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confessedlyfannish · 27 days

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Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff #but I also just want to post it and get it out there #fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them #im bad at multiple drafts #my writing #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #batman #i live to make everybody dramatic #but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic #lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade #and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so #he doesn't need to change for nobody #nor feels inclined to #also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable #jazz: let's unpack that #clockwork: we never do #jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true?#clockwork: ...#also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING #wish i could #that is cash money right there #shoutout to 11thsense

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spielzeugkaiser · 9 months

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The ages in this show!! I have made some jokes about this before, but it gets me - with aging Ciri up and bringing her closer to Jaskiers age when they meet I can not help but draw parallels. Like Geralt bonded way differently with both of them (which makes sense because Ciri has been his Child surprise since birth and Jaskier just randomly turned up one day and followed him like a puppy) but it's so funny to me. also I'm 100% sure Jaskier was horny as fuck from the beginning so there was a whole different vibe from the get go

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #jaskier #geraskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #I wanted to draw Geralt being maximum tired by remembering that #and also #ALSO #one thing I still don't forgive them from S2! (or like one of many many things #it wasn't just Yennefer who changed Geralt #it was 100% Jaskier first #if Geralt had been in the 'butcher' mindset of 'I need nobody' when meeting Ciri #if he hadn't met Jaskier before and had been friends with him for TWENTY FUCKIN YEARS #if Jaskier hadn't worn him down a bit - make him less guarded and more open #Geralt meeting Ciri would not have gone as well as it did #It's my firm believe that Jaskier is Geralts first deep relationship outside of his brothers were he truly bonds and learns to trust again #you can take that from my cold dead hands #and not because Geralt is a loner who doesn't talk to people - we see he has a lot acquaintances #but nothing is ever permanent there #no one who stays #I want to draw something funny but in my mind!!#I want a fic were Ciri and Jaskier talk about this and Geralt acknowledges that too #also a fun version #ciri and jaskier shenanigans

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thecruellestmonth · 1 year

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Normal Batman fans: I don't want to engage with parts of canon in which my fave is an abusive asshole. I choose to engage with other stories instead, and I ignore stories that I dislike.

Nasty toxic Batman fans: Ooh, Bruce is being totally gross again, don't mind if I do~

Good Dad Bruce™ stans: Yes, I fully acknowledge that every single one of Bruce's kids is deeply—at times suicidally—traumatized by his parenting failures in canon, but he is NOT a bad parent! Bruce LOVES his family. Sometimes COMPLICATED PARENTS make their children feel WORTHLESS and ISOLATED, and then don't do anything to fix it! It's totally NATURAL, Bruce is just a COMPLICATED parent! He's COMPLICATED! Bruce LOVES his family. COMPLICATED, I say! NOT ABUSIVE! Would an abusive parent put a hand on his child's shoulder in a vague display of warmth once every few years??? Hm??? Yeah, I DIDN'T THINK SO, YOU STUPID ABUSE VICTIMS!! Bruce LOVES his family. He does nice things—why are you ignoring all the nice things that he's done? He is just an IMPERFECT person, he has made some teeny tiny mistakes repeatedly with 5+ separately acquired children over a twenty-year period. Bruce is just a regular IMPERFECT human being—which means that you critics are the UNREASONABLE MONSTERS imposing PERFECTIONIST standards on a poor innocent middle-aged baby adult man! Bruce LOVES his family. How could we expect exceptionally privileged hyperintelligent parents NOT to regularly use their position of power to make 4-6 children feel inadequate, unsafe, and alone?? What ridiculously high standards! Bruce LOVES his family.

#I hope you impressionable youngsters are learning the warning signs of abusive families and cults during your time in this fandom.#Bruce Wayne hate club #COMPLICATED PARENT BRUCE WAYNE #You know I personally like my own cobbled version of Bruce Wayne too. I like to ignore canon as I please.#But some of you stans work overtime to come up with the cruelest most hurtful insensitive and vomit-inducing IGNORANT opinions about abuse.#So eager to sanitize decades of a grown rich white male hero living his power fantasy on the backs of vulnerable and traumatized kids #--in your zeal to make sure that the world's most popular superhero doesn't suffer a whisper of criticism--#you choose to echo the excuses given to powerful people who use their power to hurt and control smaller people.#'He is complicated—' His behavior is abusive.#'He didn't intend to—' He did something abusive.#'But he LOVES his family!' He is an abusive piece of shit and he needs to do better.#'Well he is just an imperfect human—' Nobody is asking him to be perfect. Not everyone perpetuates abuse and refuses to change.#'But you have to understand that he had a very terrible childhood.' Every single one of his kids has had an inarguably worse childhood.#'Hm. That version of Bruce really is an abusive asshole. My homebrew isn't and he wouldn't do that.' DING DING DING! WINNER WINNER! 🥳👑👑👑#'Bruce is an abusive asshole. He is the perfect meow meow for my fiction about toxic families and dark themes.' YES. YOU WIN. 💗👏👏👏😘😘😘#IMPERFECT PARENT BRUCE WAYNE #negativity #fandom discourse #anti Bruce Wayne #child abuse mention cw #The funny thing is that this blog discusses Jason Todd the most but I'd say he probably suffered the least abuse.#At least he's a villain. What is Bruce's excuse for the way he mistreats and neglects the others?

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balladetto · 5 months

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It's raining up there.

Link feels it in the new slickness of each rung and the pitter-patter on his face. He's careful to grip tight as he climbs the bars, rust digging into trembling palms, only ever looking at what lies above in heart-pounding fear of what could still lurk below. Navi is a bright guide in the darkness, lighting the way ahead while she fusses over things like where they should go next. She says nothing of how scary the well was, but she sprinkles enough of her fairydust on his fingers that he can tell she's thinking about it too.

The rain picks up when they finally make it out, as though it's a friend who's happy to see him. When he puts it that way, it's not so overwhelming on his exhaustion, which already pulls on his muscles so hard that he stumbles to his knees. He drags himself a full body length closer to the stairs, then just— stops. Breathes.

It's near impossible, sometimes, to feel like he can keep doing this.

"Link," Navi softly calls. She lets him breathe for a few more seconds, before floating to the pouch by his waist. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

Right. Yeah. The sooner they leave this place, the better. They need to— they need to—

"To the Temple of Time, remember?"

Yes. Yeah. Okay. He swallows the thoughts he can't afford to dwell on right now and nods, removing the ocarina entrusted to him from his inventory. As he puts his lips over the mouthpiece and prepares to play the Prelude of Light, Navi flies up towards his hair to wiggle under his hat — as she always does when they do this.

Link sees a hand folding over the whole of his face, feels a breath sticky with rot on his hair, and recoils with a yelp before those long fingers can again burn invisible imprints into his scalp.

Navi freezes.

Link freezes.

For several uneasy moments, only the rain disturbs the abrupt silence. Shame churns in his gut, agitating the tremor that's returned to his hands and the racing of his heart. His fairy bobs up and down in the spot he left her in.

"Link," she starts, tentative, "are you okay?"

He— should be. He should be. Just as hesitantly, he gives another nod. Then, firmer, he does it again. He doesn't know why that happened. He doesn't know why he did that.

Navi idles a little more, clearly unsure, so he smiles a shaky sorry and beckons her closer. She comes carefully — gradually — like something skittish that needs to be coaxed from the bushes, or the steady warmth of a newly stoked fire, or the creep of a phantom presence crawling towards his back, fingers latching him into place, ripping strands of hair out with how much he struggles, panicked, terrified, too small—

Link scrambles away, breath caught in the back of his throat.

Another pause. Another suspended, fraught quiet. Raindrops sting in his eyes, and a distant, ridiculous part of him wonders if they feel the same on her wings.

"Link," Navi says, voice a bare whisper over drumming rainfall: hurt, pained, and desperate in the way she sometimes gets when she wants to heal him but can't.

His sternum crumples into his lungs beneath the weight of a sudden, penetrating grief.

"Nn— Na-vi," he returns, strangled. He reaches for her instinctively, apologetically, a dart of touch that goes forward and flinches back as his fingertips brush against her light. The warmth bites where it would've comforted only a while ago — before the dead, before the well, before the fear he's been trying and failing to smother since he saw towering, stalking hands — spreading across his skin like cold fingers locking in a vice-grip.

Horror twists in his veins. Thorns of despair sink deeper into his chest. This can't be happening pierces through the static of everything fading away, 'cause Navi — Navi, her touch, her fluttering against his cheeks, all her affection against the world's harshness — is the one thing of the so few things he has left to his name that gives him some form of real peace. Some form of maybe this will be okay. Patching over the hurts in his heart like her little hands can reach there, and now they can't— now he can't—

He can't do this.

A whimper breaks past his lips, ragged and undisguised, and tears welled up from waters that feel endless spill from blurred eyes. Link is bigger than this. He has to be bigger than this. But he's slept through seven summers and only truly seen nine, and want throbs from his core with a fierce, heavy ache. Something close to a scream leaves him as he raises a trembling arm and throws the Ocarina of Time to the dirt ground. He can't hear anything past his own panting, sobbing breaths.

He wants Navi. He wants Saria. He wants the Great Deku Tree. He wants to go home; to have a home to go back to; to not be someone so special; to not have to be a hero too young for his own sword. Link feels the rain like it's going straight through him to the insides of his bones as he catches himself on his palms, wanting, and wanting, and wanting, and wanting.

His fairy slowly drifts into what shelter the curve of his figure makes. She holds his gaze mutely, glow dimmer in shared misery. Ever the best at listening even when he isn't speaking, she catches his tears as if they're stars and doesn't touch him. He hates her for it. He loves her for it.

He cries harder for it, body heaving, mud clotting under his nails as he curls fingers into wet earth.

He can't do this.

#(But he must. And he will. He doesn't know how much more of himself he has to lose in the process‚ but he will.)#* lionheart / study.#( unwell because i thought about what the worst 'i can't do this' moment for him would be in oo.t #and was so gripped by the brainrot that i managed to get this doozy of a thing out #beneath the well fucks him up!! so bad!!#i think it's also because it's about touch. which i have been wanting to do an ic study about for ages #so like. yeah :') nobody's awake rn methinks. but send post i need this out of here asap 😭😭 )#* lionheart / ic.#* ic / para.#* v / a story that can't be changed.#ask to tag /#long post cw

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everything-withers-and-dies · 1 year

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I'm currently rewatching season 5 and the episode where Riley leaves just happened. The ending annoys me so much (even if does make sense). If Riley would just glimpse down, he would see Buffy there, doing exactly what he wanted: trying to give him a reason to stay.

Buffy isn't a perfect girlfriend but it's clear that she loves Riley and, more importantly, trusts him. Maybe she doesn't need to rely on him in a physical fight but she obviously believes that he's going to be there when she needs him (at least most of the time). She can't always lean on him, even when she wants to, but that has more to do with her own issues than her relationship with Riley.

The real problem is Riley's deeply rooted insecurity. He wants to be the one to protect her, especially in a physical sense, and feels weak, unimportant and emasculated if he can't do that. After meeting Angel, his insecurities really ramp up and he compares himself to him constantly. In his mind Buffy thinks he's inferior to Angel. When Buffy doesn't tell him everything or come to him with all of her emotional needs, he can't handle it.

Istead of addressing his issues, Riley blames Buffy. Buffy doesn't love him, Buffy doesn't need him, Buffy doesn't care about him, when really that's what he thinks and feels. He takes his feelings as fact rather than a reflection of his own insecurities. Even when presented with evidence of Buffy's feelings, he ignores it or twists it into further proof of his beliefs. He can betray Buffy's trust because he's convinced himself that Buffy doesn't really care about him.

From Buffy's side this is tragic: She's had to take care of her family and be strong for them, so she's had to hide her fears and pain. She's trying to keep Dawn safe. She has a lot on her plate and, understandably, hasn't really been able to spare much of her time or energy on Riley. She believes he understands and still will be there once things calm down. Then she finds out how wrong she was.

No matter what he says, Riley tries to put the blame for his actions on Buffy. He's so convinced Buffy doesn't love him that he isn't capable of listening to Buffy when she's telling him how she feels. He brings up his need to take care of her but, as Buffy kind of points out, it would really be her taking care of him by trying to fulfill that need. She's the Slayer and that's why she can't fully rely on anyone else. Riley wants something that Buffy can't give.

He then gives her an ultimatum: If she wants him to stay, she needs to give him a reason to do so. (Again, it's on her to save the relationship even though he's the one who broke her trust.) In reality, she can't give him a good enough reason to stay. This is all rooted in Riley's insecurity and Buffy can't fix that for him, no one can. Even if she showered him in love for the rest of eternity, it wouldn't change anything. It certainly hasn't before.

Still, she tries once again to prove to Riley that she loves him. She rushes to stop him from leaving but it's too late. No matter how hard she tries to yell, he can't hear her. And he doesn't look back.

I think Riley doesn't look back because he's certain that Buffy isn't there. He doesn't even glance back because that would mean he still has hope that Buffy loves him. The fact that she's there is proof that she does love him. Riley is blind to Buffy's love for him, so he can't see her.

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #buffy #riley finn #could their relationship be salvaged? a solid no #but this is heartbreaking for buffy #she tries so hard but it doesn't change anything #is it realistic? yeah #is it awful? absolutely #also angel leaving buffy because he thought she loved him too much #and riley leaving because he felt she didn't love him enough #somehow buffy's feelings are always wrong #and nobody actually listens to how she feels when she's trying to tell them #it fills me with rage :)#i've thought about this way too much #i wrote this so that i could stop thinking about riley #please i need to forget his existence #i ramble about btvs

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protagonist-art · 3 months

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Scratched Veneer question:

Can you imagine Veneer apologizing to Floyd for him getting declawed? If I were in Veneer's position I most certainly would, and I wouldn't blame Floyd for scratching me up or being bitter over losing his claws.

yes!!! 100% >:o) he still feels sickly terrible about it to this day... besides the draining his life, it's the incident he feels the worst about </3

I'll go on more abt it in the tags!!!

#it wasn't pretty at all #i can imagine out of everything it was the start of him really changing his mind #so at the time of Floyd getting declawed Veneer was in SO much pain himself... obviously not more but #being a privileged kid now needing major stitches and waiting for an ambulance he was so stressed and focused on himself #might not have even realised what happened until it was too late #for floyd- nobody came to save him from it. I can imagine it made it so much worse that not even Veneer was trying to stop it from happenin #I THINK LIKE. OVERALL Floyd has every right to never forgive Veneer or treat him with kindness after everything #in the same canon as the declawing; Floyd struggles immensely with the thought of Veneer even being on parole #Veneer actively tries to get closer and show remorse... but in the end he has to completely cut off from Floyd and his family #aside from Bruce who visits him and Vel in prison #Floyd feels TERRIBLE that he's so panicked over Veneer being around trolls and vice versa... he really SHOULDN'T feel bad about it #and that's something he's working on!! that he doesn't have to hold back feelings about something that fucked him up so badly #he's allowed to b bitter and he's allowing himself to feel that <3 #not art #anon

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enigma-absolute · 1 year

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Today marks 10 years since I first really stepped into the Eddsworld fandom and went through an event with it.

But it also happened to be first anniversary of its creator's passing. This year marks the 10th.

I figured 13 year old me wouldn't want to feel alone in that moment, so I made this to join her and go through the flow together.

Without Edd and Eddsworld, I don't think I would've had that accessible foundation, can-do mindset and enthusiastic influence, admiration and desire to animate and make stories of my own. I was a year too late when I first entered into the fandom and heard about it, but these past 10 years taught me it's never too late to make an impact and tell your tales - no matter how long they'll take.

Thank you Edd Gould. For everything.

#chris rambles #my creations #i sobbed a lot while making this and dealing with CSP crashing a few times during progress #long post #Edd Gould really did say to a friend that last set of green lines if you hit the readmore #it doesn't feel right to tag the fandom this time #EDIT: okay so i've got myself to cry a little more and put myself together #and boy howdy i understand now what it means when an emotional overload impedes your communication #(is annoyed at spelling+grammar mistakes in-comic and description but no i'm not gonna change it)#my god this fandom had both the best of times and worst of times - moreso fandom troubles than personal but still #fun fact: i got to meet a good bunch of the EWFM crew back in the day through the years and some are still good friends of mine #(this is when things were FINE and NOT WEIRD i'm talking early-mid 2010's here people)#some are moreso acquaintances and most just drifted away (that's fair!)#only one of them i know for a fact either one of us would take a bullet for the other (and if you're curious he was a lead role VA)#(won't say who for privacy but listen. A. if you're reading this: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I AM SO GLAD WE ARE FRIENDS)#yeah the friendship goes that deep and he makes me happy to say that I'm his friend #(he's also the only one of all the online friends i've mailed and penpaled to - who has sent stuff back. Nobody else but him.)#i need to chill now my goodness #there's so much ahead of me now bc of what my time in Eddsworld gave and I'm so so grateful <3

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sleepy-bunbun-ace · 1 year

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i'm going to continue talking about the prsk white day universe x persona au because nobody can stop me.

so, like the persona games, there's another world where all the shadows exist. it's called the mirror world and can be accessed through a mirror large enough for a person to go through. everything in there is exactly the same as the real world but it's always night and the shadows that represent the people there are... peculiar.

when you go through a mirror into the mirror world, you will find that the people you know act the opposite of what they would in the real world. even more interesting is that their dreams are different. a pure and kind dream becomes twisted and cruel. the opposite is the same as well. the shadows there wear a crown to represent the dreams of those in the real world. break the crown and the dream is lost.

even more peculiar is that they all go by different names. you can't have the same name as your counterpart in the real world, or else the mirror world will punish you in terrible ways.

shadows are unable to get to the real world. that's a fact. they are to stay inside the mirror world until their real world counterpart meets their end. unless you know magic.

there are spells that allow the caster to essentially switch a shadow with their counterpart in all but body. personality, dreams, habits. everything except the body is swapped. even the crown is swapped to signify that they are the shadow inside of their counterpart's body.

this is exactly what happened to the white knights. they tried to rebel against the kind after finding out his true intentions but the royal sorcerer casted a spell to switch them with their shadows. now they live in the mirror world and can only watch through the mirrors as their shadows commit horrible acts in their names that they can't even take back.

suki, amia, and giichi watch and watch and can do nothing until a fateful encounter with the mages of freedom (who are just as bad as the king no matter how much they deny it).

#ace rambles about aus #through mirrors and shadows au #project sekai #prsk au #tsukasa tenma #mizuki akiyama #akito shinonome #it was just originally tsukasa who was switched with his shadow and his shadow was the main villain while he was the one who was the guide #he was gonna be like teddie from persona 4 then i changed it #also the shadows' crowns are hidden away so nobody knows #not like anyone except a princess who lives life freely and a noble girl who was just a marionette are aware of it #also the “bad guys” are just as bad as the people who they want to defeat #they're just in denial #don't worry they get better #also sekais do exist but also not in a sense???#suki doesn't tell the others about the strange calico cat she sees in the mirror world because she thinks its just her imagination #i have some arcanas thought up but i still need to think of the rest

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unproduciblesmackdown · 11 months

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as ever like: no two things Need to be juxtaposed, much less like material vs material deathmatch Only One Can Be Good, much less am i thinking i have thee objective word on fuckall b/c who does and it's like perfectly boring & unserious whenever someone just throws out Takes that are just "i think...[xyz] is [adjective]" like okay.

but anyways thinking of how, though differing in execution in a lot of ways ofc, deh & bmc start out in a v similar place & explore a journey to self-acceptance from a despairing starting point....it feels like a lot of the hindrance in deh's exploration of its own Theme there is in like, hey. :) hand on your shoulder. it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more normal. whereas w/bmc it's that it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more abnormal

#like hell yeah. and Normality is fake the way that things like Gender is fake so. what's more universally relevant here #versus like. the idea that a winning takeaway re: deh is Talking With Your Parents / Kid like #yeah that could be an improvement? in other situations; that Talking is dangerous &/or just not going to happen / be irrelevant #meanwhile nobody is ''normal'' & the idea of Normality & its Moral Goodness / Requirement does affect everyone #meanwhile that bmc is clear on jeremy's gaining supportive relationships means support for his relationship w/himself #whilest he's also able to feel better insulated from feeling Defined by whatever instance of feedback/input #whereas with deh it's like. All These People....but log off & all you need is at least one parent who doesn't hate you No Matter What #including your unfortunate abnormality....Just(tm) make the phone calls am i right? well now he at least has a part time job #meanwhile difficult to compare w/e's going on w/zoe/evan vs mpdg4mpdg jeremy/christine. latter are cute & a coherent relationship #former are [nothing] to [i'm taking psychic damage] & fuck if i know what's going on besides The Ultimate Romance(tm) (negative)#he was a boy she was a girl they could politely tolerate each other's presence. maybe forever :')#i really don't know what's supposed to be going on there so like. for real share Any reasons you like each other in Either love song abt it #anyways like No Need To Compare but for me the juxtaposition is natural b/c it Does feel like they can be looked at re: a v similar Essence #but one is fumbling around w/it & really Not sticking the landing especially while the other just does exactly what it's trying to do #and ofc it could only help that deh had to go so far from the original [???] ideas & more Farcical approach #vs i don't think bmc's envisioning ever changed so fundamentally along its development at any point #like deh's story does feel like it still has the remnants of the earlier farcier versions even in its bway form #story of A Bunch Of Wild Shit Happens To Our Protag Whaaat & sure ppl are humanized but you still never made room for like a quarter of the #alana & jared? they're alright but they died #anyways & in all these things it's like It's Not A Big Deal lol i am not here to strive to have thee true & final word #right tf on if you as well know them both & like deh more / think It was the more successful execution of its story #though i have natural enemies like say [trt loyalists who are Like That] or forever [deh haters who are Like That]....we're different #erased a tangent also mentioning how i like the Parent Approach of mr. heere's arc better than any parents in deh lol. like of course #it's Not about his Feelings or being Imperfect or Human. like ofc he has the feelings & is human & imperfect #but he just gets energized & focused like welp bummer but ofc i gotta give my kid more support w/whatever he's going through rn #like hell yeah. one fun song we're good to go #bmc #deh

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iloveyouitisruiningmylife · 16 days

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today is the first time in like forever that i kept my hair open for the whole day without hating them by the end of the day and they're so soft and i tried on dark maroon purple lipstick yesterday with my bestfriend and she was like whoa. you look like. hot. and Mature. and i told her i love her because i kept using pink because it's cute pretty girly and i wanna feel pretty but it didn't really suit me but this this dark shade it's perfect i feel so confident and sexy and i hung out with my cousin little sister rn we used to be closest bestfriends but we drifted apart because of papa-chachu drama in childhood but

#she came over and she was like i don't have company to smoke with come on smoke with me #and i was like aaah okay #and she's so cute she's like okay have this vape after the cig to like remove the bad taste #and i gave her change for auto cause she didn't have any and she was like ill pay you back and i was like girl please shut up #choti behen hai meri itna toh kar hi sakti hu and she laughed and was lke arre aise hai fir toh main itne mein nahi maanungi aur do #so i was like bade hoke pakka abhi itni hi aukat hai #it's nice i feel happy #i also leaned my head on my office wali senior ka shoulder cause i was superrrr sleepyyyy today #only for like a minute but she was like aww are you sleepy it's okay so ja i understand this and she patted my head gently #like you know side face pe they pat🥺🥺🥺0 #and like i was like do you need help what do i do when she was working and she was like kuch nahi i just need you to sit here next to me #and keep chattering #it's so 🥺🥺🥺#like this is big okay she's kinda very cool and smart and like real focused and serious okay she doesn't like disturbances #and i love her brain i want to be curious and sorted like her i love the way she understands things slowly but completely #like just work wise i aspire to be her everyone gets so impressed by her i do too the sir was like {her name} ko ab bank audit acche se aa #gaya hai ab wo apne aap bhi kar sakfi hai sign kar sakti hai #WHICH IS SOOOOOO COOL like bhai he's a very good ca okay crazy intelligent and to have him say that. just wow #and i was whining to her ki everyone sucks my relatives suck nobody even appreciates that im killing myself trying to make a career here #all my mami cares about is that why couldn't i take ek din ki leave and show up at her fucking dance practice😭😭#so she was like aww it's okay leave them ill say it you're doing very good {my real name} im proud of you #i literally said awww thank you out loud itna sweet tha na #wow a happy vent post this is a first

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riaki · 5 months

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i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

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inkskinned · 1 month

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you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.

bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.

this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?

so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."

you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.

you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.

but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.

quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.

you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.

you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?

#warm up #spilled ink #writeblr

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 3 months

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Danny walked down his street with both a sense of wonder and dread. Nothing looked like it was supposed to. People were walking around with wierd looking phones in their hands that were all screen and no flip. Where was the number pad? How were they supposed to make calls? Cars looked completely different than what they did just yesterday, and there were many homes and businesses that were new or drastically changed. His own home had looked abandoned, like nobody had lived there for years. Dust and cobwebs covered every surface, and Danny had to put in the security code just to get into the house. Hell, even the lab was locked up. The lab was NEVER locked up. His parents would come and go from it too often to justify locking it. This could only mean one thing.

Somwthing had happened to put the house into Lock Down.

Lock Down mode was a feature the house had never used before, but it was something his parents had repeatedly told them about, especially as the ghost attacks grew more frequent. He input the pass codes and pressed his hand to all the bio-scanners he needed to to get the place running again. The protocol also makes the house attack anyone or anything that tries to enter with extreme violence unless they're a Fenton, so everyone in town knew not to approach the place when it was like this.

He ignored the weird sound of the scanners cleaning his handprints off the machines and the little mechanical arms retreating back into their hatches as he sat down at the family computer and powered it up for what looked like the first time in a century.

Wait.

As it turns out, he was kinda right.

He doesn't remember how it happened, but Danny Fenton has woken up over 200 years in the future.

Numbly, he began looking up the people he knew, Jazz, Tucker and Sam had all lived long, fulfilling lives, doing thier best to keep the search for Danny Fenton alive for decades before finally giving up. Seeing their obituaries was too much for him, and he had to step away for a while. Heck, even Vlad had grown old and passed away.

Which leads to the big question. What had happened? It couldn't have been time travel or else his friends would have been able to go through the Infinite Realms to time travel as well. Between int Infi-map and that stupid booomarang they should have found him by now.

So...what happened?

The good news is that there was now an entire league of superheros who might be able to help him. They even have an emergency and non emergency call number!

#dcxdp #prompts #fanfiction prompts #danny phantom #danny fenton #justic league #danny is so confused yall #he has no idea what happened

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thatweirdthingoverthere · 4 months

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I just had another weird thought about my fave spooky podcast and most recent hyperfixation.

The Five Seasons of The Magnus Archives Seem Thematically Parallel to the Stages of Grief.

Season 1, Denial - Jon feigns skepticism as he reads the statements and hides that he's scared of whatever monsters lurk in them

Season 2, Anger - Jon takes the offensive in that he begins to investigate Gertrude's death and starts spying on his coworkers in an increasingly antagonistic fashion. Everybody rightly gets very upset with Jon's behavior.

Season 3, Bargaining - Jon learns (part of) the truth; okay, how does he fix this? Look into the Stranger, save the world, maybe that will validate the fact he's becoming less human? What does he have to do to be safe?

Season 4, Depression - And I quote, "Boohoo, I'm so alone and a monster". He has lost a larger piece of his humanity and is going through the motions, nobody he can trust or talk to and sinking into the addiction of hunting victims.

Season 5, Acceptance - John has come into full power and, while he still doesn't like the fact that he does, he enjoys the perks of avatarism and being the harbinger of the change.

(If this observation has already been made I apologize but my late night thoughts need an outlet.)

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tma #martin blackwood #jmart #tma podcast

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moinsbienquekaworu · 1 year

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Like I think about pensions and retirement and working until I'm in my 60s and I wonder why I would want to be there for it when the only thing that I have to look forward to is shitty work for barely-enough pay for most of my life, up until I finally get to go (if I have my 40 years worth of trimesters) and enjoy life on a pension too small to do anything with. I literally hung out with my best friend today and we made hot chocolate and I think about retirement and suddenly I forget about every good thing in life

#people praising us like all those people in the streets mean anything #like our government gives a singular fuck #like the whole railway system and post aren't going to shit #like there's not less and less place in unis like your whole life doesn't revolve around working shitty jobs #like it's going to do anything #we keep going because you have to but they're not changing it #imagine being 62 and knowing you get to retire in 4 months #those are your last 4 months ever ans then you can go hiking and see the world #you've worked for 40 years. you've got all the paperwork done you know it's all there and you'll get your full pension #you're THIS close #and now you have to pick between two more years or even less money #like. i'm not 21 and i'm still - it's so oppressive when you think about it #my grandfather had a hard job and they paid him early retirement in his early 50s #my dad is his dad's age when he retired but he's got like a decade more to go still #and like he was here for us and he has time for himself too and we don't need riches or anything #but i just - i hate working i hate labour i hate all of it. nobody thinks this should be the point #i'm so.....#yeah #gonna go. i don't know. forget about it and sleep.#wow i have a ramble tag now

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sanemisstalker · 9 months

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N/SFW. Minors DNI

CW: GN reader / Men's Mental Health IG ???

KNY characters that I think are more prone to cumming in their pants / NSFW

Giyu

-He's inexperienced.

-I admire the almost fandom consensus of him being either resident, sexy, black haired, quiet anime boy, and/or 'nobody likes this friendless loser, he definitely has a tumblr'

-Any attention, platonic or not, from someone he's attracted to is enough to make Giyu get an apparent boner. He's prone to them when the people he admires say genuinely nice things to him.

-He doesn't get to hear nice things a lot, nor does he take compliments easily, so when he believes them, his body can't help but believe them too.

-He'd rather it not be that way, but due to his floundering mental health, and general isolation, Giyu isn't jerking off very often, nor is he able to get it up when he wants to, so he just goes... months without thinking about it sometimes.

-Could definitely cum from kissing too hard. Not just kissing, but particularly the rough treatment.

-Giyu must be incredibly touch starved, I imagine. I can't fiction the last time he's hugged someone. That scene where he's holding Shinobu, perhaps?

-So when he's getting so much attention, especially so much positive, romantic attention, even if it's a little rough, I'm sure his dick would be at full mast.

-he doesn't think he's predisposed to masochism or anything. He'd hope he wasn't, but it feels better when he's kissing, and maybe his hair is being pulled on, just a little.

-he'd be very embarassed. He wouldn't cry or anything, but I think he'd get up and leave the room. He knows you knew what happened, he didn't moan, but he flinched because the build up was so immediate, and he just couldn't stop.

-How pathetic. He can't show his face infront of you ever again. All he does is ruin good things. You're definitely disgusted by him.

-Even if he didn't realize how pretty his face looked during his orgasm.

Gyutaro

-Everyday I fight the gyutaro incel allegations, and everyday I fail.

-Gyutaro is socially inept, to put it blatantly. He spends an incredible amount of time locked away in his sister, and rarely chooses to come out unless eating for the two, or-

-if he needs to jerk off. A rarity, nowadays. Looking the way he looks can do a real number on one's ability to self-pleasure. He also isn't able to seek out assistance from any brothels- He still looks the way he looks. He's no Muzan- blessed with the ability to change his appearance at will.

-So when you're on top of Gyutaro, and he feels the curve of your ass in his palm, and your sex is positioned right on top of his, just barely grazing his clothed cock, as you try and teach him how to kiss (he's doing his best, but he knows he's not good-)

-He cums, and he cums hard. He grips down on your hips, and goes wide eyed, unable to stop the moan that rips its way from his throat... and then quickly moves you off of him.

-He isn't even finished when he moves you, he's shakey armed, and he nearly drops you.

-he's mortified. After all this time, he finally gets someone willing to touch him, and he blows it. He's borderline inconsolable- switching between begging you not to look at him and begging you not to hate him-

-but the noise he made was just so... pathetic.

Haganezuka

-Men dedicated to their craft don't have time to cum? Silly of you to assume he's ever even seen another person naked. That would imply he looked away from a sword for long enough to register it.

-On a completely serious note (as serious as I can be writing this), It'd be quite awkward interacting with Haganezuka sexually. His mind has been so consumed by perfection that, even if he wasn't dedicated to the blade, he's almost prevented himself from ever being able to cum in a social setting.

-He's developed a phobia of new situations he can't control. Especially sexual ones. Swords are easy and gratifying. Why would he ever need to cum when he can just make a sword and have it be respected and revered. Wouldn't that be nice-

-So when you started rubbing him over his pants, he was, admittedly, panicking. It's not like he went nearly 4 decades without using his dick... He'd just... gone 2 and a half decades without using his dick. Nowhere near the same.

-You'd barely even touched it, barely even pressed your lips to his neck, and Haganezuka was panting.

-The fear coursing through his veins, and the attention his forgotten cock was receiving- He grew more unsightly by the second...

-and then you pressed a particularly soft kiss to the corner of his lips and he was done for. That was his first kiss-

-Though shocked, you'd pump Haganezuka through his orgasm. It'd be enough to go through his pants, and spill over your hand.

-He'd grip your robes, and will you closer to him. His heels would slam into the floorboard, and he'd try to bury his face in your neck, attempting to muffle the groan he'd loose, only to fail tremendously.

-He'd be huffy after. Mad at himself and disguising it as being mad at you.

-'Well, maybe you shouldn't touch me anymore, if you found it so gross! Did you consider that? Just not touching me- ever?'

-but you saw how sad he looked when you said you'd do whatever he wanted. What a simple man.

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