#because his name is so short already the lack of a middle name just makes it even shorter

[andrew-dramaqueen-minyard]

Kevin Day doesn’t have a legal middle name but something in my bones tells me Nicky had called him Kevin Elizabeth Day at least once

#the foxhole court #tfc #aftg #all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #the foxes #palmetto state foxes #aftg hc #tfc hc #aftg shitpost #tfc shitpost #honestly I think it would catch on and everyone would start using it when they’re exasperated with him #even Wymack #because his name is so short already the lack of a middle name just makes it even shorter #sometimes u gotta pack a punch when full naming something #other alternatives did include motherfucking #Kevin motherfucking day #but he kinda like that #Elizabeth he HATES #so you know that means the foxes use it more

[g3tosugu]

can’t get enough

wriothesley x f!reader

wc: 1.7k

cw: reader is neglecting their health, fainting and i think that's it, but please do tell me if i missed one!

synopsis: you pick up an extra shift at Cafe Lutece but, it proves to be too much on your body as you continue neglecting your needs and Wriothesley is there to figure out why.

a/n: eeek! first post hope u like it :3c i've never written genshin stuff before which is why this is kinda short lol so please forgive me if it's not that good!!

Picking up another shift at Cafe Lutece whilst you were in the middle of prepping and training to begin work at the Fortress of Meropide was probably not the best decision you have ever made in your life. You could have easily quit your job or asked for more leniency with your scheduling and Arouet would surely understand if you explained the situation you were in. The only issue with that was you didn't want to also put him in the tight spot of having to find a replacement, especially since the Cafe was already short staffed at the current time. And now, you have decided to overwork yourself more.

The place was absolutely jam packed with people. There was a pretty intensive trial that was held today and the people who attended were starving and eager to chat about the turnout of the trial over a meal. You're not sure why you set yourself up for disappointment when you convinced yourself it wouldn't be too busy because of the rain. Instead of being a nice regular 8 hour shift, you instead were met with a very busy and never ending 10 hour shift. When you arrived an hour earlier to the Cafe today you had no idea that extra hour of leisure time was going to be something that was so vital. Too late now. You finish your shift as efficiently as you possibly could with what little energy you had left in your system.

As you exited the building, you were met by Arouet who had been out saying his farewells to the final customers of the evening. "Thank you so much again for all your help today Y/n! I really don't know what I would have done without you" he thanked you with a warm smile. You tried your best to muster a more enthusiastic response, but all you could bring yourself to do is give him a tired smile and say "Don't worry about it, boss. It's my pleasure to help you as you have helped me by giving me this job".

When you moved to Fontaine from your home of Monstadt you didn't have anything. Sure, you had your bag you had packed with things of sentimental value and some clothing but, that was it. You couldn't even bring mora with you because you had none to your name due to never having to work back in Monstadt. Your family had always taken care of you. So when you were telling them about you moving so far away, they tried to give you basic starter funds but you declined. You even lied and told them you had some mora saved from doing favors and chores for other people (usually older people) just so they wouldn't worry further. With your lack of job experience and no funds or place to go, Arouet saw how determined you were to make the most out of your situation and decided to give you a job as a waitress.

Arouet studied your face for a moment before giving a sympathetic smile. "You look like you could use a nice relaxing evening and you deserve it. Go home and be safe and please take the day off tomorrow" he gently patted your shoulder. The sudden contact and thought that you get a whole day off the next day made you perk up a little more, "Oh, thank you so much, boss! I will and same to you as well, of course. I just have somewhere to stop and then I will go home for the night".

The first few times you entered the Fortress of Meropide it was a very nerve wracking experience. You had no idea if it was a rowdy and rugged environment or a serious and strict one. But, you soon realized it wasn't as horrific and terrible as you initially thought it would be. Regardless, it was still to be considered a dangerous environment. Thankfully, with Wriothesley around, you never felt like you needed to worry.

As the guards walked you up to the large metal doors to the Duke's office, you heard a familiar voice call out to you from the cafeteria area. "Y/n! Wait!" she ran up to you enthusiastically. "Hello Sigewinne" you patted the half Melusine girl on the head and smiled at her. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you were stopping by since you seemed to be working late" she smiled up at you, but everything started to feel fuzzy. Your eyelids became harder to keep open, your vision was going in and out of focus and you started seeing spots. "Y/n?" Sigewinne called out to you, worried by your lack of response and the way you were looking physically. Before you could give her the reassurance you so desperately wanted to, you collapsed to the ground.

"Y/n! Oh no..." Sigewinne quickly walked to your side and began trying to rouse you awake. The guards that were with you quickly clamored around you to protect you from any onlookers. In the midst of the sudden event, the loud metal doors to the Dukes office opened and out came Wriothesley. "What's all the commotion out here about?", his eyes searched for just a split second before they landed on Sigewinne standing over your unconscious form with a very troubled look on her face. "Everyone move" Wriothesley ordered the guards and they immediately met his demand in return. He quickly knelt down and picked you up bridal style and started carrying you towards his office. "Wait! We need to take her to the infirmary so I can perform a proper check up!" Sigewinne tried to stop him. "You can treat her in here can't you? I don't want her out here. I want to be able to keep an eye on her" his gaze was serious and his jaw was set. He was clearly fully intent on doing this, so Sigewinne just sighed and nodded in response as she followed him into his office.

Your eyes fluttered open and you searched around your environment to try and decipher where you had ended up. Wriothesley's office. "You're awake?" you heard Wriothesley rise from his chair and walk around his desk. You slowly began to sit up and when your eyes met his, you looked away in embarrassment. You knew Sigewinne checked your condition and told him you were neglecting your needs. You had hardly eaten and you weren't sleeping a full night's rest for the past week. His eyes said it all to you. He was disappointed.

After a moment of you avoiding looking at him while also feeling his own gaze piercing right through you, you sighed. "You're disappointed in me" you looked down at your hands in your lap. "Disappointed?" his face had confusion present on it but, you fail to see it as you are still too afraid to look him in the eyes. "Oh no, I've probably frightened Sigewinne terribly, I should go show her I'm alright" you try to quickly excuse yourself from the situation. "I don't think so" Wriothesley firmly but gently grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him so he could swiftly lift you onto his desk, his palms planted firmly on the desk at your sides, effectively caging you in. You're still looking away from him. "Come on sweetheart, look at me. Please?" his voice soft in a way to show you that he isn't upset with you.

You slowly raised your head and finally met his eyes. He looked at you in a way that made you feel like you were the answer to all problems in the world. Like you were something precious and sacred. "There she is" he smiled warmly. The smile you gave in response wasn't one the same warmth in return, it was an apologetic one. "You've been overworking yourself, haven't you?" he tried to coax you to explain yourself. You nodded, "I took an extra shift at Cafe Lutece today while I've been prepping to become a nurse here". "Oh? You're going to be working here? How was I not made aware of this?" he asked as he finally moved away from you to fold his arms across his chest.

The guilty expression on your face made him let out a soft, "Y/n...". "I told Monsieur Neuvillette to keep it a secret because I was afraid you wouldn't allow me to pursue it" you admitted. "I see" he nodded and sighed. "Well, I just want to say first and foremost" he moved toward you again and placed a tender kiss on the top of your head, "I'm not disappointed in you. Not for what happened today or for keeping this secret from me" he reassured. "I also want you to know that you can do whatever you want. I don't ever want you to consider my own thoughts if you are going to put them above your own. At that point my feelings don't entirely matter do they? You are free to do as you please" he gently lifted your chin with his hand so you could look at him again.

"Besides, you act like I wouldn't want to see this gorgeous face everytime I come into work" he grinned as he removed his hand from your chin. You smiled the first genuine happy smile all day. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you want to be a nurse down here?" he asked as he took your hand in his to help you steadily hop down from his desk. "Well, I would love to work with Sigewinne of course. You know I adore her and I know she could teach me a lot of things. Her point of view in life is always so fascinating and wonderful to me as well" you went on to explain. As you went on, Wriothesley just had the most lovesick expression plastered on his face and you made note of it. "And don't act like I don't want to see your gorgeous face everyday when I come to work" you use his own words on him with a grin. He chuckled and shook his head "You're a very dangerous woman". "Hmm, maybe I've just been around you too much" you joke. Instead of laughing in response with you, he pulled you against him by your waist. "I don't know about you, but you could never be around me too much" his eyes studied every detail of your face, "No, matter of fact. I can't get enough of you sweetheart".

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ the patient in 206 ♡

♡ Pairing: patient!mingi x curvy!fem!reader

♡ Summary: You always keep it professional at work but, when an attractive new patient begins to push the boundaries, you find it difficult to resist his charm.

♡ Genre: fluff/suggestive

♡ Word Count: 1.8k

♡ Warnings: reader’s short so there’s references to how tiny she is, mingi puts his face in your boobs nonsexually. they're just comfy for him, mention of blood/anesthesia

♡ A/N: This is based on an idea @urlacuna threw into my asks. I hope I did a good job interpreting what you wanted into a fic!

Red licorice, if you eat enough of it, does a hell of a job mimicking internal bleeding. That’s why the patient in 202 is here today for a colonoscopy. Just to make sure. You know this because the husband of a patient is draped over the nurse’s station while you’re doing charts, huffing and puffing because he has to be here instead of presumably lounging on a couch wiping flaky orange Cheeto dust on the arm of his recliner. This is about as sexy as a job in nursing gets but it’s what pays the bills so you listen, partially anyway, fighting off the urge to throw what’s left of your watered down iced coffee onto his face. 

“Sir,” your coworker interrupts, her lack of patience for his bullshit obvious from the start, “Your wife’s asking for you. If you’ll go in and see her…” Before she can finish her sentence he’s stomping off, mumbling something to himself. She’s your favorite coworker for a reason. She takes a seat on your desk like you’re not in the middle of something. “I’d rather get two colonoscopies with no anesthesia than be married to that asshole,” she says louder than she should. You bury your face in your hands, muffled laughter escaping the spaces between your fingers, “You can’t say that!” 

She crosses her legs, thumbing through a patient’s file, “Like you weren’t thinking it. Anyway, I need you to take a patient for me.” “I’m already assigned room 205,” “Now you’re not” she declares, opening the folder to face you, the face sheet glowing like an ancient text in an adventure film. You see the name Song Min Gi. The picture, oh, the picture. “Remember him?” she asks. Remember? How couldn’t you? You’d been thinking of him ever since he came in last week. Not that you’d tell her that. Not that you need to. It’s painted all over your face the same way it was when you first saw him. 

Mingi came in with his best friend, Yunho you’re pretty sure his name was, to drop off some paperwork for his endoscopy. The other nurses swarmed the desk like moths to a flame, a sea of fluttering eyelashes and girlish laughter. It wasn’t often…or ever…that two tall handsome men sauntered into your job. And they weren’t just gorgeous. They were complete gentlemen, taking time to ask each of you about your day and making cute little jokes that eased some of the tension of such a high stress job.

As attractive as they both were, it was Mingi who had you wrapped around his finger from the moment he walked in. “We could climb him…” your mind whispered. The smile on his face whispered back that he might let you if you asked. “The little one” Mingi had called you, a suitable nickname with you being the shortest nurse on staff. 

“I like you, little one.” 

“Thank you, little one.” 

“See you soon, little one.”

The timbre of his voice echoed through your chest, the aftershock still felt when you returned home that night. You’d thought of him often since then, hoping that you’d see him again. You’d even peeked at when his endoscopy was scheduled for, excited to find out that you’d be on that day. Today. But you’d forgotten. Yesterday had been so chaotic that you rushed in this morning barely knowing which planet you were on, let alone the day.

Hair a mess. Makeup nowhere to be found. Mismatched socks on. At least your sneakers were on the right feet. You slam the folder closed, “I can’t. Look at me!” “Oh, stop it” your coworker shushes, brushing your hair back, “You look beautiful. Now go! 205 needs me and Mr. Song Min Gi needs you. Go, go, go!” She has you up from your chair, rushing you off with his file in your arms, quicker than you can register what’s happening. “Have fun!” she teases, shoving you into room 206 where Mingi lounges in the bed, his long legs stretched out.

He’s already loopy, you can tell by his low eyes and the blissful smile on his face. Yunho stands beside him, deep in conversation about something that becomes irrelevant when they see you. Mingi sits up, recklessly shifting his arms as if he doesn’t have an IV jabbed into one of them, “Little one!” “Oh my god, be careful” you gasp, scurrying to his side before he accidentally rips the IV from his arm. “So, are you my nurse now or did you just come to see me?” Both. The answer is ‘both’.

You dodge the question, “It looks like she got you all set up for me so let me just go check with the doctor and see if they’re ready to take you back. In the meantime, don’t injure yourself please.” Mingi winks at you, “Anything for you.” “You’re disgusting you know that?” Yunho groans, rolling his eyes, “Sorry about him. It’s the anesthesia kicking in.” You assure Yunho that it’s fine, slipping back out of the room under the watchful eye of Mingi who waves at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. When you return a few minutes later he’s already out cold.

“Be careful with him” Yunho warns, “He might try to, uh, force himself to wake up.” You aren’t worried. You’ve dealt with it before. Patients try to fight it off all the time. Eventually, they all succumb to it though. Even on the off chance that they do wake up the anesthesiologist has them drifting back off to dreamland in a millisecond. It’s almost annoying how cute Mingi manages to be, worthy of a full page spread in a magazine even in those dreadful blue tissue paper clothes they make patients wear.

Rolling him to a room not too far down the hall, you hand him over to the doctor and get back to your other duties. Checking on other patients, making sure they have their discharge papers, and shoveling some lunch into your mouth in between. You’re hiding in the office kitchen, cheeks packed with food and another fork full coming your way, when another nurse rushes in to grab you. “Y/N, room 206! He’s out of his mind!” You check your watch. Mingi? He should be out but he shouldn’t be awake yet.

No questions asked you race behind her to find his room full of nurses. Mingi’s up bouncing on the balls of his bare feet and…rapping? Your closest friend there, the matchmaker herself, scurries over to you, ushering you closer to Mingi. “We’ve been trying to get him to lay down but he won’t do it because he wants, uh, well…” “My wife!” Mingi shouts gleefully, long arms embracing you. His chin rests on the top of your head as the two of you sway back and forth. “Isn’t she cute?” he coos, petting your hair, “Mmm and she smells nice.” You pat him on the back, a mother soothing her agitated baby,

“You guys can head out. I’ve got him.” The room empties out except for Yunho who helps you seat Mingi safely on the edge of the bed, his arms still around you. Mingi sighs, resting his head on your chest, “Soft. Mmm. So soft.” He nuzzles his cheeks against your breasts and Yunho nearly chokes on air. “I’m so sorry. Mingi, stop it!” Mingi groans, shooing his best friend away, “We’re married. I can do what I want. Right, baby?” He looks up at you, his brown eyes are angelic under the fluorescent light, and you can’t bring yourself to disrupt his delusion.

“Right, you can do what you want but can you do something for me?” “Anything” he sighs, his nose buried in your cleavage as his hands traverse your curves. “Let’s lay down, okay? I’m a little tired.” You fake a yawn and he nods, easing you onto the bed with him. His face still in your chest, Mingi goes on telling you how much he loves you. He smiles at memories of how nice your honeymoon was. “It was nice, wasn’t it?” “The best.” This was far from what you expected coming in to work today but, in the back of your mind, you’re enjoying the affection, even if it is medically induced.

After a few minutes, Mingi drifts back off to sleep, giving you the chance to sneak away. The rest of the day goes on as normally as it can after something like that has happened. It’s not like you can tell anyone. You should just forget it. Maybe Mingi will. Yunho better let him. When you get the news that Mingi’s awake for a second time you beg another nurse to take him. You don’t even want to think about what might happen if he does remember and you’d rather not find out. 

Thankfully she takes over, allowing you to finish out your shift uneventfully. “See you tomorrow!” you shout over your shoulder, waving to your coworkers as they filter out behind you. You turn to check that the coast is clear before crossing the parking lot only to slam face first into a brick wall. You stumble backward, and strong hands grip your arms keeping you on your feet. A brick wall? Not a brick wall. Mingi’s chest. It’s your turn to look up at him now, his cheeks are tinted a strawberry red. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry…” 

“No, I’m sorry…for a lot of things apparently.” 

You glance behind him and see Yunho leaning against a car nearby. You wave to each other, the context of Mingi’s apology clear. “Look, I…” “Don’t worry about it. It happens.” Mingi narrows his eyes at you, skeptical of how often this actually happens. “Okay, it doesn’t happen” you relent, “But it’s really okay. I swear.” “I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m such an idiot. Clearly, that date I was gonna ask you on is out of the window.” “Date?” you shriek, clearing your throat to regain your composure, “I mean, date? You were gonna ask me on a date?” Mingi hangs his head, hands in his pockets, unable to meet your gaze. “I was but it’d be kinda weird now, wouldn’t it?” You stand up straight, arms folded across your chest, “Well you’ve gotta ask to know, don’t you?” “Oh, uh, does that mean that you’d…would you…date…with me?” “When?” “Now?” “Now?” “No?” “Fine. Let’s go. My car” you demand, strutting to your car with some newfound boldness overtaking you.

You aren’t sure if he’s even following you until you spot him out of the corner of your eye. Clutching your purse close to your chest you try to suppress how giddy you are then the panic sets in. A date? Looking like this? Unlocking the door, you throw your purse into the backseat, “I should probably go home and change into something cuter.” “Cuter?” Mingi asks, holding the door open for you, “You’re cute enough. Plus, you don’t have to impress me anymore. We’re married, remember?”

#mingi x y/n #mingi x you #mingi x reader #mingi fluff #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #curvy reader #plus size reader

[hirsheyskisses]

hi could you write a scenario for kid with a crush that is like luffy who likes to prank him, tease and annoy him bc they find it funny, and know they can get away with it hhehekshrkhsk

Can't Take It.

EUSTASS KID x READER (short)

Summary: you love to pop out of nowhere. It doesn't matter what Kidd does, you'll arrive when he least expects it, and he hates (loves) it.

☆ kidd honestly can't help it. When you pop out of nowhere to greet him fresh after he's woken, he can't help but want to throw you on his bed and squish you.

☆ you have managed to scare the living daylights out of him in the middle of the night, when you teleport in front of him like a fucking ghost

☆ honestly the crew kinda hates it (but they get you back in their own way)

☆ but kid? No, he just grumbles and throws you over his shoulder, trying not to concentrate on how close you are and instead tries to assert dominance

☆ you couldn't care less though.. because you know he doesn't mind one bit.

Eustass Captain Kid does not do crushes. Especially not over someone like you. Or well, that's what he rants about to Killer, who'd had the audacity to accuse him of being in love with you. How dare he?! Sure, his heart flutters whenever he sees you, and he's always looking for you in the heat of battle, and he constantly needs to make sure that you're not up to something. But damn it, you keep popping out of nowhere. It doesn't help you have the teleport fruit, that allows you to pop up wherever you damn please.

Kidd has to be on constant guard in case you just pop up in front of him, his observation haki only able to pick up on your presence on the last possible second. God's he hates it even more when you pop up in the workshop, with that cute sparkle in your eyes as you snatch his tools to make him take a break, or randomly teleport him to odd spots around the ship, or how you'll so cutesy ask what he's making..

Okay, maybe Killer is right.. maybe it's a slight crush.

But that wasn't the point! You enraged him! Yet.. yet you were the only one he couldn't bring himself to punish for disturbing him. No, part of him actually looked forward to-

"GOTCHA!"

"FUCKING- (NAME)!"

He was yanked out of his thoughts as your arms wrapped around his neck, evil laughter ringing in his ears as he spun, reaching for you, but you were already halfway across the room, cackling at him. "Gotcha! Should've seen your face!" You wheezed, watching Kid's face contort as he stormed over to you, placing a hand on your head and forcing you to look at him.

God, your face was beautiful- you grinned at him so innocently even as he, Eustass Captain Kid, held your skull, even if his touch was gentle. "I told ya to stop that shit!" He grumbled, to which you laughed, "then stop making it so easyyy!"

"Damn woman." He cursed with a grin, pushing you against the wall. You met his annoyance with fire, staring up at him with blazing eyes. "Not my fault you lack awareness of your surroundings!" You stuck your tongue out at him, and fuck, he wanted to kiss you so bad- but Kid restrained himself, instead retorting, "Shouldn't need to worry about little shits on my ship everywhere." "You knew what you signed up for taking me in, Cap'n~" your voice teasing, "I am known for slitting people's throats without anyone knowing who I am."

He scoffed, dropping from your head as he turned around, "save that damn energy for the marines, woman!"

As if on cue, you flickered into view in front of his eyes. But before you could even squeak out a word he had his prosthetic arm around your lower torso, hoisting you up with ease as he continued walking. "Heyy! No fair! I can't teleport if you're holding meeee," you whined, to which Kidd smirked. "Can always teleport with me." "Thats no fun!"

"Works for me." Kid grunted softly, partially dying inside due to how you held onto him, arms wrapped around his neck yet again, and he could feel your hot breath fanning against his neck. "Hmph!"

He thought he was imagining things when you moved a bit closer, and Kidd picked up his pace to the workshop.

"Besides.. still need your damn imput in the workshop. So.. just stop conplaining!"

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt his stomach drop, quite literally, as mid step he appeared in the workshop. "Oh! Why didn't ya just say so-" "for fucks sake woman you know I hate that without warning!" He glared at you, teeth grinding as he dropped you on his desk.

"I was just being helpfulll," you teasingly poked at his shoulder, to which Kidd sighed.

He.. just couldn't bring himself to be mad at you.. and you knew it.

#eustass kid x reader #eustass x reader #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #one piece x reader #kid pirates

[thornsnvultures]

keep it up ♡

Sebastian Stan x fem!Reader

Summary: Seb knows what he wants for his 40th birthday, and he wants you to give it to him...

Words: 1k

Warnings: spanking, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, name calling (slut), pet names (baby, sweetheart), squirting, p in v sex (unprotected, creampie), slight breeding kink, slight orgasm denial

a/n: wanted to get this out much earlier today but my plans were thrown all out of wack and I got home late. oh well lol it's short and nasty just like-- nvm.. hbd old man 😜🥰🥳

unbeta'd, edited by me. if you see any errors, no you didn't :)

18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI. IF YOU INTERACT AND YOU DON’T HAVE YOUR AGE VISIBLE ON YOUR BLOG YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. 18+ BLOG, MINORS DNI.

"Y'know usually the birthday boy is the one on the receiving end of any birthday punishments," you tease Sebastian over your shoulder as he helps you unzip your dress. "I should be laying forty punches into those beefy arms of yours. What do you say? Twenty on each side?"

Your dress finally falls to the floor after a few strategic pushes over your curves. Turning in his arms with his hands still on your hips, you grab his biceps and give them a squeeze.

"My birthday, my rules," Sebastian teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his smile grows.

Slowly he leans into you, tugging you close by your waist until your stomach is flush against the hard length filling the front of his slacks.

His breath is hot by your ear as he whispers, "Don't you wanna be a good girl for me?"

He presses a kiss to your jaw and leans back, keeping himself pressed to you except now his large hands are framing the sides of your face.

"You asked what I wanted for my birthday. I want you, spread out on my lap and taking a spanking like the good little slut you are."

Your focus is on his pink lips as he speaks. The way they pout when he coos at you for already nodding your head in agreement. Your eyes flutter shut when he leans in with those soft lips to press into yours with a delicate kiss.

His hands move you where he wants you as he nudges into your mouth with his tongue, searching for your heat. When you give in, relent to his curling touch, his enveloping heat, he groans, his dick twitching in his slacks.

He pants into your mouth when you separate, almost desperate in his need to claim your body now. But you have to give him his present first.

Sebastian pulls you down into his lap, his cock pressing firm into your side. Your warm flesh exposed against the hard line of his zipper.

Thanks to a lack of fabric covering your ass from the thong you wore, Sebastian was already palming your cheeks. Lightly caressing them, giving a trying squeeze here and there as you squirmed in his lap.

"What was it you said before? Twenty on each side?"

You gasp as a firm slap lands on your right cheek.

"Count. You miss one and we start over."

"One," you say with a shaky breath as you frantically nod.

"Good girl."

Another slap, this time on the left.

"Two."

It's easy to keep it up for the first ten, after that the slaps come at varying speeds and you stumble a bit.

"Fou- No! Fifteen!"

Tears are welling at the corners of your eyes like a damn threatening to break.

"Watch it, sweetheart. If you're not careful we'll be here all night."

You want to scoff at the smile in his voice because of course he wouldn't mind tearing up your ass till the sun comes up. But you'd like to be able to walk tomorrow. And all that does come out of your mouth is a warbled, sobbed, "no!"

"Then behave."

You do, you really try to be good. But, fuck, he's not making it easy.

"Look at you. My perfect little slut."

Sebastian stops somewhere in the 20s to peel your panties to the side and admire the way your slick clings to them. His middle finger runs through your soaked folds.

"Such a pretty pussy, sweetheart. Doing so well for me."

He spreads your pussy open, your exposed hole winking at him, clenching and desperate to be filled with something, anything.

"Please, I need -- I need it, need you. Please!"

You sob at his touch, begging and crazed for it.

Either from pity or his own based needs, Sebastian gives in and slowly inserts his middle finger into your tight cunt.

The sound of it, sloppy and wet, would almost be embarrassing if you weren't so far gone already.

"Fuck, sweetheart. You're so wet, fuck."

He watches his finger slide in and out before adding a second. The moment you're filled to the brim another slap lands and you're back to counting. You struggle for a moment to remember where you left off at, but once you do Sebastian is fucking into you in time with the cracks across your cheeks. A pulsing rhythm that makes your body hum. Your core is tightening, your walls squeezing against his invasion as he picks up speed.

You're down to your last five when you feel it. You're gonna come and fast but you can't. He won't let you until he's done, until it's over.

Screaming, crying, begging, anything to let you come as you count down slowly from five. The slaps getting harder, his fingers hammering impossibly fast into your cunt.

"That's it, baby, one more," he coaxes you as your body shakes, your pussy squelching against his hand. "One more and you can come. Fuck you're perfect."

You don't know if that last part was to you or him but you don't care.

Sebastian's hand comes down in one final slap and the second you scream "forty" he tears his hand from your gushing cunt, rubbing his soaked hand over your clit as you spray him and the bed, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can.

"Fuck! Goddamn. Messy little slut."

Sebastian throws you on the bed behind him, face down while he undoes his pants. Damn near ready to bust all over himself, he slams into your pussy. Holding you down by the hips and taking you like he's feral and trying to fucking breed you.

The outside of his trousers rubs raw against your ass but you couldn't care less when you're coming around his cock, delirious and drooling into the mattress.

"Fuck!"

Sebastian shouts as he stills, grinding his hips into your backside as he fills you to the brim, coating your slick walls in his molten hot spunk.

He lays down on top of you, careful not to put his full weight on you, but just enough to surround you, make you feel safe in his arms. They cage you in as he presses wet kisses down your neck, over your shoulders.

His eyes snap open when you mumble something under him, almost incoherent from your position. Sebastian quickly moves, lifting up on his elbows because he's not quite ready to fully move away from you yet.

"Sorry, sweetheart. What was that?"

"I said," you turn to smile at him over your shoulder, "Happy birthday, old man'."

#sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan rpf #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan headcannon #sebastian stan x plus size!reader #rpf fic #sebastian stan birthday fic #my fics

[trigunwritings]

Can I request for Nicholas D. Wolfwood NSFW hcs...? 👀

In short, Nicholas D. Wolfwood is a deeply selfish man. That is not to say he is a morally corrupt or villainous individual, but simply one who will do anything in order to protect those he cares about—and there are not many. He doesn’t care about heroic ideals or unrealistic ambitions, but instead in the present moment and how he fits into it. Survival, above all else, is what fuels him, and this often makes him come off as an extremely caustic man to others if they haven’t already written him off as indolent.

This perceived selfishness, this need for the material and present moment, absolutely translates into Wolfwood’s romantic and sexual relationships. If you somehow manage to work your way into the undertakers heart, then you can count yourself equally burdened and blessed for it; burdened because of how fiercely he’ll try to keep you at arm’s length to avoid pulling you into his personal sins, but blessed in just how much the man is unable to follow his own personal rules. He, in his own self-description, is so fucking selfish.

Especially spicy headcanons below the cut!

And sometimes the best way for him to share his emotions, bottles and broken as they are, is when the two of you are naked and writhing against one another. Sex with Wolfwood is often rough and fierce, hands gripping your hips so hard that it almost hurts, a voice in your ear that is jagged and gravely with the years of a horrible habit of smoking. He’ll sometimes try to say that it’s only casual, that he means nothing by it—but the truth doesn’t match the words he says when he’s with you in those pleasure-filled moments together.

There really isn’t a preferred way or place when Wolfwood wants to fuck. Anywhere that is vaguely comfortable and lacks an audience is the most personal filters that he has, which easily leads some encounters with him to be in all sorts of places—a dark alley, the passenger seat of a car, or even on a rickety old bed long forgotten in an abandoned home in the middle of the desert. As long as he is able to hold you in his arms and whisper sweet things he might later try to deny, then it’s perfect for him.

In the heat of the moment, Nicholas is quite the talker—you might think at first that he is the kind of man to be entirely silent, but he is instead anything but. There’s a myriad of noises coming from the man, grunts and groans and growls with the deep sound of your name peppered in. When he’s got a particularly strong hold of the moment—and you, it’s easy to forget how strong the man is—he absolutely adores to run his mouth with filth so strong you wonder how anyone ever mistook this man as a priest.

#trigun #trigun Stampede #wolfwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #Wolfwood headcanon #wolfwood x reader #headcanon #spicy headcanon #writing #spicy writing #trigun x reader

[cornerstoreclown]

Leashed

Summary: This is a short one-shot (3563 words approx.) where the reader (Gender Neutral) has Art on a leash and is riding him. It’s all fun and games here!  The reader is AFAB, but their specific sexual bits below the belt are not mentioned in this fic by name. In addition, the reader’s chest is not elaborated on if they have breasts or not. Just wanted to give a heads up as to what is in this so people who sit down and read it know what to expect so that they can assess if this is something they’d like to crack open or not. :) 

Warnings/Contents: Light BSDM because Art’s on a leash, some fluff, sex, some... LIGHT ROMANCE?!

Author’s notes: I realize Art’s suit has a zipper in the back and for the sake of this one-shot, he’s got a slightly different costume going on. Because you know what? We deserve clothed sex. And I fully intend on doing more of it in the future. It’s MY kink, and I’m driving this car!   This fic really let me write Art a little gentler in comparison to the more intense BDSM one I had initially published. If this one doesn’t speak to you, I’m doing a gender neutral blowjob next. And if you don’t like that, then... I got other stuff still on my queue! It’ll take a little time though, I’m taking a small break after this to recharge. 

------------------------------------------------------  

You have to admit, Art looked good with a collar and chain leash—just as good as the new costume you got him in. He couldn’t keep wearing the same clown suit over and over again. The new one looks similar to the one he already had, only it came in two pieces versus one. You managed to convince him that he’d need to eventually switch it out every so often. He didn’t have to wear this one as much if he didn’t want to, but at least preserve the original as much as he can. It still had the pom-poms, still had the colors split down the middle and on his sleeves, he still had his cap, hat, and gloves. Same shoes, too. He even has the ruffle around his neck on this one. Art was just a creature of habit, and you understood, you were too and sympathized, but still stressed the importance of having a backup costume.

At least with this outfit, he had pants, which was part of the reason why you were so excited that he finally yielded to the idea. It was so funny, he was pushy for when he wanted something from you, but wasn’t necessarily a fan of when the tables were turned on him. Hypocrite. You’ve pointed that out but he’s only shrugged it off or given you a dismissive wave. He didn’t want to hear it. Never did.

He didn’t have his pants all the way on anyway, it was pulled down just enough to expose his dick. You lack any pants or undergarments yourself, only adorning a plain sweater while you keep his cock between your thighs to keep him warm. He’s partially firm, and you’re sitting atop him. Nothing more, nothing less. It is taking a lot of self control on your part to not just slide him in yourself, but that was part of foreplay, wasn’t it?

“How are you doing? Okay so far?” 

Art’s under you, glancing up at you as you’ve got the leash wrapped around your forearm multiple times. You’re not tugging on it too tightly right now. Not yet, anyway. Art’s smile is wide, eagerly nodding his head. He looks quite pleased to be in the position he’s in, and it makes sense. He enjoyed being able to sit back while someone else did all the work. And you are his favorite. 

“Good.” You purse your lips and try to fight your lips from turning upward into a grin, but fail. Art looks… cute like this. He looks happy. Giddy, even, moving his head side to side a little while waiting. It’s a little jarring how someone so dangerous is so… innocent in behavior right now.

For as long as you’ve both been together, he’s never once shown signs of wavering interest. Existing was a chore, and no matter what changes to your body you would go through the day to day experiences, whether it be an accidental scar, the change of your hair, any bruises, tattoos, piercings, body shape change, muscle gain or loss, weight gain or loss, and just about anything else you could possibly think of—he was there for you, with you, unrelenting just as he was with his terrorizing humanity every October. To him, you were the epitome of all that he could want, all that he could ask for, and you were wonderful the way you were. You are loyal. You care for him and about him. For a man who sliced people up for fun, he adored the person who inhabited the form you hold.  He didn’t have room to judge, anyway. Not that he would. Perhaps that was just another thing you really like about him–he was fairly unbiased. 

The bed was comfortable. It was your bed, after all. You weren’t going back to his place, wherever the fuck that was this year. He moves around all the time to keep people off his tail, so it makes sense. However, you liked the comfort of your own space anyway. 

“Up.” You tell him, giving a tug on the leash, yanking it back. You’re leaning forward until he props himself up halfway with his elbows, and when the both of you meet, your faces are inches away from each other. 

He’s a good listener, you’ll give him that. 

His lips are parted, no smile nor frown present as he waits in anticipation for your next move, and you stare into those mesmerizing eyes of his. He’s got the same half lidded gaze as you right now. Up close, he smells distinctly like … a kind of burnt spice, and smoke. Especially smoke. The man often smells like he’s been standing in a firepit half the time when he wasn’t smelling like death itself. It was usually one or the other. 

What is he thinking? What goes on behind those eyes of his? You’ll never know. But it’s surreal knowing that you’re this close to a murderer, a man who has killed countless people, possessing such supernatural powers and yet viciously slaughtering them through human means. He could choke you right now. It’d be easy. He could use the leash you are holding and wrap it around your neck and squeeze so hard until your head would feel like it’d pop clean off. 

What does he see in you? You don’t know. But you’re not going to question it. Instead, you give into what drives you, and bring your lips to his and close your eyes. You tilt your head a bit because of his nose, and you feel the hot exhale of your breath hit his face and bounce off of him, back onto you. His taste is bitter, and you’re well aware how many would throw up at the thought of kissing this man, but you weren’t like other people. You’re a little fucked up in the head, kind of like Art, but not as severe. That’s why kissing him didn’t bother you, and that’s probably why, now that you think about it, it’s one of the reasons why he likes you. Being nice didn’t solely get you places with Art, you had to have an edge or something for him to bounce off of, and you were rubbery enough in the personality department for him. 

His tongue pushes past your lips and you let him, kissing him passionately as you relax and you feel your body temperature rise. He’s exhaling through his nose too, but the heat that hits your face from him is far more intense than yours was earlier, and you start to realize that the reason your body is heating up as fast as it is, is because Art is a furnace. Heat is radiating from him in such a way that you could swear that he’s almost running a light fever, yet he’s not the slightest bit sickly seeming, if you exclude his mental state. He can’t be just a man. He’s some sort of demon, or a demon that’s inhabiting the body of a man, you’re convinced of it. But whatever otherworldly force is within him, you’re getting a taste of it, and it’s potent, and it’s addictive. He’s addictive. 

You’re already feeling that familiar wetness between your thighs grow, the gentle throb impossible to ignore. You caress the side of his face mid kiss, and hold onto it still when you pull away, slowly opening your eyes. He didn’t bite your lip this time. He liked to do that a lot. You did tell him you were in charge tonight. He must be committed to being on his best behavior. He was good at roleplay and it made sense–he’s a clown, after all. A performer at heart. 

He leans into your touch and you see it in his eyes–that flicker of contentment. Had you blinked, you’d have missed it. You’re not sure if he’s capable of feeling love, but if he were, what you saw would make you believe so. 

“You’re being a good boy so far,” You tell him. 

He now holds his head high, looking pleased with the praise. You stroke his cheek one last time, then place your hand on his chest, and rest it there. You’re not sure if it’s because of his clothes that are in the way or what, but you take note that you don’t feel his heartbeat. Did he even really have one? You’re not sure, but all the times you have checked in the past, you don’t really remember sending anything. It’s hard to tell if who is beneath you is a man or some sort of entity, but the mystery is and has always been the appeal. 

You give him another kiss, savoring the bitterness one more time before using the hand on his chest to push him down flat on his back roughly. Art goes willingly, giving a corrupt grin as he watches you through half lidded eyes. You think for a second he looks a little enamored with you. 

And why wouldn’t he be? He finds you attractive and hasn’t shied away from making that explicitly clear in the past. Even during the days you didn’t personally think so, he thought so. He adores you alive as you are now, or even potentially dead in his hands by those homicidal itches that often would leave him daydreaming about breaking your limbs, tearing you to shreds with his own teeth like the animal that he was.

He’s also made certain that you do not forget that he’s a predator, and you’ve only gotten this far because he’s allowed it. Right now, he might be yours, but outside of this roleplay, you’re his. Even in this moment, this dominance is in service to him. For him. It’s what he wanted just as much as you did.

You keep one hand on him for balance as you sit upright. 

The way that he watches you seems to have an air of hunger to it, and you aren’t sure if it’s literal or figurative, but you know you like the danger. Swallowing the dry lump in the back of your throat, you gently unwrap the leash off your forearm and set it to the side of you as you lift up the front of your sweatshirt, feeling the cool air hit your bare chest. The contrast between the warmth of your body and the chilly air as fall has set in gives you goosebumps. You feel your nipples go hard and the hair on your arms stand up. You haven’t even gotten the sweatshirt over your head entirely when you sense Art’s hand moving towards you, no doubt for the other end of the leash, and you can hear the chain jingle when he makes contact with it.

“Hey.” You say, and it’s in the tone of a warning. You feel Art’s hand retreat at that once he realizes he’s been caught. When you finally pull your sweater over your head, you toss it off to the side off the bed, where it hits the floor. You take hold of the lead again, wrapping it repeatedly around just your wrist this time. He thought he was being slick and now he’s showing off his impish grin from what he had just attempted. 

“Nice try.” 

Art extends his hands out now, wiggling his fingers at first in a pretty humorous way before hoping to make contact with you. You take both hands, guiding them to your waist. His nails scrape against your flesh as they drag up and down your sides. Slowly you move your hips, feeling his cock between your legs, using him as a means to stimulate yourself. You empty your lungs in one breath and fill them fully the next, glancing down at him as he’s watching you move atop him. His hands travel upwards to your chest, then back down to your waist, where he gives a squeeze and you give a gentle yelp in response. It was a little rough, but you didn’t mind it. He’s handsy, always has been. And he seems to find your reaction amusing, given his expression right now.

“Funny.” You tell him. His teeth are somewhat visible as he’s having a silent giggle to himself, the wrinkles present at the corner of his eyes from his smile. He really does think he’s hilarious.

The constant contact without penetration leaves you aching and empty, and you can feel the pulse of his cock between your thighs. He wants you just as bad as you want him. And whether by psychic connection or general understanding of being around him long enough, you can sense the slow rising impatience coming from Art. With that in mind, you’re very willing to oblige him with his needs as much as your own. Keeping him entertained was key. No matter how close the both of you were and how you think he might love you, you’re not willing to test how deep that theoretical love runs. That’s a life or death matter you’re not really wanting to explore. 

Taking a moment to adjust yourself, you lift yourself just enough so that you can line yourself up on his now erect cock. You lower yourself down on the head, and you hold your breath as you slowly sink down on his entire length, taking him fairly easily, but only because this isn’t your first rodeo with this clown. He feels great inside you, despite being a little big, but you’ve since learned how to take him proper. You were sized for him now. The girth and the way that he stretches you out is what makes you melt each time, and this time was no different. You remember seeing how big he was the first time and not being sure if you could even take it. 

“There.” You say, and you see how his eyes have since closed, smile gone, looking a little lost in the feeling of your warmth around him. His jaw is a little slack. You were tight. He loved the way you felt just as you loved the way he did. You begin to move your hips once you think he’s adjusted, keeping a slow and steady pace that’s not too fast. 

“Feels good?” You ask him, and he responds with a silent nod, opening his eyes to meet yours, teeth faintly showing in a weaker smile than before.

You lean forward over him a second time as you keep a rhythm, focused on the feeling of the fire slowly rising within you. Your stomach twists as if he’s got his own hand inside your guts when you make eye contact with him, and the feeling of infatuation you have for him is enough to make you physically sick. He’s getting harder, and you’re getting wetter. 

You’re staring down at him, and he’s staring up at you, watching your lips and how they’re parted slightly. Slowly, his hand reaches for your face, and you allow that, too. You let his thumb that’s now pressing against your lips slide in your mouth. His finger presses down on your tongue, and you wrap your lips around the digit and sigh. He presses his hand against your face as you nurse his thumb, and he seems thoroughly enthralled by how you’re taking him so sweetly. The only sound you can hear is yourself bouncing on his cock, your own stifled moans, and the jingling of his leash. 

Feeling a little devious, you give a playful nip to Art’s finger and let him have his hand back as you sit up again. Both of his hands return to his sides, meanwhile you plant one of yours down on his abdomen, the other bunching up the length of the leash around your wrist entirely so that there’s zero slack to the chain now. Your orgasm is close, and you’re determined to chase it until the very end. He’s since gotten bigger inside of you–he must be close too. 

You’ve learned to read his body language over time. The frequency of your intimacy has allowed you to see parts of the Miles County Clown that others would dare never think about, save for the inevitable fucked up few like yourself. You knew how to read his expressions beyond the standard obvious ones that he so energetically emoted—you got him down to the micro expressions, keeping count of any and all ways that the muscles on his face moved, whether it be the twitch of his eye or the slight curve at the corner of his lips. You caught it all. Nothing escaped you. You were the Art Whisperer—a self proclaimed title you gave yourself. 

Art looks pained, like he’s in physical agony, as if you’re hurting him. No way that he could ever look so hurt by a weapon in the way that he is now. His head is turned, teeth bared like a feral animal, jaw clenched, eyes shut tight. His hands are balled into fists and you can see the flare of his nostrils from how heavy he’s breathing, and the deep rise and fall of his chest. It’s all something to behold, seeing someone so powerful and evoking the fear of many, stealing the lives of many, succumbing to the most basic drives that bound all living creatures together. He’s vulnerable, and he trusts you to see him in this way as he lets pleasure consume him.

“Come for me.” You tell him—Command him, even, giving a yank of his chain, and it’s like a domino effect. Art arches his back a bit, jaw opening wider as you see his teeth, though only briefly for a second, look more like the canines of a beast, the demon beneath you at your mercy as he surrenders silently. You feel a little satisfaction in that, but it doesn’t get to live long. Seeing him in this way makes you recognize the familiar creeping sensation that ambushes you. 

His climax triggers your own, and your eyes almost roll back while your toes curl as you feel light and detached from your body. Whatever connection you have with this plane is severed in these fleeting moments, and behind closed eyes you see it, briefly in flashes. Flames. An inferno of fire and contorted demonic forms without any distinct visual appearance, cascades of bodies, blood, and jagged rocks. One of the flames hovers over you, and before you’re able to react, it falls down upon you. 

The flames crash into your chest with the force of an ocean wave, nearly knocking you over as it nestles in your core before deviating outwards to your spine to reach your toes and fingertips. For those few seconds, you feel like you’re on fire and sparks are flying everywhere. Oddly enough, it doesn’t hurt, but it does leave you feeling overheated one second, then frigid the next when it fades. Then, you’re brought back into yourself, back in your bedroom, overtop of your clown companion, feeling immediately spent.

Overwhelmed and delicate, you gently collapse overtop of Art, whose arms wrap around you protectively, keeping you from harm. The way he’s enveloped around you could be a bit concerning given how tight his grip is right now, and how he could crush you to death if he wanted, but for now, the security of his warm embrace is comforting. Gradually, your senses flitter back to you, and the images of what you saw during your climax lingers in your thoughts.

Was he the reason for those visions?  You can only assume so. 

As you shift a bit in his hold, you take notice of the warmth of his release and how he’s filled you quite generously. You can feel some of it already leaking out when you disconnect from him, which he allows by loosening up his hold on you, so you can lay over top of him properly to rest. When you’re in your preferred spot, his arms return around you. It’s a beautiful physical union you both have, and you’d have liked to keep it as long as possible, but sleep is calling your name, and she’s got the most seductive voice. You’d like to be as comfortable as possible when you greet her. You unwrap your hold of the lead while you’re at it.

“I love you,” You mumble tiredly, and you’ve told him this before, but it’s always been worth repeating. Though you don’t see his face as your head is nestled against his chest, you feel the way he’s now rubbing circles on your back, and can tell that he’s satiated just as much as you are. 

Fatigue works its way over you, and you feel the world around you begin to fade away. Your muscles relax, as does your breathing, and you eventually slip into that delightful state of unconsciousness. 

Even in your dreams, you cannot escape Art. He’s there with you amid a place full of flames and fire, and when you extend your hand out for him, you have nails like claws, perfect for tearing and shredding. When he smiles at you, you smile back at him. You watch him through red eyes. Your skin is white, pale like a corpse, and your face is painted up quite similar to his.

Both of you are donning black and white. 

And as you sleep, you are positively beaming. 

#art the clown x you #art the clown x reader #art the clown #terrifier #coulrophilia #slasher x you #slasher x reader #minors DNI #long post #I have stared at this fic for ... 4 hours. If there's any errors I'm just going to fix them tomorrow #I'm pressing post and running away because if I don't post it I never will #HRNNGHUGHHHHNNN #canon x reader

[torotoro0]

Since your requests are open, can I request some hc's for dating eddie munson? If, your not busy of course. :>

Dating "Eddie the Banished" would include:

»»————-　➴　————-««

you cleaning up his messes everywhere he leaves. Beers, cigarettes, musty crusty socks, drug packets, you name it. (This man hides tons of material things you don't ever want to see)

You should always be there in ALL his dnd games. You miss one? That's fine he'll forgive you.

But he'll be pouty like a child.

And forgives you after after a short time, your boy doesn't want to stay mad at his darling.

Their was one time where Eddie was trying to convince you to try his packets. Of course, to his dismay, you disagreed.

It won't hurt to try a little right?

No Eddie, it's bad for my health, and for your health too.

Him teaching you how to play electric guitar, or drums.

Okay you have to hold this here... Wait not that! Okay correct.

Knocking on your room window to let him in, your parents said they don't want a scrunchy kid hovering over their child.

Bby got sad when he heard what they said. (·•᷄∩•᷅ )

When you get a scrape on your knee (for whatever reasons) or any injury, he starts wailing and screeching of panic because he doesn't know what to do. (poor boy just wants to help).

Please tell me this isn't DIABETES!

Calm down Eddie its just scrape.

If your shorter than him, he'll tease you by giving you head pts that'll ruin your hair, or when lying down he'll be the big spoon

If your taller, he'll still want to be the big spoon,but he doesn't want head pats, he said he'll look like a fool.

He has license, but he wants you to drive for him so you two can spend more time together.

Forehead kisses.

Its simple really, Its like his hellos and goodbyes, but not all the time.

When he's drunk, he tends to confess things to you and you'll be standing there like- 🧍‍♀️

When he turns sober, he'll keep apologizing until you get tired of him saying the same thing over and over again.

I told you Eddie, Its fine you don't have to worry about it.

[sniff] Really?

Yes Eddie, now, take a bath, you stink.

He'll be trying to teach you how to play dnd so you can play with them, but you don't seem to understand the mechanics.

AGAIN, Y/N when you roll the dice and it turns [number] It means you win, but when it turns [number] you lose.

Is it only these two numbers when you lose or win? But there are a lot of numbers on the dice.

He gives up in the end, he says you don't have any hope of playing the game.

He doesn't want his hair touched, but with the right persuading, and bribing, you may, MAYBE, can do his hair.

Studying together, because '86 is his year baby!

Passing notes during classes.

Both of you went to detention straight away.

It's ok we'll spend time together there.

When you decide to sleepover in his trailer, he'll cook you the typical breakfast.

The toast is burned. Egg has already popped on the middle.

Its okay Eddie, I like already popped eggs.

You sure? Maybe your just saying that so I won't feel bad.

He tends to get jealous when you get comfortable with his other band members, jocks, or just normal people.

His hands snakes around your shoulders. Bby wants to show them who you belong to. ( •̀ - •́ )

Buys you anything on your anniversaries. [depends on his money tho]

Your always the first person to hear his notes for their new 'Album'

Is it bad? I'll make a another one.

No, no, its great, keep up the hard work!

Corny jokes, ALL THE TIME.

So, what else did you steal other than my heart?

I'd always die for you if you were death.

Even if you were Medusa, I'll look into you eyes even if in exchange for my life.

I think your suffering from the lack of vitamin ME.

He loves seeing you wear his clothes, whether its from shirts to pants, socks, shoes.

He definitley gave you your own Hell Fire shirt.

Even if you don't wear them, as long as you keep the shirt, he's grateful.

You got drunk one time so he piggy-backed you until he arrived at your house, But he sneaked in the window with you and put you to bed.

But over-all, he loves you and you love him, that's all that matters for him.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things season 4 #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #strangers things #stranger things #eddie munson headcanons #eddie headcanons #eddie munson hc #stranger things eddie #stranger things fic #for you #recommended #recommendation #headcanon #eddie the banished #dungeon master #dungeons and dragons #dnd #eddie is a baby boy #eddie munson x reader dating headcannons #headcannons #dating headcanons

[sunflowernyx]

He knows who she is the moment she steps through the door. And it isn’t just his doctor.

Dana Katherine Scully, age thirty-three. Short, slim, with short red hair — though he only knows the last part from the file — she is the youngest doctor in the oncology ward of the Holy Cross Memorial Hospital.

What the file doesn’t describe, what her black and white photo does not credit her with is elegant features, as if she were carved in marble by an ancient Greek master, or wide blue eyes that swim with the right balance of heavy respect and sympathy to make it genuine, personal. What the file doesn’t prepare him for is the aura of professionalism and kindness that makes Mulder want to trust this woman with his life.

And, to his credit, it isn’t that she is breathtakingly stunning — there is too much at stake in this small room, with its bright LED wall and sterile equipment, and not just his life. No. It isn’t even all the competence that radiates out of her exemplary scientific journal entries displayed on his shelf at home. Though those two facts do make him think of staking more than his life on this impossible, predestined, chance meeting.

It is simply the way she narrows in on his face with humanity and says his name like she already knows him, knows the burden he is carrying.

“Fox Mulder?” He nods and receives her hand. “I’m Dana Scully, one of your oncologists. I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. It must seem disorienting to come face to face with a new doctor in the middle of the process.”

He finds a smile so easily in the face of her. “Not all that disorienting,” he assures her. “Nor surprising. As you may have noted from the file I’m very eager to fight this thing, so inviting in new doctors has been a recurrent decision.”

And he has the means to do so, he doesn’t add.

She’s difficult to read, Doctor Scully. When she presses her plumb lips together, he can’t tell if it’s to keep back condolences that he has come to the end of his rope and is now being treated by someone young and comparatively inexperienced, or a note on the funds he’s using, looking for a cure.

But the fire he sees in her blue eyes gives him hope that the young and comparatively inexperienced may be more willing to risk and be reckless.

“Well,” she says, “let’s see if we can’t meet your expectations somewhat today.”

Scully flips open the file she has on him and produces several x rays, newly minded and fresh off the press.

Even in her white lab coat, she is a foreboding black silhouette  against the white LED wall surrounded by a series of sculls, and even without her translation it is clear that the cancer has yet to leave him alone.

She distracts herself momentarily, looking around for a chair, and Mulder is struck by the consistency in her kindness. He has been invited to sit enough times to know from the gesture that this will not be an optimistic delivery on her part, but a cursory look around the room should have made her note the lack of chairs, and Scully taking her time to doublecheck tells her all he needs.

With nothing tangible to offer him, Scully gestures instead for him to take a step closer.

“Don’t worry,” he assures her, taking advantage anyway to fall into her field of gravity. “I won’t faint at bad news.”

She finds his eyes then, attention drawn, and Mulder is pleased to see a smile crinkle at there corner of hers.

“I don’t think you should try to catch me anyway,” he adds, keeping his voice low.

Another spark, defiance, crackles in her impossible eyes. “That’s my job, Mr Mulder,” she admonishes him. “So I will.”

He grins, a flash of teeth.

Oh, Doctor Scully is interesting.

She doesn’t like being reminded of her short stature or the expected strength difference inherent in their bodies, but it doesn’t matter. Because right this moment, Scully seems the most formidable, most powerful defender of his life that he could ever entrust his fragile body to.

“So,” he says, with real cheer. “Cancer.”

Closer now, he can see the red circle she’s marked a white growth with. Right between his brows.

“Yes,” Scully confirms, her voice shifting to one of complete medical professionalism. “It’s a Nasopharyngeal mass,” she says. “It’s a small growth on the wall between the superior concha and the sphenoidal sinus. A tumor, in other words. But you already knew that.”

“I did,” he admits, rubbing the soft skin between his brows carefully.

Seeing it confirmed right in front of him like this once again sends a burning sensation through his body, his grief like a phantom pain his brain cannot yet express in any other way.

It’s been his constant companion for five years now.

“It doesn’t look like it’s grown since last time,” he observes, keeping his eyes glued to the profile x ray.

If it pushes into his brain, he knows, he will have no chance of survival. 

And no matter his hatred towards himself, the odd sensation that the planet has found a way to punish him appropriately for his betrayal, he cannot die. It is simply not a possibility he is willing to entertain or humor.

Beside him,, Scully shifts silently. A distraction that draws him.

“I hate to have to correct you, Mr Mulder,” she says. “But, while it hasn’t grown towards your brain, it has widened its reach horizontally and vertically.”

She produces another frontal x ray from his file, the one from a couple of months ago. Silently she places the two x rays beside each other, and shows him with a specialised electronic ruler how it has grown. Almost nothing to the naked eye, but there it is in clear digits, black-on-green.

Mulder keeps very still right at her side.

“What can you do?” He murmurs, when he can no longer simply stare at the evidence of his body having taken up his habit of self-destruction. 

He doesn’t ask if surgery will solve it. He already knows what the answer will be.

When she turns the full front of her body to him, it’s like she’s dragged him out of a trance, freeing him from having to face himself. And Mulder mirrors her, the easiest thing in the world.

“The truth is that the type and placement of the tumor makes it difficult to the extreme to treat and impossible to operate.”

Mulder stares down at her, and is reminded of another set of wide blue eyes, another bob of hair, the colour of which he can’t accurately discern. Vertigo hits him so powerfully, his hand flies out to steady himself.

The LED war buzzes under his hand like a thousand bees, unsteadying him further.

It’s a slow thing when he falls apart. The crumbling of his limbs like an ancient building that loses its foundation across history. The strength goes, and he glides down the electronic wall like a man sitting himself in the chair.

His sigh falls between his fingers, warming his palms.

“I have to refuse to believe that.”

There’s a tiny rustle, as his tiny doctor kneels at his side. A warmth on his shoulder as she connects their bodies, touches him for the first time since their introduction.

“Of course, you have to fight this,” she says. “And I’ll do everything I can to help you live—“

“No,” he corrects her, looking up from the darkness of his own hands. “This isn’t about me.”

Lit by the LED wall behind him, Scully is a flame of light that gives life to his shadows.

“I have a daughter,” Mulder tells her. “A tiny, four year old sprout of a girl. I have to live for her.”

That is it. That is all. Everything that defines Fox Mulder is the child entrusted to his protection and care, gifted to him to keep him in line. And he will do anything, sacrifice anyone, to keep her healthy and smiling.

If that means keeping his sorry ass alive, then so be it.

“Okay.”

Mulder doesn’t know what he looks like, but he sees the moment that he becomes less of a hollow of a man and much more a fire alike to hers in Scully’s eyes. He sees the shift in the blue when he becomes more human than patient, when she understands what gives him a reason to live.

“Okay,” she says again, nodding, as if his quest has become hers. “Of course. Let’s start with that.”

Find full chapter here!

#the x files #txf #msr #fox mulder #dana scully #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #AU #Emily sim #writing #louie writes #Vandalize the stars fic

[foxilayde]

Have you watched the promise? I'm a little obsessed with Dr Mikael Boghosian and his accent. Please sir I need a play by play on how to make babies

Marriage Quilt [Mikael Boghosian x fem!Reader]

Warnings: Explicit 18+ ONLY. Minors DO NOT INTERACT. PiV, first time, Mentions of infidelity, mentions of torture, mentions of genocide.

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You are Maral, Mikael's wife, on your wedding night.

A/N: Mikael is literally perfect. Go watch The Promise if you haven't already.

This is not what you expected your wedding night to be. 

It was supposed to be a lavish party, with all of your friends and relatives, every merchant and pauper of Siroun dancing the night away in the town square. 

It was supposed to be a feast, a celebration with love, and cake, and embraces, just the way Lala had been wed to Davit two summers before. You were supposed to have a fine beaded dress of your own, a party in your name…. It’s so silly. So silly and selfish to grieve a party. A frivolous party, just because you had your heart set on it. People are dying in Siroun and throughout the Ottoman Empire… and here you are, in your marriage bed, your husband alive by a miracle and the grace of god, and you— lamenting the lack of a party. 

You twist your long braid through your fingers and smooth your nightdress down your torso. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. You’re nowhere near the village now, you’re in hiding, laying on a mattress made of hay— in the middle of the forest on the outskirts of Siroun. 

Before the attacks, your father had secured a home for you and Mikael, above an apothecary. And now the apothecary is empty. As was the bakery, and the tailor… everything was different. Everything was as pilfered and bare as your hopes for the future.

Mikael enters the small bedroom in his nightclothes and you can’t help but stare. You’ve never seen him in such a state of undress. He’s remained in your memory as a gentleman, fully buttoned up and proper… the way he courted you, with brown paper wrapped wildflowers and tinctures of yarrow and laudanum for your sister’s ailments… always with a smile. 

You had been overjoyed when your father told you that you would be wed to Mikael, having never yourself before suspected him of amorous intentions…. And the grief, god, the grief when you’d all thought he’d been caught in the crossfire in Constantinople…

Mikael blows out the candles in your small clapboard bedroom and gently eases in beside you, under the blankets in the creaky bed. You lay there in silence for a few short moments. It is a pleasant spring evening and the the dune crickets are chirping softly beyond the cracked window. There is an electric anticipation between yourself and Mikael, a buzzing that hums in your ears and prickles the exposed skin of your bare forearms. You gulp quietly. 

“Maral,” Mikael speaks softly as if he is afraid someone will hear him and be bothered, although there is no one around for miles.

“Yes, Mikael?” You reply in an exaggerated whisper, laughing at the end to draw attention to how silly his tone seems to you.

Mikael clears his throat and speaks evenly, “How are you?” He skims his hand along your grandmother’s quilt and finds your hand, threading his fingers through your own. It strikes you then that he has probably come accustomed to speaking quietly in all occasions at the awful labor camp. You squeeze his fingers reassuringly, stroking his warm thumb.

“I am well… Mikael.” 

“Good. That is good.”

He’s changed. You noticed at the small ceremony. Gone was much of the light in his eyes. You suspect through the windows of his vision, looking at your own face, you must appear similarly. No one has been the same since the attacks. So much has happened, so many have died, it feels wrong to celebrate anything. If it weren’t for a series of miracles bestowed to both you and Mikael, your marriage bed would more likely be a coffin, or a mass grave. 

You bring Mikael’s hand to your mouth and kiss the back of his knuckles. “I thank god you came back to us Mikael.”

The moon is bright through the cracked window and because of it, you can see the crumpling of his brow, the parting of his lips, the war on his face. Not the war he escaped, but the war in his mind.

“I have to tell you something, Maral. I have something to confess.”

Your heart picks up speed at the wrestling hurt of his voice. You squeeze his hand again and shift onto your side to look him head on. But his eyes are closed and his head is bowed when he tells you, “There was… there was a woman in the city, when I was in school… she was a friend of my uncle’s…”

You can suspect where this is going and the stroking of his fingers does nothing to abate the pounding of your heart and the hot sick twist in your stomach.

“I don’t wish to hurt you, my wife, but I can not lie to you. I was unfaithful to my promise to you and to your father… you deserve better, my sweet Maral.”

He looks at you then with open shiny eyes and he brings your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles and when he closes his eyes to press his lips to your hand you feel warm tears on your skin. 

You’re not sure what to say to him, but he looks at you with anticipation, waiting with silent breath for you to attack him, to berate him. He is ready for you to scream, cry, and break your few meager possessions. He would take your tantrum with grace, you know this. He would punish himself forever if you let him, if you gave the order. If you bit back with venom, turned away from him, tonight, for all your nights, he would think it fair. Even if you vowed to never forgive him for his indiscretion, vowed to never touch him, you doubt he would even think you cold for it. 

Your eyes are far away, out of focus, staring though your interlocked fingers, staring through his quiet grief. 

What do you say to his admission? “I forgive you”? “How many times”? “Did you love her”? “Do you love her”? 

You don’t ask it, because you know he did. He must have. He is Mikael. Whatever it was that he had with this woman… you know it was love, because Mikael follows his heart, he leads with honor. 

You stroke his cheek with your hand. His face is smooth from the straight razor shave he had desperately needed, and you remember that tonight is only the second night in months he’s lain in an actual bed. 

“You can not lie to me? Is that right?”

Mikael turns his head in your palm to kiss the inside of your hand, your fingers thread through his hair, nails scratching his clean scalp and freshly trimmed hair. He leans into the touch. 

“Are you disappointed to be wed to me, Mikael?” Now it is you who is whispering, though no one is around to overhear.

Mikael’s eyes burn with incredulity. “Maral, why would you say that?”

“I am only asking.” Your eyes fall to the marriage quilt your grandmother gifted you this morning, the fine stitches of tiny purple flowers, just like the kind Mikael would bring to you in the late afternoons, back when everything was planned, simple, and hemmed in squares like fairy tales.

“I am sorry for hurting you. I— perhaps I should have never said.” Mikael sighs heavily, “This is not the kind of wedding I hoped for.”

You hold back the tears that burn in your eyes and try to say as evenly as possible, “I see.” But your lip quivers and the dam bursts and a sob breaks out of you like steam from a valve. 

Mikael scoots closer to you and wraps you in his arms. “No, Maral. No I didn’t mean like that. Shhh,” He rubs your back soothingly and you don’t know why you’re still crying but it feels good to cry right now, it is a relief. All the ignored grief, all the loss, the unknown dead the missing living. One good thing about living outside of Siroun is you can sob freely into Mikael’s nightshirt without the neighbors hearing you fall to pieces on your wedding night. 

“I meant… Do you remember Lala’s wedding?” His chin rests on your head and he continues to rub your back, you nod your snotty nose into his shirt and hiccup. You can practically feel the way he smiles just from having your face over his heart. 

“Do you remember what she looked like? With her elegant dress and, oh, the flowers? The air was full of flowers that night.” His stokes are long and soothing on your back and the longer he speaks the more you melt into his embrace. “And the food, and the music. You looked so beautiful that night, my love. I will never forget as long as I live, the joy in your eyes when you danced with your sister.”

“What are you talking about Mikael?” Your face is still buried in his chest, you scratch his back softly in return. He’s never mentioned Lala’s wedding before, but it feels very important. The wistfulness of his voice makes you think that he’s sharing with you the memories that kept him alive and warm on terrible nights.

“You were wearing a purple dress… it blended into the twilight I remember, and you danced the Arak Bar with your sister… I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. It was her day, yes, but you were the one who was truly shining. I knew I wanted to marry you that night.” The last words are cautious and so becomes his touch. You know it is the shame and grief he holds for his betrayal. 

“Why didn’t you ask me to dance that night, Mikael?”

Mikael chuckles and kisses the top of your head, “I am a terrible dancer, my wife.”

You smile, your tears long gone and dry. You squeeze him around the middle and turn your head to kiss him on the neck, a few inches south of his adam’s apple. You let your lips stay in the same spot, savoring the texture of a few errant neck stubbles against the plush of your warm lips.

Mikael hums with great satisfaction, he rubs his warm thumb against your cheek softly. “That is the wedding I wanted for you, Maral. One you deserve. I am sorry. You deserved more, my love.” 

His sincerity rumbles under your lips. You give his throat a final kiss before rising up and pressing your mouth to his for the only the second time that day, only the second time ever. 

Mikael is gentle and patient like you knew he would be, his pretty eyes are closed softly and he lets you kiss him from above, licking into his mouth and testing the sweetness of his lips. His hands rest carefully on your waist, the only layer of fabric between his warm hands and your hips his the thin cotton of your nightgown. You push your body closer to his, and explore deeper with your tongue. 

He tastes better than you could have imagined. He is hot like the nectar of honeyed tea and he sticks to your lips just the same. He is not passive, but warm and giving. He smooths the sides of your hair and his hands cup the back of your neck, drawing you closer. You follow instinct and bring your body over his completely, bracing your knees on either side of his thighs and when the front of you makes contact with the front of him the grip on your neck goes rigid and he groans into your mouth. 

Liking the response, you do it again and again, pushing your lap onto his until his kissing verges on aggressive and he’s guiding your mouth with his fist gripping the base of your scalp. His reaction is warranted, you think, it does feel good. Good and hot, his sweet sticky lips making you sweet and hot and sticky where the front of you meets the front of him.

Mikael continues to kiss you and let you rock on his lap while he works your nightdress up your legs. The material is bunched at your waist now and he lays a flat palm over your abdomen, feeling the way your muscles contract there when you grind on him. You lift the nightgown over your head and gently toss it to the floor. Perhaps you won’t need a nightgown again for a very long time. Not here where there’s no one to interrupt your lovemaking, no one to hear your soft moans, save the dune beetles and owls and wolves safely on the outside of your cozy cabin. 

He skates the pads of his fingers up and down the bare flesh of your legs, clawing lightly up your ribcage and stroking your back. He lights every nerve ending with his touch like a blaze catching in a dry field. You work your hands under the hem of his shirt, stroking the warm dense flesh of his torso, trying to alight his nerves right back at him. 

You pull the soft tunic over his head, delighting in the way your nipples rub against his bare chest. You’re a mess of tongues and soft soothing fingers, you grab him by his soft dark curls, scooting and pushing ever closer to him, savoring each sensation as your bodies attempt to become one. 

He kisses with hot open attentions on your burning cheek and down the trembling column of your throat. His nose skims your collar bone, your shoulder, your sternum and your nails scrape his scalp as you try to make your shallow breaths deeper, not wanting to pass out and miss a single moment. 

“So beautiful, my love.” He kisses the top of your chest gently and you let your knees fall open even more on either side of his hips. His hardness is barely restrained in his linen pants and you attempt to tug the material down the sides of his wide hips which proves impossible from the way he is seated.

Mikael appears to be unaware of your intentions. He is focused for now on your chest, licking and suckling at your hardened nipples. You claw at his back in a primal ecstasy, subconsciously bringing his mouth closer to you and he jolts against you, releasing your nipple from his mouth in a groan that doesn’t sound fully pleasurable. 

“Are you alright, Mikael?”

“Mmmm, I— I am fine.” His voice is strained and his face is hidden between your breasts, forehead resting on your sternum. His shoulders are tense and when you drag your fingers lightly down his back to soothe him you can feel the rough and raised flesh, the heat of the tears and injuries sustained from torture. You caress the hateful lines tenderly, reading the story of suffering etched on the unconsenting canvas of his body. You are certain if there was more light you’d be met with bruises and batterings that are hidden in the eeking moonlight. 

“Oh, Mikael—“

“Shhh, I am fine, love. I am fine.” He meets the worry and pity in your eyes and closes his own to place a soft kiss to your lips, lifting his hips from underneath you and shoving the remaining barrier away from your bodies. You reach behind you to pull the sleep trousers down his legs till the garment joins your own on the floor and when you settle back onto his lap, oh gods you can truly experience the full heat of his cock nestled between your slick folds. 

You must feel hot to him as well because there is no mistaking his moan for anything but pleasure when you grind on him once more, kissing the noise from his mouth and sighing your own pleasure between his lips. 

He shifts his hips up to meet yours, your slickness gliding desperately on the length of his cock.

“Mikael,” you moan, breaking the kiss to rest your forehead on his. Your hips stuttering slick and rhythmic against him. Your noses brush and open-mouthed shallow breaths join the space between your lips, a primal need and heat guiding your movements on his loving lap.

“Am I— oh, am I doing this right?” You whisper with a hint of insecurity. 

“Yes. Yes, love. You’re perfect.”

“Mikael, mmmm, Mikael I want you inside of me.” You capture his lips with your own before the request is out, slightly embarrassed by your own desire.

Mikael groans and brings your hips up his groin slightly with his sure gripping hands. Hands that dried your tears, hands that picked you purple flowers. He takes himself in hand and lines his slick covered cock at your entrance, letting you shift back onto him at your own pace, breaking yourself open on your husband’s cock.

“Take your time, Maral. Take your time, love.” His words are patient despite his desperate tone and he seals his intentions with a soft kiss to your scrunched brow.

You bite your lip and lift from his torso slightly, hands braced on the meat of his chest, easing your throbbing cunt down onto him. It doesn’t hurt like you thought it might. Like you’d been warned it would. He feels perfect, he feels made for you, uniquely shaped for the hot throbbing inside of your center to pulse and squeeze on him; and the more you lower yourself, the deeper you need him. Your knees splay flat on the mattress when you’re fully seated and the tiniest thrusting back and forth feels like unmitigated love and ecstasy.

“Oh, Mikael…” you whimper, shifting on him. It’s incredible— every motion, every throb, every push and pull is hotter, better, wetter than the last. You snap your hips to his and nearly shake with the torturous relief. The taboo of sex that you’ve been taught your entire life makes no sense to you in this moment. It’s beautiful, serene yet wild and for a ludicrous instant you understand how even someone as good as Mikael could be tempted to break his morals for such act of hedonistic joy.

Your toes curl and your fingers dig into the flesh of his chest, giving you perfect leverage and balance to slide perfectly down to the base of his cock. Mikael is shaking, his hips rising strong and slow to meet your joining thrusts, Everything inside of you and outside of you is being rubbed just right, from the way Mikael kneads his thumbs into the dimples of your lower back, to the way his cock strokes your pulsing sensitive insides, to the way the base of him rubs against your clit.

“Perfect, my love. You are perfect.” He encourages unsolicited. His moans are all yes’s and perfect’s and beautiful’s, encouraging your primal ministrations up and down, up and down his ever-hardening cock.

Your pace speeds up and you lay on his torso once more, letting him fuck up into you just right as you taste his lips for the hundredth time this evening, for the first night of many more to come.

Your hips chase the elusive peak, the one you can feel at the edges of your senses, but the pursuit doesn’t feel rushed. Mikael lifts his hips in perfect response to your unique rhythm, and you think he must be lying about being a bad dancer for he certainly has a talent for reading and following the lead of your body.  He continues the caress of his fingers over every bit of skin he can reach. He comforts and quiets your whines with his mouth and everything in you builds and builds like water behind a dam until it bursts in an instant, cascading down your skin like a warm summer river, like a plunge into a pool. You scream softly into Mikaels mouth, tensing and shaking with pleasure, sliding deeper and deeper onto him, into him, all over him, slick and hot and honey-filled, the waves of it shocking and pulsing like a frantic heartbeat that radiates from the core of you.

“Pefect, perfect, my beautiful, beautiful…” he praises effusively, tensing under you, holding your hips firmly against his own. He groans with relief, loud and strained, pulsing his seed into your slumped form as deeply as he can. The warring heartbeats of your pleasure throb, entwined, tied forever. 

The beating slows after a time, as does the speed of your breaths. The gentle thud of his heart under your ear quiets to a steady tempo and you hum the Arak Bar into his sparse chest hair, remembering Lala’s wedding night. Mikael strokes your sweat-cooled back. 

“I love you, Maral. With all my heart. I will earn your love. My word can not mean much to you right now, but I will prove it every day if you let me. I swear it.”

If you had more of a jealous heart, you could extend his suffering. You could dig your fingers into his wounds, dragging out his pain and guilt until you were satisfied with his penance. 

Mikael pulls your wedding quilt over your bodies, tucking the blanket around you lovingly. Your grandmother’s embroidered purple flowers brush against your cheek and you smile against his chest. 

“I love you too, Mikael,” you whisper before placing a tender kiss over his heart. 

#Oscar Isaac #mikael boghosian #Mikael Boghosian x reader #Mikael Boghosian x you #Fanfic #fan fiction

[galaxythreads]

Thor trilogy 🤝 gotg 3: fantastic end to two good trilogies

(Yeah i said it shh)

i mean. *deep sigh* okay. So yes. But no. Gotg 3 was much different than Thor 3. To be clear, my feelings toward Ragnarok have shifted from loathing to at best, apathy, over the last several years, so I'm very very neutral when it comes to Ragnarok. I know that there are good parts. I have adopted Hela has my chaos child.

But there IS a massive difference between what gotg3 did vs what Ragnarok did. Gotg3 was willing to meet the characters where they were and do what was best for the character, rather than the story and Ragnarok wouldn't do that.

long post:

Like Gamora. Yes, it would have been better for the story if she and Peter ended up together, but it was better for the character that she go back to the Ravagers. Yes it was good for the story that Rocket kill the villain whose name has slipped my mind, but it was better for Rocket to let him live. To give mercy when he wasn't ever allowed any. And yes, the two can coincide and meet in the middle and it's good. IT was good for Drax's character and the story that Drax slip into a more fatherly role. But the director of gotg3 clearly loved the characters. The story was a backdrop to the emotional journey the characters were on. And the director knew that. And he respected that. And he focused the story around their characters. There was no end all be all plot, it was focused on Rocket and what Rocket means to the guardians.

Ragnarok didn't do that, and that's where I think a lot of fans do feel a pull. Ragnarok is an amazing story. It has brilliant pacing, the narrative structure is amazing, the set up, the pay offs--everything. Ragnarok is one of the best put together movies I've seen in a lot time, save one thing:

It is not a good emotional journey. It doesn't serve the characters, it only serves the plot. What has Thor learned or gained between Thor 1 and Thor 3 that he didn't have at the beginning of Thor 1? The main problem for Thor in the first film was his arrogance and impulsiveness kept getting him into trouble. The disregard of his brother was what sent the film going. Odin's lack of love to Thor, his lack of love to Loki--Frigga's failings to reach out to both of them...Thor 1 is a story about a broken family.

Gotg1 is a story about a family coming together.

Gotg2 is a story about what it means to stick together through the hard stuff

gotg3 is realizing that your family will always be there for you to return to, and that no matter what, they have you.

Gotg is a story about family, and that's what the Thor films desperately wanted to be, but kept falling short at.

Thor truly, and I mean this with the most sincerity, did not grow in Ragnarok. What fault did he overcome? What new chapter to his story did we unveil that made us think about Thor in a new way? With gotg3, we learned about how much Rocket means to everyone, but we learned more about Rocket. His past, what makes him tic, why Rocket is Rocket.

We didn't learn anything about Thor. It was like they had already presented the whole character to us, and rather than make him stretch and grow...Thor turned and ran from any sort of arc in Ragnarok. So did Loki.

Like I said, the story of Ragnarok is really well put together. But it doesn't serve the characters. And the thing is, Ragnarok could have been tweaked just a little bit and it would have given just as satisfying of an ending as gotg3:

Keep Hela. Keep Ragnarok. Keep the destruction of Mjolnir.

But change the stakes. Loki and Thor are fighting for each other, not Asgard, not Sakaar, not some arbitrary Thing with stupid betrayals that didn't make sense. Because to me, my own personal opinion, the huge thing that Ragnarok circled around but never actually fixed was this:

In Thor 1, Thor needed to choose Asgard. (And Loki) Prioritize his kingdom and throw out his arrogance to put them first. He didn't. His selfishness is what puts Asgard is danger. And Thor's selfishness/arrogance is ultimately what blinded him to Loki's pain and led to the massive fall out later. In Thor 2, Thor did the exact same thing but this time it was under the guise of "wanting to be a good person." which is. my frustrations with that are for another time.

In Thor 1, Loki needed Asgard to choose him. (and he needed to choose Thor) He needed to know he was accepted even though he's Jotun. He needed that reassurance that he still means something. And Loki needed to choose Thor anyway. And he did. In the Dark World, Loki helped Thor with Jane, and he let Thor go because he knew the throne would make Thor unhappy. They needed to talk and they didn't. Loki is midway through his arc.

So is Thor. An acknowledgment of why Thor doesn't want the throne in TDW was actually reallly really good. It helped develop Thor as a person. He was deeply traumatized from the events of Thor 1, and the throne to him is equal to becoming his dad. And Thor needed to realize that he can be a good man and be a good king and they never got to that.

We never completed that arc. Thor has the second coronation where he's not trying to goad the crowd in the Statesmen, but we didn't earn that. We didn't earn any of that. Not Thor and Loki's "repaired" relationship, not the coronation, not Thor's development, nothing.

In gotg3, we earned their relationship with Rocket. We watched it develop, and we watched him prioritize them, and we earned that scene at the end of the movie where Rocket doesn't kill the High Evolutionary because Rocket has changed. gotg1 Rocket would have slit the High Revolutionary's throat and walked away happily. Rocket gotg3 didn't.

So I honestly think that stakes should have changed in Ragnarok. Hela takes Loki captive because he's king and has information and/or powers she needs and she banishes Thor to Sakaar. Thor is given the opportunity to stay in Sakaar and live out his life peacefully as the "good man" he always wanted to be. Thor doesn't want to be king. It's been this looming thing that's felt like promised corruption since his failed coronation. Thor meets with Val, and then Bruce, and Thor, in a series of drunken conversations, realizes some stuff about Odin and why he doesn't want the throne, and then gets off his butt because Val and Bruce have helped him realize that he needs to put Asgard first. That he can be a good person and a good man. Maybe Thor thinks Loki made a deal with Hela, or maybe Loki actually did make a deal with Hela, idk. Point is, Thor thinks Loki is fine.

On Asgard, Loki is not fine. Hela is making a mess of everything and killing people, and Loki puts his neck on the line to keep people safe. He uses his manipulation skills to con her, works with Heimdall, and is working on a plan to rescue Thor because he doesn't know where Thor is and if Thor is safe. Heimdall and Loki discuss this at length and Heimdall says that he knew Loki was Jotun and that it's okay. Loki's heritage is revealed to Asgard not through a play, but some other means and Asgard still chooses to trust him anyway. That would go a millions years into helping Loki feel better about everything.

Thor comes back to Asgard with the rescue ship and the knowledge about Ragnarok, and Loki almost dies to keep Thor alive. Both of them realize that they've grown up since the first film. Loki put Thor first. Thor is putting Asgard first. Ultimately, having accepted themselves for who they are, the kid who does not want to be their father, and the kid who does not want to be a monster, Loki and Thor can now accept each other.

Because Loki and Thor already love each other. We know that. We've seen it. We know that their relationship can be repaired and fixed and that they'd let the universe burn to keep the other safe. What we don't know is if they can meet the other since they've changed and grown and Thor 3 had the opportunity to do that.

Thor 1 broke their relationship

Thor 2 started to mend it

Thor 3 should have healed it

I don't know if they should kill Hela. Thor and Hela are mirror characters of each other, and I think Thor showing her mercy would be a better character growth than him immediately trying to kill her. If Thor can help Hela change, then he knows he can change to. There shouldn't have been this big fight on the bifrost again. Ultimately, it should have been something more verbal. maybe they fight in the throne room but with words. Communication isn't their family's forte, okay, great, then fix that! LET THEM COMMUNICATE. SCREAM AT EACH OTHER.

Thor, Hela, and Loki will never be able to grow until they accept the damage that Odin did to them. So the final fight should have been about that. With the shadow of Odin hanging over all three of them, they should have turned their backs on Odin's legacy by choosing each other over some stupid seat of power that Odin has been making them fight for since conception.

Hela, at her core, wants connection. She's doing that with everyone (I thought you'd be glad to see me, tell me about yourself? *rambles about Odin's past* I was his executioner, I executed his vision) Give her that with Thor and Loki when they talk about Odin.

Loki, at his core, wants to be accepted for who he is. Give him that with a public acceptance of his Jotun heritage. Where silver tongue is able to save them. His magic. Let Loki use his powers for good and remind him that at his core, he's still a good person.

Thor, at his core, wants to be worthy of love. SHOW HIM that he doesn't have to EARN it. That it's already there. Let Val and Bruce take care of him. Let Loki choose him over and over again. Destroy Mjolnir, and then show Thor that he is worthy anyway. Let him throw off the legacy of his abusive father armed with the knowledge that he is worthy of his family's love anyway.

Idk, I'm rambling, but the point is: gotg3 honored the character's journey and the path they needed to take, even if we the audience didn't always like that path. Ragnarok stomped all over the path the character's needed to take in favor of being funny or convenient and it really messed with some narratives.

Generally, I like Ragnarok. I enjoy the movie when I don't think about it connected to the rest of the Thor franchise. But it didn't meet the emotional beats it should have because it was so focused on telling a good story, it missed the story it needed to tell.

#ragnarok meta #anti ragnarok #gotg3 #gotg3 spoilers #loki meta #thor meta #thor and loki #ragnarok #hela #answered #long post #hela meta

[dmagedgoods]

aAAAUUUGH 1 and 2 for the BG3 act 1 ask thingy, tell us about your Tav tell ussssss

Ohhh nice! Thank you so much! Let’s start at the beginning, very good idea. 👀💕 1. Tell us about your Tav! Name, class and subclass, race, pronouns. Do you have a headcanon for where they're from? Their family? Are they a Dark Urge? Or did you choose an Origin Character? Was it an easy decision? (1) I usually have the most fun with games if I throw in one of my main OCs. Therefore, Dark Urge was not an option for me. (Not for round one that is, I may try it later though 👀). This time I picked Rowley. He’s been with me for around 11 years already and, to my own surprise, works greatly as Tav. Most games don’t allow enough unhinged madness or don’t have the needed kind of humor to play as him, but BG3 really hits the right tone to imagine him. I also didn’t have to change a lot about his story to make him fit the universe and premise. Rowley is a rogue and an assassin from Baldur’s Gate, half-elf, he/him. Originally, he was born in Red Larch. He and his twin brother are the sons of a human father and an elven mother (forest elf). She was a seamstress and dressmaker, their father a gambler and small criminal, and taught Rowley all his tricks at a very young age, mostly because the boy proved useful to him and had a natural talent for cheating, and lying, and theft. Rowley’s twin brother, on the other hand, was treated cruelly. Their father viewed him as worthless because he lacked Rowley’s talents (to get him money). His brother was calm, more withdrawn, drew, sewed, and wanted to become a dressmaker like his mother. His father often beat him and used him as an outlet for his aggression - the reason for a growing fierce hate Rowley developed against their father (and mother who never stepped in). When things became worse during their teenage years, Rowley took his twin brother and fled with him to protect him. 2. Was there something about the character creator that just couldn't capture your Character? Please tell us about their hair, facial hair, tattoos, piercings, disabilities, their trans or intersex body, or anything else you're comfortable sharing. There is a lot the creator wasn’t able to capture about Rowley and I only went for the face that came the closest. The flair is right (and I’m glad), details aren’t. His scar is wrong, his face appears a little too juvenile and the small character model isn’t tall enough while the tall character model too bulky for him. I would need something right in the middle. Anywayyy, here is a little description of him: Rowley is tall (183 cm) and lithe, fast, and dexterous, his body athletic though lean. A long scar leads from the corner of his upper lip upwards across his right cheek. There are more scars on his back, arms, hands, legs and almost every body part. He has sharp features, attentive eyes, the tip of his nose goes slightly upwards, his lips are relatively thin, but his mouth seems to be a touch too wide for his face. His insolent grin became his trademark. Furthermore, the scar makes it appear somewhat asymmetrical. His eyes are of a cold, stormy gray. He has short, straight hair, but it’s long enough to look wild and unruly. The dark ashen-blonde tone is cold but can look warmer in the sunlight. During missions and exploring, Rowley likes to wear leather: black coats with broad shoulders and cords and laces and belts and buckles, usually boots and gloves (sometimes fingerless). His style is practical but extra. In his spare time, he wears loose shirts with wide sleeves, mostly white, sometimes in bright colors, and dark simple pants. When the occasion allows it, he goes for more fancy fashion choices, eye-catching pieces fitting for a noble but casually worn and just the slightest bit loosened in this way or that to break with the etiquette. His ears are pierced in many places. He wears necklaces and bracelets of silvery metal and dark leather. His posture is confident and casual, very relaxed. He often has a provoking grin or mischievous smirk on his lips. His movements are smooth and graceful.

While he knows how to stay unseen when he wants to - and highly enjoys it -, he also likes to get attention by creating chaos or acting provoking and disrespectful. Here is a picture of him made in the game in comparison to the one I drew of him recently:

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #tav #my ocs #oc: rowley #ask games #dmagedtexts #my art

[writergirl3]

4 Town General Headcanons ; Pt. 2.

Go read pt. 1 if you haven't already!

Aaron Z

Aaron Akira Zall, born January 1st 1979. His middle name was given to him in honour of his maternal grandfather.

We know he’s Blasian, but specifically his father is African-Canadian and his mother is Japanese, raised in Canada. 

He has just one sibling, a twin sister named Arielle. She’s pretty much the exact opposite of Aaron, and while he loves her, his childhood as a twin meant that he got used to living in the shadows a bit.

At school, Aaron was bullied for his stammer and overbite. After that, he begged his parents for braces and would keep a straight face all the time. His parents paid for him to go to a speech therapist and his sister would whoop anyone who dared talk badly about her brother. Still, he remains sensitive about his teeth, despite them being perfectly straight, and that’s why he doesn’t smile with them in photos now.

Aaron got into sports because it didn’t require any talking and he found it was a great outlet to let out his pent-up emotions without verbally expressing them. He got into singing after Arielle roped him into karaoke at one of her birthday parties, and he got the same feeling that he did from basketball. He would sing in secret and rap as a way to work on his stammer.

We of course know that the Aarons are always marketed as a duo, and Z loves T, but he’s actually probably closest with Jesse. He really sees him as the big brother he never had, and can always count on Jesse to see beyond Z’s “I’m fine, just tired.”. He looks up to Jesse and wants to be as good a father as him one day. Of course, though, he loves all the other guys a lot, too.

When Z’s not playing basketball, singing or dancing, you’ll probably find him cooking (he’s an AMAZING cook, it’s his way of showing people he loves them), reading short stories (because he has no time for full-length novels) or watching a documentary of some sorts. I headcanon him as being an undercover nerd, and Jesse appreciates the grandpa jokes being hoisted onto Z whenever they find him glued to a programme about astronomy.

Relationship-wise, Z is unsurprisingly inexperienced. He always found it hard to deal with liking girls, and never knew what to say to them. Arielle would only make matters worse by trying to set him up with her friends, but Z always used his workaholic nature as an excuse for not finding anyone. With the confidence he’s gained in 4 Town, though, he’s slowly opening up to the idea of getting into a relationship with the right person, as he does want to settle down and have a family. He’s heterosexual, but always wants to learn about more diverse sexualities from T and Tae.

Tae Young

Yun Tae Young - yes, his parents did name him TaeYoung thinking it would be funny alongside the family name.

Born March 9th, 1983.

Obsessed with star signs. Seriously. It’s sometimes the first thing he asks someone, even before their name. He blames his mom for this obsession, as his childhood was filled with learning all about the constellations and what the different signs meant. Spend an hour with Tae and you’ll know your sun and moon rising, compatibility with other signs, EVERYTHING.

He was born in South Korea and his parents relocated to Canada when he was nine. Tae found it hard to adjust to the new culture and was always worried about being too different. He fell into the booksmart crew at school, but always wished he could embrace the more creative side of himself. When he decided to, he secretly auditioned for 4 Town and only told his parents when he was accepted into the group.

He’s an only child, so joining 4 Town was initially A LOT for the young boy. He came to embrace having four brothers from other mothers, though, and learnt so much from being enveloped in such a dynamic group setting.

We all know that Tae loves animals, and that’s because he had so many pets as a kid. This was to make up for his lack of siblings, and he’d keep all kinds of insects and reptiles in his room. His mom was horrified that he sneaked bugs, worms and snails into his room and eventually persuaded him to keep them in jars. When he saved up his allowance, he’d rescue small animals from shelters. After getting a bit more daring, he’d also help out animals like mice, squirrels and, of course, birds. Was it illegal? Maybe, but that’s just Tae’s signature blend of sweetness and sneakiness.

When it comes to love, Tae had one serious- or as serious as high school gets- relationship with a girl in his friendship group at school. He began to truly fall in love with her when he joined 4 Town, but couldn’t keep up with long distance calls and sporadic visits, so he called it off. Part of him regrets it, but he’s changed so much as a person for the better while being in 4 Town, and so the other half of him feels it was for the best. He told the boys that he’s bisexual early in 2002, but didn’t want it to be known publicly. He’s always on the lookout for someone to love.

---

Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

#4 town aaron z #4 town tae young #4 town headcanons #4 town robaire #4 town jesse #4 town aaron t #turning red #tae young turning red #tae young x reader #aaron z #aaron z turning red #Aaron z x reader #4town aaron t #4town headcanons #4town jesse #4town robaire #4town taeyoung #4townie #4town aaron z #4town #4*town #4*town headcanons

[phant0m-png]

[DANNYMAY23] DAY 26 + 31 Art/Fic Switch & FREE DAY

"okay i don't think i could do day 26 lol-" say sike right now

SO HERE WE ARE!! THE FINAL(BELATED) DAY OF DANNYMAY!!!

tbh this year was busy year, like i had some ups and downs to keep my motivation, but now i made it! i didn't wanted to have same lack of energy had last year! f//king horray!!!

so this is art/fic switch mixed with FREE day yeah? so i forced myself write a fanfic(witch is rarely do) but there's twist:

IT'S A CROSSOVER FIC!!!

also disclaimer here: sometimes mostly typo are awful it's because ofc...it's my first fanfic...

-

"ouch...my...head." said Danny, he opened his eyes in middle of forest,

It was barely dark, he stands up and looking around himself, he has no idea what happened in while ago, the fact he knows he was fighting with one of his ghost enemies earlier that, but that sudden flash makes it harder to remember the details.

He stands up little bit sloppy, his legs felt tired and....strange??..."I feel weird, but at least I'm alright-"

"Hi!"

"AAAAAAH!" He jumped out of fear by that pink horse, that pink horse just spammed out of nowhere, "Hey HEY Calm down! are you alright?!" they asked,

"WHO ARE YOU?!" Danny was shocked for sec, he still have no idea what is going on.

"You must be lost don't ya?, no worries" said pink one.

"...HUH?!"

"Follow me!" As she walks away,

"Uhh...wait!" He follows her.

"Can you tell me where am I?, what is this place??" Danny asked,

"Oh!, were in everfree forest!", "okay annndddd...what are you? Like are a mythical thing or?"

"No! I'm a pony just like you!" Pink answered,

"Alright then why you- wait..."

He started to check on himself, his hooves, tail, wings and any single details of himself.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO ME?!?!, HOLY SH-" he look at himself on lake, turns out he's not a human anymore(okay for short he's a pony now)

"I'M...I'M A HORSE!!!!" said freaked out

"Hey, are you...alright?" pink asked with curiosity

"...wait", turns out that flash he remembered was the explosion from one of his friend's laboratory caused this situation!.

"...godamit jimmy..."(yes nicktoons unite ref)

"Who's jimmy?" pink summoned, again.

"AH!!...can you stop doing this?!, I'm already freaking out."

"Oops sorry!" Said pink one, she was energetic and upbeat, is sounds it looks like they casually on sugar rush(that's my best to describe pinkie pie and I don’t say her name yet so we going to call her pink)

"*sigh* calm down danny, calm down..."Finally Danny calms down put himself together” I hope there's way to come back home." Said to himself.

"...so do you wanna come with me?" pink asked

"Huh?"

"I said wanna come with me?"

"... I don't want stay In this dark forest so uhh yeah I guess."

"Great!, let's go!"

They walking around the town, it seems like everyone know pink, and sometime in middle on their way she takes some orders, some sort of pastries or cupcakes, “think she have some have a bakery or something” danny said to himself.

-

They started walking in forest for exit, sound of munching leafs under their hoofs and the sound of birds and little crickets was around the this dark forest.

Pink break the silence(wait didn’t I just pointed the sound of forest?)"So what are you doing here?, I surprised you didn't get affected by poison joke yet!"

"Uhhh what?...no I just ended up this place...for some reason."

"Oh! I bet that must be a big fall heh"

" heh yeah."

"so...you said we are ponies, yeah?" Danny asked

pink nodded, "yeah! I'm a earth pony and you're a Pegasus!, that means you can fly!"

"Uhh okay?” he looks at his wings for moment, it was bright white as his fur, something like swan “and second why are doing here in this dark forest?, are you finding something or?", pink answered "Nope!, I just came back from Zecora's home for some books and stuff for twilight!"

"twilight?"

"Yup! My friend! Don't worry you gonna met her soon as we arrived in ponyville!"

"The only thing I want is com back to my universe."

"Your?...universe?" and she froze after min, "yeah the place I liv-" pink jumped on his words "NO WAY!!! YOU MUST BE CAME FROM THAT WORLD TWILIGHT TRAVELED THERE!!!!"

"Wait WHAT?!" danny has no idea what she talking about "what do you mean?, are telling me she did travelled to the human world??" he asked.

"Something something YES!!, maybe she knows about your problem!"

"Wait really?!, if it is so..."

"Here we are!!!" they finally arrived in ponyville!, seems like a peaceful town, every multi coloured ponies was there, in any types like some of them are unicorn, pegasus and some of them are simple like pink!,

-

“twilight! Were here!” they finally arrived to twi’s castle, it was shiny and crystals was in the walls, shiny and purple.

There you are! pinkie you late little bit…and who is this pony?” said twilight a purple alicorn with dark blue and pink and purple stripes, she comes close to them, pinkie give those books and tools she wanted and introduced danny to twilight “twilight!, I found this pony in middle of everfree!”

“uhh…hi? hehe..nice to meet y-”, “he comes from that world from the mirror!” pinkie jumped in danny’s words

“HEY!” danny added ”I was talking right there!”.

Pinkie’s words caught twilight‘s attention, she looks at danny ”wait?, you said what?”, pinkie said again shortly ”he came from another universe!”.

Twilight comes closer to danny ”you came from human world?!”, “uhh…yeah, I mean I was about to say that but yes I am!” danny answered.

“… pinkie pie, can you go for moment, I need to talk to this guy”

TO BE CONTINUED?(i hope not...)

-

look if you all liked it will nice but if not...GOOD.

cya next year!

#danny phantom #crossover #my little pony #mlp #fanfic #dannymay #dannymay2023

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Blaise and ginny ship and harmony

It took a while for that monstrosity of harm*ny to arrive but here we are.

I, obviously, don't ship these.

Let's start with the short one:

BlaiseXGinny

Why don’t you ship it?

Why would I want my homegirl with a bloody racist (quite ironic considering that he is black, you'd think he would be more sensitive to the topic). Like, the way he talks about her being a bloodtraitor? Ugh.

Also, he is close enough to Pansy that she knows his taste in girls, this already tells me everything I need to know about him.

What would have made you like it?

Nothing. But if he hadn't talked about her like that, I would have maybe felt a bit sorry for him, seeing that he quite obviously has a bit of a crush and Ginny couldn't care less about him.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

I think I might read a one-shot about Blaise's unrequited crush because I love that Ginny is so fucking good-looking that not even the Slytherins can deny it.

Harm*ny

Why don’t you ship it?

Where do I start?

No, like seriously, there would be too much to say.

The difference between this and other no-sense ships is that here we have seven books of material on why it makes no sense.

The second you go beyond the extremely superficial and heteronormative Harry is a boy that likes girls and Hermione is a girl that likes boys and they care about each other, it's just a pile of shit. It doesn't need an accurate analysis.

We could talk about how disturbing it is that Hermione is scared of Harry when he is angry, or how they don't even share the same system of values. Of how ridiculous it is to pair up an orphan whose greatest desire is family with someone who for years finds ways to not spend time with her perfectly loving and normal family. We could talk about the heavily incestuous vibes. Or about their absolute inability to communicate.

We could talk about how addressing them as siblings and not friends is making this dynamic a favour because otherwise, it would have some very dysfunctional aspects. Harry's lack of interest in Hermione's emotional sphere unless it directly affects him is completely normal from the perspective of Harry being Hermione's younger brother but otherwise... You can't even fault Harry's upbringing considering that he is twelve when he observes and judges Ginny's relationships with her brothers and the way they take care of her.

We could talk about Hermione's patronizing way of talking to him.

Or do you prefer Harry's inability to take care of her when she cries for weeks (which is honestly bad in a purely platonic friendship too after seven bloody years)?

Or we could go back and count all the times they don't fight simply because Harry doesn't care enough to disagree with her.

It's bad from a personalities point of view, it makes no sense for the themes of the story and it would have been a structural disaster.

But seeing that I could go on to write for a week about all the things that don't work in this hypothetical ship, I'm just going to say what is the worst crime, above all others, that this ship commits:

It's so fucking boring.

It gives off middle-aged depressed couple that should really get a divorce because they haven't touched each other in 25 years.

What would have made you like it?

Honestly? Nothing. The people who claim to ship it don't even like it. Half of the fanfictions for this ship is just re-writes of the books in which they make Harry view Hermione the way he views Ginny and turn Hermione into Ginny. The other half of the fanfictions does the same thing but they are not settled during the time frame of the books.

I swear, you can just say you ship hinny, I know the ship name sucks a bit, but they are not gonna arrest you. Just admit it.

Also, for me simply the fact that Hermione is Harry's helper is an issue. It's already an inevitably unbalanced dynamic. Just because it's a common trope, it doesn't mean it doesn't suck.

Despite not shipping it, do you have anything positive to say about it?

Hermione or Harry (depending on the perspective you wanna take) is not a death eater or disturbingly older than the other.

#anti harmony

[kicktwine]

I have more thoughts about ventus than one person should reasonably have about ventus and that means I have more little written notes and headcanons and aus with the boy than one person should reasonably have and since I’ve ALREADY made a myriad of posts about the headcanons part I am just going to fastball special a bunch of unfinished google docs into this post so that they stop Staring At Me alright okay WOO

i wanted to write something about ven and vani stuck in Sora’s heart for ten years and how they communicate by just. temporarily murdering each other and now it’s homestuck formatted

proto-horrorwolves snippet, so basically just a wayfinders werewolf au

When they had first brought Ven home -- well, they didn’t know his name then, he was sick and asleep and he didn’t turn back from fully shifted for weeks. The whoever-before had given him a tag, on his ear -- just a stud earring with a number on it, not a name. He said it was to be able to tell them apart, later, when he could say. It didn’t really register that the number wasn’t for neglect reasons, or even lack-of-a-name reasons, but it was for please-someone-who-am-I reasons and this-isn’t-my-body reasons, and it worked only as well as it could. 

Anyways, when they had first carried him home from the middle of nowhere and dusted off the snow and laid him down on their threadbare college off-campus housing couch he stayed there and slept for so long they started to worry that they’d have to get someone else to look at him. Like a vet, if he didn’t turn back soon, however embarrassing that might be later. But they didn’t end up needing to, because one night on a Wednesday he adjusted himself on the couch to be more comfortable and the next day they found the soft thawed-out carrots and plain chicken they had put on a plate and left on the floor were nibbled at and the next day he picked his head up and actually looked at them. He seemed to be recovering from whatever-it-was at his own pace, slow and steady and wary.

Which was good, probably, because neither Terra nor Aqua really had any expertise with taking care of a very sick and injured dog (a sick werewolf, actually, which is way worse according to Aqua and it makes Terra whine at her), and they didn’t have a lot of money besides. All they had was patience and a small apartment with two bedrooms and a couch and a window they kept open just a little bit to smell the outdoors and a bit of love for a strange and broken kid-in-the-woods. And maybe that was all they needed, because it worked out just fine.

Terra didn’t have class on Fridays, but Aqua did, two of them in the morning, which sucked. No one should have class on Friday. As per routine, he ate breakfast with her, very gently scratched behind the kid wolf’s ears, and headed back to his desk in his room to get a headstart on homework before he had to go to work-work, which was only later than 6 am on Monday-Wednesday-Friday. Not his job to take care of any cows those days, he wasn’t full-time yet.

It was about three questions in to the statistics class he had to take because his ACT was a point short that Terra heard a soft shift from the living room, and a startlingly loud huff. Might’a been louder to him, on account of the inhuman hearing, but it was followed by a low growl, and another, much harsher huff of air. Terra abandoned the math questions with a start, nearly tripping over the wire between the doorway.

“You okay, bud?” Terra asked, and then startled again, because the couch was empty. And the couch was empty because there on the floor, sitting with his hands — hands! — splayed out and his chest heaving and his knees awkwardly up in a froggy sort of way sat a small, scruffy, dirty blonde boy, his back to Terra. As soon as Terra spoke, though, his head lifted and he looked at him with bright green and very very human eyes. 

Terra gaped. “Oh,” he said, and then a little louder rounding the couch, “Oh!”

He forgot what personal space was for a second, and sat right down in front of the boy. The boy reeled back a little from it, a very canine motion with one of his hands up, but Terra didn’t realize he might have crossed a line until later. As it was, he ran a gentle hand through the boy’s unkempt hair and grinned at him. “You did it! You turned back!”

The boy opened his mouth and then closed it at the faint whispering croak that came out, and nodded instead, his expression cautiously open, but obviously proud of himself. As he should be! 

It was pure tolerance and sleepiness that made the boy endure Terra’s gentle prodding around, something that definitely wouldn’t happen with Vanitas, but that’s a different story. He’d not got much on, the magic that facilitated the transformation letting you keep your clothes mostly, but it wasn’t really used to staying dormant for so long and ended up in scraps that kind of clung to him. He looked like he’d been roughed up beforehand too, still-healing scrapes along his bare shoulders and a concerning number of very neat and orderly scars on his chest, but Terra’s first thought was honestly just to take off the hoodie he was wearing and pop it over the boy’s head, because he looked a little cold and his shirt was nonexistent. The boy looked surprised, and wrinkled his nose at the new smell, but hugged it a little closer. He’d need better shorts, or something, too, maybe Terra would just steal a pair of Aqua’s. The hoodie was huge on his little stick limbs, Terra’s shorts would be immediately useless. 

As he was inspecting, the boy was doing some inspecting of his own — eyes wide and searching around the living room that he could think about clearly now that he shifted back. He let Terra move him a little, but avoided leaving himself in the same spots, awkwardly trying not to be touched anyways. The hoodie was nice, though. Comforting, and warm. 

The boy was young, Terra concluded, but didn’t have the scent of a youngling. He was immediately submissive to the adult in the room and as long as Terra had lived he’d always made sure everyone knew the hierarchy system was kind of bs but in this case it came in handy, for making sure the boy was alright and for making sure he wasn’t gonna start fighting the instant he got better. One of his slightly averted eyes was a little cloudy, and his blonde hair was almost a mullet at that point though it probably wasn’t meant to be. He had kind of knobby-knuckled hands that poked out of Terra’s sweater, long and small and a teenager. Not that much younger than him, but young.

Terra scruffed up his hair once more and refrained, barely, from giving a bear hug or something. “Oh, bud, we gotta tell Aqua. You did it!” he repeated, and pulled out his phone. 

The boy cocked his head. “Wh… what,” he started, and then stopped. It was a little hard to remember the correct words, and how to make them with a person-mouth. He sounded wispy at best. Luckily, Terra could kind of guess, or at least fill the silence. 

“I’m gonna text Aqua with this and tell her to come back home. She’s the other person who lives here,” Terra explained, and typed aqua come home rihgt now.

The reply was almost instant, and it made his phone bing because he kept it off silent, which startled the boy. He craned his neck to see better. I just got to sociology. Why?

hangon 

As stealthily as he could with the boy watching his every move, Terra pointed the camera at him and took a picture, covering the speaker so the noise wasn’t so loud. It startled him again anyways, but only in a curiosity way. He looked a bit like a deer in the headlights on the screen, and Terra sent the image. 

omg 

Is that him???

I’m coming back right now.

The boy lifted a hand almost as if to paw at the phone, but put it down. Terra turned the screen around anyways, and the boy squinted at it, slowly mouthing out letters then words then stopping and restarting. 

“She says she’s coming back,” Terra supplied. “She’ll be 20 minutes, probably.”

“H-her…” he motioned above his head a bit, his hands stuttering. “...blue?”

“Yes! Aqua has blue hair.”

The boy brightened at the implied praise. He should, Terra thought, probably figure out what the boy’s name is, so he can stop calling him boy. He may not even want to be ”boy” at all, Terra knew nothing about him other than how he was rather small and didn’t seem to remember how to read that well or speak with much more than a few raspy words. Whatever could have done that was still very worrisome, but Terra decided to take things one at a time, as he usually did.

…

horrorwolves again but this time! published auverse

Ansem Report 13 10/02/2006 - compiled events - phase end. 

Subject I: terminated upon transformation. 

Subject II: terminated upon transformation.

Subject III: terminated upon transformation.

Subject IV: terminated upon transformation.

Subject V: 132.5cm/sh, grey, blue o. Successful fusion (2). Terminated upon fusion (X).

Subject VI: 165cm/sh, black, yellow o. Successful fusion (7), minimal degradation. Unknown location. 

Subject VII: 170.5cm/sh, white, green o. Successful fusion (5), severe degradation. Terminated upon fusion (VI). Unconfirmed.

Subject VIII: 138cm/sh, red, brown o. Terminated by VII.

Subject IX: 141cm/sh, brown, blue o. Terminated by VI. 

Subject X: 186.5cm/sh, black, red o. Successful fusion (3), minimal degradation. Unknown location. 

Subject X.i: terminated upon transformation. 

Subject XI: 131cm/sh, black, blue o. Terminated by VI.

Subject XII: 172cm/sh, grey, brown o. Terminated upon fusion (X).

Subject XII.i: 172cm/sh, grey, green o. Terminated by XII.

Subject XIII: 163cm/sh, yellow, blue o. Successful fusion (4). Unknown location. 

Subject XIII.i: 163cm/sh, black, blue o. Successful fusion (4). Unknown location.

-

Ansem Report 6 05/05/2006 

Another experiment ended in failure due to unavoidable degradation of one subject’s mind and body. It seems to occur due to the “fusion pool”’s inability to tag attributes as belonging to one or another… with that in mind, is it truly unavoidable? 

The failure of past subjects to retain their individual forms after separation can be remedied, theoretically, if both minds and bodies are exactly the same. Under better circumstances I would prefer to attempt this on human beings before attempting it on creatures already touched by Her light, as they’re far less predictable, and I would be remiss to lose everything as difficult as these. They are much more complicated than sheep, at the very least. But perhaps they will take to it better for the same reasons. 

We have been given a secondary facility to accommodate our new work. 

...

more small fun horrorwolves bits, and l o r e

“Are you new?”

“Yeah, um. Freshman.”

“That’s so cool!” Ven says, completely meaning it. He’s shuffling back and forth excitedly from foot to foot, a gesture that solidifies his wolf status to Riku — he knows that habit. He outgrew it years ago, when he was a puppy, and still had soft baby fur. Ven does not seem to care. “How come I didn’t see you out like, two weeks ago?”

Riku rubs the back of his neck, reluctant to give… honestly any information over, even though his internal danger meter is dropping rapidly the more he talks to Ventus. He doesn’t look like he’s prodding for weakness or anything. Though, that is what you’re supposed to avoid doing, when you prod for weakness. “I was inside,” Riku concedes.

“Inside?” Ven gapes. “No way! You could have come with us!”

“I didn’t know that,” Riku mutters.

“Oh yeah.” (Shoot better hearing he forgot about that) “Well, you know now! You should meet Terra! Here, I have to go to class, but hang on,” Ven says, and snatches Riku’s phone from where it was hanging limply in his hand, about a second away from going into sleep mode. Riku just blinks in stunned awkwardness until he finishes typing something, and pops the phone back into Riku’s palm./////

//// “We have chicken wings. Regular kind and barbecue.”

“Don’t bribe him, Ven.”

The Ven in question sidles up closer to Riku and whispers “And the good pizza. Not Little Caesars, we went to Pizza Hut.”

“Ventus.”

“Garlic saaaauce.”

Riku suppresses a snort. “I don’t want to be conspicuous. Or… intruding.”

/// “Yyyyes!” Ven yips, “Riku’s coming!!” ///

Oohhh I can just do three separate things abt werewolves

///// “Technically there’s no such thing as ‘light magic’,” Aqua starts. “Because it’s not magic at all. ‘Light magic’ relies on natural processes, mathematics, things that make sense when they happen. People found light magic centuries ago and called it medicine. There’s nothing magical about it. By contrast, dark magic is things happening that don’t make sense. Forcing things to exist, or not exist, breaking rules, turning iron into gold, things like that. It’s not a moral binary, either. The sun rules the light, and will burn crops that don’t get water because that’s what happens to plants without water. The moon rules the dark, and will keep plants alive for thousands of years simply because someone wants it to be. That’s… does that make sense?”

“I think so?” says Sora, and he flips the silver crown charm on his necklace to the other side of his mouth. “It’s just science and weird science.”

“More or less. I doubt you could call magic science, etymologically.”

“How does dark magic work, then? Can I just decide I want to live forever?”

“Dark magic relies on the abuse of the light. Tricking it into performing something else. It’s the moon that allows it to be blinded like that, in the first place, though no one actually knows how, since research is… thin, and not there yet. And hardly ever published, aside from individual scholars all discovering the same things,” Aqua says, pursing her lips. “It’s not unexplainable. It is undiscovered.”

:// “Lycanthropy is, as far as we know, a strain of magic that in itself has mutated to be more like a virus.” ///

“There are theories about why it is the moon that does this. Lots of people think it has something to do with being a reflection of light, some perversion of the ‘right’ way things work, but the important thing to know is if you aren’t careful, and you use dark magic too much, the sun will hurt you. As it is, you’re fine, it’s just more natural to be shifted at night.”

“Oh… wait! Is that why vampires melt in the sun??” Sora gasps.

“I’m amused but not surprised you went straight to vampires.”

“Am I right?”

Aqua taps her pencil to her mouth. “Technically yes — well. Yes and no. Vampires are just dark magicians who want more power than they can handle, so they kinda have to resort to things like purified blood and sleeping a lot. They can’t actually turn anyone else.”

Sora falls back in his seat. “Nuts.”

“Why is that a ‘nuts’? What were you planning?” Riku asks.

/////

“Ventus! Vanitas! Sit down!” Terra yells. Both wolves recoil at the force with which the command comes, and Ventus’ tail drops, but neither of them stop snarling at each other. All it takes is for Vanitas to raise his hackles again and they’re on each other in an instant, snapping and throwing each other across the floor. Terra growls in frustration, pulls a slight transformation over himself, and steps directly in between them. He gets Vanitas by the scruff first, and shoves Ventus backwards with one foot. As soon as their attention is half-him half-each other, Terra pours as much force as he can into his voice and snaps “Change!” They do, if in uncomfortable bursts. Like they’re fighting to be the last one still changed. Ventus shakes himself off as he comes out of it, panting, his hands gripping the carpet like his claws are still snagged. Vanitas writhes in Terra’s grip, and can only contort himself so much to re-establish furious eye contact with Ven and snarl another wordless challenge. Ventus jumps forwards, but Terra presses his foot harder into his shoulder where it ended up and he withdraws. The pure electricity in the air is making Riku nauseous.

//////// “Ven,” Terra says, firmly, “I’m not budging on this.” Ventus glares, silently challenging him. Terra huffs and returns the challenge, and it almost immediately makes Ventus avert his stare and turn away, his pout deepening. “Fine,” he mutters. “Thank you.” Ventus practically stomps over to Riku, seething. On the way past, he snags Riku’s sleeve, and Vanitas gets snagged by Terra and pulled into the opposite room. Once they’re out of each others’ range, Ventus lets out a breath and scrubs at his eyes. Riku nudges the door half-closed so they don’t hear Terra and Vanitas’ conversation. “What was that? I’ve never seen you mad at anything.” Ventus snorts, his hand briefly recoiling at a bloody scratch near his temple. He scowls at it and wipes his hand viciously on his pants. “He’s annoying.” “Okay, but so is Demyx, and you haven’t attacked him. What’s it really?” Riku asks. Ventus growls, and cuts himself short with a stuttered sigh as he realizes it doesn’t quite work the same with a human throat. “…You know how you and Sora are?” He asks. Riku nods. “It’s kind of like that. You guys are equals and partners and you get along great. But we’re totally equal and it makes me mad. It feels itchy. And he knows it makes me mad! /////

giving ven a hard time by tossing him in the phantom pain zone

Terra cracks open the door and peeks in. It’s still almost totally dark, the blinds flipped all the way upward to banish light to the ceiling. The intrusion sends a long beam of hallway-light over a curled-up figure in bed, who makes a distressed noise and curls up further, blocking his eyes with his elbows.

Terra quickly steps in and shuts the door again, returning the room to its comfortable half-dark. Ven doesn’t talk to him further.

“You okay?” Terra prompts. Ven makes a “hmm.” noise, one that means he doesn’t want to say he isn’t, but he isn’t.

“D’you feel sick?”

He makes the noise again, smaller. Terra kneels, and gently pushes Ven’s hand away from his forehead to feel it. One of them in a fist, the other tangled in his hair. He’s hot, almost feverish, but not in the sticky-warm way he’s used to meaning sick. Ven lets the air in his lungs out through his teeth in an uneven shudder, and Terra notices — he’s shaking. And very, very tense.

Terra’s expression dips further into worry. “Something hurt?”

“Yes,” Ven hisses, digging his nails further into pressure-white palms. Terra is taken aback by how short he sounds. He’s never short-tempered, or angry with them. He’s always bubbly and lax, even when something goes wrong — and he’s almost glaring at him, through his forearms. His eyes are watery, and despite the glare, they don’t quite seem to focus.

Terra lowers his voice. “D’you have a migraine? I get those, sometimes. I can get you some medicine.”

Ven starts to shake his head, and then winces and brings his knees closer to his body. “‘S not… I don’t think so,” he rasps.

He doesn’t elaborate. Thinking in more than one sentence at a time, or more than one thought at a time, is fuzzy and wobbly and painful again, like how it was when he started training under Master Eraqus, but more frustrating. He can come across words fine. He can process what hurt feels like, and what it means. It’s just — nasty, and hot and tight and he doesn’t like it very much. Terra asks “Where does it hurt, then?” and Ventus has to keep from snapping at him for the stupid, inane, perfectly normal he’s concerned about you he wants to help question.

“Everywhere,” Ven says. Terra furrows his eyebrows, he needs to be more specific. Ven uncurls one hand from its fist and gestures vaguely at his chest. He means to say “here”, but it comes out as a whine.

“You wanna get the Master to look at it?”

“No.” Ven does snap, this time. Which is ridiculous, because yes he wants it to go away please fix it make it stop but just because that means more people in his room and the Master seeing him weak and useless seeing him like this and because Terra is asking and that’s— that’s too many thoughts again, that’s— The awkward conflict sends another wave of fuzzy-static-pain echoing like a gunshot from his heart, and he squeezes his eyes shut to ride it out.

Terra’s hand is smoothing his hair back from his forehead. He thinks. And then doesn’t think, because it really hurts, like someone is yanking half of his heart out, and it’s just scaring the rest of him into hurting too just to disperse the load. He thinks Terra says something like “I’m going to get help,” which, once it registers, sends a soft rush of relief through him. His breath still catches, but that’s good. That Terra doesn’t listen to him. Ventus pulls the blanket up over his head and waits.

//it turns out — he hears this through static and his heartbeat and three voices, not two — it’s just a kind of phantom pain. From whatever happened to him, like he had lost a limb or something. And it’ll go away, but it might come back. If he were more awake, he might be relieved at the fact that there’s nothing new wrong or that it’ll go away on its own, or maybe even angrier that it’ll come back and he didn’t do anything wrong to earn it. Maybe not. But at that moment, Ventus just wants Aqua to close the door. It’s barely open, but the hallway light is on. He just really wants her to close the door. ///

...

riku takes over some dreameater duties for sora's heartmates, too

Riku does not sleep easy, in the year that Sora is gone.

When he doesn’t, he stays up, tapping at a screen for hints hidden in his data (it’s a stretch, but he’s stretched thin). When he does, he searches for hints of him in the dream realms. There are many, many sleeping realms even outside the sleeping worlds, and he never has normal dreams anymore, anyways. So, it may be more accurate to say that Riku does not sleep, in the year Sora is gone.

He may not be the only one.

Ventus, Terra and Aqua come back from the Realm of Darkness every few weeks. Aqua was insistent they take breaks from it, and no one was going to argue her. When they do come back, sometimes they take time to catch up with the rest of the Realm of Light, and sometimes they take time to be together in the Land of Departure, on their own. They’ve invited Riku over more than once, and he’s grateful for it, because despite taking him away from the computer, it gives him a little room to breathe. He has his own guest room, and the kitchen, though more manual than Sora made the Tower’s, still has good morning food tailored to his favorites. Aqua’s been working on that.

(Sometimes he can sense their nightmares — just on the edges of his consciousness, while he wanders.)

Ven usually wakes up last, and skips into the kitchen to take whatever it’ll give him. This morning, and the last, and the one before that, to be honest, he wakes up late and stumbles into the kitchen rubbing at his eyes and yawning.

It’s worse this morning. Riku’s been slowly eating away at a bagel and a mug of coffee for the past hour, reading a book Aqua recommended to him about realms and reality. Ven is only given away down the stairs behind him because he squeaks when he yawns, the rest of him is silent as he pads into the kitchen and stands at the counter. The castle seems to take pity on him and rustles the basket of croissants for his attention, which he gives by taking one and stuffing it in his mouth and leaving it there.

“Didn’t sleep well..?” Riku asks.

Ven startles just a touch. “Hmph? Oh, not really.” He gives Riku a half-wince smile. “Couldn’t fall asleep at all! I’m okay though.”

/// u see like snippets of Roxy and Xion and they’re also tired :( but that’s later uhhhhh frnow…. “No,” Ven mutters, stopping and switching directions mid-step. He runs towards the houses — “No, no…” Runs his hand through his hair, switches directions, stops. Riku can feel his mounting distress. So, a dream where he’s lost, or maybe where he can’t find something important. Not a terrible nightmare, but a distressing one nonetheless — so why was it strong enough that Riku could feel it?

“Hey,” Riku tries. “Ventus.”

He doesn’t respond, stuttering to a halt and turning around again, letting out a shaky breath. “That’s not right,” he whispers.

It must be a larger nightmare. Or maybe since it’s leaving him idle, it’s at a lull in its dream, distracted somewhere…

Riku turns away to sniff out the source. Nightmares have a distinct, almost dark smell, but it’s never strong enough to be immediately obvious. He has to search, and to do that he has to follow the layered cobblestone paths Ven’s subconscious has littered all over the place like confetti. It’s not a maze, it’s just… a lot of pathways. Riku finds himself searching for a while before it reveals itself.

There it is. Under the bridge, a strange-looking Skelterwild is preening itself and pulling bits of the nightmare bubble it had crafted back and forth, like a toy. It’s a little… gooier than the nightmares tended to be with Sora, but it doesn’t look anything special.

Riku edges closer. It looks like it’s just the one, if he remembers anything about nightmare packs and how solitary the really big ones usually are. He can definitely take it.

It turns away, and Riku lunges.

For a big dinosaur spirit, it comes apart pretty easily — claws lodged between its armor plating wrench one of its legs free from its body, the resulting thrash nearly sending Riku into the underside of the bridge. It howls at him, a rattling garbage disposal sound more than anything, and Riku sneers right back. He dodges its jaws neatly, and rams his keyblade right into the thin part of its neck. The skelterwild makes one last screech loud enough that Riku hopes Ventus didn’t hear, and collapses into three separate pieces of dissolving nightmare.

Riku dismisses Braveheart and finds himself with a small smile playing across his face. He had missed this — doing his job, fulfilling some sort of innate purpose he wasn’t aware he was longing for. Sora has always just filled in pieces of him that he wasn’t aware were missing pieces until the puzzle got scattered. In losing Sora, his purpose had become the same way, scattered, in more ways than one, apparently. Riku’s smile falters a little. This puzzle piece wasn’t the right color, or even perfectly shaped, but… it fit well enough.

The skelterwild left a small assortment of pieces behind — most notably a few shuddering wild fantasies among the slowly-fading nightmare essence. Riku had decided a long while ago that he’d call it “essence”, because it’s not meat and it’s not melty corpse or spirit clouds or anything, it’s just the left behind base form of nightmares whatever shape they take and it also smells and tastes very very good and if he ever has to explain that whole dream eater phenomenon to anyone who isn’t either Bumpis the meow wow (constant thief of perfectly good food) or Sora himself, essence is the word he’s calculated to have the least amount of follow-up.

In any case he usually likes the bigger nightmares, they tend to leave more behind and have more of a form in the first place, like the fruit bits in a marmalade rather than just the jam runoff at the top. Riku runs his tongue along his fingernails, contemplating the value of taking those dream pieces, and paws through the remaining nightmare essence to swipe up a bit more of a reward. He’s not particularly hungry, and he’s maybe a little self conscious about eating someone else’s nightmares.

(He notices Ven’s nightmare tastes a little less sickly-sweet and a little more sharp, like if freezer burn was mildly pleasant. He would liken it to mint, if it had a physical flavor.)

Almost like a computer powering down, the odd building-stones that surround them start to grey in color — the nightmare is fading. If he’s right, they should just fade into something nicer like a day at the market, or a puppy convention, or another one of Sora’s dreams he had laughed and rolled his eyes at.

Or, y’know, they could suddenly start disappearing altogether and send things sailing into the void.

Iiiiincluding Ventus.

Riku, having very little time to think about this, scrambles out from under the bridge as it too falls apart at the seams (the wrong ones, not stone by stone, but scrap by scrap ripped off a magazine spread). He spreads his wings, hoping the transformation lasts a little longer, and zips past dissolving flowers and flyers and scoops up Ven in one swift movement.

Ven lets out a little squeak of horror at the sudden jolt to a stop and subsequent momentum upwards, and buries his head in his jacket. Riku keeps going up, because that’s the easiest way to move away from the collapsing nightmare, and eventually new ground will form below them.

Unless it doesn’t. Maybe he should interfere a little bit more, make sure the next dream is nice…

As suddenly and gently as the void disappears below him, a soft expanse of sand appears where it fades away, and Riku stops flying and lets himself drift slowly to the ground, familiar palm trees placing him exactly where he exists in memory. It looks like Ven’s been here too, sometime, seeing as the basic structure of the dream is his, Riku’s just the guiding force keeping the dock where it should be.

He didn’t come here on purpose, really, it’s just been on his mind. But it’s a safe place. And maybe kind of familiar enough to keep him sustained for the rest of the night.

Ven, for his part, falls out of Riku’s arms with a whoop!, right on top of what probably used to be a silly sand sculpture. He jumps off immediately, mortified, and then sullen when he apparently realizes what he did.

“Ugh,” Ven pouts, and kicks at the scattered lump of sand. “Now I have to build this thing all over again.”

“…A sandcastle?” Riku asks.

“No, if I’m gonna find experiment 626 again, I need a ship. I’m trying out different materials since my old one blew up.” He kneels, and starts scooping sand back into a neat pile.

Riku’s not a stranger to how dream logic works, though it’s not really that much easier to follow now than it was the first time Sora changed topics on a dime. “Good luck, then,” he says, and turns to leave. And then… turns back around, and after a moment of hesitation: “Can I help with anything?”

Ven leans back and flips his head up, thinking. He’s in a pair of shorts, now, though the rest of his outfit hasn’t caught up, and the contrast is funny-looking. “Ummm… could you see if there’s glue anywhere?”

“Glue… for sand?”

“Yeah! To make it stronger.”

“Alright.”

“Thanks, Riku!”

There’s not going to be glue anywhere else on the island, but that was a dismissal good enough for Riku to be sure Ven wasn’t still caught on the edges of a true nightmare. The dream is already kind of fuzzing and blurring into thought-shift cotton.

But just to be doubly sure. Riku pulls and twirls the dream between his fingers, weaving it just a little brighter, a little sweeter. He’s not sure exactly what he’s doing to the dream itself, but Ventus deserves something nice after visiting the realm of darkness for as long as he had. The memories it leaves are not usually kind.

Riku leaves once he hears a familiar peal of laughter come from behind him somewhere — and had he turned around, the sight of Ven in full-on vacation clothes and sunglasses holding a little blue alien thing right up to Terra’s face might have made him stay just for the atmosphere of it.

...

crash lands vanitas and ven on lilo and stitch GET STITCH PARALLELLED (this is just a silly script i was going to make into a comic but started to prose it)

Ventus and Vanitas are hurtling through gummispace at very high speeds, and what exactly got them into this situation is a blur of scuffling and curses and chasing each other down not to make a giant sword this time but not not make a giant sword if it means getting the stuff you took back, but that doesn’t particularly matter, because hurtling through gummispace at very high speeds tends to overrule everything else.

And as such, neither of them notice that they’re hurtling through gummispace at very high speeds towards a world they’re going to collide with if they don’t cut it out. Which they do not, obviously.

The first indication that something is wrong is the sudden introduction of gravity. See, the keyblade gliders can go very high, but it’s not like the pilot can just ignore gravity. You have to be very skilled in order to fly one without crashing.

No one is piloting.

/////////the glider screeches thru space with ven and vani practically wrestling over it it careens off course Poff! Through the clouds, and at this point ven realizes he’s going to Crash and kicks at vani to get back on top, but vani grabs vens feet sending the whole thing spinning head over tail until it makes a gloriously comedic CRASH right into a patch of palm trees on the beach we see vanitas eat sand as he lands in an awkward somersault on his face hb HGBPRHHWHTH. PHEH. PTH. eugh. vanitas looks around and sees… pretty much hawaii, but he doesn’t know that. A street by the beach, houses behind fences and plants and palm trees, sand and rocks, a couple people walking where they can’t really see them, a hen strutting by. he also sees ven laying down next to a pretty large rock in the sand with his helmet knocked off. seeing that that’s his priority right now, he puts his helmet on and strides over to him ventus? hey. ventus. (Kick. Kick. Kick kick kick kick kick SAND THROWN IN FACE.) ACK. hgwhrtynbghmmhhh. what. no, never mind. wake up. you crashed us on another world, idiot, I don’t sense anything. Get us out of here. mheadh hurts. goway (Exasperated) Just use cure. Esuna , whatever, eat a gummy bear. Fix it. (vanitas cannot do either of these things and do you think he carries potions bc I don’t) mm. … (ven is just grasping at the air repeatedly) what are you doing itwont … mmm. (Hisses) You can’t summon your keyblade?!! Then how are— i know. ijudgnmth…. …be less loud. vanitas, a little concerned that he’s broken and therefore he’s stuck in hawaii forever until someone comes to find him and probably kill him, starts poking around at ventus. But before he can find anything, a voice offscreen goes HEY hm HEY!!!! hm stitch launches himself at vanitas’ face. ACKHBPTJ he drags him off and stands there holding him by the scruff but meanwhile stitch realizes venven is here and sproings away off of vanitas face again venven!!!! ……..626? whatreeyou doing here? (garbled stitch noises) whoa … (garbled stitch noises) (incomprehensible slurred ventus speech) (vanitas is losing his marbles)

You didn’t answer my question. (vanitas startles and whips around and summons his keyblade. Lilo is standing there precociously.) Are you aliens? Are we… what?! You fell from the sky on a spaceship. Plus you look weird and alien-y. Where’s your face? (Offended) I do not— How are you talking? yanks off his helmet. Who are you? It’s alright. I know a lot of aliens. Are you bad guys???? On the run from the government????????? The What? you kind of look like weird tourists, actually Vanitas picks her up so she stops circling him and poking at him. That’s enough. Hey! HRRRRRRRH (stitch noise) vanitasknnock it off. ven turns over to see what’s going on but there’s Sun this way, so he groans and covers his eyes is he okay? He’s fine. We’re fine. Leave us alone, we’re not aliens. he doesn’t LOOK okay. You should come back to my house before the government finds you. The govermen aren’t looking for us . I’m gonna go get my sister. Guard him. HRRRRRH. ……?!!!

… vani: what Are you supposed to be name stitch. oh. Uh… I’m not telling you my name. Ven… friend? No. (Alien muttering) ……… ……(uncomfortable)...... …….(a scrapper pops up)

/////Who are you? I am the darkn- look, it doesn’t matter. When is he supposed to wake up?

...

an au where riku is a youtuber and also owns eight cats? i dunno what this one is theyre cats though

Hey! So um, my last video got super popular for no reason, but a lot of you guys were asking who the kitties were in the background. So. Let me introduce you all to my cats! I have eight cats. All of them are rescues. I didn’t mean to get eight cats, this just happened to me. This is Sora. He’s the first cat I found and the cat from the last video, and he’s the love of my life. He likes to sleep on top of my head. He’s the king of the house, not because he’s the oldest or anything but because when he wants to do something stupid he’ll get everyone else to do it with him. I found him as a little teeny baby behind my house. He walked into my house, I did not invite him, he decided he wanted to live here first. This is Kairi, she’s my second. I found her as a kitten under a boardwalk and she nearly took my finger off for touching her, but her secret is if you scratch right behind her ears she purrs like a motor. She’s a very quiet kitty, but she only likes crunchy kicky toys, so I can tell when she’s playing. She and Sora will play this game where they sing in the hallway and whoever is louder gets to start chasing the other one. This is Ven! He’s the oldest I think, but not by very much. He likes to investigate the camera whenever I film—(muffled sniffing) AHEM. I dunno if you saw but one of his eyes is clouded? He’s half blind, but he’s the one who jumps at me from the top of the cupboards, so it doesn’t seem to bother him. He’s very sweet, he is always grooming the other cats. I think he knows he’s the big brother. He also gets the zoomies every night at 11 pm so. This one is Vanitas. (MRAAAOW) He’s always tagging along with Ven, and (MRAH) he likes to yell at the camera whenever I film. He is the rowdiest and the worst (MAH) influence. He’s got a cute little nub tail, but he doesn’t like people touching it. I found both of these guys on the freeway at like 2 am, Ven had been… hit, we think, and Vanitas was really sick. He was doing okay enough to bite me though. We took them to the vet and everything and Ven was mostly ok, just super scared of me and really weak, but Van had to have his tail amputated and surgery for his intestines along with all the mange and he haaated me for nearly a month. I was scared I’d have to release him for being too feral. He’s super food motivated, though, so that made him warming up to me like this easier. Ow. Van This is Roxas! The one sleeping next to him is Xion. I actually fostered both of them before just flat out adopting them, they came out of a house fire, they had been living in the garage. You see here, Roxas has burns all on his paw pads… they’re healing pretty slowly. When he first came home he couldn’t walk on them, we had these cute little casts that he toddled around on. He’s a pretty small cat compared to some of the other male cats, but he’s got a very big attitude, if I’m doing something he doesn’t like, he will tell me. Very calm most of the time, though. If I open a tuna can his eyes go so big. Xion is even more mellow until you bring out the feather toys, which she loves playing with. She’s also really curious, so if I’m making myself a snack, she’s on the counter with Vanitas trying to see what my snack is all about. Sometimes I catch her trying to do the human things I do to get her own snack? It’s very cute. If you look — oops. Roxy didn’t like me doing that. But if you look at Xion’s fur she’s mostly black except a stripe down her tummy. She didn’t get quite so badly burned, but her fur was very singed for a while. This is Namine! She’s very pretty, and she has a very pretty voice, do you want to say something for the camera? mrrrh? yeeahh. Anyways, she was actually a show cat, or she was going to be. But her previous owner had some legal trouble and had to surrender her. She’s very shy,////////

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sprawl thing

But first SECTOR SEVEN’S MOST WANTED

You shuffle through the photos in the box. There’s a good amount of them, not award-worthy, more like a beginners scrapbook. Some of these are a little thicker — they’re videos. You grab one at random and press play.

sora: Vanitas!! How does it feel being wanted for a million billion credits on the black market Well it’s nice to be wanted. Vanitaaaas :( Vanitaaaaaaaaa Sora get- SORA I am cutting FISH

Ven how does it feel being the only outside source on Unity in the whole universe probably! Kind of terrifying why You should be used to it. You’ve always been a hot commodity :] ….,(shoves camera)

(Roxas is in the aftermath of his own explosion accident) Roxas how does it feel being smarter than everyone in this room If I wasn’t here you’d all die We sure would

Xion (in tideweather;s hangar) how did it feel stealing this from the government Ballin’ You heard it here folks the law doesn’t apply to me if I have an eighteen foot flying tank!!!!!

Sora how does it feel being the only one able to make mom’s pancakes without burning them (those pancakes are of the DEVIL) Pretty gooooood. :]

That must be from later. In the story, at least. Vanitas looks… less murderous than you expected.

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vanitas spooks even lol

There’s a knock on the door, but no person at it. Even squints, slowly putting down his paper file folders, and then leans forward a little off his desk to peer around the corner. He’s about to write it off when he glances to the right, and finds a dark shape a little too close for comfort.

He jumps backwards, startled, and squints harder. Vanitas just stands there looking unimpressed.

“Goodness!” Even barks. “A little warning would have been prudent.”

“I knocked.”

“You ding-dong ditched my laboratory,” Even grouses, ignoring the way Vanitas’ head cocks to the side. “Nevermind that. Did you need something?”

Vanitas kicks his heel against the ground. “Yeah, apparently you’re not supposed to grab hot pans without a mitten or something. It didn’t even hurt, but I guess it should have. Xion thinks it’s a replica thing and made me come.”

Were they cooking? Even’s first thought is wondering if they were cooking, and how much of the kitchen had burned down already. Though, his second is a mix of confusion and concern.

“Well, that can’t be it. I’ve input the same amount of nervous system data into each of the replicas, and they are perfectly tactile.”

“Nervous what? I don’t want that.”

“Nervous system. The process in your body that lets you feel when you touch physical objects. The — you should not be picking up hot pans without mitts,” Even sighs.

“Why?”

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i think thats it this post is too long already HFGEJHK

#sorry most of these ven has a Debatably Not Good time HGJFSYGGF im bullying him. and also giving him a kiss on the head #my writing #kh #kh ventus #AND OTHERS #kh vanitas #hes here often #wayfinders and riku show up #horrorwolves #sprawl au #theres uhhhhhh...... i dont think ill tag them they can hang out #i have One fic thats CLOSE to being done but isnt done about sora and ven going to rapunzel's wedding and i want to finish that