sassyblazecloud, @lovelyney, @lordandmistress, @Sharkslayersblog, @billysway, @nuo0n, @coldonexx, @adoreyouusugar, @aliciaelle47, @kh1898, @danitheedanimal, @raefoxiegirl, @cobra-kaii, @rylee-durhxm, @bob-the-tomato, @crabat-the-queen, @naveyelise, @austinbutlersgirlfriend, @iluvnerds69, @hopefulinlove, @aradevil, @Tylerdurdenisme, @laperceval, @xcallmetaniax, @londonalozzy, @mslizziesblog, @rosemochaaesthetic-blog, @bxbylexi23, @gloomynigvts, @persephones-blood-iris, @milaa24, @randompointlessbeauty, @auds02, @BubblyYork, @nora-nexus-34, @rqseycheeks

#austin!elvis x reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #elvis #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis movie #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #elvis film #elvis fic

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penname-artist · 4 days

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Been a bit since one of these! Personal and overall updating time. 🦖

So, I apologize, I never really said specifically when I had come back from my April hiatus -

and technically, at this point I'm unsure if I had one or if I'm still in one.

Reblogs, yes. Making thingies, ehh not really.

Though I'm enjoying seeing people's posts and creations, and happy to reblog them, I'm also...waning, as it were, from my interest in the fandom at this point in time. It's not for lack of interest. The films and fandom built around it are dear to me, it's my baby. But a lot of other things are beginning to also ask for my attention.

Or, rather: I'm redirecting my attention to other things.

Some of that is ✨lifey✨ things. I'm making very considerable progress, from my therapy journey on trauma and social issues, to finally completing my written driving exam (after seven years of trial and error!) and getting all my necessary bits to receive a restricted driver's license.

I'm also making a lot of progress in my personal mindset, making a much more conscious effort to be comfortable in my own body, and being nicer to my mind.

Life itself has not been particularly "kind" nor "cruel" to me lately, it's simply been one thing: changing. Which is scary, truly. But it's change that I am leaning into.

As I think I've said somewhere before, I have lost many people around me again, just in the last handful of months, and even with another hanging by a rope I can't see the bottom of, I am still growing new friendships from their seeds, and beginning a lot of new paths of self discovery. Some of those I'm not gonna talk about publicly, but y'know. Relationship..."stuff" in general.

But with those things, I'm noticing that pull more and more to move away from my fanfictions, my fan art, my fan edits. I have more to do, more to finish, and yet still...this tug since the end of last year has persisted. I'm on a little journey, and I think the guides of the woods are trying to tell me to follow something other than the worn old path that I know.

(terrifying, I know)

We'll see how it goes, and where I go from here. I'm a little nervous, a little excited. And definitely still very much chomping at the bit to make some really cool things. It's just a matter of seeing what's next for those things.

But with that, I'm off to sleep! Til the morrow fans and freaks, and don't forget to mind your head!

#personal piece #personal post

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decepti-thots · 2 years

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an absolutely shocking number of people wanted me to talk about my thoughts on this post after i made it, lmao, so HERE WE GO, i'm gonna ramble in a very unstructured way about my dumbass theories regarding the development of… well actually a couple separate-but-linked subplots in MTMTE/LL. not about how they ended up, but about my theories as to what changed in the course of writing the comic and why.

specifically, what i have guessed might have changed in the development of rewind's subplot regarding finding agent 113 (dominus ambus in the final comic- we'll get to that below) and its overlap with the chromedome-prowl and DJD subplots.

big disclaimer: nothing i say here unless explicitly stated has been confirmed in any way by roberts, it's almost ALL wild theorising. i could easily be wrong about literally everything here, lmao, in fact i probably am! but ever since my second readthrough of the comic where my brain went 'wait, what was the motivation behind making rewind's dead husband minimus' brother when that connection never pays off??? roberts what???', combined with finding out that the cd-rw-prowl plot is one of the only ones confirmed to have dramatically changed from roberts' original plans, i have been. bizarrely obsessed with the whole mess of it. apologies in advance. but here we go.

first of all, the things that are confirmed, from jro directly:

the original plan for the chromedome-rewind-prowl stuff was that chromedome and prowl had been working together when chromedome met rewind; in this concept, prowl sent agent 113 to infiltrate the DJD and used chromedome as a plant at the relinquishment clinic to first shadowplay rewind into forgetting anything that could lead him to the truth, and then later to be a kind of 'minder' who followed rewind around and stop him finding out the truth. this is what prowl is referring to in the flashback scene prior to Overlord escaping where chromedome shadowplays him. the blackmail he was intended to be threatening to tell rewind there is that chromedome became his friend under prowl's orders, and false pretenses. the other major hint to this plan is the mention chromedome makes in issue #12 of rewind's supposed UV light allergy- this was originally chromedome making sure none of the marks were seen by medics. this plot is by word of god and the text of the comic itself a hundred percent gone in the final product. but it was not something roberts had committed to changing until AFTER the overlord arc, hence that infamous dangling thread that now has no clear explanation re: prowl's blackmail material.

relatedly, the original plan was for chromedome and rewind to just be friends for quite some time into roberts planning out the series' trajectory. even when actually writing the early issues, roberts was not sure if they would be romantic for a while, so he hedged his bets. (in the event hasbro said 'no' to his request to confirm cd/rw as married, he had a whole backup plan for tailgate and cyclonus.) in turn, it's generally assumed, though technically not confirmed, that e.g. this is also true of prowl and chromedome as partners, rewind and 113 as married, etc. it just logically follows. but yeah. all these original relationships were platonic or possibly, in one case, familial.

prior to writing the series, the first plan for agent 113/the person rewind was looking for was for him to be eject. it's not confirmed this was going to be eject as rewind's spark brother, but contextually, it seems pretty likely, since a) roberts has revisited the concept a few times, including with 113 once he's dominus, and b) the whole rewind/eject being near identitcal thing makes it an obvious approach- they're referred to in fan circles as 'twins' a lot the same as rumble and frenzy. at some point, late enough the notebooks covering "pre-production" outlines for MTMTE's first season do not mention him, Dominus Ambus becomes 113 instead.

so my big takeaway from thinking about this whole thing, to start off, is that the original plan probably involved agent 113 being vos. not the previous vos as we ended up with, but the vos we were introduced to as part of the DJD, the guy who turns into a sniper rifle and speaks in old cybertronian. there's some stuff early on when he's introduced that points to the idea that at the very least, the audience is supposed to consider this idea as plausible, namely:

agent 113 isn't first brought up in mtmte. he's first brought up as a mole the autobots have in the DJD in 'bullets', the prose story accompanying Last Stand of the Wreckers. first aid keeps an eye out for autobot badges on patients that have been shot because springer has told him that due to increasing paranoia about being caught as a spy, agent 113 insists on sending messages hidden in bullets shot at autobot soldiers, identifiable as his because they go very specifically through the right "eye" of his targets' autobrands. so 113 is a sniper/sharpshooter. and vos turns into a sniper rifle. one of the first times we see him is in a large spread where megatron is wielding him, in fact. this is then a significant plot point in mtmte later. (swerve and all that.)

vos has the quirk of only speaking "old cybertronian" that is unintelligble to many characters and the audience. the comic goes out of its way to make rewind knowing old cybertronian in mtmte a running gag early on (with the joke part being that he always gets the translation slightly wrong). not only is that a really specific link, but it feels totally plausible that the expected payoff is that only rewind recognises 113 when he speaks in old cybertronian, because he's heard it spoken before. (if 113 is originally eject, this makes a lot of sense; it relates to both of them being older than most of the cast, perhaps.)

dominus ambus is just. clearly not meant to be the pet as of when the pet and him are first designed in mtmte. lmao. and for that matter, minimus is clearly not designed to turn into a turbofox in his irreducible form. when we get the teeny tiny minimus reveal in RiL, it's really clear the idea is he looks very similar in both "forms"- same face, same colours, etc, but his irreducible form doesn't turn into anything. he has exposed ball joints like the internal 'skeletons' of TFs/toys and no kibble. the idea of 'he can't turn into anything, but he can wear armour to become whatever' is a pretty clear inference, right? (and was the dominant interpretation prior to the reveal dominus becomes a turbofox, ftr!) but to make dominus the pet, they have to design his internal form to look nothing like either his own armour OR minimus' internal form. that's… a pretty blatant retcon, imo! why is he a weird green colour when his armour is yellow? why does he have a fuckton of kibble and minimus is Nothing when in his irreducible form? retcon, baby.

so i really think that an early concept was that 113 was still an active spy in the DJD, and that this changed at some point, probably fairly early on but late enough the original seeds had been sown, with roberts doing a neat patch job to take the concept in another direction that still worked with his set up… but the question becomes WHY it changed. after all, none of the confirmed changes actually require altering that concept, so if i'm right, then why the hell would you change it?

my theory about why you'd have to change it relates to something else that has always confused me, which is where the really fun but kind of objectively batshit concept of 'rewind is making his new husband look for his dead husband he's still in love with, apparently has no idea why chromedome would be insecure about this' comes from. (it's great, i love it, but it doesn't strike me as an obvious storytelling beat to go for! it creates great storytelling opportunities because it's very… unintuitive for a love story, imo.)

which is that… they weren't originally married, which is kind of obvious in retrospect and ESPECIALLY now we know that 113 was originally eject! 'rewind doesn't realise chromedome might be insecure about his best friend looking for a guy from before they met he also cares for' is a way more obvious emotional beat when you think on it, imo! (plus it turning out to ACTUALLY be about chromedome's guilt because he knows where 113 is, ofc- there's the twist for the audience.) like. rewind thinking that is an ok thing to do with a friend is clearly the more intuitive plotline beat, versus 'rewind does this to his current husband who he is letting think he will replace'.

chromedome/rewind then winds up being romantic, and to match this, 113/rewind ALSO has to become romantic. right? otherwise, the then-still-a-misdirect of chromedome's jealousy makes no sense. why would chromedome be worried about a platonic friend replacing him as rewind's husband? so now, 113 is rewind's dead husband all of a sudden. (sidenote: this also makes the very bizarre backstory re: the wild power imbalance between dominus and rewind a lot more… understandable? if it was not envisioned as them getting married on the part of the author.)

maybe eject has already been replaced when this idea slots into place, or maybe dominus is conceived in part to allow for this element in a way that makes sense. you can't really tell in this theory. (in a similar way, puzzling out whether he's related to minimus because the idea was there for minimus to be a loadbearer and it created a way to make him 113 came first, or if it was the reverse, is hard to tell. ftr, when the magnus armour is referenced in the notebooks, it does NOT contain reference to minimus; magnus is just a small person who has been given augmented armour in those drafts.) (this has also always bugged me. WHY is rewind's dead husband also minimus' brother when the narrative doesn't do anything with that connection!!! wellll. that's one possibility. lmao.)

the original plan for chromedome to be in on it with prowl and 113- to have manipulated and lied to rewind, and for all of them to, essentially, have screwed him around- was changed by roberts because chromedome/rewind became romantic. he decided, imo completely rightly, that the subtext there with a romantic pairing was just wrong tonally and way too uncomfortable. you're getting into straight up gaslighting abuse, and for the first romantic couple of the series, and one of the first ever m/m pairings in TF, i mean… yeeeeah.

but this creates kind of a discrepency. because 113 is still fucking rewind over in this scenario. suddenly it goes from 'multiple friends of rewind turn out to have collectively been deceiving him' to 'both rewind's husbands have been deceiving him' to 'well rewind's NEW husband is completely innocent, he had nothing to worry about all along cause if they ever find dominus, he's the one who is a dick now' which like. that is not a satisfying conclusion to the conflicts set up wherein rewind proves that he is not so stuck in the past he won't choose chromedome over dominus if he has to, or where chromedome has to learn rewind really does unconditionally love him and he's not replaceable. right? it's a cheap get out of jail free card there.

and THAT'S why i would guess that if 113 was gonna be vos, it got changed. people have noted that dominus is easy to read as implicitly a bit of dick in mtmte when you think about it- he ran off without telling rewind, after all. but only when you think about it. this makes sense in the original concept. it doesn't really have a good option of payoff once chromedome is not nearly as bad himself. and in this theory, dominus doesn't so much get changed so he wasn't at all a dick about it, he just… gets moved out of focus with the "domestication" explanation. suddenly, instead of a potential confrontation between rewind, chromedome and 113 in dying of the light, to name one possible example, you have the revelation that dominus has been out of action this whole time, and now he can instead be a catalyst for a conclusion between chromedome and rewind. it's a little bit of sleight of hand. it means the audience isn't thinking about that in DotL. they're thinking about cd/rw, not dominus, even when he's right there. (a macguffin of a character til the end…)

and now you know the insane and completely unverifiable theory that has percolated in my brain to explain some of that whole plot's weirdness the past, oooh, 3 years or so. very good chance none of it's true but it's the best i have and it just drove me INSANE because i've reread everything relating to cdrw and minimus in mtmte SO much that the weird gaps nagged me constantly. this is what it's like being me. yes, it's annoying for me too. but for those who were wondering: here you go. 2200 words of this:

#meta #well. wild mass guessing bullshit anyway.#what else am i gonna tag it.#idw #rewind #dominus ambus #chromedome #cdrw

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ilikepjo24 · 1 year

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I don't know what time of the hour it is wherever you guys live but it's late in the evening here so I'd like to apologize, I meant to post this early in the morning. But anyways, here's

The results from the Zucest Week 2023 voting polls

The drabbles are five per day and I have made a pretty wallpaper for each date that has the date on the top so we don't get confused. The drabbles are (for each day) a kinky one, a fluffy one, a funny one, an angsty one and one that doesn't feel like a specific category and you can turn it in whatever you like (in that order).

Now, don't let the categories fool you, you can do whatever you want. If you want to write fluff at some point but the fluff drabble of the day doesn't inspire you and you look at the funny drabble of the day and think "I can make fluff out of this", that is perfectly fine.

If, however, you don't want to use a drabble of another category, well that's why we have the debatable drabbles. The main purpose here is to enjoy ourselves. Run wild.

Like always, if anyone has any technical issues/difficulties or questions, do not hesitate to send me an ask or message me, I'll always reply.

Please, if you forward your works here, tag the post as Zucest Week 2023 so it can be easier to find and reblog this post so we can spread it to all the Zucest fans

#zucest #zucest week #zucest week 2023

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donnerpartyofone · 4 months

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your posts about self esteem were really interesting. I hope you don't mind if I ask, but do you struggle with empathy? I've got friends in psychology who say self compassion is correlated to compassion for others, so often low empathy = poor self image. Social skills are often hampered by conditions like autism, and compassion is social.

Thank you for this provocative question, anon! I like that you say those posts were "interesting" instead of like, sad or delusional or something. I had to start blocking people who were compelled to tell me what to think or how to feel about myself, or who thought they were helping by denying the nature of what I was reporting. A few people recently had a more thoughtful or inquisitive reaction and I found that really refreshing.

Apologies in advance for this long dissertation on ME, but I'm glad you asked this specific question because it relates to something that came up recently that I think is important to talk about. More below the break so I don't ruin everyone's dash.

First of all I think I do not struggle with empathy; if anything I seem to have a hyperactive sensitivity to other people's moods and dispositions. One of the reasons parties are hard for me is that it takes a lot of energy to be immersed in other people's, uh, "vibes" or "auras"--please don't take anything mystical from my word choice, it's just hard to describe otherwise. I start syncing with other people to make myself less weird and off-putting (who knows how much I'm succeeding!), and then I need a lot of solitude to get back to my baseline. I'm very concerned with how other people feel, which is why I've been so good in hospitality-related jobs. But I'm sure this is related to the fact that I have major boundary issues, I get so hung up on how other people (seem to) feel that it can make it hard for me to assert myself until someone has pushed me way over the edge.

But I guess there's a limit re: the "reading social cues" bit. I *think* I read the room pretty well most of the time (I must! For my survival!), but I have a history of taking people at their word too much and not noticing that someone has bad intentions until it's too late. Maybe there's a certain amount of literalism going on. Like a really simple example is, I have a hard time with the concept of being "fashionably late"; if a party starts at 8, I will arrive anxiously right at 8, and there's a good chance that I will get there at like 7:57 and lurk on your front steps until the clock turns 8 BECAUSE YOU SAID 8, YOU MUST HAVE MEANT 8. I have finally learned that nobody really likes this unless they're my best friend or something, but I can't tell myself "Just relax and get there when you get there," that's too confusing, I have to say "We will now arrive at 8:20 because this is the secret code of party start times." That's a benign sort of dysfunction, but another version of that is, my boyfriend says he loves me and he doesn't want to break up. Actually he cheats on me all the time and screams at me and scares me, but because he like *technically* loves me and doesn't want to break up because that's what he literally said, my stupid brain thinks that's the rule and the other manifestations of his feelings must be anomalous, and then I'm in a really bad relationship for a long time because I just don't see the subtext until I'm really being beaten over the head with it. There have been a lot of times where I acted like I was legally obligated to come to an understanding of what someone else thinks and feels, when it would have been more rational to say, "This person is being an asshole, it doesn't matter why, I'm ditching."

I *think* this is related to your question about empathy, sorry if I'm being crazy.

So now for your question about self-compassion: I'm grateful for your prompt because I just had an argument about this with someone I love, and I don't think I did a good job of explaining it. I've also fielded some other feedback around these parts that was suggestive of the same idea, which is like: If I say that Behavior X is a crime when I do it, it must mean that Behavior X is an equally punishable crime when someone else does it, so therefore it is rude and inhumane of me to be mad at myself. This argument is missing a consideration of both context, and what exactly criminalizes Behavior X. The first note to make is that Behavior X is usually something that is NOT destructive when it happens just once in a while, innocently--but It becomes a big problem when it happens all the fucking time, like an infestation. If I "innocently" fumble something 50 times a day, that has a much more destructive effect than you making the same mistake just-sometimes. But let's say you DO make the same mistake a lot, so you still feel accused by my personal self-loathing. Now we get to the more important question of what or who is affected by the behavior. I feel sorry for people whose quirks and compulsions and such make their lives hard, obviously I relate! However, if those people came to my house and started doing their quirks and compulsions TO ME, then that's a different thing entirely.

Let's do some examples: If I complain about my weight, that's not the same as saying all fat people suck. What I'm really complaining about is the impact of weight on my own life, the negative effect on my social currency, my inability to find comfortable and attractive clothes, etc. I'm complaining about having to fight with doctors who think BMI gives them a free pass not to treat people, and also about genuine health problems I might struggle with. So my feeling about my own weight really has nothing to do with my feelings about other people's weight, I'm really reacting to my own personal discomfort, which is related to a whole complex of things, but none of those things is truly equivalent to complaining about fat people in general. Similarly, when I complain here about being stupid, I'm not assigning a moral quality to human stupidity, I'm really complaining about the effect of my personal stupidity on my own life. I do believe that there must be something cognitive or neurological going on with me so maybe I can't totally help what I'm like, but I find it impossible not to react to how my own stupidity makes it extremely hard to get through my day. It makes it scary to wake up in the morning. There are so many normal things that I either have to do over and over and over again, or that someone else actually has to do FOR me, which is humiliating and makes me feel hopeless (even though I'm glad for the help because what would I do without it?). Sometimes my life feels like fucking Groundhog Day, it feels like I'm achieving a fraction of what a normal person does in a lifetime, because everything takes me so many tries or is impossible to ever get past. I feel sorry for other people who go through the same stuff, but to me, that's totally separate from how I feel about myself. I hate myself NOT because I am a certain kind of person or because I did something that is objectively a sin, but because I, personally, am the reason I'm suffering and failing. This is not at all abstract or generalizing, it's something I'm forced to deal with, materially, every day. It's just too much to ask, for me to pity myself every single time I fuck myself over yet again. What can I say, I'm not a saint!

So I hope that sort of addresses your question! One of the reasons I get so upset when someone tries to make excuses for my behavior, or suggests that I am just exaggerating because I'm down on myself, is that if I can't have honesty about what goes on with me, then I can't ever get clarity about WHY this stuff is going on. If I agree to the premise that the 25 bad, destructive things I did today were "just because" I was distracted, or flustered, or overworked, or it was an innocent mistake, or it was someone else's fault, or it was a random coincidence, or an act of god, or I just need to learn the right way, or I just need to try harder, or I just have to have a better attitude, et al ad nauseum--that is, if I accept excuses instead of acknowledging a persistent pattern, then I might not ever get to the point of having a useful, explanatory diagnosis like ADHD or autism or...whatever is specifically going on with me. And I mean whatever happens, I WILL always try harder to improve myself, even if sometimes that feels like not learning from history. But it's becoming kind of obvious that a lot of the arguments I have with people could probably be cut off at the pass if I had a note from a doctor that said SEE? I'M REALLY JUST LIKE-THIS. I don't know what I'm going to do about that, with the Adderall shortage and what I'm told is the difficulty of getting an adult autism diagnosis. And like I'd hate to test for autism (or whatever) and have it come back ambiguous, it might make me feel like I'm "just fucking stupid" and I don't have a real problem, and it could also be problematic for these conversations I keep having with people who think I'm basically imagining the whole thing and just being "hard on myself". But I don't know, I think diagnosis may become a bigger focus for me in 2024.

Anyway. Thanks for reading this monstrosity if you did, and thanks for being thoughtful about my depression posting. It's refreshing.

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 7 months

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I know it’s been a while and I really didn’t want it to be this long, but here I am. A lot has happened in the last few weeks and, to summarize it all, it’s taken a lot out of me. I wanted to have everything done and be able to move onto the Hocus Pocus AU, but honestly, I haven’t even finished the halfway point of the final Camp Wanamaker chapter. I definitely still want to write it, but with October being halfway over already, it feels as though pushing it to next year might be the easiest option (though I would love nothing more than to jump into it right now haha). Anyway, I feel as though I should sort of explain why I’ve been so distant in everything, especially my writing, but it’s sort of taken a lot out of me to write it all out. I do apologize in advance for being sort of blunt; I haven’t really been taking the time to process my own emotions lately and it shows.

For starters, my grandma’s step-mom, my Great-Grammy Donna, passed away. At 94 years old, she was still doing fairly well health-wise and keeping things as interesting as possible. She was creative, always spoke her mind, and, although we weren’t technically blood relatives, I felt just as close to her as everyone else. Her house was home to everyone and she made sure that you never left her house hungry or wanting for anything. She always loved it when my mom and I visited and promised to one day teach me how to make proper Polish food, though we never got the chance. Honestly, she partially inspired me to write Vivien’s Nonna Dawn and I made their personalities fairly similar, which made it really hard to think about writing her character at all lately.

On top of that, my car was having some pretty serious - and rather expensive - issues. In total, I would have had to pay at least 3 grand out of pocket to get it all fixed. Due to being from a family full of mechanics, I managed to find a quick fix for some of it, but the car needs to be road-worthy by the end of November and I don’t have the money for it all right now, so it looks as though I’ll have to just bite the bullet and buy a used car before then. I’m holding out hope that something road-worthy will come along soon, but until then, I’ve at least got my old minivan.

Now, I’ve been working on seeing the good in things lately and one of the few bits of good news I have right now, is that my mom and I have been working out more to get ourselves out of depression. It’s been working pretty well so far. I’ve lost almost 30 pounds and dropped a size, which feels great. As I am pretty tall, my weight is more evenly distributed, but I’m still hoping to be down to my goal weight by my birthday, if not sooner. It’ll be a lot of work, but I’m determined and it’s helping me get into a better head space, which is a bonus, if you ask me.

Anyway, I’m hoping to finish the chapter soon and, if I feel up to it, maybe work on the Hocus Pocus AU. I am still determined to finish this last chapter, but I’m definitely ready to move on as I really want to get into the storylines I’ve been practically dangling in front of my face like a carrot. It might take me a while as I work through things, but I want to make sure I take my time and have things come out the way I would like them to. I don’t want to half-ass anything or give you a cruddy chapter! So, yeah, that’s where I’m at with everything and I hope to get back to writing/posting more soon!

In the meantime, I’ve made my Pinterest boards for Melaka Mystica (Hocus Pocus AU) and True Colors (The Last Of Us AU2) available. There may be other boards making appearances sooner or later as I try to figure out what to write next, but for now, that’s all I’ve got for you. I hope you enjoy them at least a little!

#my list of ideas for everything else is extremely long but my desire to finish this last chapter is just not there #honestly I should have been done ages ago but here we are #I plan on cranking out some stuff today between jobs and stuff #wish me luck 🤞

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agentwashingcat · 1 year

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Sada’s Funeral

Like it says in the title, Sada’s Funeral. The fic is mostly Arven dealing with his emotions about the whole thing, with the help of his friends

Mentions of Arven’s self esteem issues and Sada’s shitty parenting.

Cross posted on ao3 under the same name!

Sada’s funeral was a somber affair. It was held at Naranja Academy, which meant most of the student body went to pay their respects. Which also meant Arven was able to hide amongst them instead of being called out.

He knew he should be sitting in front, but he couldn’t bring himself to go up there. He didn’t want the attention. He didn’t want the apologies, the sorry for your losses that sitting up there was sure to bring.

He didn’t even know if he wanted to be at the funeral itself, if he was being honest. But it felt like something he was supposed to do. So he hid in the back, with Florian, Nemona, and Penny. And listened to everyone talk about how great his mother was while standing next to her empty casket. All the research she had done, how dedicated she had been to her work. So dedicated that no one even noticed her only son wasn’t front and center. Did anyone even know about him, outside of Director Clavell? Part of Arven wanted to scream about it, but he kept it inside. This wasn’t the place for it.

Despite the mixed emotions, a few tears escaped. She was still his mom, after all. Florian reached over, squeezing his hand, and Arven held onto it gratefully.

When it was all over, he retreated to his dorm room, exhausted from keeping it together all day. It was only there that he allowed everything he was feeling to overwhelm him. All the anger, hurt, sadness, and loneliness washed over him, leaving him a sobbing mess on the floor. Mabostiff climbed into his lap, licking his face, and Arven held onto him tightly, sobbing into his fur.

A knock on the door startled him. Arven wiped at his eyes, although he was sure it would still be apparent he’d been crying. Not much he could do about that.

Opening the door, he was greeted with his friends standing outside. Florian held up a large platter of sandwiches. “Thought you might like something to eat.”

Arven smiled despite everything. “Only if you didn’t make them.”

Florian scrunched up his face in annoyance, while Penny and Nemona laughed at him. “Ha ha. No, these are Nemona specialties.”

Nemona nodded proudly. “You’ll love ‘em.”

Penny held up a 12 pack of soda. “I brought the beverages. Sorry, this was all I could find on short notice.”

Arven let them all in, and they stayed late into the night, far later than they were technically allowed to. But he was eternally grateful for them.

Eventually, it was just him and Florian. They were curled up on Arven’s bed, watching some anime Penny had recommended. Florian was playing with his hair, leaving Arven feeling content and safe.

“Can I ask you something, Flor?” Arven asked quietly.

“Didn’t you just do that?”

Arven huffed. “Fine, I won’t ask you anything then.”

“Ask me your question, Arven,” Florian said, laughing.

Arven was quiet for a moment. “Do you think I’ll ever live up to my mom?” It was something that had been eating away at him for a while. How did one possibly compete with someone like his mother? Was there even a point?

“No.”

The answer came so quickly Arven just blinked. “What?”

“You shouldn’t try to live up to your mom,” Florian said matter of factly. “You should just try to be you.”

Arven rolled his eyes. “Now you sound like a mom.”

“Someone needs to take care of you idiots.” Florian gave him a smile. “But you’re amazing as you are. You don’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations of you.”

Shit, Arven was gonna cry again. He hid his face in Florian’s shoulder, and the other let him, continuing to gently stroke his hair.

“Do you want me to stay here tonight?” Florian asked a while later, after Arven had settled again.

“Pretty sure that’s not allowed, Flor.” Although he did very much want Florian to stay. After a rough day he just… wanted some human company, for a change.

“Pretty sure I’ve stayed here far past curfew regardless.”

Well, that was definitely true. Arven didn’t even want to know what time it was. “...You can stay. If you’d like.”

“Arven, what do you want me to do?”

“...I want you to stay.”

Florian smiled. “Then I’ll stay.”

Emotion welled up inside him, a lump forming in his throat. There’d been countless times throughout his childhood where he’d begged his mother to stay, for even just a few more minutes, and been brushed off with barely a thought. Once he could fend for himself (and really, far before he should have had to,) he was left to his own devices so she could continue her work.

As if sensing his emotions, Florian pulled Arven into a hug, holding him tightly. “I’ve got you, Arven. Promise.”

Arven clung to him, hands gripping the back of Florian’s shirt. He was exhausted from all the crying he’d done today, but a few more tears slipped out. Florian cradled his head, his other hand rubbing his back gently.

“Thanks, Florian.”

Florian pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Of course, Arven.”

Eventually they fell asleep, curled up together on Arven’s bed. And if anyone saw Florian sneaking out the next morning, well, they were kind enough not to mention it.

#pokemon scarlet and violet #Arven pokemon #Florian pokemon #Arven x Florian #pokemon #my pokemon fic #I've got brain rot for these two dude #Arven got me in a chokehold of emotion lmao #love me a sad boy with shitty parents and self esteem issues lol

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doctorofmagic · 2 years

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Strange #5 Review

I’m basically one month late to the party so my apologies in advance. I’m really struggling with low energy and technical issues (as in, my computer is dying, some keys don’t work [h, g, esc, backspace etc, so you see how it’s discouraging to type]. Also I can’t afford a new one a). But here I am!

Before we begin, it was MANDATORY for me to reread all the previous issues, which also demanded some time. My last two posts made a brief analysis regarding hints that Harvestman was Stephen all along, as well as some parallels. With that being said, I’ll skip to the part where Stephen/Harvestman is explaining what are the Revenants.

We know for sure that the Blasphemy Cartel is summoning these lost souls into deceased heroes/villains due to the symbol/identity they represent. But for what purpose? We still have some mysteries to solve, such as the computers found by Clea, the item that evokes a lost memory to Wong (probably this one will be answered next issue), in addition to who’s Director None. Plus, of course, their goal. They seem new, although quite organized and full of resources.

Next, Clea sees an opportunity to work with Harvestman, unbeknownst to her that he is, in fact, Stephen. I really need to point out that, even without a soul, this dumbass still has little to no regard to himself, which is sad but also entirely in character, as I've been writing for ages about his self-loathing triggered by his guilt. I’m pretty sure that lying to Clea is taking a heavy toll on him. (please, I cannot stand this man anymore. Someone bonk him and put some sense into his empty head!!)

I knooooow Clea will learn the truth soon enough (thank you Marcelo for the treat) but I can’t help but point out that he’s repeating the same three unhealthy coping mechanisms of when he lost Clea by the first time: 1) self-loathing due to guilt, 2) pushing her away and 3) self-isolation. STEPHEN PLEASE!!!

Anyway, moving on. I think that this dialogue is important.

Because yes, Clea is not from this world, and she’s already struggling to play by Stephen’s rules the moment she kills the gangsters. And Wong is also worried about it but they never have a proper chance to talk about this matter. This is what leads me to wonder if Clea needs Stephen as much as Stephen needs her. Because Clea is Stephen’s anchor, she’s the happiness and love he so desperately seeks, and she reassures him in a way that all his negative thoughts are kept in check. They have healthy conversations about their relationship and they tend to grow together. But the opposite is also true, because Clea is not from this world. Stephen is her moral compass, he’s the kindness she never had in the Dark Dimension, he’s passionate about life and magic, he’s love manifest. I’ve never thought about it before but it’s true, isn’t it? They need each other in order to bring the best part of their selves.

Now *slams table* allow me to talk about Moon Knight. For those who don’t know, he’s part of my top 5, so imagine my happiness when Jed put their two babies to team-up. Yup. I’m very very very happy, but I’ll get there.

Also, for those who don’t read Moon Knight (you should!!), the Midnight Mission is now located at the House of Shadows, the same sentient house from Strange Tales #120. The house doesn’t like Stephen and Rintrah because they banished it twice. More on that here. It’s just really cool to see that the house perceives Stephen’s magic in Clea.

Also I really love how Clea and Mr. Knight get along. She does mention Randall, which is quite honest of her. Marc could have refused but he didn’t. They do have a terrible and very complicated relationship, after all. Also he owes Wong a favor. Loving how Stephen’s partners are creating some kind of bond with Marc because yep, I’m all down for it.

Also this woiefwoiiwowiooefj

Taskmaster is scared of Moon Knight. Taskmaster. You get the idea (I love him, can you tell?)

Then Marc explains that gods have some liberties with Death. I always wondered that, to be honest. Because there are many entities who do and undo many things and get a free pass.

ALSO THEY MAKE SUCH A GREAT DUO!! I’m all down for Clea and Marc terrorizing gangsters together at night. Quality time.

(she went full Penance Stare here. Ghost Rider would be proud)

And Clea is indeed very scary but also full of compassion. This is just so sweet of her, and that proves that she makes a wonderful hero.

Worth mentioning that Stephen would just do the same here. He’d probably banish such a terrible man instead of killing him. Not that Clea is against killing, of course. It’s just that she’d rather make him suffer first, which is very Umar of her haha. But I suppose it also makes her own character in this sense.

Lastly, I’m just SO glad Moon Knight was the first hero to actually offer proper advice and help!! I feel like most don’t care, which was kinda true during the events of DODS. I know they didn’t have time to mourn, but what about now? Stephen has always been on his own precisely because magic is just so unique. This is why I praise the magic community so much, even though I miss their presence in v3 as well.

Besides, it warms my heart that Marc speaks of him in such high regard. I need them to meet again asap!! Hopefully it won’t take that long, assuming we’re about to get the great ~reveal~. I miss Stephen very much, especially in other comic books.

And speaking of great reveals, here’s our little meow meow defending Clea and being all sappy and in love with her, even without a soul!!

And here we have it. I’m kinda repeating myself at this point but Stephen is a being of love, and every time canon confirms it for me, it makes me very happy and accomplished. It’s always good to see that my analyses are not biased just because I love the character. An actual writer also interprets him this way and I couldn’t trust Jed more with him. I still fear the future but all I can offer for now is nice compliments.

I can’t wait for the next issue, all the angst and such with Wong and Bats, let’s gooooo!!

#doctor strange #stephen strange #harvestman #clea strange #moon knight #marc spector #review #marvel comics

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