#they're just being judgemental little shits

[aphrogeneias]

swifties (derogatory) on twitter complaining and being extremely weird about people wanting to smoke cigarettes and/or weed at concerts are you ok? have you ever been out of your house before? have you ever interacted with a person outside of the internet?

#lmao please #they're being super elitist too and calling people addicts like a shameful thing #what the fuck #i understand that people smoling close to you might be uncomfortable or bad for your health i absolutely understand that #but that's not even what they were talking about #they're just being judgemental little shits

[dimonds456]

hey tumblr, thanks for recommending me a TERF post "based on my likes." I hope the hour I spent blocking as many people as I could bear in the notes is enough of a hint for you.

#i've seen some shit this morning y'all #like it was one of those posts that i initially agreed with but then alarm bells went off in my head at some of the phrasing #the post was about how 2-year-olds and 3-year-olds don't have a concept of gender yet because they're too little #followed by 'amazing it's almost like telling kids what boys and girls are will help them understand' #so i checked the notes and it was rampant with terfs #the main post was never tagged as anything though someone just posted a twitter screenshot #i need to find the terf tags post thing cuz i didnt have time to block before but i guess i do now #now i'm paranoid about how much of my stuff has been this shit and i never realized #anyway be careful guys it's fucking BAD out here #dimond speaks #tw transphobia #tw transphobes #and like i agree- 2 and 3 are too young for this stuff since the gender binary is so fucking strong #of course girls can play with dinosaurs if they want that doesn't make them boys #but kinds will understand that the more experience and knowledge they gain of the world around them #they barely know they're sentient yet of course they're gonna get confused #but once they DO get a better handle on what gender is then some of them are gonna realize that being a boy was the right answer all along #you cannot make that judgement for them #and also like no harm no fowl if they DO think they're trans for a while? like what's wrong with that?? #this shit is complex as fuck and i do not expect a 3-year-old to get it okay? #took me til i was about 15 to even know trans people existed at all and a couple more months to realize i was one too #and i'm fucking dumb like i'm not a good metric to go off of #but even if 3-year-olds aren't going to understand that's where you as the parent have to help them understand it #but little by little #like as teenagers and adults we can just look something up and tada! there's the answer! #kids can't do that yet they DO need parents to help them #those parents just also have to be aware of how they're teaching their kids #there's a difference between 'girls like pink and boys like blue' and 'and your age it literally doesn't matter but girls like she/her' #and that was a terrible example but i'm not a parent so #you figure it out

[somerandomdudelmao]

I am sooooo super excited for the Future Turtles to be meeting the Present Turtles, but I wanted to take a moment and tell you how much I really loved and felt the latest update.

Having F!Leo criticising Leo's decisions and openly stating "this dude makes nothing but really fucking dumb decisions"- like, he's so mad at this kid for getting it so consistently wrong, when Casey is completely capable and they're the same age.

Then the "they made it about me when they took my brother" and F!Leo just... freezes. That resonates with him. And then he thinks about the fact Leo voluntarily trapped himself in the Prison Dimension, and that gives Casey the opening he's been waiting for.

Twice. TWICE he watched Leonardo sacrifice himself for the world. TWICE Leonardo took Casey's choice away the portal shut between them. TWICE Casey thought Leonardo was gone forever. And Casey is FURIOUS about it. He gets it, of course he does, but it doesn't change the fact he lost Leonardo twice.

Then F!Leo listens to Casey's rant and his demeanor towards Leo shifts again.

He seems to contemplate the kid, not judge. And I wonder if that's partially because- and this might just be my interpretation- Casey is somewhat defending Leo. F!Leo is all set for passing judgement on the kids terrible choices, but in the end they both made similar self-sacrificing decisions for the benefit of others.

Idk, it just seems like this interaction was a nice balance between F!Leo being thoroughly disappointed in Leo for making bad decisions (as the Leader of a Resistance would be), and realising Leo (and himself back then) was just a kid thrust into war he wasn't ready for.

Oh, yeah. Future Leo is judging little Leo. And he has every right to do so. Because the things that little Leo has done and made others do are stupid and dangerous.

"They made it about me when they took my brother" makes him kinda freeze, y e s. Because that's the first hint. The first moment he looks at the small version of himself and realizes. Shit, it sounds awfully fucking familiar. It resonates.

And Casey's next words. It's not just about both Leos' penchant for self-sacrifice. It's that despite their differences, they share the same core. The past you is still you. He's stupider, he's more inexperienced, but your ideals and your values are also his. Face it.

#cas details #not really #but I want to save this ask

[mvnsvn6]

Have a mini fic about Steve annotating books and Eddie finding it really hot🖤

So obviously, Eddie's a bookworm. Before he had any friends, he spent the better parts of his childhood at Hawkins Library after school and Hawkins Middle's library during any recesses and lunches. He constantly read books, this was before Wayne got him a guitar and before he got into dnd, and being a bookworm tremendously helped him fuel both of those hobbies later on. But before then? The library was like a second home to him. 

And so, recently founding out that Steve reads, like a lot, is something of a revalation. It's not that Eddie thinks the guy is stupid, but he figured the guy spent time doing other productive hobbies at home. But the guy reads, and as previously mentioned, Eddie considers himself a literature connoisseur of sorts. Writing book reports and essays were one of the few things he actually excelled at in high school. 

So anyway, he found out that Steve is a book nerd by finding one of Steve's books open on his bed. Not really the strangest thing that Eddie's come across in Steve's room if he's being honest, and not the biggest indicator of nerdiness, until he focuses his attention and acknowledges the bright colors sprawled across the pages. 

A burst of rainbow colors underlining what Eddie guesses are his favorite parts of the story or important stuff he wanted to remember. And obviously, Eddie has to ask him about it. and Steve explains to him that he has a whole color key and it's made up of romantic lines that make him feel warm, sad stuff that makes him tear up, stuff that is word for word undoubtedly Steve Harrington sprawled on a page. Steve won't tell him which color is which, too embarrassed by it, but he lets Eddie read through them, and then he stares at Steve in unyeilding fondness. 

The look reflected on Steve's is not the same, mostly anxiety and insecurity, which Eddie immediately wants to soothe. It's so so sweet he thinks but Eddie's mouth translates the words into, "That's so fucking hot." Which, shit man, it is but he hadn't meant to say it out loud. 

"Shut up, dude, don't make fun of me right now." 

And listen, books are everything to him, this is no joking matter. They inspire his own stories, whether through a dnd campaign or writing song lyrics. It's honestly probably the most attractive thing a person could do in Eddie's opinion, he didn't know how hot until right about now, but he'll die on this hill. Annotating your books is hot. 

"Listen to me when I say this Steve, while that is the nerdiest thing I've ever heard and I'm, ya know, me. It's also about the most attractive thing that's come out of that pretty mouth of yours, like ever."

And Steve folds his arms across his fucking beautifully sculpted chest and narrows his eyes just slightly, raising a judgemental eyebrow at him. 

"You're being serious."

Oh he's never been more serious about anything in his life. 

"Uh...yeah? Yes. Oh my god."

Yeah, real eloquent Edward. 

Whatever, his heart is pounding profuesely against his rib cage because holy shit Steve is a book nerd and Eddie wants to kiss him fucking yesterday. So he gets on all fours on Steve's bed to lean forward and basically attacks his mouth before he can even think about it. 

And when he pulls back, Steve's pupils are blown wide and his breath has picked up pace, and Steve keeps bouncing between looking at Eddie's eyes and his lips. 

"You just kissed me."

It comes out disbelieving. 

"Yeah and with your permission I'd like to continue, like stat, immediately, now."

"You're insane."

And hands weave through curls and pull. 

Eddie tumbles foward, ending fully sprawled on top of Steve, and, jesus christ, body pressed impossibly close to his. 

And after they're romantic, read: nerdy horniness, little makeout session, he forces Steve to read the annotations himself, going through all the books that are important to Steve. He has to stop himself from moaning to really emphasize how hot he finds it, and to make Steve slightly embarrassed, but refrains. Just lets him continue. 

Eddie has never been so in love in his life.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #ficlet #stranger things fic #my writing

[radiance1]

Feral Bruce Wayne clone meets scared ghost child locked under max security.

You see, this clone is technically about a probable three months old, but is physically an 18-year-old. Why was he made? His creators wished to test and perfect their cloning technology before moving onto their prime subject, as for how they acquired the DNA of a Bruce Wayne he'd never know.

For some odd, odd reason, he had a plethora of fighting skills under his belt ingrained in his muscles, only really held back by his mind that didn't know how to use said skills to their highest degree. But it was apparently enough to break free, steal their most prized 'material' from under their nose, and escape.

They should've just got good tbh.

So now he had a kid (who was actually older than him) under his belt that he decides to take care of. Said kid was pretty good at making things, didn't want to go outside, or interact with other people if he could help it when they decided to occupy a warehouse they managed to buy for cheap (Cough, cough, Reuben may or may not have threatened them, slightly.) and it was up to Reuben to acquire both money and items to renovate the warehouse.

Fun.

Easy way to get money? Rob people. Easy way to get money without making his... friend? Judge him is to rob people who tried to rob him first.

Isn't much, but it is easy money.

That, and a lot of odd jobs here and there, usually goes out wearing a mask to hide his face. Really only to hide from his creators if they ever decided to go looking for him and, let's face it, he literally stole their most prized subject without their knowledge, of course they're looking for him.

Unfortunately for him, while his fighting skills are top-notch, his judgement getting better from the number of fights he partakes in. His emotional understanding and social skills are basically almost null and void, so most of his interactions with everyone- especially Danny, is pretty awkward when he isn't threatening people.

And he would never threaten Danny.

Anywho, he's been racking in a steady flow of cash, then got himself involved in an underground fighting ring and, well, it just expanded from there, with his being regarded as a 'Dark Horse' (whatever that is) and then quickly overthrowing the champion and becoming a good undefeated so far.

At least he now has money to buy furniture, food, clothes, and parts for whenever Danny got a bit too twitchy so he can build whatever his heart desires. Best thing about the underground fighting ring? They don't give a shit about what kind of weapon he brings, or if he has armor.

And lucky for him, he has himself a little genius who would very willingly make him such things while also being his test subject for them.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

[hg-aneh]

Hi! I absolutely love all of your art and I’ve been fallowing you for awhile! There’s been some rumors that you ship Muriel x crowley?? Which I guess is an odd paring but nothing terrible wrong with, I was just curious if you do ship them.

Thank you for all your wonderful art <3

okay, i want to preface this by saying that I've already been harassed over this to the point of being called a lowkey pedophile and having every little move of mine scrutinized and misconstrued to sickening extents (this harassment spilled over to my partner too, and it was horrible)

so all anyone would do by doing this again would be repeating history, among other things that have to do with fucking up my already frail mental state

now.

onto the meat

yes, I ship it

no, I do not see Muriel as a child, kid, teenager, or anything of the sort and I find it personally distasteful to think of doing so because infantilizing autistic traits rubs me the wrong way (p e r s o n a l l y)

you can do it if you want to, I have worse things to worry about than a random person on the internet thinking something of a fictional character, just don't try to push your headcanon onto me just because you perceive it that way or because it's a popular dynamic that you find fun

adding onto this, i want to add that i will never and i mean fucking NEVER post anything related to that ship outside of the very specific private Xitter account i created for it

(and my personal facebook, on a friends only setting)

any Muriel & Crowley content outside of that account is all platonic and bla bla you get the gist. I can separate things, what a talent.

Now, I'm being overly paranoid and explaining myself to exhaustion over this for a very good reason and it's because last time someone found out about it ((yes we're going full circle to the beginning of this little bible)) they treated it as some sort of GOTCHA moment about me being a pedo ((and if you didn't know this already: I fucking despise children with my whole being, I'd rather be forcefed alligator shit for my whole life than be with one of those creatures for a single day))

It got to the point of that person making extremely hurtful videos about me and their little friend group comprised of goober eating toddlers joining in on the "Hater" train or whatever the hell that new cultural trend is called, as well

It was hell, that whole experience fucked me up BAD and i feel silly for saying this but it was genuinely traumatic! So- I apologize if I'm sounding confrontational here, anon, but like, this is the type of thing you have to do to keep yourself safe now, it's gone to that point and I'm in hysterics now because what the fuck

Lastly, I'd like to say this one other thing

Muriel is played by an adult actress, they are canonically the same age as Aziraphale and Crowley and are also an eldritch creature just like them

The fact that they're nice and bubbly and happen to have autistic traits doesn't suddenly make them a fetus. I have friends with the same personality type as them and I feel like it'd be dumb to treat them like zygotes knowing they're adults with body hair and debt

Again, if you see them as one, I'm literally no one to judge, I'm 1.49, you're better off taking judgement from a stupid lone penguin in the saharan desert.

But don't fuck with others for thinking otherwise, it's not a moral issue to disagree with a headcanon, please. 🥲

#aneh answers #aneh cries #im still not over that whole thing bruh it fucked me up good #aneh wont shut up #and thank you anon #and also sorry #this shit is looooong #disk horse #discourse

[agirlcandream84]

we need more hc!!!! they're amazing!!!! what about bf!frank when you're mad at him/you two have a fight??? 🤭🤭🤭

Truth is, I'm sorta never not thinking about a next batch of headcanons and you kinda read my mind with the theme! Except I'm thinking of all the times Frank has been mad at YOU.

Times When Boyfriend!Frank Has Been Mad At You

Well, of course, that time your car broke down and his reaction to finding out.

One of the times Frank got mad at you was actually before you even really started dating but that didn't mean Frank wasn't already in deep and when he discovered you hired a Task Rabbit to haul out some old dresser out of your apartment -- he was stompin' down the hall in three steps asking "who's this jerk?" and when you told him he gave you an incredulous look going on about how a "pretty girl like you can't invite some random asshole into your apartment. Gonna get yourself killed like that" before he has you sit in the living room while he tells the confused man that he's got it from here and hauls the damn thing out himself.

Ok so we already know about that time that some dude on a crowded subway car rubbed his junk up against you while you were both smashed in during rush hour but did I mention that you failed to disclose that information to Frank for a week before he overheard your sister ask you if you saw the guy who "rubbed his junk into your ass" again since it last happened. You hear Frank mutter "what the fuck" from the other room before he appears in the doorway and says "Sweetheart, can I talk to you for second?" as he nods his head in the direction of the bedroom. Of course you try to deflect but he's insistent and that's when Frank launches into 1) a check to make sure you're ok and 2) when he's confirmed that you are ok, a lecture about withholding this from him. You try to tell him that you didn't want to make a "big thing" about it because it sadly happens to a lot of women and this only enrages Frank more and he's suddenly mad at All Men™️ for being disgusting assholes and obviously theres very little subway in your future.

Frank somehow got retroactively mad at you for walking home drunk from bars dozens of times in your younger days, before he even knew you. You were telling him stories of your partying days, chuckling at your disregard for good decision making, when you see the smile slide off his face and his signature scowl settles in while he crosses his arms over his chest. "Now hang on a minute sweetheart -- I don't like this shit. You coulda gotten hurt," and you're all "No Frank, I know now, I just--" but he cuts you off, his mind already decided on the next course of action-- self defense classes, taught by yours truly. Your eyes couldn't roll further back in your head but he just says "roll 'em all you want doll-- this ain't negotiable"

There was only one time Frank actually yelled at you -- like he was MAD mad -- and that's when you had gone in search of a cool thrift shop you'd heard about on Tik Tok but walked up to the place and it was inside of an enormous and decidedly creepy warehouse with no particular signage. The address looked right but this place looked all wrong. Against your own better judgement, you went in searching for the shop but it was just endless dark hallways and unmarked doors and the faint sound of men's laughter somewhere in the building. Your heart pounding in your chest, you started to feel incredibly unsafe. You probably weren't in any real danger but the vibes felt so wrong and it was the first time in your life you felt genuine fear. Like the kind that made you think you made a very bad mistake. You finally decided to turn back around and called Frank to come pick you up, bursting into tears. Of course he was there in a flash and vert pissed that you ignored your own instincts. "Your gut tells you to get out, you get out! Jesus Christ sweetheart, I know I taught you better than that." He's right and you know he's right so you're just a hiccuping mess, mad at yourself for being an idiot. Frank can't see you so upset for long so he's quickly tugging you into his chest and murmuring on the top of your head, "S'alright sweetheart. Just gotta listen to your instincts. M'not mad, alright?"

Also that time you accidentally spilled bleach on his favorite hoodie. He was just plain ol' pissed at that.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fluff

[cuubism]

At long last rewatched all the Dreamling scenes (it's been... a year) and now I'm so salty about how Dream treated Hob in 1589. Just because not everyone likes wallowing in suffering doesn't mean you have to be a dickhead to them, Dream. If there's any version of Hob who deserves to be treated in such a way, it's 1789 Hob. 1589 Hob is just happy and enthusiastic, which, yeah, very offensive to Dream and all. Dream started it, being all judgemental last time like 'well what have you been DOING all this time' 😒. I don't even think this Hob comes across as that arrogant, self-satisfied maybe but it's mostly in a genuinely enthusiastic way. I don't even think he's really trying to brag in a superior way, he just wants DREAM'S approval specifically, he's like look look I did something with the gift! He talks about his family with genuine affection. The way he talks about his knighthood makes me laugh, it's not bragging, its more like "do you see this shit? They're just handing out knighthoods to any idiot with enough money. Isn't that hilarious?" A private little joke, really. And Dream had to be a dick about it... sigh. Justice for 1589 Hob. Dream should go be a dickhead to Hob in 1789 if he really wants someone to snipe at, and be kinder to 1589 Hob, who's basically a puppy that just wants to be patted on the head. That's all.

#poor hob lol #og dreamling scenes are potent... id almost forgotten how much #1389 is better than drugs #dreamling #hob gadling

[mikareo]

⌗ they're just drawings? ₊ ˖ ་. nanami kento x fem reader (0.6k)

genre . . boyfriend!nanami, fluffy bickering, about attack on titan but doesn't explicitly say so, swearing summary . . nanami doesn't understand your obsession with 2D men; especially 2D men who look better than him. note . . this piece is personal.

"ohmygod i don't know if i can handle this."

you're pacing back and forth on your living room carpet. the tv is on with the pause sign glowing in the bottom left corner as the last episode of your favorite series ever has just released worldwide. it's been over ten years since the first episode aired and you're an avid manga reader— that being said, going into tonight whilst knowing the absolute devastation you're about to endure has you wanting to cry.

"it's just a show, c'mon let's start." ugh, he's always like this.

"it's not 'just a show', though." you grumble, crossing your arms and sending your oh-so-lovely boyfriend a glare. "you don't get it kento."

"this is serious shit."

nanami's giving you that familiar look he always has written across his face whenever you try to get him to understand your shows. it's not a look laced with judgement, but one that genuinely doesn't understand what the hell you're going on about. he tries his best to share your interests— he's quite literally watched every single episode of every single show you're interested in— however, that doesn't change the fact that it just really isn't his thing.

"you remember two last year when that manga chapter came out?" jogging his memory isn't usually this difficult, it's just that you give him a word-for-word summary of every manga you read.

"the one you cried over?" he looks confused, but he's slowly getting to the same point as you. "with the zombies?"

"okay, they're not zombies; but, yes, that one."

with his head nodding, you can see he's not quite getting your explanation. this is impossible. "kento, remember you had to come over because i was crying too much? it was the really bad night. my favorite character was killed off remember?"

his brown eyes widen with realization and he begins to nod an affirmative yes. "you were so upset i thought you were breaking up with me."

"exactly!" you exclaim so loudly that his head snaps towards you in shock. whoops, maybe you're a little too pumped about this. "this show ending is almost more upsetting than breaking up with you!"

that definitely wasn't the right thing to say to him.

nanami's brows are furrowed, contemplating the weight of what you just said and you can't blame him. you did just compare losing him to the death of a fictional character; which is clearly crazy, but what else can he expect dating you? he's the one who's head over heels for your obsessive nature— with romance and fiction— and you have no reason to feel bad for simply loving something so much that it consumes your very being. after all, you love him even more than that.

"you'd cry more if you broke up with me, though. right?" he's searching for an answer that he already knows the answer to.

your arms around his neck and you press a soft kiss to his lips. "my world would end without you." a smile graces your lips and you know that that expression is his favorite sight in the world. he's told you so many times before that if he could name an eighth great wonder, it would be you. "if i were an author, i'd never kill you off. you're too handsome."

a light laugh escapes nanami's lips and he showers your cheeks in kisses. "you're ridiculous." he says, shaking his head in disbelief and amusement; yet he still gently grabs you by the waist and carries you to the couch.

resting his arm over your shoulders and pressing the play button, he gifts you with a firm kiss on the forehead. "let's watch, baby."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

#mourning my beautiful green eyed baby boy #୧ ‧₊˚ 🎐 ⋅ my writing #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento fanfiction #nanami kento ff #nanami kento fanfic #nanami kento hc #nanami kento hcs #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #nanami ff #nanami fanfiction #nanami fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk hc #jjk hcs #jjk x y/n #jjk ff #i.e. they're just drawings?

[dairy-farmer]

Titans always liked to party. Even when everyone started their own lives, barely seeing each other, they always found time to throw a party once in awhile.

This party was the biggest one yet. After one of the massive threats to the universe was dealt with, some of the JL members stayed, almost all of the Titans and even the Outlaws. Dancing, games, chatting... After a few hours, there were only a small group left: bachelors, who wanted to get drunk. Hal didn't really care about an age gap, everyone left were adults. Dick was always game. Roy wanted Jason to let loose, so they both stayed.

At some point they started playing Truth or Dare, but they figured out fast that they were too drunk for any action, that's why only truth was left on the table. Questions soon turned into only sex relating. The most adventurous time. Just the best fuck. Best blowjob. Until one of them mentioned Tim's name. That's when they figured out, that all of them had sex with Tim and that all the best times they were talking about were with him.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! yesss!!! they're all heavily buzzed and are slurring their speeches, too drunk to even think of getting up from where they're sprawled over the floor on cushions, couches, and assorted arm chairs. there are occasional bursts of giggles, some rolled eyes from hal and jason over the other two giggling like school girls over something. but its not like any of them have anywhere to be. no girlfriends, wives, or children expecting them home. and also being drunk and alone is sort of pathetic so at least together they're socializing and having a nice time while occasionally forcing one another to do humiliating shit until it's late and they're tired and have decided to just keep getting 'truth' out of each other while they wind down from the party and enjoy the company of each other and pretend they're not nearly as drunk as they feel.

dick is failing at it the worst and is nursing a trashcan in his lap while seated criss cross apple sauce on the floor. hal has managed to claim the entire length of the couch and has his head rested on one arm rest and ankles crossed on the other. roy is slouched with his elbows on his knees on a chair and drinking a slowly melting slurpy because he'd volunteered for a 7/11 run. jason has an icepack over his eyes and a can of ginger ale in one hand and pretending they're not all there while he...batmeditates the drunkness away.

things are civil and friendly, occasionally they all share a laugh at someone else's expense while plying truths out of each other. there's an unspoken brotherhood in bachelorhood that makes being open and honest while wasted so much easier and so much more...freeing. they don't have to worry about judgement, about hurting someone's feelings. when among kin you can finally admit that sure that girl you dated on and off for years kind of sucked at giving head and that the best blowjob of your life was at an executive's christmas party while out on the terrace of some hotel.

roy sighs about the sweetest tits he'd ever seen being on someone he had no business hooking up with.

hal commiserates with him admitting that despite his playboy ways, the best fuck of his life had been this barely legal little thing that he'd been waiting to get his hands on since they were sixteen and that hal also would have risked losing his balls if anyone in the league ever found out about it.

jason, from under his icepack, grunts out about how his sweet little pocket pussy had let him put the mouth of his fully loaded favorite gun into his fucked out little hole that was dripping with jason's mess.

hal gives an impressed whistle and jason lets out an, honest to god, wistful sigh about how he should've put a fucking ring on it.

they all give a shared shudder at that though. if there's one thing they all understand its that none of them are...husband material.

still that doesn't mean there aren't...longings for the position and its associated benefits.

dick gives a miserable groan into his trashcan and a wet gag where nothing comes up before miserably sniffling and asking them if they thought that tim would mind dick sabotaging his birth control so he'd have dick's baby so dick could have his not so secret desire to be a daddy to more than just the goldfish in his apartment.

and it's the mention of tim that sends them all back into their drunken reminiscing and bragging about conquests and the mental all stars roster they each have regarding their hookups.

of which tim seems to be the mvp of.

it's not shocking, not to them. if others had been in the room they probably would've been surprised that the most prude robin actually wasn't all that chaste. but they all knew exactly what tim did in his spare time (them). the only part that's surprising is finding out that they all have become intimately familiar the hot tight little cunt that milked their cocks like it was handmade by god to do it.

it's not long until that's all they're talking about.

hal closing his eyes and moaning about how cute and pink tim's tits were when they bounced as he rode him. jason about how tim was so obedient, letting him bend him all sorts of ways and positions and being such a champ and letting jason keep going even when he was passing out from exhaustion. dick is fully laid on the floor and mumbling about how nice and cold the hardwood is while talking about how tim's mouth always looked so cute stretched around his cock-that he didn't even have a gag reflex. roy is shamelessly hard on his chair and talking about how its a shame tim doesn't cross paths with him more often that roy would've loved a repeat, that jason and dick were fortunate to share a home with tim.

"i bet you've gotten some great pics" roy sighs.

and that's when the other three freeze for a moment because...pics?

and that's when roy shows them his phone where tim has sent roy pictures!!!! of tim's little hands cupping a tit in his bathroom mirror, of tim's finger pressed into his dripping baby cunt.

and hal has to fumble for the short 30 second clip in his phone of him slamming into tim and grunting as he cums as deep as he can get. jason claims tim has left countless pairs of panties in his apartment and that tim didn't let him record them fucking because he thought jason would shove it in bruce's face whenever he was angry at him (which jason absolutely would do) and dick whines about how his baby timmy never sends dick that kind of stuff!!! but would he? if dick asked would tim send him naked pictures of him in bed??

it goes without saying that tim is their favorite, the one they have the most fond memories of, the one that was their most memorable experience.

but that doesn't mean they don't all feel a bit competitive when they all text him to see who he'll respond to first.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous #haltim #dicktim #jaytim #roytim

[realtalk127]

alright fuck it. i can't sleep and i need to talk about this scene from the last episode of critical role.

because holy shit if this ain't some of the best rp – nay, storytelling in general – that i've ever seen. (buckle up, it ain't gonna be short.)

laudna: i made you a doll. because dolls are for children. and you're a child.

the way she says this is not nice! it's biting, it's snarky. she definitely seems to mean it as an insult – and she probably does! – at first. but laudna's idea of a child is much more expansive than just a cheep insult, as she makes clear shortly.

then ashton's response: i've never had a doll before. this is the nicest thing anyone's ever given me.

i don't know if this reaction melts laudna a little (if it does, she doesn't show it visibly), or maybe she was already coming to the conversation with a more nuanced definition of 'child', but either way, the conversation shifts immediately – and the next two sentences clarify where they're both coming from here.

laudna: i like children. // ashton: i don't.

she likes children! and we knew this, of course. marisha, the god of intentional rp showed us this within the first few moments of laudna's screen-time way back in episode 1. but still! it's worth repeating. despite the bite of her initial comment to ashton, she doesn't necessarily mean it as an insult. i don't know that we could entirely call it a compliment, given the context, but at the very least, i think she intended it as a point of connection.

after all, our data re: Laudna And Kids is not limited to that one scene from episode 1. there's also the parallel scene that mirrors it (with a happier ending) back in episode 38, when laudna first visits the sun tree after her resurrection. we also know (via a 4sd episode that i don't care to dig up right now) that laudna had another friend before imogen, who was a little girl.

and i think it's that little girl that's the most important piece here. we don't know anything about that story except that she exists, but i'm willing to read between the lines and make an assumption that laudna – on average – has better luck getting children to be kind to her (when they've not yet been taught to be cruel) than with adults. there is an innocence there that laudna needs! she needs people who haven't been hardened by assumptions and pre-judgements and all that bullshit. for laudna there is safety – both emotional and literal physical safety – in a childlike perspective.

ALL THAT TO SAY: laudna's associations with childhood are, generally, positive. for a variety of reasons.

but!

ashton's are NOT.

ashton's childhood sucked. from the jump. he was a part of a shitty cult that he barely remembers, and after that they were in an ophanage. their associations with childhood are overwhelmingly negative, and likely associated with feelings of helplessness and loneliness.

whether or not laudna intended that original comment ('you're a child') as an insult, we can pretty safely assume ashton took it as one.

they continue:

ashton: they're awful. // laudna: they're not.

NOW, we're getting into the meat of it. where before they were dancing around a metaphor, it becomes immediately clear what's really being talked about here. ashton is saying 'i'm awful', and laudna is emphatically saying 'no you're not.'

which! first of all, is so insanely generous of her. after what ashton just put her through less than 24 hours ago, laudna has every reason to affirm ashton's assertion that they are, in fact, awful. but she doesn't. ashton knows this, which is why he amends his original statement:

ashton: they can be.

they're saying: perhaps i can concede that i am not always awful, but let's at least agree that sometimes (like specificaly, oh, i don't know, LAST NIGHT) i can be.

laudna: you should remember what it's like to be one.

ashton: i do. it wasn't great.

the LAYERS, y'all. the LAYERS. the important thing here is that it's all in the context of that first comment: you're a child. which is, critically, a statement made in the context of ashton's decisions the previous night. they're talking in generalities here, but they're mostly talking about last night.

so!

when laudna says they should remember what it's like to be one [a child], she also means: you were a child last night, but not in a cool, whimsical way, just in a shitty, immature way. AND! when ashton says they remember, and that it wasn't great, they're saying they know they fucked up last night, but all they know of childhood is an overwhelming helplessness, how can that possibly be spun to a positive?

and this, really, is the crux of their two differing worldviews. these two have a lot in common – much has been said about that in game and out – but this point is where they split. laudna has survived, by embracing her childlike nature (admittedly, to a fault, at times). how to keep from being hurt? just keep everything fun and whimsical! nothing to worry about here, it's all just a silly little game! and she has also needed people who share that perspective. people who are willing to take her at face value and without any of the negative assumptions and prejudices they may have picked up along the way.

ashton, on the other hand survived by growing up immediately. they got through their own shitty childhood by becoming an adult (or acting like one anyway) as quickly as possible and STAYING that way. ashton needs to have a tough exterior (there's the made-of-stone thing again) to feel safe. (admittedly, from an audience perspective, this veneer is basically see-through. but ashton doesn't necessarily know this. they're trying their best. so from their perspective, the tough guy thing is Working.)

laudna: you should find more joy in your inner child.

she's saying two things here:

(1) you can be soft and be safe. those can co-exist, aND!

(2) i need you to be soft for me to be safe. when you have this false tough exterior, it hurts people. it hurts (hurt) me.

which is certainly a resonant metaphor to play with for the literal ROCK GUY who just got literally MELTED into LAVA 12 hours prior.

ANYWAY- that's what i've got for now on this scene. i'll probably never stop thinking about it, and there's even more good shit from later on in the scene when they talk about the doll, but that's it for now.

#critical role #laudna #ashton greymoore #my thoughts #cr3 #bells hells #this SCENE you guys #i can't stop thinking about it. #it's just THAT good

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

It's Who We Have | Part Four

Summary: After Nut's funeral, Billy and his estranged friend share some choice words | Word Count: 3.7k~ | Warnings below the cut!

General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Warnings: language, mentions of neglect, mentions of bullying and sexual assault, islamophobia

“Take those fucking sunglasses off, you look like a prick.”

Billy winced when he knocked his right hand, bandaged and bloody, holding it close to his body, the other pulling the sunglasses that Paddy hated so much off his face.

“Why didn't you call your sister?”

Billy scoffed, “Like I'm gonna be the first to tell her. She'll find out in her own time.”

Paddy simply sighed from behind the steering wheel, his fingers twitching with the need to say something, but unsure how.

“A fucking Halal butchers? Who put you up to do that?”

Now it was Billy's turn to sigh, “nobody.”

“Oh yeah? Nothing to do with these English Flag-fucking-Crusaders, whatever they're called.”

“Listen mate, please, I don't need this right now.”

Paddy simply let out a frustrated breath, concentrating on now tailgating the car in front of him. Billy slumped in the passenger seat of his friend's car, feeling that Paddy amongst the little remaining group of friends, would be the least judgemental.

Turns out that wasn't true.

Billy resisted to cringe when he heard Paddy's voice on the other line when he'd rung him from the police station, hoping at least that he felt worse than he looked. And he looked pretty shit.

He thought, Lana wouldn't be faring much better.

He could feel the deep, dark judgement and anger seeping off Paddy, in the way he gripped the gearstick and his grunts of annoyance at usual menial things.

God fucking help him if she ever found out.

She'd pretend she didn't want to kill him, but would work on a way to do it in her head before she ever said it.

If he was being honest with himself. He'd had far too much (albeit not as much as Lana) and was angry, upset, annoyed. And he wasn't even sure what at.

At the time, it was easy to be annoyed at anything.

Just so happens the Halal butchers was right in front of him.

“Not told your sister then?” Paddy prodded whilst stopped at a red light.

Paddy was usually so sing-songy in the way he spoke, something carried down through his Irish family. And though he was technically the first of his generation to be born in England, the few times Billy and their mates had gone down to his for drinks, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were right back in the bustling centre of Londonderry, with the statue of Mary placed ceremoniously on the mantelpiece, as well as every shelf in every bedroom.

Not that Paddy himself would describe himself as religious.

Since meeting him in the first year of College, Billy had always tagged him a sort of ‘class clown’. It was easy to laugh when Paddy was around. And whether he meant to or not, he was just funny. 

But here, sat beside him, being interrogated very much like he had felt the night before by the police officers who’d picked him up, that aloof, silliness that Paddy most often wore, was nowhere to be found. 

“Not yet,” Billy answered simply, trying not to fiddle with the damp bandages around his hand. “You gonna?”

Billy shrugged, feeling as if this were only the beginning of the questions that he was likely to get from those closest around him. 

And Paddy need not even say what was on his mind, his fallen expression of disappointment was enough as he pulled up beside Billy’s flat and pulled the handbrake up. 

“Get out my fucking car.”

The door opened a good ten seconds after she’d knocked, and when Libby’s bright, blonde hair appeared in the doorway, a phone in one hand, her friend looked nothing short of shocked.

“Come in, just on FaceTime with Ami,” she muttered, ushering her in without question and closing the door, “No, no, I’m still here, carry on.”

“So anyway, this old Chinese lady is like ‘oh my god, I love your hair, you’re so lucky’ but she wouldn’t stop fucking touching me!”

She couldn’t help but grin as she heard Ami’s ramblings over the phone and Libby’s dramatic replies, all while they filed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“Oh dear, Ami, however will you survive. There’s worse things than people touching your hair.”

“Not fucking much,” Ami answered with a huff, “anyway I’ve gotta go. Hi and bye, misery-guts!”

Libby snickered and turned her phone so that she could at least wave goodbye on the camera. To which she gave halfway between a playful smile and a grimace, and stuck two fingers up at her instead.

Once Libby hung up she snorted, “sarky bitch. Milk, no sugar?”

She nodded, “Yup, please. As long as you’re not too busy acting like a proper sister-in-law.”

Libby scoffed, handing one of her Emma Bridgewater mugs to her and leant back against the kitchen counter, “Abi has yet to pop the question yet, friendo.”

She hummed a laugh, tapping her fingernails against the mug.

“So…you saw him.”

“Unfortunately, yes. At the wake…”

“Jesus Christ. Billy there?”

She huffed a mirthless laugh again, “Unfortunately yes again. Billy punched him in the face.”

Libby cocked her head, a sort of worried grimace on her face, “Cute, I guess? Or stupid.”

The tea burned her tongue, but she was eager to do something to occupy herself, otherwise her thoughts would, “Probably a bit of both.”

“What is the deal with you and Billy?”

There it was. The golden question. An answer she’d like to know herself. 

She sighed, “Libs-”

“I mean, you two used to be thick as thieves and then bam suddenly he can’t talk about you anymore. And now that you’re back, which I love by the way, it’s like whenever he sees you he sees a fucking…ghost or something.”

Suddenly Libby’s bright eyes seem much too intense, and she has to look between her feet to get a grip of herself, sighing as she taps her fingertips on the mug of tea she holds.

“Listen I know he’s not always been there for you in the way you needed-”

“It’s not- I don’t know. I always had this feeling like…he didn’t really like me, just tolerated me.”

She doesn't need to look back up at her friend to know there's a sad expression there. And the moment is so utterly quiet, that she can hear the neighbour next door mowing their lawn, both the smell and haze of fresh grass drifting lazily through the air.

It reminded her of Cranstead Fields.

Fuck, why did everything have to circle back to him.

“Billy is a lot of things. Cruel is not one of them,” Libs sighed, “maybe just stupid.”

When they both gave an exhausted and yet relieved laugh, the tension somewhat shifted.

“I love him, Libs. I don't know if I should, but I do.”

Her friend opened her mouth, about to reply or add something. But her lips clamped shut immediately.

“God, you're both insufferable,” Libs laughed, crossing her arms, “you two need to be adults and talk it out. Or do some therapy on the NHS, I know that really helped you.”

She rolled her eyes, “knowing my luck I’d have fucking Becky as my therapist. If that happens I'm face timing you from the edge of a bridge before I jump off.”

“Dramatic.”

“And don't mummy me, doesn't suit you.”

“Suits Abi just fine.”

“Ew, Libs.”

Libby had tried her best to make her feel better, and for that, she was nothing short of grateful. Some good needed to work its way back into her life at the moment. And the way her loving friend deemed fit to lift the mood, with a small glass of white wine, was not such a bad thing either. 

In truth, she can’t help but wonder, that if she’d met Libby while she was at secondary school, she likely would’ve walked right past her. 

Libby had always been popular, not by some maniacal grasp to preteen power, but through her bright, happy smile, stellar sense of humour and ability to make friends with just about anyone. 

If Libby was the explosive, firework-like presence in school, then she was like a ghost, merely living between planes of existence, enough to interact with things and people around her, but not enough to leave any lasting impression.

Or at least that’s what she thought.

They were through the second episode of Gogglebox and nearing the end of the little glass of white when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

“Hang on, Libs. Lana’s calling me.”

Libs’ head pulled back as if in shock, “what she calling you for?”

She shrugged and pulled the phone to her ear. Lana sounded hurried and stressed, like she was holding too many things in her hands. 

“Sorry to call you like this.”

“No, you’re alright, what’s up?”

“Listen, I know you and Billy aren’t exactly on great terms but do you mind checking on him? I was blackout last night and dunno what happened to him.”

“Uh- yeah, course.”

“Cheers. I’ll ping you his address.”

As soon as she hung up, Libby was instantly wide-eyed and nosy, asking a barrage of questions. All the while she tried to give any vague answer she could, scrolling her contacts for Paddy’s name.

“Jesus Christ, who you calling now?”

She held a finger up, “Hiya, Pad. Yeah I'm alright. Listen, you've not seen Billy about have you? What do you mean why am I asking you, you've still got Billy’s live location from that time he got lost having a piss at the club like two years ago, remember? You're my private investigator.”

She shot Libby a glare when she loudly sipped her wine loudly, to fill the silence.

She furrowed her brows, “when you say don't be mad, it insinuates I'm going to be mad, Patrick.”

Libby watched her friend's face fall, nearly losing grip on her phone held at her ear, and a sudden eerie silence when she heard Paddy's low voice on the other end.

“No, I won't tell him you told me, Lana asked me to go check on him anyway. Cheers, bye.”

She didn't spare Libby a look, her body suddenly pent up and eyes aflame. And her friend knew she meant business when she polished off the last slither of her wine before pulling herself up.

“Well?” Libby asked as she watched her pull on her coat hastily, getting frustrated when the zip wouldn't do up the first time.

“I'll tell you later, just know, I want to fucking kill him.”

Year 8 seemed to exist in a realm suspended between the innocence of Year 7 and the weighty responsibilities of Year 9, ensnared in the relentless passage of time. School, once brimming with purpose, now felt hollow, as did much else. Yet amidst the drudgery of daily life, the mundane trek home stood out as particularly grating, a constant reminder of the mundanity that had settled in.

Her mother's refusal to heed the school's advice regarding HPV jabs only added to the melancholy of the year. It was Miss Slator, her form tutor, who provided a semblance of maternal care, just as Mr. Thornby had the year before, acting as a paternal figure. Their concern and support, though appreciated, couldn't dispel the sense of disquiet that lingered within her.

The memory of receiving her first HPV jab during lunchtime, accompanied by Miss Slator, was tinged with discomfort, both physical and emotional. The sharp sting in her arm served as a poignant reminder of her vulnerability, exacerbated by the absence of her mother's reassuring presence.

She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, jumping out of her skin when Billy’s bag slumped down on the spot next to her.

“Is it sore?” he asked, huffing down on the bench beside her, looking out at a group of teens playing footie at Cranstead Fields, despite the looming grey cloud hanging above them.

She rolled her eyes, “course it hurts, you twa-ow!”

It was light, and friendly, the way he punched her left arm, the way all the boys had been doing to all the girls at school after their jabs. But it still fucking hurt. 

“Dick.”

Billy smiled boyishly, pulling a bar of chocolate out his coat pocket. 

“That for me?”

He nodded, as if it were obvious, “for being so brave.”

“Don’t be sarky,” she scoffed, smiling albeit gratefully and snatching the chocolate from him. 

She folded it over in her fingers, the bright purple packaging tempting her to eat it now. And she didn’t say it, but she thought she might save it for later, so that she’d be less hungry if her mum chose to not cook any tea.

It was a sad thought to have, that she might rely on it.

“How is safeguarding,” he asked calmly, not reacting when her wide, panic-stricken eyes turned to him. 

“How-”

“Saw you in Mr Healy’s office,” he interjects, pushing the blonde strands of hair off his forehead, waiting for her to say something. 

Billy was almost disappointed at her response. 

The soft glaze of her eyes, wide and embarrassed, but near longing to lift the weight off her conscience. The way her shoulders dropped to make herself appear small. Crossing her arms, rubbing them lovingly, like she was desperate for some semblance of touch like this. 

He saw the bob of her throat and braced himself for those large thick walls she’d built before she even said it.

In that moment, as the crushing burden of her secrets threatened to suffocate her, she found a temporary reprieve in the simple act of confiding, even if just for a fleeting moment. And wanted to, so readily to trust him. Despite her best efforts to fortify her emotional barriers, the ache in her heart intensified, a visceral reminder of the profound yearning for the connection she so deeply desired.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

One could be mistaken for thinking it was early afternoon by the time she pulled up behind Billy's battered Vauxhall, it was still so bright outside. 

With a heaved sigh, she threw her bag over her shoulder and locked her car, having to take steady, easy breaths to calm herself as she crossed the road to Billy's flat. Cigarette smoke clung to her clothes as she crushed it beneath the heel of her shoe, the smoke burning in her lungs and the lingering nagging at the back of her head that at some point, she had to make a point of giving up.

With a click, a man in a tracksuit and a cap slid out the door that led to the flats behind the row of shops. His eyes were hidden under a shadow, taking wide, calculated steps as if to place as much distance between him and the property he’d just come out of as possible.

As if being caught doing something he shouldn’t.

A shiver crept up her spine when they passed one another, and his stark eyes lit up under the tip of his cap, peering at her in suspicion.

She couldn’t shake that feeling even as she ascended the stairs to Billy’s flat. The sizzling nerves didn’t even seem to replace it.

Her stomach felt sick with emotion when he answered the door in tatty looking clothes, his shirt pilled up from years of use, hair somewhat greasy and an old, bloody bandage around his fist. 

Billy took up the doorway with his height, his arm stretched across it in a gesture of defence. But it seemed as if when he laid his darkened and tired blue eyes on her, she saw him shrink. 

“Can we have a word?” She asks, her tone flat in a manner that tells Billy he knows exactly what she's here for. In a manner that was tired, disappointed and saddened in equal measure.

“Fuck’s sake…”

Billy’s flat smelled of mildew, proven by the fact his clothes were still damp on the airer and all his windows were shut with the curtains drawn. His shoes were piled up in the hallway, one on top of the other, clearly favouring a particular pair that sat above them, as if he couldn’t be bothered even with the choice anymore.

He offered her a cup of tea, no doubt in an attempt to calm the rocky waves of panic surging through him. It was clear Billy was embarrassed by the state of his flat, as he glanced at her every now and then to make sure her expression was not one of judgement. The only one he found was one of despair.

Billy looked at his friend as if she was other-wordly. The world he’d made within the tight confines of his flat, did not have space to fit the idea of her inside of it.

His shoulders slumped, and the words that came out his mouth did not seem like his own as he sat awkwardly on his sofa, even that, covered in old clothes and crap. And all she could do was shake her head and peer out through his thin curtains, not able to look at the person she thought she had known once upon a time.

Both of them felt it. 

The surge of heat that flooded their veins before an argument. 

“I don’t need you to parent me. I’ve had enough of that already.”

She wanted to laugh bitterly at that, but managed herself somehow, “maybe you need it, Billy. These new mates of yours don’t seem to be doing you any favours, do they? Was it their fab idea for you to do it? Hm?”

“Does it matter?” he replied dismissively.

“Can't you see you're being fucking groomed, Billy? Fucking hell, what would Ami and Abi think?”

Their friends.

Did it mean nothing anymore?

“They’re different.”

“Oh, are they? Until they’re not. Until they do something to piss you off and then all of a sudden it’s ‘people like them’. What about their mum? Because fucking newsflash Billy, she wasn’t born here either, you’ve not got a fucking clue!”

He is quiet. His jaw tight, body wound so tight that even she could see his frustration.

“What’s next? Lobbing a brick through Mrs Ahmed’s window?”

He scoffs, his hair slipping off his head as he shakes it, “I fucking hate when you’re like this.”

“Like what? Speaking fucking sense?” she laughs bitterly, “I'm alright with that if I'm the only one holding you accountable!”

“When you’re stubborn.”

Billy needn’t ever shout. 

She could sense his deep annoyance in not only his gaze, but his voice.

And she thought with anger in her veins, burning with fury, that what did he have to be annoyed about?

“Who the fuck even are you Billy.”

It came out her mouth without even really trying. She didn’t know if she regretted it or not when she saw his expression. He was still defensive, that much was clear, but in the way he looked at her, it seemed as if he was grasping for something.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked, almost desperately.

“Because I’m not used to this version of you.”

“Well, sorry Billy, I grew up. I of all people wish we could go back to the way we were, but here we are, fucking adults, avoiding each other like fucking teenagers!”

“There’s no need to shout.”

“Well give me something then!” she exclaims, “something, to let me know you give a shit.”

“Fucking hell, I punched the guy who broke your fucking heart, is that not enough?!”

“Now who’s the one shouting,” she claps back with venom, “And so what, you-”

She stops herself, her face falling somewhat. And when she’s quiet so suddenly, Billy’s bright eyes meet hers, hands clasped and rested on his knees, leaned forward on the sofa as if to appear smaller. His expression is confused and irritated in equal measure.

“What did you say?” she asks in a whisper, blinking slowly.

“I…punched the guy who broke your heart?”

She feels the lump form in the back of her throat, her eyes curiously flitting between either of his, trying to understand what he is thinking without having the courage to ask.

Billy shakes his head, “I mean- is that not what he did? He fucking dropped you like you were nothing.”

Silence envelops either of them for a solid few seconds. So long that it’s suffocating, like the walls are closing in around them for the first time in years. And for a split second, with her eyebrows furrowed in pain and hands shaking, she looks just as she did on the last day Billy saw her at college.

“You don’t know, do you?”

What she says then sends a full-body shiver that begins at the base of Billy’s neck and clatters all the way through his limbs. Blood turning cold immediately. 

What does he not know?

He finds himself restless at the idea. That he was perhaps supposed to know something, but irrevocably doesn’t. That everyone else is aware of something so obvious.

He didn’t know it wasn’t just some nasty breakup.

He didn’t know that photos and videos of her in her most vulnerable moments were sent around the school, rumours circulating on MSN, hateful messages scribbled on her desk. And that she didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that the guy who had humiliated her and dragged her name through the mud, still had the indecency to rub it in her face. 

He didn’t know that because of what happened, she nearly left school entirely, but that it was so late into the school year, she just waited it out before college. But that those few months, were absolute torture.

Billy never grasped the magnitude of her anguish—the nights spent in tears, the days clouded by despair. The sanctuary of school became a battleground, where every glance felt like an accusation, every whisper a condemnation. Yet, she soldiered on, clinging to the hope of escape, even as her spirit withered under the relentless assault.

He didn’t know that her mum berated her for weeks, even months. Didn’t give her bus money and didn’t wash her clothes, in what she perceived was fair punishment, thinking her daughter had purposely sent suggestive photos and videos to a random boy at school.

She had hoped he knew... but now faced with the daunting task of revealing her truth, she recoiled, sickened by the prospect of laying bare the depths of her suffering.

But in all that, as tears made her vision go blurry, a watery smile lifted to her lips at the memory of when he’d come to her at Cranstead Fields. He hadn’t been pushy and simply accepted that she needed comfort. And a friend. She remembered wetting his school shirt with her tears, and the smell of the detergent his mum used, with jasmine fabric conditioner pods. To which she thought now with delight, that he still smelled the same.

He was like home to her.

Home.

What was home now?

“Oh Billy…” she whispered through a choked, almost bitter laugh, “...it’s sweet…that you did all that just because you thought he broke my heart.”

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[mageknight14]

I loved how NEO pulled the rug out with Rindo’s character. At first, he generally seems much more sociable and outwardly friendly compared to Neku and then the game quickly goes "yeah, nah, he’s a huge fucking mess too." He’s a good kid fundamentally at his core but he can also be whiny, hypocritical, passive-aggressive, and kind of insensitive at times. He has a tendency to be judgemental and harsh to the people around him while not acknowledging his own faults, like when he complains about Beat joining the team even though he saved their lives beforehand because he’s not Neku or when he gives Fret shit for fawning over Eiji Oji and Kanon while falling for Motoi’s BS. He’s so pessimistic about himself and others that not even a death game that heavily emphasizes the value of teamwork can get him to fully come out of his shell, which is where his time-travel powers come in AND EVEN THEN it’s a double-edged sword since on one hand, it forces him to actively step up to the plate and survey the situation to find the best possible solution, which leads to him slowly growing out of his shell, but on the other, it also leads to him becoming overly reliant on his time travel so that he can walk back from potentially life-changing decisions without having to worry about it since he has a magic reset button. Which ends up biting him in the ass. Hard.

He’s one of those types of people who is ultimately a thinker and planner instead of a do-er, but his being young and overly impressionable takes this personality quirk to such an extreme that he's foundationally useless to most groups. He’s the type of person who you have in a group project who sits around and does nothing, but then complains with the project does poorly because he couldn't be bothered to speak.

He's so unconfident and directionless that he uses effectively Instagram as a means to listen to someone who sounds like some 2deep4u philosopher post dumb flowery bullshit that effectively has all the meaning of "Drink water when you're thirsty." and he admits to finding such "deep" meaning in these posts that it supposedly helped him through life. Because he's 15 and doesn't know anything.

However, all of this makes him interesting as a character because he’s, again, still a fundamentally good kid at his core. While he’s shown to have a fuse, he is also the kind of person who has the ability to think his emotions through. That's what we ultimately see when he and Fret finally talk and drop their beef. The game depicting Rindo's capacity for self-awareness and emotional reflection is a positive revelation of his character strengths. He proves that he's capable of recognizing when he's in the wrong and knows how to apologize, a trait he shows quite a few times throughout the story, while also doing everything he can to set things right as well as be more understanding toward how his friends feels.

He’s kind of the guy who will drop everything to help a little kid out, even when there’s no tangible benefit to doing so and he and the others are shown to be on limited time, shows empathy to his friends/fallen enemies, and feels massive amounts of guilt for his actions, even if he didn’t know better at the time.

Hell, the entire endgame is fueled by his selfish yet understandable desire to save the people he cares about most from total erasure, to the point that he’s willing to risk thousands of lives to do so. But not only is he shown to be internally grappling with himself regarding his decision but he’s also willing to take responsibility and ensure that EVERYTHING goes right not just for himself and his friends but the people of Shibuya in general, in a parallel to Neku’s own selfish if understandable decision to put the bonds he formed in the original game (particularly with Joshua) over the actual city.

Characters aren't interesting simply by switching between 2 different character traits. They're interesting when all those traits are being expressed at the same time for reasons that are consistent within their internal logic. You gotta be a good writer to pull that off and you gotta know when to show off these dimensions during your story to achieve proper dramatic effect when the time calls for it and NEO I feel does this pretty damn well.

#rindo kanade #twewy #the world ends with you #neo twewy #ntwewy #neo the world ends with you #analysis post

[melodygatesauthor]

Vampire Moon Knight Headcanons

Moon Boys X f!Reader

Photo Edits were made by ME. You can use them for anything you wish, but please TAG ME. Thank you! (p.s. They were supposed to look badass but look how cute their teefs look).

This was an anonymous ask, but I've been brewing some thots with @welcometostayingawake and @360iris on headcanons with the Moon Boys in a vampire AU! They also inspired some of these ideas!

Summary: Headcanons on each Moon Boy and how they would be if they were vampires.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, vampire!Marc-Steven-Jake, Blood (duh), minor blood play, smut, vampire feeding, blood drinking, cock-warming, sex, human/vampire relationship, technically age gap because they're vampires or whatever, reader beware it's bloody so there will be some freaky shit, Reader is a human, dacryphilia, little bit of spit kink.

Word Count: 1.6k

Marc:

Fighting -

We've already seen Marc in action fighting, but if his girl is getting harassed, or threatened, he goes feral as a vampire. Unlike Jake, he will do his best to keep himself from actually killing someone, mostly for yours and Steven's sake, but it depends on how threatened you are. You're too precious for him to bear the thought of losing you. He might just go against his better judgement and...snap.

Feeding -

Feeding is just as much an intimate experience as sex. Marc already feels like it's a terrible idea for you two to be together, you being human and him being a dangerous vampire, but he can't seem to get you to leave. When he needs an extra boost of strength, or help with recovery after a particularly brutal fight, he will turn to you for feeding, guilt etched in his eyes.

Since you'll be losing some blood, and probably get cold, and temporarily his own body will be warm, he will suggest huddling together. Not in a traditional sense though, he wants to feel your body, and he wants to heat you from your core. So you'll sit chest to chest, you upon his lap, cock sheathed in your soaking channel as deep as he can go.

Marc will start out saying things like, "it's only going to hurt for a second alright? Just...promise me you'll tell me if it gets to be too much?" It does hurt, but not for long, and then you relax, feeling his cock pulsate inside of you during your warm embrace.

He moans while he feeds, softly, slowly churning his hips while he does it. He realizes finally how fatigued you are, he went too far, drank a little too much. It happens sometimes, and all Marc can say is, "sorry baby, got a little carried away there, you just taste...you taste so good."

Fucking -

Feeding does turn to more as Marc finishes drinking from you. You're weakened now, so he can be strong, but his cock is raging inside of you, thickened with desire, pulsating with a burning need. He knows you're tired, but insists, "you don't have to do anything baby, just lay there for me."

He shifts you onto your back, hovering over you. You're lightheaded from blood loss, but that doesn't stop it from forcing quiet moans from you while fucking into you gently. His face is buried in your neck, resisting the urge to take more than he should. You smell so good, he's drooling over your shoulder.

He's trying so hard to keep his composure, saying things to you like, "that's my good girl, I know you're tired, just a little longer and then you can rest," and "there you go baby, fuck, you feel so good, just a little bit more."

When he kisses you, it tastes of iron, but you don't mind, it is your blood after all. Marc holds you tight when his thrusting becomes ragged and then jolts while he fills you with his cum. You whine, gushing over his cock, pained from the bruising grip the vampire has on your spine.

Steven:

Fighting -

Steven refuses to kill, yes even for you, but he will make someone wish they were dead if they try to hurt you. You've never seen Steven like this, beating someone within an inch of their life and warning them never to touch you again. You wonder if he just doesn't know his own strength, or if he knows it perfectly well and is just insanely overprotective.

Feeding -

Just like he's a messy eater, Steven's a messy feeder too. He prefers to avoid live feeding, it feels...wrong to him, but sometimes it's a necessary part of his condition, like before a big fight or after he's sustained injuries, and you're happy to provide.

He will hold the other side of your neck for support and whisper, "it'll only hurt for a second love...just a little taste s'all I need...just a little." There's a sharp pinch, you wince, but then you relax, even nudging further into his sharp fangs. Steven's lips are soft as he sucks out your plasma. Like Marc, he moans, but he will sit back, eyes dark and hooded, looking at you like he's drunk. He'll gulp before going in for more.

He'll say things when he comes back for air like, "that's it love, I'm almost done," and "you're doing so well, I'm nearly finished darling."

At some point when he looks at you, he's covered in blood all down his chin, and all over his chest. He doesn't wear a shirt during feedings, he knows he's messy. You wonder, once he's finished, how much of it he actually drank versus how much of it was covering his body.

Fucking -

During the feeding, he's been rubbing his erection on you hungrily. He knows you're weak, so like Marc, he's not expecting much out of you, but he needs you. He needs anything, the palm of your hand, the friction of the smooth skin along your thigh, hell if he could just slide his cock between your pussy lips, he'd be satisfied.

"Love, please..." He's say, rutting himself against you, "please let me have you."

You'd groan, feeing weak from the loss of blood. Steven wouldn't waste time, thrusting into your limp frame.

"S-sorry love, it'll be quick, I promise I just need...oh my...just a minute..." He'd say as he pounded into you.

You start to think he really doesn't know his own strength. He's so rough, slamming into your body hungrily, unable to control his primal urges to claim you. You are his after all. He's left his mark on you, just like the other two had. You belong to them.

When he comes, filling you to the brim with his spend, he's loud, moaning like an animal into your ear. Your body trembles under his, cunt clamping down in waves over his girth while you feel pure euphoria.

Jake:

Fighting -

Despite his love and care for Steven, he doesn't follow the alter's strict no kill policy. Jake doesn't hold back when he's fighting, especially when it comes to his princesa. If something were to ever happen to you, his long and meaningless existence (until knowing you that is) would be for nothing. While Marc feels remorse if ever having to kill, even for you, Jake feels nothing other than pleasure. He saved you, and to him, there's nothing more worth taking a life for. Perhaps if anyone in the vicinity hears the screams, they'll think twice before committing a crime around Jake Lockley.

Feeding -

When you first offer your body to Jake for feeding, he asks if you're sure when you say, yes, he says, "mm, mi amor, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself once you let me have a taste."

He's not as soft or apologetic as Marc or Steven, in fact, he doesn't even warn you about the pain, he just bites. When he drinks from you, it's not sloppy or messy at all. Jake likes it best when you're sat in front of him, your back to his chest. He also likes to touch you while he feeds.

His hands are wandering, touching your tits, pinching your nipples roughly, drawing whiny breaths from your lips. He likes to run his fingers over your clit. After a while you start looking forward to feedings with Jake, knowing how good it feels when he touches your body. You wonder if that's the intention.

"You taste so good mi amor." He tells you, holding you close, feeling his erection against your rear. "I can't wait to feel you."

He's so confident in his ability to avoid making a mess that he wears his white button-down shirt the entire time, with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows of course. He likes kissing you when he's done feeding. He says that your lips feel better with blood on them.

Fucking -

Weak or not, Jake has you on your knees, holding the back of your head in place while fucking your mouth. Your throat is a little dry, so he doesn't hesitate to hold your head back, draw a combination of blood and spit together in his own mouth and drop it into your throat before continuing to thrust into your face with his length.

Jake loves it when you cry. His cock is gagging you, forcing tears down your cheeks, and you're tired, wrecked, and just in need of rest, but he's pushing you to keep going anyway.

"Oh, you look so pretty when you cry bebita." He says, urging you on. "My beautiful princesa."

When he can see you aren't able to handle his oral assault any longer, he picks you up, lays you down flat on your stomach, climbs over you, and thrusts into your cunt from behind.

Close isn't close enough, he's laying down, keeping one arm at your side to support his body, but the other is underneath you, squeezing your chest. Jake likes to mark you with little bite marks on your shoulders while he fucks you relentlessly.

After he comes, forcing both of you to become a moaning, whimpering mess for a moment, he likes to lift up your ass and eat his spend out of you, followed by marking your ass cheeks and inner thighs with teeth marks, reminding anyone who might find you that you're spoken for.

Side note: Steven hates when he has to spend at least an hour the next day bandaging you up because of Jake's carelessness.

AO3 LINK

TAGLIST (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @my-secret-shame, @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction, @thatmomwitchfriend, @alexxavicry, @welcometostayingawake, @jake-g-lockley, @campingwiththecharmings, @steven-grants-world, @lia275, @minigirl87, @ahookedheroespureheart, @ninebluehearts

#vampire moon knight #vampire steven grant #vampire marc spector #vampire jake lockley #vampire moon knight agenda #moots #moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #jake lockley smut #moon knight smut #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #moon knight #dotm fic

[dnbcoded]

cdnb prompt: after his first encounter with ctechno, cdream uses high heels shoes bc doesn't want to look so short next to him and in the middle of doomsday ctechno finds out about this

OK. Let me see if I still got it.

He doesn't notice, at first. There's too much more things going on in his life to even begin to think about it.

Dream's sudden growing sprout is one of those things that he misses in the middle of everything, but still takes notes, waiting for the second he can finally go hibernate and think about it. In fact, he was waiting for that little retrive to capture everything about Dream and just shove it in a box and stop having to take note of everything that Dream does.

He is not repressed, chat. Shut up.

He doesn't notice, and he plans on not noticing, until Dream's little grubby, greedy, slender and surprisingly well cared for hands--until Dream gets him involved like the meddlesome man he is. Suddenly they were walking towards L'manberg's demise as Dream has wanted since basically forever, and Techno realizes --only the slightless bit regretfully-- that he played right into his hand. With horror, he finds himself anything but angry at being so easily led to a solution that benefits Dream and only Dream; rather, he thinks it's a little endearing, and that cannot be possible.

He tried to remind himself about how terrible Dream is as they walk, but the man is anything but subtle, there's a pep to his step--hes practically walking without his soles touching the ground from how excited he is, and he's talking Techno's ear off about how he plans to build the platform for the bombs, and he can hear his shit-eating grin as he discusses how little of L'manberg there will be left.

He's only a pig, after all. So he takes note of all of it, and tries his best to ignore it. He ignores, too, the way they're basically the same size, towering over Philza who's actually doing his job at scouting the terrain so they're undetected at dawn. He pretends he just trusts Philza's judgement, and not that he's terribly charmed by the other man.

This wasn't always the case. Once upon a time, Dream was at least a foot shorter, and more irritating than lovely, and he didn't talk about destruction. There was a hesitancy that Techno recognized as human. He had overcome doubt, and thus, humanity--while remaining mortal. Techno... was intrigued by that. (He'll only stop denying this fleeting crush once it's efficiently death and the recipient of his current adoration is long gone, he promises.)

Now, he's tall and regal, and as deathly as ever. He's a wildfire, a burning lamp. Techno is better than a moth.

His eyes still rake over the figure as he starts towering up, occupying only the faint morning lights as guide. Techno notes the possible enchanted nature of his mask, and hates himself for it.

It's as he's watching, that he notices.

"Bro, are those high heels?" And all at once Dream's height makes sense, even though it shouldn't matter to Techno. He's still gawking at the man who's--blushing. That's a blush on the edge of his ears, not covered by a hoodie for once.

"That's--shut up, don't be an idiot." He hisses, his mask suddenly pointing towards Philza as if scared he'll hear. Oh, this is fascinating.

"Nothin' wrong with being fashionista, I tell you." Techno says, smug, leaning the faintest bit down to look at Dream directly. "But a man that's, ah, homeless... you would think he had better priorities than heels."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, I HAVE A HOUSE!" Dream shrills, effectively making Techno lean away. Then his arms cross on front of his torso, the picture of a diva. The heels are a deep green, and they click as he steps back. Oh, how didn't Techno notice?

You were trying hard not to notice, chat whispers. Then, of course, it notices it has Techno's attention. eee, EEE, DREAMSIMP, dream dream dream, Dream in chat, hi techno :), eeeE, STOP SIMPING.

"Not denying the fashionista allegations, I see." Techno replicates. His companion huffs, and then turns back to finally get to tower up. And this time Techno allows himself to notice the shape of his legs--and no, he's not being weird, Dream's ass is on the way okay-- and the way it curls with the distinct form of a trained heel wearer. Techno has no thoughts about Dream's skintight pants nor the way the heels are beautifully integrated into his body, to the clear attention to detail Dream used to pride in, that he still has.

Something in Techno's chest aches. But it's barely morning, and they have a job to do.

"If you wanted to see how it felt to be tall," he calls back, placing a lazy hand around to make his voice sound louder. "You could've just asked for me to carry you."

SHUT THE FUCK UP, Dream whispered in chat.

#warrior.asks #warrior.writes #dnb #c!dnb #dreamnoblade #dreamnoblade fic

[spookyscaryskidnpump]

my thoughts on spooky month 6

copy pasted from a page and a half of google doc. crying. spoilers inbound.putting it under the cut cuz its super long. also swear warning.

Ok to start off LILA. LILA MY GAL NO UR DOING UR BEST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Im crying im actually fucginf crying. She's trying. So hard. Skid is trying so hard. THEY'RE DOING THEIR BEST PLEASEEEEE. Father Gregor can go EAT SHIT. THEY'RE TRYING AND THAT'S WHAT COUNTS GODDAMNIT.

Susie… Susie no… please… she deserves better istgggggg. What happened to their parents? Are they actually just busy? Are they DEAD? Holy shit what if they're dead. Poor Pump, poor Susie, god please just let these kiddos be ok. PLEASE. ABUELO WONDER IS TYING SO HARD BUT SUSIE KNOWS IT ISN'T REALLY FROM HER PARENTS IM CRYING. SUSIE NOOOOOO

FATHER GREGOR I HATE YOU. ok well he obvs did some good but STILL. GREGOR. STFU GREGOR. I get that hes trying but U CANT JUST SAY ALL THAT SHIT ABOUT JUDGEMENT AND THEN JUDGE HER HER FUCKING HOUSE GOT BROKEN INTO!! YOU DONT HAVE THE FUCKING CONTEXT!!!! ARGHFDGHJSGHJKAGHSD. Also DAMN IS HE A CULTIST NOW?? IS HE DEAD?? WHAT?!?!?!

ROYYYYYY ROY MY BOI NOOOOOO poor guy :( i understand why he hates the kids they DID kinda ruin him so. At least he knows theyre trying now :( and ross n rob just ASSUME he did something bad isnt helping here!!!! I get that theyre also trying to help him and its nice to see him opening up to them about stuff (even if we dont get to know what specifically PELO WHY) but PLEASE get this kid an anger management class or smthn PLEASE. He needs SO MUCH THERAPY. I dont think hes gonna get therapy because im pretty sure his parents are Part Of The Problem but STILL.  Also FUCKER LITERALLY GOT POSSESED BY A DEMON?????? THATS GOTTA BE TRAUMATIC TF

Side note i love ross and robert dearly and i appreciate them doing their best to help on both sides i love them smmmmmm AUGH

KEVIN AND RADFORD FRIENDSHIP REALLLLLLLLLL i am SO fucking happy about that!!!! Also Kevin having conflicted feelings on the kids FAIR. Similar thing to Roy except hes an adult with a semi-functional support network and is able to understand that theyre just dumb kids and they dont actually mean any harm. He’s harsher on the hatzgang cuz theyre teens and old enough to know stealing is wrong but Skid n Pump are little kiddos they dont know better. Also him disapproving of father gregor REAL THO. also HE GOT POSSESSED TOO?? TRAUMA CENTRAL HOLY SHIT

PATTY DESERVES TO HAVE A GUN ACTUALLY. Also JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST! IS HIS KID DEAD? IS HIS DAUGHTER OK HOLY SHIT. ALSO THEM HELPING THE KIDS PROPERLY IM CRYIG AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

WHAT WAS EVERMORE DOING WITH THE HOBOMEN???? HELLO??????

I SAW THAT CULT NECKLACE UNDER IGNACIOS SHIRT. I FUCKING SAW IT. CALLED IT BITCH!!!!!!

Rick just has the WORST luck lmao

STREBER IS ALIVE LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

DEXTER NO PLEASE AUGH…… HIS MOM TOO……

JAUNE AND ROSS’S DAD… HE'S REAL HE EXISTS!! I get ur trying jaune but that is NOT the best way to comfort poor lila… AT LEAST SHES TRYING THO I APPRECIATE HER

THE ENTIRE NEWGROUNDS ENDING?? THE THIEVES AND THE CANDY DEALER IN CAHOOTS WITH THE CULT???? HELLO??????

MOLOCH IS GONE. he deserved it but also THE KIDS ARE SO SAD ABOUT IT? Like they don't really get it but they just watched someone they thought was their friend DIE. HOLY SHIT.

finally. SKID AND PUMP. KIDDOS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ok for real tho theyre so much more self aware than the fandom and bulk of the show give them credit for?? Like Skid is VERY aware of his dad being dead/possibly missing and legit just doesn’t wanna talk about it. He knows what death is and he finds fun in it to cope. My poor sweet boyo… and PUMP. PUMP ANSWERING THE CALL AUGHHHHHH HE WANTS HIS PARENTS BACK IM CRYING. SUSIE AND ABUELO ARE DOING THEIR BEST AND HE'S TRYING SO HARD AND AAAAAAAAAAUGH. Also him getting possessed by Moloch while having Star-Eyes basically debunks the theory of the Star-Eyes being a form of possession which is FASCINATING. Anyway that scene with Susie and Pump got me misty eyed and then during the ending with Skid and Lila i actually genuinely started crying. I just want them to be happy. Please let them be happy. Please. PLEASE.

#spookymisc.txt #spooky month #spooky month 6 #spooky month 6 spoilers #sm6 #sm spoilers #not tagging all the characters cuz theres too many mentioned #anyway CRYING.