#I think I’ll make little posts like these on occasion in between art posts

[weirdozjunkary]

I think it’s neat how the Sonic Team keep drawing Silver with apples. It fits him really well, with or without any symbolism

[radiant-reid]

omg cate the dad bod!spencer post😭 could u please write smth about that but like, not him being insecure about it because i see that all the time! but him using his new weight and filled out form to pin his gf/wife on the bed, face down and just breed her <3

i was a couple mojitos deep when i wrote this

Spencer Reid is so hot.

It's the only thing you're thinking about while he's undressing in the walk-in wardrobe without the door closed, leaving so many beautiful inches of his body to your sight.

The heat inside you is definitely his fault.

"Did you see Belle's art this morning?" He asks as he walks through the door, looking absolutely delectable, only dressed in pants that hang low around his hips.

"Mhm." You mumble, pretending to be reading your book.

Spencer catches you ogling him. It would be practically impossible not to, especially for a profiler who has lived with you for years. "What's your pretty little brain thinking about?" He walks closer to the bed slowly.

"You." It's the honest truth that he knows, and there's not much else to say.

His gloating grin grows as he walks across the room to the foot of the bed, climbing on and crawling up the bed. It gives you the perfect view of his body, where his chest is softer now, his stomach protrudes more, and he's filled out. It's so attractive. Your legs fall open under the covers, letting him stop in between them.

"Yeah? What do you want with me, baby?" He asks.

"Spencer, don't." You hit him on the shoulder, predictably shying away from telling him what you want. "You know what I want."

"Tell me." He growls.

You glide your palm down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his pajama pants. "Another baby." You say before you can help it, which is not the answer either of you expected.

He doesn't flinch at the confession, his eyes darkening. He leans in to meet your lips for a quick kiss. "You're serious?"

"Very serious." You assure him. "We can handle two, right?"

Spencer doesn't miss a beat in nodding. "Yes." He answers. "No more discussion needed."

He works quickly once you nod, grabbing your hips and flipping you over. You pull the covers off, lifting your ass off the bed and pressing your hips against his, where you can feel the evidence of how much he wants you.

"Needy, baby." He coos, hands gliding up under your tank. His wide palms press into your sides while his gorgeous long fingers spread across your stomach.

“Could say the same thing about you.” You bite back, reaching behind yourself and making contact with the hard length in his pants. “Did I do this?”

He groans as you touch him, easily being distracted from getting you undressed. “You’re the only person in the world that can do this.” He tells you lowly.

“Prove it, Spence.” You request, challenging him. “Put a baby in me.”

It acts like an accelerant to the fire inside him and in one swift move, your sleeping shorts are being tugged down you legs, flung across the room.

“First time last time, you know?” He reminds you, still feeling cocky about it. “Think I can do it again? Because I know I can.”

You scoff, determined to tease him to ensure you get the best sex possible. “You’ve got no way of knowing if it was the first time.”

It’s true that you don’t technically know since back then you were having sex so much your daughter could have been convinced on a number of occasions, but you’re both confident it was the first time.

Where you’re expecting words from him, you get actions first. His weight pins you to the bed as his hips rest on top of yours, and it makes you let out a moan without him even touching you. “Wanna try that again?” He offers.

You shake your head into the pillows. “Stop teasing.” You scold when he slots his thigh between your thighs, softly brushing your dripping core with his pant leg.

“You know I’ll always give you what you want.” He promises. He draws his thumb through your wet folds, making you moan as he hums in satisfaction. “Warm up round?” He offers.

Adamantly, you shake your head. “For round two. I need you inside me now.”

He does what you ask, lining himself up and gliding into you in one swift motion. “Fuck.” He groans instantly. You can’t see him put you know that he’s throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Feels so good.” You agree.

It’s not just his cock hitting inside you at the perfect angle. It’s how good he feels on top of you, how his gorgeous body molds so perfectly onto yours.

You muffle your loud moans in the pillow, absolutely not wanting to get caught and have to stop the intense pleasure all over your body.

“God, I want to put a baby in you so badly.” He groans, on hand sneaking back under your tank to touch your nipples.

“Do it.” You plead, rolling your hips against his when he thrusts fully inside you.

He dips his head so his breath is right against your neck before starting to kiss your skin. He speeds up, pounding his hips against yours each time.

“Spencer!” You moan out his name followed by a trail of expletives.

“I know, baby. I know.” He coos softly against your ear. “Touch yourself.” He prompts and you struggle slightly under his weight to draw your fingers to your clit. “Help me make you cum.”

You’re over the edge in seconds, pleasure waves pulsing through you and all your senses focusing on how good it feels.

“Fill me up, Spence.” You beg, tangling your hand in his hair.

He pants against your neck as he stills, releasing cum deep inside of you while he moans out your name.

He falls forward onto you, slightly sweaty chest sticking to you, as you both come down from your highs together. His weight grounds you and it’s warm like being hugged by him.

“That was so good.” You declare, catching your breath.

He nods in agreement. “Love any chance I get to fill you up.” He kisses your shoulder. “And make more perfect babies with you.”

“I just love you.”

[9w1ft]

hey, 9w1! hope you're having a great day.

genuine question, no intention to debunk or anything, just curious:

so, karlie is a model, right? that means, it's a part of her job to wear all the newest clothes and accessories, and then those stuff get sold to other people eventually, right?

isn't it possible that karlie possibly just has worn all of the new stuff already and it is a coincidence that some of those new stuff were bought by taylor because they're trendy or being sold at shops now? would it be likely that karlie and other celebs have matched clothing too coincidentally?

(disclaimer: i have no clue about how modelling or clothes work, i just saw a more eloquent version of this argument against koincidences/kaylor a while back, and wanted to hear your perspective on it. thanks!)

thanks for your question!

from my perspective, i think that this argument can work as an explainaway for a certain number of instances, but i do not believe it covers the breadth and depth of what we consider twinning.

because it’s not just about what taylor wears after karlie (or visa versa), but when, or for what special occasions, or the particular time elapsing between when things happen, or what taylor is doing while she is wearing said thing, similarity in composition, etcetera. and it’s seeing these things happen time and again, in aggregate, over time, and in combination with all the many other things we look at when we think about kaylor. whittling it all down to the point that models wear clothes before they are trendy is a little dismissive of the thought, intricacy, and planning that we as a fandom also laude taylor for in the same breath. taylor is a mastermind genius who says herself she hides easter eggs in clothing and jewelry… except for anything related to karlie?? hmm.

that is to say, while these explanations against twinning might be convincing if considered in a vacuum, they lack a consideration of the particular context of kaylor, and how people view taylor and karlie’s relationship.

for example, if the argument is to be made that taylor hates karlie and that they are feuding, it is so curious to me how she seemingly incorporates looks that are strikingly similar to what karlie wears into her art (music videos, live performances) which everyone can agree are personal and important to taylor. and if we get into some of the more intricate gaylor insistencies that taylor is broken hearted and karlie is just doing this to make money, well first of all how rude karlie is an established supermodel and businesswoman and it’s not even worth the investment to try and excite several dozen broke tumblr kaylors into spending money 😆 i can go more into detail on this point but i’m not exactly in the mood to throw down rn so i’ll leave it at that for the time being.

now, i recognize that this kind of thing will not do it for some people. and that’s fine! different types of things are compelling to different types of people. for me, as someone who was quite skeptical of twinning at first (back in 2017-18 when i first encountered kaylor), i’ve become quite taken by it all over the course of the last 4-5 years through the act of keeping tabs on it.

i encourage you or anyone curious but not swayed by twinning to take a look through these posts, and maybe keep it in the back of your mind for the time being. maybe at some point it will click!

[maxwell-grant]

I've seen several peoplerefer to Wario as an evil opposite of Mario. But it occurs to me that Mario is deliberately kept as an audience insert with his personality being minimal. Whilst Wario himself has a very well defined personality. So that leads me to wonder: If you were to reverse engineer Mario's personality from "Wario is Mario's evil Opposite", what would Mario's personality be?

The same as it is now? Which is sorta Wario’s personality or at least general life, but selfless and more straightforward heroic and friendly and humble, toned down several notches and tailored to fit a much less confrontational and verbal character, who’s supposed to be a versatile all-purpose hero and cartoon mascot instead of a loud and stinky hyperactive crayon doodle anti-hero/villain.

Wario isn't really Mario's evil opposite: if anything that's probably just something he plays up on occasion because it's-a good for business, like this post argues: if he was just some guy, nobody would buy WarioWare. I argued before that Wario basically just does everything Mario already does, but taken to comically gross and brutish extremes. It's in everything from his design to gameplay, even to his worldbuilding. He's not so much Mario's Evil Opposite as he's Mario's Gross Cartoon Bully Mirror: closer to the likes of Bizarro and Lobo, characters notorious first and foremost for their over-the-top wacko personalities rather than any notable roles or stories, specifically because said over-the-top personality is their differential and what makes them appealing to have around.

He's not Mario But Evil, he's Mario But Wrong: he’s Dada Mario, perfect as a vehicle for comedic cartoon brutality and parody and taking potshots at his rival or videogames at large. A character with such a strong personality and hook, it’s a no-brainer to build adventures around his troubles and trials and pigbrained ideas. Charles Martinet touched a little on the differences between playing the two, how Wario gets to be a funny stinker contrasting Mario as a purely good guy, but Mario in turn has a levity of expression and carefree spiritedness that the cantankerous Wario cannot have.

When you’re acting as Wario, does it feel any different than playing Mario? Like there are less rules, or more creative freedom? Can you cut loose a little more? Charles: *laughs* Well, sure, yeah, because he can be a little… he’s just *Wario’s voice* “Yeah, I’m a stinker! Hah-hah-hah! *raspberries*”.

He gets to play and be silly, whereas Mario is *Mario’s voice* “Okie-dokie! I’m a really sweet-a guy! I’m the nice-a man, I love-a the princess, woo-hoo!” You know, it’s a very different sort of job.

But, the Mario energy is so free-flowing, it comes up from the ground, and flies into the air while Wario, he’s going *Wario voice ‘Oh, I’m frustrated! I’m gonna get this next time! I’ll get you! I’m-a gonna win!” 

But it’s never so serious, as to be a harmful sort of energy, you know what I mean? That, I think, goes back to Mr. Miyamoto’s belief and my belief that the characters are fun, they’re playful, even in the sort of flaws of their personality.

Even back in his earliest days, he wasn't really evil (or even Bowser-tier evil) so much as he was a weird rival to Mario, an obnoxious brute who got in everyone's way whether he was taking over castles and forests with armies of monsters, or just sticking buckets in Mario's head so he'd have a bad day. Key to Wario’s success is that, as much as he was greatly developed further in the Wario Land and Wario Ware games, very little had to be changed about him to make him work as a protagonist. You kinda get Wario’s deal just by taking a cursory glance at him, even if you somehow don’t know who he’s a cartoon distortion of.

(art by futuristicghost)

The main change was that Wario’s grudge with Mario was downplayed in favor of a supreme arrogance that made him vastly more fun to watch in general (even though he’s never had any games proper, the same thing happened with Waluigi, and his shift from scowling scheming loser to dancing vanity weirdo loser), and also showed how much Mario was unnecessary for Wario’s adventures. He never really stopped being a party-crashing bad guy, we just got more used to him. WarioWare’s been around for 20 years now, and he’s still the closest thing that series has to a bad guy, even though he’s also the main character and everyone’s boss. Wario’s strong personality is his selling point and the reason why they gave him games of his own, it's a compelling feature to build narratives and puzzles and fun around.

It’s one of the main contrasts between him and Mario: Mario is built to fit his games, Wario’s games are built to fit him. He is much more well-defined than Mario partially because he was designed by an effort to make Mario more interesting than just someone who goes around saving princesses and doing things for other people: He was designed by developers who were fed up with the Mario formula and wanted to try something new, something that gave Mario more agency and character and possessions of his own to fight back for: it’s not for nothing that, if he is to be the dark mirror, if he is what Mario cannot be, Wario thus has to be epitome of selfishness and greed.

The team still desired to provide Mario with a new objective, rather than fighting to rescue the princess as seen in most Mario games leading up to that time. 

The game's staff wanted a "change of pace", and decided that Mario should fight to win back something that belongs to him, rather than fighting for "someone else's benefit" - Development on Super Mario Land 2

It’s part of the problem with trying to reverse engineer a reading of Mario’s personality through Wario: Wario’s design is built around spitting on Mario, you’re gonna be working with too strong a bias. Even his very first appearence was built around this: he was stealing Mario’s castle because of jealousy and spite (and not unjustified, going by supplemental comics that showed Mario treating Wario very poorly) over Mario having everything he wanted (Mario never owned castles before or after this, Wario’s theft might as well be punishment for this particular instance of hubris), and they never really dropped the idea that Wario has some kind of unknown childhood beef with Mario that may, or may not, be justified or true.

It’s part of why Wario on his own kinda makes for a lousy villain for Mario specifically: Beating up Bowser makes Mario a hero, while beating up Wario just makes him look petty and even mean (the Camelot cutscenes get around this by making Wario part of a comedy duo with Waluigi, and making it so they’re never really beaten so much as humiliated in karmic fashion for being such meanies, and most of the time the heroes don’t even know they are up to anything). It’s why Wario tends to make for a much better villain to, say, Toad and Wanda, or the WarioWare cast sometimes. On his own as a main villain, he kinda makes Mario look bad in a way that makes Wario less fun and doesn’t really say much of anything about Mario or does anything interesting with him.

He IS the worst of Mario, running rampant throughout the land, and when you get past Wario, Mario’s worst just isn’t that interesting. Yeah yeah, Donkey Kong Jr, the Power Tennis trophy scene, we’ve all sat through those, fuck off MatPat, Bad Mario is a boring idea used by boring people to make boring arguments or stories, the path-of-least resistance to try and make Mario an interesting character. Wario is as good as that idea is ever gonna get, and the absolute best thing they ever did to him was divorce him from Mario and his role as Mario’s Rival and let him exist on his own wacky worlds and games where he’s got nothing to prove and everything to take. Lets him be versatile in ways Mario can’t be, which is a necessary niche to have when Mario’s versatility is so central to what makes him one of the most successful characters ever.

Mario as a character borrows that design philosophy of early 20th century cartoon mascots like Bugs Bunny and yes his inspiration Popeye, of strong designs and catchy personalities left just vague enough that they can be, do or go whatever and wherever you need them to, but with at least one or more hooks to keep people interested. Mario’s is that, even without any dialogue, he looked completely unlike anyone’s preconception of what an adventure hero is supposed to look like (and still don’t, even though so much of videogames as a medium is build around Mario), which makes him an excellent character to throw into Alice in Wonderland weird fantasy realms, and with dialogue, he speaks in a ridiculous friendly falsetto (that was the diferential that got Martinet the role: instead of the Brooklyn gruff guy, he thought of a nice, jolly guy who he wouldn’t be miserable doing for nine hours a day) that is at odds, and in perfect synch, with the way he looks.

Mario is perpetually mismatched with his environment, and it’s part of why his games revolve around carefree exploration and obstacle courses through weird realms and impossible challenges: we want the little guy who shouldn’t be here to beat the odds, and we want to be the little guy who beats the odds. Mario consistently pulls off a pretty difficult trick of characterization where he’s both The Big Iconic Hero everyone looks up to as well as the clown underdog of every fight he’s in, because everything he faces is ten times his size and combat-ready in ways a funny plumber dude isn’t, and so the funny plumber dude goes on to prove himself without having to say much, and you can decide how he goes on about it, even make him shitty if you want to play around.

Videogames are a medium where non-verbal characters get to shine like nowhere else. The Mario RPGs tend to have the best characterization in the series by far (those, and the Camelot cutscenes) and they keep Mario silent even in instances he could be given lines: all the other characters are made better for having to do the heavy lifting with dialogue, bouncing off Mario, who’s holding the fort and giving them their cues. Mario’s made a better character by the fact that he doesn’t have to talk to make himself understood.

(Mario art by Gemma Roman)

I don't think Mario is without personality, I think he has mostly an understated personality, which might be a funny word to use for someone who hoots and hollers cartwheeling all over the place. I think of Mario as a character very similar to Asterix (definitely a go-to reference point if I was gonna write Mario, and Obelix for Luigi too, you’d be surprised at how much they match), in the sense that he’s rarely gonna be the funniest or most dramatic character in any given scene (although he can do that, to surprising effect), he’s surrounded by so much goofy nonsense and such colorful personalities and such dramatic stakes, that having him contrast with those winds up being the best choice. Our hero is a tiny, loving, humble character, not without flaws or excesses, certainly not someone who’s beyond failing or stumbling before reaching the finish line or making a fool of himself, and who’s made better off for it. You need that contrast, you need that guiding point.

To bring things back around I’d say that’s another thing he contrasts and compares with Wario: Both of them are central characters built in ways that free up all the other characters to thrive by contrast. Wario's sheer force-of-personality forces everyone to react to him, which makes for great comedy, while Mario’s happy to let everyone else do the talking, which makes for a more immersive adventure, and both of which allow for good characterization. A small star be the one that shines brightest to guide all the others, or a big laughing black hole of chaos everyone’s being pulled into whether they like it or not.

[spilledbeans116]

Someone liked my “do you want Vegeta HC” post so NOW YOU ALL GET TO DEAL WITH IT !!!! It’s my selfship ones soooooooo yeah.

🍓 BEANGETA LIST !!! 🍓

(Chibi art by @snaelrz )

-He doesn’t really like sweet stuff in regards to food. He likes strawberries but only because he associates them with a certain someone (ME !!!!!).

-He says heavy metal is his favorite music genre to be all tough. He’s a liar, his favorite band is ABBA.

-He still has his tail and a lot of times it shows his true emotions and he gets annoyed with it; It’s very expressive.

-He has scars. Why they got rid of his scars after Namek I have no idea I love them ❤️

-He has fangs! I love da chompers!!!!

-He likes to be little spoon (will never admit it).

-He likes Raditz, Goku, and Nappa’s company (he will never admit it).

-He likes everything to be neat and tidy, even when he isn’t. He’ll clean around the house but only when he’s alone. Folds his clothes nicely and everything has its proper spot in his room. Doesn’t care if he isn’t showered though because “I’ll just get dirty again anyway” until I force him to wash up.

-He’s incredibly competitive. Reverse psychology really works on him. If you say he can’t do something, he’ll go out of his way to prove you wrong. The “Goku button” is definitely a thing, don’t press it.

-Gets flustered easily and usually just pretends to be mad so people leave him be.

-Doesn’t really like PDA, holding hands is pushing it for him; he gets shy and over thinks it. He’ll place a hand on the small of my back, rub his tail against mine briefly, bump shoulders with me, etc

-When alone with him, he has a thing for physical touch. Likes running his hands through my hair, down my arms and shoulders, especially loves petting my tail or holding it in his hands *gently* so it doesn’t cause discomfort. He loves being babied after training sessions. Around the full moon he gets REALLY touchy.

-Loves compliments (ego boost 100) especially about how strong he is or handsome or simply how much better he is than Goku.

-He gets jealous of other men pretty easily, especially if he doesn’t know them. He will worm his way between me and someone else if he feels we’re too close. Shows more affection when he’s jealous to get others to back off. A quick kiss will knock me out and he’ll sit there smirking at whoever was talking to me (the only time he’s okay with PDA) (it’s super effective)

-He loves being called “my prince,” “prince Vegeta,” or “your majesty.” Different tones can set the mood for him very quickly. Usually if someone else other than me calls him any of these he gets agitated because he thinks he’s being mocked. My teasing nickname for him is “Veggie.” He says he hates it but he’s a liar, and gets really pissed if someone else calls him it (it’s our thing).

-He never uses people’s real names, usually goes with nicknames he comes up with to spite them. If he uses your real name, you’re either Yamcha (he thinks it’s funny), in a dire situation, dying (or close to), or being intimate. Calls me “princess” sometimes 🥺. In public though I’m always referred to as “woman.”

-He usually trains alone or with Goku but on certain occasions he’ll ask me to go with him. It’s usually really intense and he can get pretty degrading but knows when to stop. “Pathetic. Try it again.” “What the hell are you doing? Was that supposed to hurt?” He knows what I can and can’t handle. Sometimes I impress him and he gets…. Yeah.

-He likes seeing me goof around with Trunks and finds the motherly aspect attractive. Sometimes refers to me as Trunk’s mom.

He makes me all silly and happy !!!!!!!!

[thefanciestborrower]

Saw that character asks post, and now I gotta know more about these lads!

May I perhaps ask 1 and 12 to Ben,

And 1, 7, and 14 to James?

Also, I’m very curious if #84 had any special significance, and why you chose it!

Ben:

1. Tell us a little bit about yourself!

Sup guys! I’m Ben, and I’m one of the craziest people you’re ever likely to meet. No really, I’m pretty sure I am. I mean, not many other guys would be willing to sing on a table in front of all their friends or dive down a giant’s throat, and therefor that makes me special. I love acting, gaming, and hey if you’ve got YouTube then you should totally check out my stuff because I am ALWAYS looking to up that follower count. It’s mostly original shorts and things, but I think if enough people start spreading my work I could really make it big. What else what else...oh! I can play harmonica, which is a skill few have mastered and I am very proud of it. 

12. What’s your favorite part of being nommed?

Well what’s not to like! I mean, sure some of my friends think I’m a bit weird for enjoying it so much, but I think they’re secretly just jealous I’ve got the best spot to nap and play splatoon between classes. It’s warm, soft, and call me crazy, but even the slime is pretty fun once you get used to it. Plus I get to mess with James and listen, seeing how embarrassed I can get him with a few simple little pokes to his stomach is always a highlight of my day.  

James:

1. Alright, pred, tell us a little bit about yourself!  

Hey everyone, my name is James, and I guess the most interesting thing about me is that I play football. It’s...more of a hobby than anything really, but I love the exercise and it’s a great way to make friends. My favorite thing to do if I ever end up with some free time though is taking care of my plants. It’s a little silly and boring sounding maybe, but for me it’s also very relaxing. Which I think is important you know? I mean, I like hanging out with my friends, but I need my alone time as well from time to time. I also really like cooking and eating new foods. Again, that’s also more of a hobby than something serious, but there’s just something so fun about creating, well, art, with something most people take for granted. 

7. How does your favorite prey react to being eaten?

Oh, you mean Ben? He’s practically crawled down my throat on multiple occasions and I think that about sums up how he feels about the whole process. He’s pretty wiggly too, and while I’d be lying if I said the movement didn’t feel nice, sometimes it makes him a little hard to swallow. Mm, he’s also loud. Like, really loud. The second he realizes he’s about to be eaten he either launches into extremely dramatic ‘oh woe is me’ mode, or starts cackling like a madman. Not great for when I’m trying to avoid attention I’ll say that much. Even after I’ve got him down he practically never stops moving or talking, even in his sleep, and it can be pretty distracting when I’m trying to study. Would not recommend eating him before a test I’ll say that much. 

14. When being a pred, do you take your time?  Or do you like to hurry the process along?

Well, I suppose I tend to take my time. That is, I don’t really like to eat someone as fast as possible often. I’ve done it before of course for games and such, but sometimes that means they’ll get stuck or I end up with a sore throat, and it just...isn’t a fun experience. But I definitely eat faster than some other friends of mine, so maybe I’m somewhere in the middle? It’s hard to say. I do enjoy savoring Ben in particular when I can though. He tastes so good and...gosh this is embarrassing, but sometimes I’ll get cravings specifically for him you know? And when that happens I definitely go a lot slower than normal. 

Okay okay now get ready for this dump of American football knowledge I gained through my extensive hour of research lol and my reasoning behind choosing #84 for James’s jersey.

So apparently, those numbers on the players jerseys actually tell you what position they play! I thought it was like, idk, a way to keep track of how many people you had in the whole team or something hwjhfdhbd but NO! 

Anyways after talking with a friend of mine who is very knowledgeable about the physical attributes you need for different sports ball positions, we decided James is a tight end. Basically, in the most basic terms possible, they’re the players that are big enough to block linebackers and defensive ends but athletic enough to run fast and catch passes. They also tend to be on the taller side. So the number on his jersey is basically just there to tell you what he plays

I think there was some change that happened in 2021 that redid the number system but honestly I don’t care that much lol. Most stuff said 80-89 is the correct range for a tight end so I went and picked 84. Idk why that number specifically, it just felt nice 

[grandhotelabyss]

Here you go, a forlorn occasion to keep this semi-promise from a few weeks ago, but when else, I suppose?—

Maybe someday I’ll post the other good poem I wrote in that period, “and Aphasia and,” written in a daze the day after Columbine and within an hour of first reading “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d.”

Pretty overwritten, overwrought, but I still like it. I don’t know what I was thinking really. It was a Wednesday night, April 21, 1999, of course. I always had Wednesday nights to myself. That was the night my mother and stepfather would go out to “play nine holes”—in quotation marks because this phrase holds no reality for me—with their friends. I was between bouts of relationship drama, so no two-hour phone calls with their squalls of laughter and tears. I was watching the news, one of those weekly shows with Diane Sawyer or whoever, replaying the disaster footage, a helicopter shot of kids spilling out of the school, grainy footage of Dylan and Eric. That morning, at my school, all the goth kids had been called in to speak with the principal. I think he just asked them if they were okay, not murderously alienated. I only dressed all in black and wore glitter on my face on Fridays, what I called my “goth day”—I didn’t want to be entirely pinned down—so I didn’t qualify for the summons. Our curmudgeonly first-period teacher, an old physics savant pressured to make a statement, told us, and little did he know, “You don’t want to live in a society where something like this is impossible”—because it wouldn’t be a free society. 

Two weeks later the rumor went around that somebody was going to shoot up the school on May 5, that it would be—where did rumors come from before everyone was online?—the “Cinco de Mayo Massacre.”��It was supposed to happen between fifth and sixth periods. Many parents kept their kids out of school that day. (Not mine: my immigrant mother’s son was going to work for the American dream every day of the week. This is a terrible literary cliché but also the way it really happened. Some people will see what I mean.) The assistant principal came over the P.A. and in his nasal whine said they had no evidence there would be any such massacre. He pronounced “Mayo” as in “mayo,” the condiment. We took the whole thing in a spirit of solemn hilariousness; somehow this was thought to be a credible threat, by us if not by the administration, I don’t remember why. Fifth period was art class, my friends and I exchanged half-serious, half-ironic sentimentalities, what we meant to one another, just in case we went out and didn’t come back. When I got to sixth-period English, the teacher congratulated us for having survived. She passed out candy to celebrate.

But back on April 21st, a Wednesday, alone in the house on golf night, I read, for the first time and aloud, Whitman’s great elegy “When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d,” and then I leapt up from the couch and got a pencil and notebook and wrote this poem. I’d found the word “aphasia” scrawled on an English textbook; after I looked the word up in my enormous unabridged dictionary, I thought the gesture was ironic, and that the word, purely as sound, not as meaning, would be a pretty name for a girl. The observation about the word “and,” and maybe even its association with rivers, I think I swiped from a passage in a critical essay about Hemingway’s use of parataxis (I wrote my junior research paper on A Farewell to Arms). And that’s that. I edited the high school literary journal, so I put it at the end of that year’s edition, granting myself the privilege of the finale. (I already warned you: I’m not Simone Weil. I’m not trying to starve myself here. I will never be a saint.)  

I suppose there’s some adolescent male rescue fantasy at work in the poem’s implied narrative, but whatever, that’s a real feeling too. Mostly I just wanted to put words together in that way. You don’t have to have Peter Thiel money to be fucking sick of the exterminationist fantasy of eliminating “ontological evil,” this belief that whole fundamental states of human being and feeling can just be sheared clean off the world and then everything will be fine, because they can’t and it won’t. I mean, somebody left a comment on that Ethel Cain profile in the New York Times saying, and I quote, “Sounds like J. D. Vance.” What goes through people’s minds? It’s a poem. It’s not that it’s not important—it can be the most important thing in the world—but only if you relax. I miss those days of innocent creation, when the world felt newer, when it just came right out of your fingers. Ethel gets it:

grew up under yellow light on the street putting too much faith in the make believe

[...]

say what you want but say it like you mean it with your fists for once a long, cold war with your kids at the front

I’m not going to put up all my juvenilia, don’t worry, just whatever I come across that holds up. If I resent autofiction, it’s because I think the calculated lack of filter disrespects the purpose of a book, which should be shapely. So I would never in a million years write something like Knausgaard or, for example, Fuccboi (I finally caught up with his Contain episode and he did seem like a cool guy so I read the first chapter online but something in me still resists). Out here online, though, where we distribute our personae over the stream in a thousand bits and pieces, that’s a different type of art, of necessity a bit formless, of necessity an art of the self, or anyway a self.

Some people come here, I’m sure, for the politics not the poetry, but I have no grand theory or rhetoric about the occasion. Mostly I think reporting local crimes as apocalyptic national news events is actually causal in these matters and that journalists should stop. I have grimmer fears beyond that, but that’s all they are, fears. I only ever skimmed Programmed to Kill. Really, I don’t even want to know. I recently wrote a novel set in 1999, The Class of 2000, but I thought it would be cheap and tasteless to go on and on about Columbine, still less to echo the events with similar happenings in the narrative. There are two blink-and-you’ll-miss-it allusions, separated by more than 200 pages, when two different adult characters fear that my teen hero is a danger. First,

“What if there’s something wrong with him after all this? What if violence runs in that family? You know, think about those two little shits out in Colorado.”

And then:

What if Jack’s serious, furtive, troubled son had finally snapped, gone on the full Dylan and Eric ride, and set fire to a house in which he had never been happy? She liked that about the kid, though—she could never predict what he would do. He might do anything. It added a bit of excitement to her life.

Just emotional coloring, as it is to the poem it inspired and with which it has nothing to do. More than the poem I see something in the memory: jump up off the couch and try to create something beautiful!

[relaxxattack]

hi im asking u this bc u seem to be bee duo enthusiast so

ive been calling c! beeduos relationship platonic because i thought that was what their cc’s said, and i thought they had said that they were uncomfortable with ppl shipping the characters. But ive seen a lot of posts that say their relationship is canonically romantic? and i absolutely do not want to come across as homophobic by watering down a mlm relationship to just friends because that happens so much in media so.

what is the canon state of their relationship / ur opinions on the platonic thibg

dont worry abt answering if u dont want to!! i see a lot of differing opinions and i trust yours :)

aw it’s totally fine, im flattered you asked me about this!

let me put it simply: it’s a whole mess, lol.

first im going to talk about what’s happened fandom-wide that caused differing opinions, and then i’ll explain my own opinion/interpretation. :]

(this got really fucking long im so sorry)

ranboo and tubbo initially proclaimed the relationship was romantic, specifically in argument with the wiki editors who had set it as platonic by default. (you can see this in the vod where they decide they’re canonically married— it’s very funny. chat tells them the marriage is already on the wiki, they check, tubbo is jokingly offended that it says platonic and asks if he needs to up the romance).

tubbo also makes jokes about adultry, which sort of implies the relationship is not necessarily a platonic one.

(theres definetly more in that stream alone but it’s been a long time since i watched it so i don’t remember a lot of it.)

the wiki, because of this, suffers from going back and forth on platonic and romantic, seemingly unsure where the joke ends and the canon begins, or if its canonically a joke! a mess, as you can already tell.

this gets more complicated as the marriage bit goes on: outsiders, such as phil and scott, both at one point say “platonic marriage”, which then ranboo and tubbo agree with. however, when chat asks them if they’re platonic, they say the opposite. so there is a lot of confusion there.

there’s also the difficulty of being able to tell streamers and characters apart. ranboo and tubbo both don’t like being shipped irl, and that’s their boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. (they’re also minors, but tbh when they’re 18 in a year i will still be following their boundaries regardless of their legal age).

due to people not wanting to be accused of minor shipping, they started adding the platonic tone indicator to most of their drawings— basically a way of saying “no homo”. meanwhile, tubbo frequently on stream flirts with ranboo and makes quite a bit of nsfw comments towards him that are frankly hilarious.

this goes on for a while with nobody really sure what’s canon, but a lot of people assuming it’s probably platonic, until: the drama of the mods night. a few mods dmed all the wiki editors telling them ranboo wanted his canon character relationship officially set to platonic.

unfortunately for those mods; the very same day, a few hours later, ranboo on stream makes fun of puffy delivering him and tubbo “friendship flowers”. because, and i quote, “bruh. we’re literally married. this must be how the ancient greeks felt.”

in case you don’t know, the internet often jokes about how historians will call ancient greeks ‘very good friends’ when they are quite obviously gay. so in this context, ranboo is joking that people will call him and c!tubbo, who are married, “close friends”, when he doesn’t think they are.

basically, ranboo canonized romantic bee duo, the very same day the mods told everyone he’d wanted a platonic one.

chaos and drama immediately erupted everywhere. on tumblr, we were talking about how weird it was of his mods to do something like that without asking him first. we ALSO talked about how weird it was of them to assume that ranboo can’t make his own decisions, or assume teenagers cannot be in relationships without it being sexual. twitter did the same thing but in the opposite direction: called ranboo mods homophobic, or said they were mad ranboo felt pressured into making a romantic relationship canon ‘just so people could have mlm rep.’

i dont want to go into detail about the drama that happened that night because apparently official people follow me and i dont want to stir it up or have them come “clarify” things. im just saying what we talked about.

ranboo in typical ranboo fashion apologized quickly and seriously. he was deeply sorry for possibly offending anyone with how he’d portrayed his rp relationship with tubbo, and he also assured everyone the mod thing was just a miscommunication.

he said he would talk to tubbo and they’d decide once and for all whether it was platonic or romantic, and then announce so everyone would know.

it’s now been a few months and we've had no word from them on that development. we still have no clue.

-

now, here’s my opinion:

i want to take ranboos word for it that it was a miscommunication with his mods, but... we had it on good authority from people on the wiki team and people in the discord with the mods that (while it was happening) they were really going after the wiki admins, and also made some weird comments about it. that combined with the way ranboo seemingly had no clue (considering he canonized their romance that very same day).... it’s very. sus of the mods.

then there’s the canon we’ve got since then. although occasionally adults in the room have called it a “platonic marriage” and tubbo once (back when it first started) called it a “plankton tectonic” marriage, in roleplay it’s been... kind of not that. tubbo and ranboo make nsfw jokes about each other in character, and their characters also share a master bedroom and bed in the mansion. there's also the way c!tommy really thinks it’s a romance between them as well, and they agree with and play off that— for instance confirming that they “fell in love” when he asked, or ranboo confirming that they “make out on occasion”.

people will still put platonic on their art and posts, imo, because they’re worried about breaking ranboo and tubbo’s irl boundaries by looking like they ship them. or even just being accused of shipping real life minors. and that’s a valid fear to have.

the thing is though: c!bee duo are not cc!bee duo. they’re roleplay characters. cc!bee duo are not okay with being shipped, but they made their characters get canonically married, and call each other “husbands”. so it’s okay to write the word “husband” in your comic without adding “platonic” to it, i promise.

telling the ccs that their characters have to be platonic is... weird. it comes off as not only babying them, but also as saying teens can’t date without it being gross. which isn’t true.

(this is why seeing people overuse “platonic husband” so much bothers me. like, they ARE husbands. you can just say it. what are you trying to hide...?)

-

do i think they’re canonically romantic? ehh, its likely. it’s still okay to interpret them as platonic, because again, it’s hard to tell where jokes end and roleplay begins. like, maybe it’s jokes in the rp too, and c!bee duo are just friends. friends can and should be allowed to make jokes like that with each other! aro & ace marriages exist!

or, maybe it’s actually part of the rp, and they’re very much romantic. we don’t know!

some people say they could be a qpr (queerplatonic romance), which i could see. (a qpr is a relationship that fluctuates between, or can’t quite be sorted into, “romantic” and “platonic”. people in a qpr can do romantic things while having platonic feelings for each other). in my opinion this is a very valid interpretation as well!

-

CONCLUSION (sorry this got so long omfg):

are c!bee duo romantic?

its likely, but you can still interpret them however you like!

should i put /p on bee duo content?

ehhh? i find it annoying when it’s overused (as do others), but if you’re worried you can. its up to preference. putting it too much is weird though

should i put /p on things cc! bee duo do?

no. you’re not the one saying it so you can’t decide the tone tags for that. imagine you said something to your friend and a random stranger came up and was like “haha but that was /p right...?”

can i ship c!bee duo?

mmm. i’m not sure on this one. they are canonically married and very flirtatious, but the ccs don’t like being shipped and they’re close enough to being the ccs that actively shipping might be against boundaries.

can i treat c!bee duo as romantic?

yes. literally just don’t be weird about it. it’s not that hard! you can understand that two characters are husbands without making it weird

here’s the most important thing: boundaries. cc bee duo still haven’t told us what their preferences and canon is about this whole thing.

right now, i am assuming based on what they already show us they’re comfortable with, but! the second they give us any more info! all these opinions will change!

i am only going off what they do. i would never want to cross boundaries at all. i just wish they would make theirs a little more clear.

..... i hope that helped anon, i went way off the rails... i need to go to sleep.

[gingercauldron]

Quiet Brilliance (Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader)

A/N: Here is my offering to the Criminal Minds fandom. Also this is my first time really writing fanfic? Just really wanted to have Spencer impressed by the reader and fall in love with them. So I hope you enjoy!! This is totally not an excuse to somehow make random stuff I’ve read about relevant in BAU cases lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU! Reader

Synopsis: Spencer notices how intelligent you really are, as well as how shy you are about it. He can’t stop thinking about you, your brilliance, and how much he just wants to hold you.

Warnings: None really, just fluff, and normal Criminal Minds content

Wordcount: 1.9k

No one in the BAU seemed to give you enough credit.

Not that it was their intention, of course, but Dr. Spencer Reid could not help but notice all of the times that your quiet brilliance went by as unremarkable. He might have had an eidetic memory, carrying a labyrinthine of facts and figures in his head - but you knew things that even he had not come across. He could tell that you were a researcher, that you would explore through files for knowledge because you wanted to.

When Spencer would pull a fact or statistic out of the air, you would be listening raptly. On several occasions you would scribble something down afterwards, and it made Spencer’s heart swell. This was how he first became so attuned to you when you joined the team. After that, he made sure to observe you.

He noticed that you would duck your head into files of each case, going through detail after detail with a furrowed brow. You would write in a frantic scrawl on post-it notes as a cue to do further research.

The most endearing part of it all, was that you would do the same thing even if there wasn’t a case. You would carry a tome with you, with the tails of post-it flaps coming out the side, each one crowded with writing. You were smart, Spencer learned, and he wondered why it wasn’t seen as big of an asset as it truly was to the team.

At first he could pretend that his interest was merely for the good of the team, learning more about you and what you were capable of. Obviously you were hired for a reason, likely your careful observations and sharp psychological profiling — but there was so much more. Spencer was finding it harder to pretend that this interest was not at all motivated by the affection that was developing for you.

He had three PhDs and was the so-called “resident genius,” but he wondered if you could give him a run for his money. The thing was, because you were quiet and private, he didn’t know — and that in itself was exciting.

On one case where you were observing the body at the scene, a particularly strange case where the jaw of the victim had swelled with tumors, you quickly told everyone to back up.

“What is it?” Hotch asked.

“It looks like possible radiation poisoning because of how localized the tumors are — like the unsub had the victim consume radium.” You said. “I could be wrong, of course. We could check her teeth.”

“Teeth?” Morgan asked.

Spencer quickly replied. “Radium has properties that make it glow in the dark, it was used as a novelty for that reason well into the 1970’s before restrictions were placed on it, actually. If the victim had been ingesting radium it is possible her teeth might glow. In 1938 a case was settled where a group factory workers sued their employment because they had been encouraged to lick paintbrushes covered in radium in the course of their work, resulting in massive tumours around the neck and jaw.”

“And the factory workers had tumours like this?” Hotch asked. He was asking Spencer now, not you.

“Remarkably similar.” Spencer replied.

Spencer glanced at you, but it didn’t seem to bother you that he had jumped in. In fact, the only that seemed to be upsetting to you was the fact that the unsub was on the loose.

“I’ll call some radiologists in.” Hotch said, already lifting the phone to his ear.

It turned out, that you were right. It was in fact radium, and you made sure that the team was safe by telling them to keep their distance from the body. The radiation levels on the body were dangerous.

On the plane home from that case Spencer had sat beside you, and he couldn’t stop thinking about your astute observation. You smiled up at him when he settled next to you, looking back down at the book in your lap.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You looked back up at him. “Yeah, Spencer?”

“That was a good catch with the radium.”

“Oh, that. Thank you.” You beamed. “But you would have caught it if I hadn’t.”

Would he? With all of the gruesome things he had seen they all morphed together, he wasn’t sure that he would have jumped to radium, of all things, as quickly as you had. That he would have been as cautious in avoiding the body to investigate if you hadn’t said something.

“I mean it. It was good catch. It was pretty brilliant, actually.”

“Thanks, Spence.” You said softly.

He knew he should let you get back to your book that was covered in post-it notes, but there was a thought that kept nagging at him. “Y/N?” He said again.

“Yeah?”

“Did it — did I overstep when you were telling the team about the radiation? Because if I did—”

“No, I got to stop you there. You helped. I’d rather not have the attention.”

He furrowed his brow, but didn’t say anything more, letting you return to your book.

After that it seemed that the rest of the team was starting to pick up on your fierce intelligence, too. It was hard to ignore the books you carried with you, but Spencer thought it would have been impossible to not notice you. Not just because you were utterly beautiful, but because everything about your mind was captivating.

Morgan remarked on it when you found a pattern in the artwork of a string of victims’ homes. The artwork looked nothing alike, but you picked it up.

“This painting.” You said, pointing at it. “It’s German expressionist.”

“Okay?” Morgan said.

“It could be nothing, but the last victim had a print of German artwork in their home — it was from the dada movement — but they’re both from the same time period. The other two victims had books on the Bauhaus — an influential German design school that operated between the first and second world wars.” You explained. “I wouldn’t have said anything, but the average joe wouldn’t have German post-World War One art. All of our victims are interested in the same time period for art — seems like too much of a coincidence.”

Morgan stared at you.

“What?” You asked sheepishly.

“Did Reid just possess you for a moment there? How’d you know all that?”

You shrugged and changed the subject. “I’ll call Garcia and see if she can connect the victims through local art groups or galleries.”

Morgan stared at you as you walked off, phoning Garcia. Spencer came up beside him and squinted at the painting on the wall.

“I think I know how the victims might be connected.” Spencer said to Morgan, analyzing the painting.

“The art?”

Spencer looked at Morgan in surprise. “You know about German art?”

Morgan snorted and shook his head. He gestured to you. “Y/N is calling up Garcia right now. Can’t imagine how she knew anything about it.”

Spencer furrowed his brow. “I knew it, though.”

“Exactly.” Morgan patted Spencer’s shoulder and left to talk to Hotch.

You put the phone down and turned noticing Spencer looking at you. You smiled when you saw him. He loved the way you smiled at him, as if he was the only other person in the entire world. He felt his heart rate increase and new, scientifically speaking, that he was completely infatuated with you.

“Garcia found a connection.” You told him.

You said nothing to him of the connections you had made first, but it made him appreciate the fact that he knew all the more. You downplayed your accomplishments. He wanted nothing more than to be by your side so that he could learn about every one of them.

Rossi noticed during a case, when Spencer was reading one of the unsub’s journals. Flipping through the book quickly and absorbing the information.

“Hard to believe the kid can read that fast sometimes.” Rossi said to you. “He reads 20,000 words per minute.”

“It’s over 60 times the norm. He’s pretty amazing.” You said back.

“The norm?”

You nodded. “Yeah, average adult reads between 200 to 300 words per minute, he reads around 333 words per second.”

“You some kind of whiz kid, too?” Rossi asked.

You scoffed. “Hardly. I just read a lot.”

“So does Reid.”

“You know what I mean.” And with that you left Rossi, effectively stopping the conversation.

Spencer smiled, having overheard you two. Whether you wanted to or not, you would slip little bits of information that show just how much you were thinking. You couldn’t hide your mind completely, and Spencer couldn’t stop thinking about what conversations would ensue in just spending a day with you alone.

Your voice saying he’s pretty amazing kept playing in his head and he could feel his face flush. Did you know how that sounded? You thought he, of all people, was amazing - not his brain, or his skills, but him. Did you mean it to sound like that?

Rossi turned to Spencer. “You know your face is red.” He said.

Spencer stared at Rossi, but he couldn’t make his mouth form any words. A grin spread across Rossi’s face, reading Spencer like a book.

“It’s okay Doctor, I won’t tell anyone.” Rossi said, and got back to his own work.

The rest of the day Spencer could hardly focus on anything, constantly aware of where you were in the bullpen - or distracted when you left the bullpen to see Garcia because that meant you were gone. He tried to keep his head down and look at evidence, but you were so close and you thought that he was pretty amazing, and it was nearly impossible to think about anything else. By the time he felt satisfied enough with the work he had done that day to maybe pack up it was already dark out.

Spencer saw you reading at your desk in the bullpen. Everyone had gone home already, but you were there scribbling notes down. When Spencer neared your desk he saw the book, a book he had been reading two days ago.

You looked up and smiled at him in surprise, with those dazzling eyes of yours. You pushed your hair behind your ear and all that Spencer could think about was what it would feel like to touch.

“Hi, Spence.” You said. “What’s up?”

Spencer swallowed, and his world came to a standstill. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I think I love you.” His eyes suddenly went wide when he realized what he had said.

He turned around on his heel and rushed towards the door. He could hear your chair scratch against the floor and you called out.

“Spencer!”

He stilled, his hand on the door. He wanted to run, to get as far away and hopefully have you forget about it and not lose your friendship. He never wanted to disappoint you or make you uncomfortable, but he couldn’t turn his back on you either. He turned his head slowly, afraid to see your face.

You didn’t look angry. You had a small shy smile on your face.

“I think I love you, too.”

He dropped his hand from the door. “You do?”

You nodded. “I do.”

He laughed, feeling giddy. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He confessed. “About your kindness and your brilliance, and just, you. I just — can I kiss you?”

“Why, Dr. Spencer Reid, I would like nothing more.”

That was all he needed before he was across the room, holding your face in his hands and kissing you. Spencer, with his eidetic memory, could not remember having ever been so happy.

[keigelsss]

A Super Sweet Secret - Gojo Satoru

Merry late Christmas ya filthy animals ;)

Mega thirst moment based on this post and I think it just fits this fucker so well. I wrote part of this at 3am and I hate it so much ... fellow Gojo fuckers come get ya food.

Warnings: 18+, my shitty writing, language, mentions of alcohol, Gojo using infinity (had to do it on em), smut, DIRTY TALK, fingering, oral *fem receiving, overstim, squirting, uh… the pet names are super self-indulgent too oops, literally every grammatical error you can think of (please let me know if I missed any warnings I don’t wanna upset anyone or make anyone uncomfy. That being said minors pls DNI!! I don't feel like blocking anyone today)

Word count: 2.25k (i do be getting carried away)

How do you go about explaining your current situation to the higher-ups if you get caught with him? Do you tell them that, instead of getting pointers on how to guide students down the right path, you’ve been indulging in some very explicit acts with the man who is supposed to show you the ropes? No. That’s not right either but in all honesty, it would have been a lost cause from the get-go. Gojo Satoru is the least traditional in his teaching methods and is without a doubt a troublemaker but his antics are a part of what makes him so charming. It’s that same charm that finally made you cave and accept a coffee date with him on the next day you both had off. 

You don’t know exactly when it happened but little by little those morning coffee dates turned into mid-day snack runs, then dinner and overindulging in desserts at the other’s house. Everything took an unexpected turn when you went a bit overboard on the sake one night. The next morning you woke up naked on your couch, the sun in your face, a pounding headache and a large man clinging to your body like a koala. As much as you wanted to maintain a professional relationship between the two of you, it was so hard to not crave another taste of him. He couldn’t resist you either, one bite and he kept coming back for more. 

You two are definitely going to get into some serious trouble for this.

After stressful days of exorcising curses Gojo likes to unwind with a sweet treat from his local bakery and you by his side. He’ll find it ridiculously adorable if you have a bigger sweet tooth than he does. On the walk back to his house, you both snag a pastry from the bag of goodies and laugh at the other for not being able to wait until you reached your destination. The two of you arrive shortly after but Gojo decided he wasn’t entirely satisfied...

“Hey, sugar?” he asked while removing his sunglasses, his eyes entirely focused on your movements. You started to place what was left of the little cakes in a dish that was used specifically for the sweet treats of the day, he quickly recalled how you made fun of him for the fancy crystal platter but he admitted to being a bit extra like that. “What’s up trouble?” He let out a soft chuckle and got closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders leaning down to rest his chin on top of your head. “Trouble? That couldn’t be me.” you placed the cover back on the platter and put your hands on his arms settling back into him slightly. “You only call me ‘sugar’ when you want something from me, so what is it?” 

Now that was true, he had a list of pet names for you that he liked to pull out for certain occasions and you caught onto that quickly. It’s really not fair at all how he can make innocent words sound so damn sinful when he wanted to tease you. You turned to face him now, his hands resting on either side of you. He leans down and places a feather-soft kiss on your lips, so soft it’s almost like he’s not making full contact with you.

“I thought we didn't do those things when it was just us together like this?” Your eyes fluttered open and he came back in for a real kiss, his hot tongue lingering lazily on your bottom lip but not enough to excite you. He does that on purpose. “I know but it’s just the thought of it, I can tell you're thinking about it too.” He reached for the dessert dish and picked up a small cream filled pastry, he took a bite and offered you the other half. You knew it wasn’t an accident when he got the filling on your lip and chin. He used his thumb to clean up the mess he made then licked it clean, he is actually evil but even if you do hate him sometimes you can’t find it in you to resist him. 

“C’mon Y/n, don't you think it would be interesting to try while I go down on you? Just a little bit?” You bit your lip at the thought and he was already excited for your answer. He was right, the idea of him between your legs, devouring you but not quite. Being able to feel everything between the two of you but not making an actual connection. it ignited a small fire within you. 

“We can try it once but I can’t promise that I'll like it.” 

Truthfully that was all he needed to hear before he began to strip you of your clothes, leaving you completely naked. His large hands began exploring your body, grabbing onto any dip and curve he can find while placing sloppy kisses on your neck. He used both hands to get a firm grip of your ass, lifting you onto the cold marble countertop, you let a small moan escape you at the feeling and he placed a wet kiss on your lips. Tugging on the fabric of his long sleeve you brought it up and off revealing his defined upper body, you could drool if you didn't have some self control. “Satoru not too much okay? It’ll drive me crazy when all I want is to feel you.” The whimper that fell from your pretty mouth was almost enough to make Gojo cum in his pants, you swore you saw hearts glowing in his bright blue eyes. “Don't worry princess only a little bit. Besides you know my sweet girl always gets what she wants.” 

If there was anything that came close to what you picture heaven was like, it would definitely be the equivalent to Gojo’s strong, slender fingers expertly rubbing your folds. He always found every sweet spot and applied the perfect amount of pressure without you having to say a word. 

“Baby, did I make you this wet?” He used his thumb to spread your slick around, creating a delightful rhythm on your clit. Hips trembling when he grazed that one spot that practically had you gushing for him.

“Yes! It was yo- oh fuck that feels so good!” you leaned forward, resting your head on his chest, admiring the way his fingers looked so mesmerizing covered in the pretty shine of your juices. “You know you're the sweetest thing ever right? So damn delicious. I can spend hours between these sexy thighs of yours.” His breath is hot on the tip of your ear and that smooth voice sends shockwaves throughout your entire body. His free hand wrapped around your thigh and gripped below your knee, shifting the angle at which his fingers were exploring your overly sensitive hole. 

“Are you gonna let me make you cum with my mouth? Let me taste how sweet you are?” his lips started to trail the sides of your neck down to your chest. He left a series of kisses on each breast, sucking lightly on your stiff and sensitive nipples. “Ah Satoru please! I want- Ooh want your tongue.”  He licked a stripe across your tummy then placed a soft kiss on your belly button, he moved your thighs once more and found a position comfortable for the two of you. Your legs resting nicely on his shoulders while he rubbed circles on your hips and waist. “Look at this gorgeous pussy,” a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “So pretty.” another kiss on your swollen clit, you couldn't help but arch your back off the counter, grabbing a handful of his soft hair. He nibbled on your thigh and a sharp whine fell from you. “Remember to behave sweetheart, I'm supposed to be going easy on you.” His chuckle vibrated against your hot mound and you let out a sigh, releasing some tension from your hands on his head, allowing him to do what he wanted with your body. 

Gojo’s tongue seemed to have a mind of its own, curling and sucking at the special spot that only he knew about with perfect accuracy. The buzzing sensation that you normally felt when he's down there was reduced to an incomplete static, like your nerves weren’t fully receiving the information of his movements. Now that? That was different. It really was infinity… a barrier he controlled entirely, the rolling of his tongue feeling more like a whisper of pleasure that was everything and nothing at the same time. You were right to think it would drive you crazy but in the most euphoric way possible. “Oh my god it feels s-so good! P-please don’t stop baby I’m so fucking close.” 

The large kitchen was filled with desperate sounds of pleasure and the soft squelching of Gojo’s fingers inside your quivering cunt. This feeling was new but you were instantly hooked. It didn't take long for you to fall over that glorious edge with a broken moan of his name and a string of curses, making little to no sense at all. A deep groan erupts from his chest as he takes in every drop of your release in satisfaction. His gaze found your blissed out expression and he decided to ease up on that invisible veil between you, fingers slipping from your tight whole. You clenched around nothing and the loss of his fingers filling you was enough to nearly make you cry. 

“That‘s my favorite flavor right there sweetheart.” he spent some time admiring the way you looked coming down from your high. The rise and fall of your breasts with every breath paired alongside the slight shaking in your limbs from how intense the orgasm was. You're a work of art to him, truly, especially like this. Opening your eyes you find his stupid gorgeous face resting on your thigh, licking his lips simply enjoying your taste. You ran your fingers through his hair one more time before softly squishing his face with your legs, letting out a breathless giggle while regaining some grasp on reality. “I w-want more, but let me feel all of you for fucks sake!” 

He instantly obliged, diving right back in, using only his tongue, setting a languid pace. His animalistic groans against your over sensitive pussy were a telling sign that he was enjoying himself, probably ridiculously hard in the confines of his jeans. The thought of his cock deep inside of you was enough to get you shamelessly turned on all over again. If it weren't for his hands on your hips, rubbing easing circles into your soft skin, you would be a convulsing mess on the hard marble beneath you. A dull ache was beginning to form in your lower back, but you could care less. Gojo's tongue was working wonders on that delectable bundle of nerves of yours. His hands started trailing upwards and fondling your breasts, your spine arching under his touch as he pinched your nipples. You both made eye contact and he could tell that you were close to another release, your entire body was starting to shake. “Ye-yeah baby I’m gonna f-fucking cum.” his tongue never relenting on you. You were on the verge of screaming, your thighs were probably strangling him at this point.

“Mhm my little honeypot. Are you gonna make a mess?” he growled delicately against you.

That was also new but holy shit it had your brain short circuiting. Honeypot?! Damn you really could make a mess and that was exactly what you did. His relentless attack on your clit was blinding but so fucking delicious you didn't want it to end. You squirted all over his face, covering his neck and chest with a stream of your juices. The added stimulation of his abilities, and the shock of this new pet name clearly having an impact on your intense orgasm. it could possibly be the best you've experienced. He was aware of that fact as well. “I love when you do that.” honestly you did too. The aftershock of it all had you both mesmerized, your body just a quaking mess, panting and moaning. You struggled a bit to get air back into your lungs but Gojo's hands squeezed on your waist reassuringly. Your hips were beginning to relax and he once again found a place to momentarily rest his head on your thighs. 

He huffed a small howl of amusement. You could instantly tell what he was so giddy about. “So? Honeypot?” you questioned him, not in a judging manner but out of curiosity and excitement. “It kind of just came out of me in the moment.” You couldn't help but laugh at his answer, a fitting response. You took a second to relish in the sight of your cum and his sweat tracing his brow. It will forever remain a mystery on how you managed to get so addicted to the world’s biggest pain in the ass, but here you were. 

That evil little smirk made another appearance on his face while he brought himself up to  kiss you, the taste of yourself was very much present on his tongue and soft lips, you screeched in excitement. He swiftly lifted you off the counter and began his trek towards his bedroom. 

“Are you maybe just a bit more curious on what else I can do to that pretty body of yours?”

yeah this is trash uh if you read this sorry for the lack of seasoning in your food

tags: @bobabybo @ibukiirisha

[daisiesandshakes]

Good day my dear and first of all, let me thank you and praise you for your beautiful HC! I really enjoyed reading each one of them, and I'm grateful to have your posts filling my dashboard!🥰

If I may leave a request in your ask box... I would like to have a HC reaction of Le Comte, Shakespeare, and Theodorus with MC who gets all nervous and anxious with getting skinship from them for the first time (but eventually can handle it in time).

Thank you beforehand and do take your time and no rushing things! Stay safe and have a nice day~! 🍀✨

Hi sweetheart!

I am so honored to have you in my ask box 💝 thousand thanks for your praise, I am so happy you liked my HC!

Sorry it took a few days to write yours, and I really, really hope you enjoy it!

Here you go:

Ikevamp reactions to a MC who is afraid with skinshipping (Shakespeare, Theodorus & le Comte)

Shakespeare

At their introducing to each other William notices the hesitation as he reaches for her hand to blow a kiss on it. Might this dazzling, little dove be scared? Immediatly he interrupts his action and only bows with a warm smile on his handsome face to comfort her.

Shakespeare can read people very well and recognizes instantly that she gets scared when someone touches her directly. Dealing with his own fear (he's afraid of the dark) he knows how hard it can be to live with anxiety.

"Feareth nothing mine own fair maiden, I wouldst nev'r toucheth thee without p'rmission."

Enchanted by her sweet personality he's very eager to please and comfort her. When she's in town William tries to join her as much as possible, always walking on the side where people could touch her by accident. He would offer his arm when she needs to secure her steps and walk in front of her when it's crowdy (while glaring daggers) to guide her safely through.

Searching for ways to know her better Will arranges many, long walks at the Seine and dinner at a restaurant at a late hour when it's less crowded, chatting with her for hours. Seeking for possibilities to create a pleasantly warm and welcomed atmosphere for her, he asks her also for dinner at his Villa, reading out his newest script and teaching her old english.

Soon after William invites her to his rehearsals (he instructed his troupe members to avoid touching her), hoping that his kind and open troupe makes her feel more safe with the time. And to his greatest pleasure it seems to work. Everyone treats her like a precious, lost little sister and she starts to lose her inner tension around them.

It begins with small gestures, like helping the troupe members getting dressed with their costumes, passing over the props without flinching when they accidently touch her.

One evening she tells William how much she enjoyed the day with a bright smile while she lays her hand on his for a second. "I am so joyous to heareth those honest w'rds from thy fair lips" He turns his face away from her, so she couldn't glimpse the suspicious glistening in his eyes.

The day the play should start an actress has an accident and is not able to take part. Although she's got only a short performance, it presents an important twist in the play. Shakespeare is desperate and about to cancel the whole play, but then...

"I could do her part." MC's voice is faint but firm. Shakespeare's eyes grow wide with surprise. "Art thee sure about yond?"

She plasters a confident smile on her face. "Yes, I saw the rehearsals so many times, I could speak all lines backwards" she giggles, "and there is only one line for myself, so..."

William closes the gap between them, gazing deep in her eyes, frowning.

"T's not the line yond conc'rns me, I am sure thou art able to mast'r t. But the act'r hast to holdeth thee in his arms and I wonneth't confronteth thee with aught yond maketh thee feel uncomfortable."

She swallows hard but replies: "I can do it. When the embrace is soft and he won't press my body against his... I should go along with it. You all worked so hard for it, to see the play cancelled would hurt me much more than his arms around my waist."

The actor appears next to them "Princess, I swear I'll only hold you with the wings of a butterfly!"

With a warm and lovingly glare Shakespeare whispers "So t shouldst beest as thee wisheth. Thee can't imagineth what t means to me yond thee art willing to confronteth thy fears f'r our success."

As the stage play ends the audiance gives standing ovations. After every actor and at least William bows to the public, he rushes backstage for laudatary words. Spotting her his expression lightens up even more "Mine own muse, thee madeth t! Thee enchant'd ev'ryone and hath brought us most wondrous success!" he declares smiling. Laughing joyfully she hurries towards him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and Shakespeare freezes. "I am so, so happy for you Will! Everything went smoothly! Listen to the applause, Will! It seems it won't end!" As she lifts her head to meet his gaze he takes her delicate hand softly into his, and suddenly she realizes that she hugged him without any hesitation.

"Thee not feareth mine own toucheth anym're, little turtledove?" he asks barely audible.

Lost for words she only shakes her head, thightening the grip around his shoulder. Leading her hand slowly up to his face, Will  watches her reactions closely, ready to stop at any second when her features show displeasure. But the radiant expression in her eyes and the smile on her lips stays, and he nuzzles his cheek into her palm with a sigh. Resting her cheek against his chest she clings to him and both close their eyes, enjoying this special moment, knowing there are a lot more waiting for them to explore.

Theodorus

At first he's just annoyed by the "new, helpless hondje" that stays with them at the mansion. But after a few days he learns from a conversation between Vincent and her that she loves art as much as he does, what awakens his interest. Paying more attention to her  now he feels attracted to her charming personality and repartee (mostly when it comes to repel Arthur's salacious remarks).

In one of those moments he notices her unusual pale face and the tension in her body, trying to keep a distance between her and Arthur. Although his "threatening words" and his advances are supposed to be merely a jest, she looks like a cornered animal. It clicks in his mind.

Pulling Arthur back at his collar he growls "That's quite enough, get your besotted mess off her. That little hondje will only bark for me." A bit confused and wide eyed Arthur leaves you both alone.

Theo sighs. "You can't bear the touch of someone, am I right?" She didn't expect that he of all residents would recognize it first and in her surprise she only nods. Theo buzzes "Then stay around me and Vincent, that should be safe for you. I'll talk to the others, there is no point in hiding your anxiety. You shouldn't look over your shoulder in fear like a scared, helpless puppy everytime someone gets close to you."

Theo talks to the other residents the same day (threatens Arthur to beat the sh*t out of him if he dares to come too close to her again). From now on everybody still treats her kind and caring, but keeping a respectful distance.

Taking her right away everywhere with him he makes sure no one touches her, even by accident. In crowded places people make quickly room for them only due to his intimidating, beaming glare, ready to spread some black eyes if somebody should be so stupid to lay their filthy fingers on her.

She asks him why he's doing all that for her but Theo only replies "You can't bear it to be touched, I can't bear to have a sad, whining puppy around me. That's all."

But she realizes real soon that he is a very caring and soft person despite his harsh words.

Taking King out for a walk - "Hondje come with me. You need some fresh air and King likes you, so he might behave a bit when you come with us."

"You don't think you could go to town shopping without me, don't you? You need someone to take you by your leash. I'll come with you. We need more sirup either."

Sharing the love for art he'll even invite her to join him in his search for new talented painters. The more time they spend together, the more she seems to lose her anxiety around him, feeling comfortable in his presence. One evening both strall down the Seine he calls her near "Look at this picture hondje!" He stands close to the canvas, his left hand stroking over the frame. She rushes over to his right side and leans in, her shoulder touching his chest. "This is beautiful, Theo!"

"Yes, it is..." he mumbles into her hair, not sure if he's still talking about the picture, inhaling her sweet scent.

After they both discovered this talented painter Theo invites her the next evening into his favorite bar to celebrate this occasion.

It only takes a few drinks (although the bartender had the instruction to water her drinks down) and she's already tipsy. "Oi, hondje! We should leave now, I don't want to carry you back to the mansion!" She only giggles at this imagination and to his surprise no snubbing remark follows. Leaving the bar she stumbles soon, losing her balance. "Watch out, hondje!" He grabs her by her arm before she could fall to the floor. "Ouh, I feel dizzy Theo... would you mind to take a rest at this bench over there?" Nodding he immediatly leads her over, not letting go of her arm. As they sit down next to each other he mumbles "I hope it was okay to hold you at your arm, but I was afraid..."

She cuts him off, giving him a sweet smile "Nah, it was okay Theo. And at least you didn't have to carry me. I am not that drunk..." suddenly a hickup interrupts her. "Oooh nooo..." she whines.

Theo bursts into laughing "I see..." after a second she joins into his laughter. When the last giggle fades, she closes her eyes, resting her head at his shoulder. "I feel so tired all of a sudden."

"Don't mind. You can rest here with me for a while if you need to." he replies with an unusual soft voice. Very slowly he puts his arm around her, in case she wants to raise an objection. "I am not scared of your touch anymore." She murmurs, "I have to admit I'm really enjoying this right now." her words are almost inaudible while she nuzzles her face at his chest. Theo freezes in disbelief, an unknown warmth spreads through his entire body and his heart feels like bursting, relieved that she can't see the heat in his cheeks. Listening to her steady breathing he knows she fell asleep and he kisses her temple ever so slightly "So I have to carry you nevertheless." he mumbles with a grin. In the future he'd make sure no one ever gets the opportunity to touch her. But from now on his actions comprises a further reason.

Le Comte

He's living for centuries now and is able to read in people's heart almost like in an open book. Le Comte recognizes her reserved way when it comes to physical touch immediatly and invites her to his room for a talk. After he gives her a graceful and encouraging smile she tells him hesitantly about her anxiety, feeling embarressed to tell him about her inner demons.

"Ma cherie, don't feel ashamed. There's no reason for that. I'll ensure that everyone in the mansion respects your fears. And please don't hesitate to talk to me about anything that might concern you. Anytime."

This day all residents have a personal conversation with Le Comte in his room.

He will buy her several pair of exclusive leather gloves, so it might be easier for her to get along with her fear to be touched at her hands.

Knowing that public and crowded places are going hand in hand with the fear of being touched by accident he makes sure that almost everything her heart desires would be delivered into the mansion. A few days after her arrival she stumbles over a bunch of new dresses in her room and quite surprised she asks him how he knows her dress size. With slight flushed cheeks and avoiding her gaze he answers that he only has a good eye. (Liar... he observes her so intensly he could tell how many eyelashes her left eye has even when Sebas would wake him up from his deepest slumber...)

He will gladly take every opportunity talking to her, hoping that knowing each other better will reduce her tension and anxiety. Treating her like a princess with the utmost respect and warmth, she begins to relax in his presence. Strolling with Comte through the garden, taking tea in the gazebo, chatting about nothing and everything. Everytime they spend time together the space between them seems to melt a bit more.  

Taking a walk early through the garden together became a morning routine in the meantime and today it's warm and the sky bright blue. Suddenly King rushes playful towards them and jumps on her, trying to lick over her face. Totally caught offguard she loses her balance and stumbles backwards but le Comte immediatly catches her at the waist. "King, come here you stubborn beast!" Theo yells but King is already rushing further into the mansion. Theo apologizes quickly to them as he runs after his dog. "Are you hurt, ma cherie?" Concern lies in St.Germain's glance and voice. She giggles. "No, I am fine. King is such a cute "beast". Thank you for catching me Comte." At this moment he realizes that his arms are still around her and with an almost inaudible sigh he pulls his hands off her waist. "I am so glad nothing happened to you, ma belle." Then it comes to his mind, that she didn't complain at his touch. She didn't even flinch... pure happiness spreads through every nerve of his body and with a joyful smile on his lips they continue their walk.

A week later the weather ist still nice and warm, so she decides to visit the market place in town, getting some fresh air and maybe some fruits. The market is almost over as she arrives and less crowded. With a happy smile she studies the remaining goods as a salesman appears directly in front of her, eager to sell her one of his scarves. "A little dove like you  should wear a scalf, the wind still can be chilly..." Smiling politely she refuses, but the seller doesn't give up. "Here, this one matches your beautiful eyes" he goes on, his hands almost around her neck with the scarf. She freezes in panic, her face pale with shock as suddenly someone appears behind her, grasping the sellers'hands, holding them away from her neck. "Sir, what do you think you are doing, to harry a young lady like this?" Comte pushes the hands of the seller with one arm away, his other arm already protective around her shaking form. The burning anger in his eyes makes the salesman flee in panic without another word. Comte's gaze softens instantly as his eyes roam over her body with utmost concern. "Cherie, did he hurt you?" Still shaking she replies sobbing "No... It was o- only ..I was only scared he would touch me." Without thinking his grip around her tightens but in the next moment he takes a step away with a flustered expression on his graceful features "I'm begging your pardon, ma cherie, I shouldn't ... It wasn't my intention to embrace you without permission."

Shaking her head softly she closes the gap and leans back into his arms, her voice faint and pleading "Don't worry Comte, I am not scared of your touch anymore. If you don't mind, would you hold me a bit longer? It makes me feel safe." Stunned by her words he softly put his arms around her, his heart swelling with affection. As she rests her cheek against his chest with a sigh he whispers "I would so anything for you, ma cherie. And to hold you in my arms is my greatest pleasure." Slowly she lifts her chin to meet shiny golden eyes, in their dephts swirling so much love, adoration and yearning it takes her breath away. She answers his unspoken question with a lovingly smile.

[voiceless-terror]

In which Martin and Gerry help Jon acquire a cat, among other things. 

“Martin, look!”

A phone is shoved in his face; on the screen is a tiny black kitten sprawled on a carpet with the headline “Free to a Good Home!!” Martin knows where this is going.

“Finally time to bite the bullet, eh?”

“We could surprise him!” Gerry’s voice is animated as he waves his phone in the air. Martin loves when he gets like this, unguarded and sweet. “You know how stressed he’s been. Honestly, I’m shocked we haven’t gotten one already.”

“Well, he’s certainly been hinting at it.” Martin gestures broadly at the walls of the bookstore, decorated with various cozy knick knacks and art they’ve picked up at charity shops. There’s no less than three oddly majestic cat paintings along with a shelf of tiny porcelain felines, not to mention the gaudy clock that has cat breeds instead of numbers. Jon has...particular taste. “Not very subtle, is he?”

“Should I message them, then?” Gerry squints at the screen. “We met them at trivia a few months ago - Mara, the one with the-”

“Green hair, yeah.” Martin remembers the night rather fondly. Gerry usually spent most trivia nights scowling in the corner and making snarky commentary with Jon, but on that particular occasion he had a few drinks and was considerably more relaxed. He managed to charm half of the bar with his stories and wit while Jon stared on, adoration clear on his face.  “But you know Jon would kill us if we didn’t let him have a say. You know how he gets, he needs to prepare-”

“-buy ninety toys-”

“-think up a ridiculous name.” They both laugh at that- Jon’s got a penchant for renaming their friend’s pets when he doesn’t think their moniker “suits them.” He’s gotten into more than one fight about it. “Text him so he doesn’t stay late, though. I’m not staying up until midnight again.”

“On it.”

_______

They hear Jon before they see him. 

The door creaks open, alerting them to his presence as Jon lets out his usual long-suffering sigh (Gerry fondly calls this mood ‘The Bouchard Blues.’) His clothes are wrinkled and his eyes are barely open; from the slight indent on his face, Martin reckons he fell asleep at his desk again. Gerry meets him at the door, grabbing his bag and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Rough day, love?”

Another sigh, this one a bit more huffy. “Elias came in at half past four with a box of ninety random documents and wanted them all organized by tomorrow. Impossible, of course, unless I stay the night-”

“But you came home!” Gerry says it with a sort of wonder in his voice; Jon very rarely stands up to his boss, no matter how ridiculous the ask. 

“W-Well, you said it was important,” Jon looks between them with large, worried eyes. Always assuming the worst. “It’s nothing bad, is it?”

“Jon, I thought the twelve reassuring texts and afternoon phone call put that to rest,” Gerry replies as he steers them towards the couch. “Suppose I should’ve just told you. I wanted it to be a surprise.” He unlocks his phone and scrolls until he finds the ad, handing it over to Jon.

His eyes immediately light up, alert and awake. “Cat!”

“Cat,” Martin agrees, settling down beside them. “We were thinking of getting one for the bookstore-”

“Of course,” Jon’s smiling that rare, bright grin and Martin melts just a little. “It’s only logical. And I do like black cats-”

“Damn it!” Gerry groans, startling them both. He throws his phone down on the couch, crossing his arms in a sulk. “Someone just claimed her. I knew I should’ve said something-”

But Jon’s already fishing his phone out, his smile not dimming in the slightest. “There’s a shelter not too far from here- I’ll see if we have to make an appointment. Martin, can you call Georgie? She’s got an excellent carrier for the Admiral, and she can probably recommend other necessities-”

They end up going to bed at midnight anyway.

________

“I still don’t see why we had to order so much,” Martin complains after another confirmation email lights up his phone. The credit card bill’s going to be astronomical this month. “Surely we’re overpreparing. We don’t have room for the deluxe cat tower in the shop, and we certainly don’t need one for the flat as well.”

“I assure you these are all necessities, Martin.” Gerry and Martin are both fairly tall, but even they have trouble keeping up with Jon’s brisk pace, sharing a fond look over his head. Jon managed to find them a Saturday appointment with a rather impressive combination of wheedling and charm. When it came to cats, Jon didn’t pull his punches. They made it to the shelter in record time and Jon burst through the doors, his next words full of self-importance. “We’re expected. Jonathan Sims.”

They’re led back to a large room by an amused assistant, Jon at the front of their little line. Martin watches as his eyes light up upon seeing the many cages that lined the wall; even Gerry seems a bit excited, though he tries to hide it by hanging back. Gerry’s never been much of an animal person; he shares Jon’s distaste of loud and jumpy dogs too unpredictable in their behavior. He only just started getting used to the Admiral, and that was through much prodding on Jon’s part. Jon’s love is surprisingly infectious. 

Jon peers into each cage intently, answering every inquisitive noise with a prim “Pleased to meet you.” One of the first cages contains a fluffy brown cat with curious eyes and Martin stops to poke a finger through the door. “Walnut” (as provided by a helpful nameplate) does not respond, though she seems interested. 

Jon’s already halfway down the row before he stops in his tracks, eyes trained on a large, grumpy ball of gray fur sitting right at the bars of the cage. He’s missing an eye, and he begins to growl as soon as Jon nears him.

“This one.” He declares, staring as if entranced. He hasn’t even touched it or attempted to pet it- they’re locked in some sort of silent standoff. Martin’s reminded of those romantic comedies Jon and Gerry hate, where couples lock eyes across the room and it's love at first sight. He surreptitiously takes a picture. Adorable. 

“Jimmy?” The assistant inquires. Jon scoffs at the plainness of the name. “He’s been here awhile. Not very friendly, I’m afraid.”

“No, not Jimmy.” Jon offers up a hand, and the cat comes closer, sniffing at it with suspicion. After a few moments, he butts his head against Jon’s hand, earning a smile. “Lance Corporal.”

“No.”

Jon swivels around, eyes narrowing at Gerry’s words. It’s the first time he’s spoken and he’s got one eyebrow quirked up in amusement. It’s a good look on him. Jon, however, is having none of it and he puts a hand to his hip. “And why not?”

“It’s such a mouthful.” Martin has to agree; it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. “I’m not going to call him that. What about Lance?”

Jon wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

Martin sighs; Gerry and Jon get along like a house on fire but when they bicker, they bicker. He eyes the cat that’s now rubbing against Jon’s hand and purring; he hopes the its sudden geniality will extend to Martin and Gerry. Jon would pick a cat that’s just as prickly as he can be.

Martin gives it a good look, coming up beside Jon at ‘Jimmy’s’ cage. The cat immediately stops its gravely purr, it’s eye now trained on Martin. It’s unnerving, Martin never thought a cat could radiate authority but this one surely managed to. If any animal deserves a title, it’s this one.  “What about the Captain?” he asks in a fit of inspiration.

They both turn to look at him; Gerry amused, Jon thoughtful. “Go on.”

“It’s a title, you always liked the naval ones.” Jon nods in agreement, the beginnings of a smile on his face. “He looks like an old sailor, very distinguished. I dunno, I think it’s cute.”

“The Captain,” Jon whispers in awe as the cat resumes rubbing against his hand. “Martin, that’s perfect. Inspired, even.”

He can’t help preening a bit. “Thank you.” Gerry rolls his eyes.

And then there’s the moment of truth- the assistant opens the cage door and Jon steps forward with all the solemnity of a man about to be knighted. He reaches out his arms and the cat lets itself be picked up, going limp as Jon brings it to his chest. He sighs in contentment, giving himself one more moment of bliss before he perks up and opens his eyes.

“Now pick yours.”

_________

Three. They’ve got three fucking cats.

Martin and Gerry immediately began to refuse, but Jon was insistent. “The Captain is obviously very partial to me, and I think you should have some say in who we adopt. If we each get one it eliminates any favoritism. It’s only logical.”

There was nothing logical about it. Three cats and three people in their tiny flat, or worse, destroying their bookstore. They didn’t have the space, the cats might not get along, it would be too expensive. But Jon wouldn’t hear of it, countering every point in a calmness that was borderline unnerving. Martin shot Gerry a pleading look; he’d gone silent after the initial refusal, content to let Martin do most of the arguing, but he just shook his head in amusement- he knew how this would end, and Martin did too. As the final nail in the coffin, Jon deployed the eyes and that’s how he found himself in the front of a taxi with a lapful of Walnut. She’s a friendly thing, instantly purring on contact and meowing whenever he turned away. Martin hadn’t the heart to turn it away.

Gerry took more time. He slunk around the cages and the cats seemed to sense his reluctance. But soon he came upon a small, sleek black cat, not unlike the one from the Facebook post. It was a tentative thing, barely coming to the edge of its cage to sniff at his fingers, but Gerry was determined, patiently waiting the fifteen minutes it took to get him to warm up. Martin didn’t point out the similarities between it and a certain goth, though he shared a knowing look with Jon.

“I’ve got it - the Unfathomable Void.”

“Dear God,” Martin muttered, rolling his eyes. So dramatic, the both of them.

Jon snorted. “That’s a bit much.”

“Okay, Lance Corporal.”

“Excuse me-!”

“Settle down, boys,” Martin put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, he looked liable to pounce. “If that’s what you want, go for it. But we’ll call him Void for short.” Gerry nodded, seemingly satisfied. Jon continued to scowl, though without any heat.

The cabbie was definitely not pleased at having to cart around three men and three cats. He muttered the entire drive while Jon bounced in the backseat, cooing at his companion. Gerry sat much more stoically, though Martin didn’t miss the tiny smile as the cat nipped at his fingers. Jon’s insistence on multiple supplies was starting to make sense now. He definitely planned this from the beginning, sneaky thing.

“Oh no,” Jon suddenly said upon entering their flat, struggling with the carrier in his hand.  Martin’s starting to think he shouldn’t have picked such a massive cat. “I forgot this was for the bookstore!” 

“Well, yeah.” Gerry sat his cage on the ground, kneeling down beside it. “I figured mine or Martin’s would do. The Captain’s not very friendly, Jon.”

“But what if they get lonely? We can’t split them up.” Jon’s eyes dart around the room, growing more conflicted by the second. “Perhaps we should keep them all at home.”

“There’s no room, Jon! And no one’s here during the day.” Martin surveys the room- the three carriers already seem to take up an enormous amount of space, not to mention the living creatures inside of them.  And all of those packages, that damn tower…

“You can take them back and forth. Commute.”

“Christ, we did not think this through.” Gerry’s smiling even as he says it, watching as the Unfathomable Void slowly makes his way out, sniffing tentatively at the air. Walnut’s content to stay in her cage, and Martin tucks her in a corner away from the other two. Jon’s already got the Captain out, holding him in his arms and refusing to let him go.

“You’re right, we didn’t.” Jon agrees, tucking his face in the Captain’s fur. “We should’ve gotten four-”

“Fuck’s sake, Jon!”

“Let’s talk about this later, alright?” Gerry takes Martin’s place as the voice of reason, a rare occurrence. “We’ll keep them at home, let them get used to us, and then we’ll figure out the bookstore situation. No sense getting worked up about it now.” Jon sighs, cradling the mass of fur to his chest and plopping down on the couch. Martin’s sure they’ll be at it again tomorrow; Jon sniping as Martin tries and fails to put together a massive cat tower, Gerry groaning about whatever surprises the cats left for them in the morning. The next few weeks were going to be stressful, to say the least.

For now, though, he sits with his partners once again until midnight, watching their new additions roam about the flat and ignore each other. Jon frets, Gerry sighs, and Martin unsuccessfully attempts to steer the conversation towards anything but cats. By the end of the night, only Void manages to feel at home, curling up in Martin’s favorite armchair (much to his chagrin). Could’ve gone worse, Martin cheers himself with. They’ll get used to the flat. And the bookstore. Probably.

Later that night, once their partner’s asleep and snoring softly between the two of them, Martin turns to Gerry, borrowing Jon’s patented sigh. 

“We’re gonna get a fourth cat, aren’t we?”

Gerry’s voice is just as resigned. “Yeah, reckon so.”

“Christ.”

-------

Others in the JGM series:

What We’re Given and What We Make

At the End of the Day

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945809

[justanotherblonde23]

An Unexpected Surprise - A Marcus Moreno Story

Author’s Note: So with some encouraging from my friends, I decided to post my writing! I know that technically we don’t know anything about Marcus Moreno, but that superhero dad has been taking up space in my mind rent free all week. I tagged people that I know wanted to read this and a few that I thought might enjoy it. Please let me know what you think! -Kat 

Content Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), P in V

Tags: @autumnleaves1991-blog @dindjarindiaries @frannyzooey @zeldasayer @hdlynnslibrary @jollyrancher87 @bisexual-space-slut @woakiees @scribbledghost @softpedropascal @catfishingmorales

Marcus trudged into the house, it was at least 2 in the morning, and he was absolutely exhausted. He was always exhausted these days; his age was catching up to him. He may be a part of the Heroics, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting older. He was balancing heroism, kids, a spouse, and trying to give them some semblance of a normal life. He was ready to retire, be involved in every aspect of the kids’ lives, and see his wife in more than just the middle of the night and before leaving for work. He had given enough of his life to the service of the world; now, it was about time to provide all of himself to his family. Missy, his eldest, was already 11 and getting older every single day. Jules, the baby of the family, was about to turn 5, just about to leave the toddler years behind her. He felt as if he had missed so much of their lives; he didn’t want to miss anymore. 

Most of the house lights had been turned off, signaling that most of the inhabitants were fast asleep. He hoped that at least he could get a kiss or two from the woman he loved. Maybe she would still be awake. He made his way up the stairs, checking the kids’ rooms. He planted soft kisses on their foreheads, smiling at their serene expressions. What beautiful little girls he had, he was the luckiest father in the world. 

He frowned, opening the door to the master bedroom; the soft glow of artificial light bathed the room in a yellow haze. There she was, his love, sitting in the middle of the bed, clearly wide awake, wearing her glasses and frowning at the hologram in front of her. Someone was working even later than Marcus himself. He took in her form; she still hadn’t noticed him quite yet. She was wearing a silky nightie that hit her upper thigh and a matching robe loosely tied around her. His cock stirred in his pants. Even as spent as he was from the day, the view in front of him made him want to take her to bed and fuck her senseless. 

“Dr. Moreno, hard at work, I see,” he teased. 

Her eyes shot up, smirking at him. I’m not quite Dr. Moreno yet, Marcus. You’d have to marry me first,” she teased. 

“We had a ceremony-” he started.

“And someone still hasn’t mailed the marriage certificate, even though it’s been two months. All you gotta do is bring it to the post office, baby. I’d do it myself, but somebody insisted that he’d be the one to do it.” 

Marcus groaned, falling onto the bed beside his wife (that’s what she was to him, even if he didn’t mail the marriage certificate yet). He heard some shuffling and a command for her AI system to file the holograms working on for the night. He’d lived with her for four years now, and he still hadn’t gotten used to all her tech. If he was a hero in name, she was the genius behind every piece of technology in his arsenal, as well as all of the other members of the Heroics. Her superpower was her mind, that gorgeous, intricate, genius mind of hers. Her ability to retain information, learn, critically think, and create was almost impossible to fathom truly. At 33, she had twelve doctorates in various fields, including engineering, physics, nanotechnology, and art history. Her thirst for knowledge and eagerness to invent was unparalleled, even among other enhanced individuals. He would never stop singing her praises; she was a wonder. 

“Marcus, baby, do you wanna shower and go to bed? It’s late.” 

He sighed, starting to relax into the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair. “Baby, if you keep that up, I’m gonna fall asleep right here and now. I took a shower at HQ before I left, so I’m good.” He opened his eyes when her fingers stilled, looking up at the beautiful woman with the soft smile leaning over him. 

“Do you think you can stay up for a little bit longer, honey? I have a surprise for you.” 

He sat up, scooting up against the headboard, kicking off his shoes. He felt wide awake now. His wife wasn’t typically one for surprises on any old day. He wracked his mind, trying to make sure that he hadn’t missed her birthday, their dating anniversary, or any other consequential, momentous occasion. 

“I didn’t forget a special day, did I? Fuck, amor. I’m so sorry if I did. I’ve been spread so damn thin since the wedding; I’ve been running around like a madman.” 

She placed a tiny cream-colored box in his hands, his wife sitting right in front of him, eyes sparkling with excitement. “You didn’t miss anything, Marcus, just open the box. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

He nodded, pulling at the perfect bow holding the box closed, carefully opening the lid. For a minute, he just stared at the contents of the box, his eyes wide with shock. Ever so slowly, he picked up a pair of teeny baby booties, placing them in his large palm. He took the second item out, a pregnancy test that digitally read, PREGNANT. His hands began to shake; tears began to overflow, tracking down his cheeks. He looked up, his gaze locked on the woman in front of him. 

“Sweetheart, are we-? Are you-? We’re- we’re having a baby?” he managed to choke out. 

There was one more item in the box, at the bottom, an ultrasound labeled Baby Moreno. He studied the picture intently, his thumb moving over the little blob on the paper. That was his baby, their baby. They were having a baby. 

“Holy shit,” he murmured, “we’re having a baby!”

A giggle made him raise his eyes once again. “That’s what I said, too. I’m about ten weeks along now. You’re going to be a daddy of three, Marcus Moreno.” 

He scooped up everything in his lap, dumping it on the nightstand. He quickly grabbed his wife, flipping her so that she was under him. He covered her face in kisses, whispering how beautiful she was, how she was so loved, so treasured, so cherished. How their baby was made of nothing but love, how they were precious cargo, and how he would protect both of them every single day of his life. He kissed down her jaw, down her neck, eliciting breathy moans from the woman underneath him. His kisses went lower and lower until he reached her belly, pulling her nightie up around her waist so that he could get to her bare stomach. He planted dozens of kisses all over her belly, in awe of the life growing in there. 

“Hey baby, it’s your daddy,” he cooed softly. “Your mommy and I already love you, little one, and you’ll have two big sisters that I just know will love you too. I can’t wait for you to be here, little baby. I promise I’ll be here for you.” 

He looked adoringly at the mother of his youngest child, grinning as if his world had been made complete, and in all honesty, it had been. This baby, this tiny little one growing inside of the woman that he loved most, filled a hole in his heart that he hadn’t even been aware of. 

He bit down on his lower lip, smirking while ever so slowly pulling off her panties. He would lavish the woman he loved with every ounce of devotion, adoration, and love he had to offer. A breathless Oh please, Marcus was all he needed to motivate him to continue. He opened her legs up, giving him access to her slit, wet and wanting. He groaned, the sight making his mouth water. If he had it his way, Marcus could spend hours between her thighs. Two fingers lightly toyed with her slit, moving up and down, collecting her slick. 

“Look at you, baby, so wet for me, and I’ve barely touched you. If this is what pregnancy does to you, amor, I might have to start keeping better work hours so I can spend my time between your thighs.” 

He could see her hips try to follow his fingers, desperate for more than he was giving her. “Marcus, don’t tease, please,” she whined. He chuckled, easily giving in to her pleas. He couldn’t say no to her, not tonight. 

He buried his head between her legs, tongue coming out to lick a broad strip all the way to the top of her slit, his nose nudging her clit. She tasted like heaven, making him moan into her core, sending pleasurable shivers up her spine. He speared his tongue into her, getting as deep as he could, fucking her pussy with his tongue while her fingers tangled themselves in his curls. He kept exploring her folds with his tongue, hitting all the spots he knew would make her see stars. 

He easily pushed in two fingers, causing her to buck her hips up, matching his pace. He focused his tongue on her clit, alternating between drawing lazy circles and sucking her into his mouth. His fingers hit that sweet spot inside her with every thrust, bringing her closer and closer to her release. Before he knew it, she was cumming around his fingers, squeezing him tight and pulling him deeper. His mouth flooded with the taste that was uniquely hers, prompting him to moan. He could feel himself rock hard in his pants, leaking with his arousal. 

He crawled off the bed, swiftly ridding himself of his clothes, placing his glasses safely on the nightstand. He grabbed her glasses as well, placing them next to his own. She had shrugged off her robe and nightie, languidly watching him, her eyes blown wide with desire. 

“Marcus, I need you inside of me,” she begged. His large cock rested heavy against his stomach, tip red and leaking. The thought of him inside of her was almost too much. She needed him, and she needed him right now. 

He settled over her, catching her lips in a deep, earth-shattering kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, letting her taste herself. Marcus was intoxicating, enthralling, and all she wanted was more. Finally, they broke apart, panting slightly. 

“Dr. Moreno, my lovely wife, mother of my child, let me make love to you. Let me show you how happy you make me, sweetheart. I want to make you touch the sky,” he whispered into her ear. 

She beamed at him, cradling his cheek gently. “Yes, baby, I’m all yours.” He leaned back in, catching her into another searing kiss. He worked his length up and down her slit, coating himself in her slick, bumping her clit a few times in the process. At last, he began to leisurely enter her, inch by inch. They both groaned when he bottomed out, fully seated inside of her. 

“Fuck honey, you’re just so tight, so wet, so warm for me,” he whimpered, moving inside her with slow, deep strokes. He wanted to make this last, to draw out her pleasure. With every thrust, he told her how good she felt, how beautiful she looked underneath him, how her pussy was made for him, how perfect she was. He could’ve gone like that for quite some time, slowly bringing her closer and closer to her high. Only her pleas of more, faster, harder made him speed up. 

He grabbed one of her legs, placing it higher on his hip, allowing him to hit deeper inside her. Her hips moved in unison with his own, meeting each thrust into her. He would never get tired of the pretty sounds she made for him when he was fucking her. Those breathy moans she let out, the babbling it all spurred him on. He could tell she was close. She always got so fucking wet and even tighter right before she came. He dropped a hand between them, rubbing hard, tight circles around her clit. Not even a half dozen thrusts later, and she was wailing in ecstasy, clamping down on him like a vice. He wasn’t far behind, spilling himself deep within her, muttering her name over and over like a prayer. 

He rolled off of her, panting, taking a minute to catch his breath as he gazed at her blissed-out form. Hair a mess, chest heaving, lips swollen from his kisses to Marcus, she was stunning. He couldn’t think of a moment when she was more gorgeous than right then and there. He could look at her forever, just like this. 

Eventually, he got up and grabbed a warm cloth, gently cleaning her off. Turning off the light, he climbed back into bed, pulling her body to his, cradling her close. He let his hand wander, rubbing soothing circles over her belly. 

“You’re gonna look so stunning, honey, all round with our baby. I promise I’ll take such good care of you. I’ll do whatever you need.” 

He could feel his wife sigh, completely relaxed in his arms. He held her close, basking in her warmth and the love between them. He let his mind wander, thinking of the future, thinking of this baby. 

“I’m gonna cut back at work, move more into an advisory role in the Heroics. As your pregnancy progresses, I’ll be able to work from home and take a solid chunk of paternity leave when the baby comes. I’ve given enough of myself to the world. It’s time for me to give everything I can to my family, to you, to the girls, to this baby. I’ll go drop off the marriage certificate tomorrow before I go into HQ to talk about restructuring my job. That way, you’ll officially be Dr. Moreno, even though you’ve already been that to me for a long time.” 

She answered him with a happy sigh and kisses to his hand that entwined with hers. “I’d like that, Marcus. It might be selfish, but I want you here, with us. We love you so much; it’s nice when you’re here. It makes our family complete.” 

They spent a few more minutes talking about the future, drifting off into deep, dreamless sleep. The thought of tomorrow was full of bright promises, just waiting to be embraced. 

[melovez]

I wanna hear what you have to say about Clint! I’ve always been p neutral towards him since he’s not an NPC I interact with often anymore and I don’t really have any strong feelings about his characterization, so hearing someone who appreciates him would be cool (esp since it seems like 90% of the fandom really hates him lol)

i think the best way to go about this for me is to counter the common arguments i see against clint? so that’s what i’ll do

my big long explanations below the cut

1. Clint is a “nice guy”

clint makes misguided comments in his first heart event, yeah. but this isn’t a prolonged trend for him. clint does not remark that he feels owed anything. clint does not remark that emily is a bitch or anything for not returning his feelings. if anything clint just yearns at his seat at the saloon until happenstance puts him and emily in the same conversation. i don’t really think he’s ever forward or creepy towards her, not canonically. at festivals when he talks to the player about her it’s him confiding in the player. is it weird? yes, of course it’s weird. but he’s not a bad person for it, he’s just painfully awkward

2. Clint is ugly

is he ugly? is he really? are you just letting your preconceived dislike of him influence how you think he looks? is it because he’s one of like 4 fat characters in this game? like maybe that’s a little harsh but what with how many people i see slim down and buff up everyone in the valley when they draw them, even characters that have clearly rounded faces and figures in their sprites, even characters that remark about their own weight like shane, i do think i’m justified in wondering if the fact that clint doesn’t fit the box of slim fit hansome young bachelor has anything to do with why people say he’s ugly.

3. Clint is stalking Emily

i think this stems from a misinterpretation of the heart event where he asks emily out on a date. hes not hiding in the bush because he wants to watch her in secret. he’s hiding in the bush because he chickened out when he was on her doorstep. he even says he just wants to leave. he wasn’t hiding there with a pair of binoculars or anything, when the player shows up it’s not long after he fled to hide.

4. Clint doesn’t deserve Emily

i see people who hate clint say this often and like… yes? did you read the note in his room where he admits he has no chance with her? like this is a matter of opinion ultimately but it’s another thing that gives me the impression people who say these things about clint never actually take the time to get to know him before they judge

5. Clint still hits on Emily after you marry her

this one i agree sucks but honestly i chalk it up to how he’s programmed. i do not think it was concernedape’s intention to make him hit on your wife. also it’s not like crushes magically go away after your crush starts dating someone else. again, i agree this is definitely uncomfortable but without an update to the game or a mod there’s no way around it

6. Emily hates Clint

i see this one in headcanons a lot and it’s just so absolutely baseless it’s clear people who hate clint are just trying to justify themselves doing so. emily never says anything bad about clint. emily seems to want to go to grampleton with him, even just as friends. i mean they’re listed as friends on the stardew wiki. i don’t know what else to say. these characters have absolutely no ill will between them canonically

Conclusion

so like. here’s what i think is happening.

first, people take a liking to emily. they do all emily’s heart events first. emily’s eight heart event makes them not like clint, and i mean of course it does, even i can admit he soured that heart event with emily. and then i think since that makes people not like clint, they go into all of his heart events already not liking him, and this leads them to misinterpret everything he does, and in turn understand him to be some antagonistic chatacter.

but he’s not. clint is really just like any other mediocre dude in this game. hell, i think shane is a WAY more unlikable character than clint is and yet i see shane fans shitting on clint like he’s worse! i seriously don’t understand it. don’t get me wrong, shane is one of my favorite bachelors, but if you ADORE shane and DESPISE clint it really makes me wonder what the difference there is.

if anyone reads this and take personal offense to it i apologize that i made you feel that way but in the end stardew valley is a game you are welcome to consume however you like. don’t like clint? don’t talk to him, then. i do not think less of you for doing so. but when i see people in the tag being like “omg there’s so little content of (very popular bachelor/bachelorette)” i die a little inside because there’s basically only three types of clint fan content. fic/art where he’s a background/side character, fic/art where he’s portrayed as a slob/asshole/nice guy/pig/idiot, or on rare occasions, fic/art where he’s shipped with emily. and i do not want to see literally any of that.

there is like 1 good clint fanartist on tumblr but i don’t wanna name drop in this post cuz i don’t wanna draw negative attention to them but i can recommend them elsewhere.

anyways that’s my defense of clint. make of it what you will

[roamingpoffin]

Mr. Genova: Instructions for Use

Hello there! I recently got to re-read Hetalia’s story about Napoleon in occasion of a trip in Corsica, and suddently remembered this adorable little guy. While there are a lot of wonderful people that took the mantle and tried to give character and story to what are actually just 2 sketches from 3y ago, I also noticed some disappointment (understandable) and…. misinformation from lack of context and historical knowledge about the topic. I know that seeing the 4th italian brother when maybe your country isn’t in yet can be frustrating, but trust me when I say that Genova is a very important character for many of the events that occurred between the middle-ages and WWII (does Colombo ring a bell?).

With that said let’s try to discover together who actually was is Mr.Genova!

Why Genova and not Genoa? Genova is the correct italian name of the republic/city while Genoa is it's english version and, incidentally, the name of Genova's most renowed football team. So just like for Venezia and Roma we'll keep the original pronunciation.

In this first part we’ll talk about Genova design

[Original sketch by Hima, I just polished and colored it to better convey my ideas about his design.]

I’ve heard people complaining that “he just seems like a fusion of Romano and France”, funnily enough not only the comparison is quite on point, but it’s coherent with Genova’s history and probably intentional on Hima’s side.

To understand what I mean let’s look at a little map of modern Italy

We can immediatly notice some things ->

1) Liguria (the name given to Genova’s historical territories after the city became “capoluogo di regione” in 1948) borders with France and Monaco. For all it’s life Genova had to fend against France and would often end under it’s dominion for brief periods; at the same time their vicinity favored a similar culture and language (with one BIG exeption we'll see another time): Monaco and Corsica, previously territories of Genova, retain a great resemblance with Ligurian when speaking their actual language, aka Corso and Monegasco. At the same time Ligurian presents some elements common in french that are actually absent in standard italian.

2) Genova is situated in front of the Ligurian sea and has open access to all of west-Mediterraneum, becoming the most important harbor in north-west Italy since it gained his autonomy from the HRE around 1096 A.D. Due to Liguria peculiar geografical conformation (no plains and the Alps-Appenines isolating Genova from the rest of north Italy, favoring a climatic bubble that makes the region a greener version of the south) our republic decided to limit it's expansion towards northen countries and instead focus on the Mediterraneum sea, becoming Spain and by proxy South Italy best commercial/political buddy till (almost) the end of it’s indipendent life.

3bonus) Yes guys Seborga is a little town in the Ligurian hinterland and was part of the Genovese republic. While Seborga's story is really interesting (might do a focus in the future) the general history and culture of the 2 is the same.

NOTE: every time I use the term “Italy” during any period pre 1861 consider it only as the geographical meaning of the peninsula (Italy as a country wasn't a thing till then).

PALETTE AND DESIGN

With this introduction in mind it makes sense for little Genova to have his hair styled similar to France and a darker shade compared to Veneziano. While the dark gray used by Hima could hint at both black and dark brown, the latter is by far the most common color in Liguria so I decided to go with that.

His eyes are anybody’s game to be fair, but I decided to be as faithful as possible to the average ligurian so, just like Feli and Lovi when Hima decides that his eyes aren’t olive anymore, brown/light brown is the most common color in Italy (+ we already have Seborga as the random flashy neighbouring brother).

To end our palette the skin tone could be an in between: probably darker that a Northener but lighter than a Southener (no mayor arabic nor germanic influences here)

CLOTHES AND ACCESSORIES

clothes -> nothing too important to say, the clothes are fit for the XVIII sec., they shows Genova’s status as a wealthy commercial republic and unofficial bank of Europe (yup, before Switzerland Genova had that role and it’s banks are considered the oldest in Europe). As long as the colors used aren’t too flashy everything is fine.

crown thingy(?) -> now this is where things become interesting. There are 3 possible options I could think as of why Genova, of all the possible accessories, has a crown when it wasn’t even a monarchy. Pick what you prefer or feel free to add your personal interpretation if you want.

1) money and superbia: as written before, during it's prime Genova was a wealthy republic, lending money to half of Europe and being the indiscussed queen of west-Mediterraneum (ofc Venezia was the queen of east-Mediterraneum, but that’s another story for another post). The city even got the nickname “Superba” to enanche the grandiosity and way too much pride of it’s people. A crown would be a fitting choice for someone who is probably a bit narcisist.

2) city status: in ancient paintings the personifications of countries and cities were made recognizable by the presence of a little crown on their head. Adding to that, in Italy to be a full fledged town or city you must receive a crown symbol to put on your emblem, maybe Hima is hinting at Genova actual predicament.

3) the Lanterna: I’ll admit the first thing I tought while looking at Genova was “that looks like a little tower”. A bit strange, but actually not farfetched; if you have ever visited Genova you’ll know what I mean when I say this city has a lot, and I say A LOT of towers positioned trough the historical center. The reason? To protect themselves from the French/Ottomans/eventual pirates, in the XVI sec. Genova decided to build a massive system of walls and towers that surrounded the city. There is also a specific tower that is considered the symbol of Genova itself “la Lanterna”. The Lanterna is the oldest Lighthouse still in function trough Europe; maybe if you glance at its modern look it doesn’t scream “tower”, but before it was semi-destroyed by the French army in 1513 A.D. Lanterna beared a striking resemblance to what Mr.Genova is wearing.

“MUGUGNO LIBERO”

Last but not least, the infamous pout that gave Genova the label of “Romano 2.0”. It’s not random, it’s not wrong, it’s such a toughtful and unexpected touch that Hima would be declared honored guest by any Genovese (and made me personally laugh like an idiot for an hour).

What Genova is doing here has a specific term in the local language, mugugnare!

What is “mugugnare”? Mugugnare is a peculiar way of complaining and rambling specific of the Ligurians. This act is soo ingraned into the culture of the region that it’s considered an art and will take a good part of any conversation you’ll have with a local.

I’ll be more specific when we’ll touch Genova possible characterization, just you know that where Romano is loud, pretty offensive and direct the mugugno is more subtle and passive-aggressive. It can and WILL BE directed at anything, from the weather to jobs to Venezia and the rest of the north.

This finally brings us in what defines most of the characters of Hetalia, the wonderful land of stereotypes.

See you in the next part where we’ll talk about the temperament and culture of what is often considered the “black sheep” of north Italy!

[ask-rp-devra]

The night was short, the pair were able to sleep a good 8 hours before getting ready the next morning to set off towards the train station. The pair decided to come back through to pick up the Pokemon to bring back to the island before heading home, but for now they could stay behind with Devra’s mom, just for a little while longer. The only team members that went with them were coal, the little hybrid houndoomxarcanine pup, and Aliza, who had taken a shine to the ponyta gifted to Peach, they seemed to play well together, even Dreepy liked her. With bags gathered, goodbyes said, and tickets bought, the pair stepped onto the train, waving off Olivia who came to see her daughter go, and off they went, towards the new Galarian island, the Crown Tundra.

Devra settled into her seat, waving goodbye to her mom as Coal jumped up in the seat next to her. He was small enough to be on the train, but Aliza had to stay in her pokeball for the time being. She looked over at her friend and smiled. “I hope you slept alright. I always thought the guest room bed was too hard.”

“‘you saw me right? I was asleep in an aeroplane chair sitting up right, the bed was just fine. Much better than most of the places I sleep while away from the lab.” She recalled a few occasions being able to just about catch an hours rest while being trapped in a tree by aggressive Pokemon. “it was a warm, dry bed, with actual sheets and a roof over me haha. It was great.” She mindlessly petted Val, ordering a good coffee off the trolley that passed by, a sweet little wigglytuff in the train companies uniform asking for payment. She got her wallet out...or so she thought? Her hand reached into her bag, and hit something very cold and very smooth, reeling from the weird texture. Val sniggered to herself, shifting to the empty seat the bag sat on, to peer inside.

“I think we have a stow away.” Peach murmured, carefully opening the bag much wider than needed to get a good look. “‘Dreepy?” Inside was the little ghost type, she swore while waving to Devra’s mother at the station when they left, she had also spotted this Pokemon amongst others that had come to see the trainers off. He was wrapped up in one of Peach’s shirts, and seemed a little nervous about being caught in her stuff.

Devra looked over at Peach from her camera, having been looking th right some pictures. “Dreepy? He’s here? But I saw him with my mom. Here, I took a picture of the group when we left.” She held the camera so they could both look. “Oh....well. I thought he was in the picture.” She looked at the little Pokémon and sighed. “I guess he really wanted to come with you.”

“well, it’s fine with me, if he wants to come then I guess we’ve got a new team member.” She smiled a little at the Pokemon and let him and Val go and pick some snacks off the trolley before paying. She gave eyes at her steadfast fire type while Dreepy’s back was turned, asking without words for her to tone her usual disinterest down by like 20%, and she began chattering to the ghost Pokemon as she selected a strawberry filled dumpling thing in a wrapper. With the stern silence broken between the two, peach could relax a little, perhaps they two would be fine together for the trip.

“You’re right though, I swear I saw him on the platform too.” She glanced at the screen on the camera, seeing no signs of him. “‘how strange. You’re faster than you look hey bud?” Dreepy seemed quite proud of the compliment, and finally chose a chocolate-orange flavoured pastry twist before returning to the open bag to snack. “I’m buying, you and your team want anything?”

Devra nodded to Coal, who bounced over and happily started sniffing around until he found a pumpkin muffin. She then grabbed an apple cake and raspberry pastry for her other two team members before sitting back down. “I don’t need anything. Mom made sure I left full.” She laughed and opened Coal’s treat for him. “Tell Peach thank you young man.” The little pup barked happily as me bounced over to her for pets.

“she’s a good mom that one, I bet she’d enjoy a little holiday in johto, lots to see, I can hook you both up with some fun things to do for sure.” There was plenty of art galleries, heritage sites, and excellent restaurants throughout the region, not to mention live music, public gardens of great beauty, and a butt load of areas to sightsee in. Peach paid up and petted Coal, she was very glad to see him in capable hands, he took to Devra like a Ducklett to water, and she was confident he’d grow fast now he was out exploring with her. The Dreepy seemed to peep its eyes out at the hybrid Pokemon, still nibbling away on its snack.

Coal bounced back up next to Devra and started to munch on his treat. “I’m sure she’ll love the trip.” She looked out the window, watching the countryside roll by. “What’s the first thing you want to do once we get to the tundra?”

The professor sipped her hot drink, also enjoying the windows view. “hm, that’s a good question. I suppose I’d really like to find a place to stay, I’d normally not mind camping but I see the name ‘Crown TUNDRA’ and feel like I wouldn’t want to stay over night outside as much. What about you? You’ll be knees deep in herd Pokemon in no time I bet, anything else you’d want to check out?” The little Dreepy had snuck closer to the window to look out, still nibbling.

“Well, there is this big ruin building with a massive old dead tree that’s I’d love to see. But it’s at the top of one of the mountains here. So it might be tricky getting to.” She mindlessly pet Coal as she slowly started seeing snow. “And I think there’s a small town that we could ask about lodging at. Day trips to the tundra and back by dark?”

“‘oh I do love a tree, that sounds interesting, you could always try to find a Pokemon who could get you up that mountain a bit easier?” Peach had planned to do just that, the cold sneaking in, she could feel her bad knee aching ever so slightly already, and almost exactly after that thought crossed her mind, Val crept over to radiate heat, sitting in her lap, easing the dull pain.

“perhaps we can camp out some of the time, it’d be nice to see what happens at night, what Pokemon come out, just perhaps not in any heavy weather if it can be avoided. I did take a look online, the village there is usually pretty open to travellers, think I noticed a B&B or two with vacancies posted, I’m sure we’ll find somewhere to stay.” By this point, the views had turned pure white, in the fields you could see grazing Pokemon, a herd of wooloo who almost blending in with the surroundings.

Devra spotter the wooloo right away, fawning over one of her favorite Pokémon. Coal picked up on his trainer’s excitement, his tail wagging happily as she told him what snow was like. “Oh I can’t wait to see Aliza’s face when she sees her first snow!”

“thats right, she’s not even seen a December yet, or a snowy route. Good thing you got your camera then isn’t it, I’m sure mom and pop would like to see her first experience with it, you know Cole hasn’t seen snow either before. Bet he’s real excited about now.” The pup must have felt something, seeing all this white for the first time. “‘what about you Dreepy, you seen snow before?” The little ghost type looked back, didn’t turn its body at all, but bent it’s neck fully back to look at the Professor upside down, giving no clear answer, which to her seemed like a big fat no, but perhaps he was a little shy about answering right away. “no matter, we’ll soon be in the thick of it.”

She giggled at the sight of the little dreepy. “He’s seen some light snow before. I caught him in the wild area. The weather there is always so weird. But he hasn’t seen this much before. This is going to be a big busy day.” She snapped a quiet picture of dreepy being cute, then one of Coal barking at the snow through the window.

The train began to turn a final corner, the tannoy alerting passengers to the upcoming station, the only stop on the journey coming up very soon.

“looks like we’re nearly there, ready to get going?” The trip had been only short, but outside it looked like a completely different region, so much snow and ice everywhere, nothing but pine trees. The woman grabbed her bags, not before waiting for the little Dreepy to return to the inside where it wrapped up in the spare clothes to keep warm. Val took to her shoulder as she usually did.

Devra nodded, standing up to gather her things. She then picked up Coal, holding his stout body in her arms to keep him from running of into the snow. “We’re ready. I’m so excited to see this area. I’ve read about it but they took forever to get it safe enough for more visitors.”

Safe enough wasn’t always entirely foolproof, and Peach was quietly happy she packed a first aid kit. She had heard some murmurs it was a little risky here, a lot of tough Pokemon roamed about.

“I hope you’re right, I’m sure the locals wouldn’t put people at risk.” The pair stepped off the train once the doors pinged open, the brisk cold air swept past, pulling them all out onto the platform. People came and went, and before long they became aware of the exits and where to head to next.

Devra took a slight lead of the two, following signs towards the little town. “Well, they did give all of us coming here a safety talk too. I just hope trainers actually listen. You gotta be smart about this place.” She then set Coal down and let the little guy run circles around the two humans. “I think I’ll wait to let Aliza our until we’re settled.”

With the pup thoroughly enjoying the snow, the trainers paused to check their phones, a map was needed for a moment, before they began to hear some loud ruckus just outside to the right of the station, sounded like a man and a young woman, peach didn’t even register it much, turning her back to the noise almost instinctually, trying to figure out which way to go. Val however was being nosey and sat on her shoulder judging the people making all the noise pretty hard from the look on her face.

“I think you’re right, we should find somewhere to stay before we really go out on a wild adventure.”

She nodded, looking at her own map on her Rotom phone, thanking the Pokémon inside for his help. “It looks like we head on that way.” She pointed to the road as it took a slight left turn. “Shouldn’t be more than a 20 minute walk.”

“‘sounds good to me, wonder what Pokemon we might see on the way?” Pocketing the phone and hoisting her bag up a bit, Peach began to take a few steps, noticing the pair who were making such noise earlier, avoiding them entirely, they seemed to be having a dad-daughter tiff that was no ones business. Onward, to the first route of the Crown Tundra!

Devra took a glance at the arguing people and sighed, hoping the wouldn’t bother her or the Professor. Coal bounded ahead as they walked, but kept in his trainer’s sight. “It’s really pretty here. Just look at all the ice on these pine needles!” She crunched her way to a tree and found an angle to catch light in the ice.