#Like you blew my mind how inept you are at this

[delirious-donna]

Just Call My Name, I'm Yours To Tame [Nanami Kento]

an: running late is Kento’s idea of hell, but even more so when you’re waiting for him. If he’s not careful, someone else might swoop in and try to steal you away, but you’d never go… right?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warning: unwanted attention from a male stranger, uninvited touching, pissed off Kento, implied violence (not involving reader), hasty sex, semi-public fucking, Kento wants to rub himself all over you

Masterlist

Kento hated running late, it wasn't a simple mild annoyance but a deep abhorrence at the lack of punctuality. It was his belief that if you had the manners to arrange to meet at a specific time, you should do everything to keep your word. He was an old soul, as you often teased him, and good manners cost nothing in his eyes.

Cursing the inept Gojo Satoru, a man meant to be his elder and ‘superior’, for being unable to write up his reports without assistance at every turn, he scowled and glanced at his watch once more. In his mind, he was concocting retribution befitting of his ego and idiocy, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips as he hurried along.

Thirty minutes late…

Oh, he wanted to claw at his skin. The discomfort of his lateness darkened his mood on an evening which was meant to be fun. He was meant to meet you at the small bar you had discovered a few weeks back, conveniently not far from his apartment which meant on that first fateful night it made tumbling home easy whilst you loosened his shirt and tie, and he left his mark on the skin of your collarbone.

Those tantalising memories had the grace to relieve the worst of the anger bubbling inside him like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment, thoughts of Gojo’s smirking face and the traffic that seemed intent on keeping him from you melted into the periphery. All he needed was to set his sights on your pretty face and all would be right again.

What he wasn’t expecting when he finally rounded the door to the bar, eyes scanning through the Friday night crowds, and what he absolutely did not need given his current temperament was to discover you being harassed.

His hand tightened into a fist, which he slowly released as he blew out a controlled breath. You were seated at your favourite section of the bar—close enough to the bartenders that drinks would never run dry but removed enough that quiet conversation was easy. Kento's glance cut to your outfit, much to his immediate shame, taking in the skirt that you knew was his very favourite and the sentiment was clearly shared by the man leaning in much too close.

Whilst he could see why this stranger admired your shapely legs, the soft spread of your thighs and the curve leading to generous hips, you were not enjoying the attention and he was far from being subtle in his interest. Any sane person could see that you were slowly inching away from him, but drunk on his poison of choice and probably a hefty dose of adrenaline given how often and fidgety his hand ran through his greasy hair, the man was ignoring your rebuff. Instead, he shuffled even closer with drool practically hanging from his open mouth.

His rising temper was curtailed by an unexpected hint of humour, his imposing frame blocked the entrance and left other patrons to squeeze around him rather than ask him to move whilst he observed your short, curt nods in response to the man's questions. Your entire stance, mannerisms, and the way you turned in your seat to give him your back all screamed 'fuck off' in the politest way possible. You were too good for him, far more restrained than he would be at the unwanted attention. It made him want to laugh, and that was far more welcome than the fury beating deeper in his heart.

You were no damsel in distress, but when the man reached out to touch the side of your knee, he knew it was time to announce his presence and put a stop to this pathetic display. Kento’s neck cracked from side to side, and he moved off with purpose from where he had been standing.

Discreetly you tapped your phone to life and glanced at the time, frowning at the continued absence of the man you were meant to be meeting. A low sigh eased past your lips as you continued to ignore your annoyingly persistent admirer. Kento was late and it just wasn't like him.

Worry was beginning to gnaw in the pit of your belly, only incited by the flashes of irritation at the man that you could only describe as a pervert. Not only had he seated himself despite you assuring him that it was taken, but he also openly leered at your chest and legs.

You wondered if you should call him, biting your lip in indecision and tapping anxiously at the green call symbol next to his name, but it was all for naught.

A figure caught your attention from the corner of your eye; blond perfectly parted hair, broad shoulders and an unreadable expression—Kento had arrived and was heading straight for you, his eyes burning holes into you.

You weren’t quite ready to throw yourself into his arms, although you were tempted if it finally gave this pest the hint he needed to beat it, but your thoughts were cut short by a clammy hand on your knee. Disgust rose in your throat at being touched without your consent.

The hand didn’t remain there long.

There was a muffled scream as your view of the unwanted admirer became obscured behind a broad back. His navy shirt looked close to breaking point as the threads at the seams strained to contain the strength of your beau, his biceps flexing whilst you were left to wonder exactly what he had done—although you could guess.

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting, sweetheart. I was held up by an idiot," he soothed, finally turning to cup your chin in his large palm. His thumb stroked along your jawline as the other hand landed on the seated flare of your hip. His hold was firm, deft fingers sinking into your plush flesh and kneading you just how you liked.

You barely took note of the man leaving the bar with his hand cradled to his chest, the fingers looking bent into an unnatural position and very red. It was hard to care when you were caught fast in the snare of being able to breathe in the scent of your man. The only man that mattered, was the one looking at you with an expression you weren’t entirely familiar with.

"Where are we going?" you asked breathlessly. With one fluid movement, you allowed him to pull up from the seat and into the warmth of his body, his chest shielding you from those around who were turning to look your way.

"Home, sweetheart."

Except it wasn’t the complete truth. You found that out when your spine arched off the wall, shoulders digging into the brickwork as Kento held your weight around his waist as if it were nothing. With his zipper undone enough to allow his cock to slip free, and your underwear shoved roughly into the crease of your thigh, he took you like he never had before. He dropped you down onto him again with fervour, swallowing your whine and feeding you his own rumbling groan.

He was possessed with the need to reclaim you, to rub his scent across every bare inch of your skin and the desire couldn’t be contained. You were thankful for the shadow-polluted back alley running behind the bar. Eternally grateful that it wasn’t yet dark enough for the streetlights to illuminate the lewd scene in which you were playing a starring role. The shadows wrapped around the hunched form of Kento, his frame hiding you from sight except for your legs around his hips.

Rough, calloused hands smoothed your bare thighs, hiking your skirt even higher as he groped at you in desperation. It was so unlike him, to see him so raw and in need of you. Your cunt clenched around his hard length, rolling yourself to meet his frantic thrusts halfway, the haze of an impending orgasm dulling your senses down to the only one that mattered—the feel of him fucking up against your g-spot.

With your fingers entwined with his, dizzy and all too giddy from the quick hit of dopamine, you skipped along towards his apartment. The lazy, self-assured smile he wore had you clenching all over again, dancing closer to him and leaning up to press a kiss to the bobbing swell of his Adam’s apple.

You should have known that he wasn’t done, in fact, he wouldn’t be satisfied for some time to come. Kento let out a low roar like some feral beast the second the door slammed shut behind his back. Taking off like a drunk gazelle, you ran and he chased you down the hall to the shrieks of your laughter until he had you caged against yet another wall.

"Kento... you’re acting beastly!"

His answer was to open his jaw, teeth snapping around the slender column of your throat and his tongue working into the hollow. He nipped and bit his way around your throat, holding you in the cage of his arms without sign of release.

“I am a beast, darling. When it comes to you… I’ll never stop reminding you that I am the one you chose, and never stop proving exactly why you love falling into my bed.”

[fandomfics]

So Soft, so Beautiful

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Plus size mutant fem reader, Scott Summers x Plus size mutant fem reader

Description: you don't give a single shit about the man that's obsessed with you, in fact, you have eyes for someone else, but he doesn't feel the same. Maybe you can get under someone else to get over him.

Masterlist

⚠️Warnings⚠️

Au, Jean and Scott aren't together , not proof read

Kind of stalkery behavior, light fat shaming, jealousy, angst, Fluff, smut unprotected p in v.

Smut under the 🔥

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"Why does he act so weird around you?" Ororo asks.

"I don't know, maybe he has a little crush on me?" You shrug your shoulders. "Ever since Scott and I went on that mission together he's been lingering around me more...kinda seems like he even goes out of his way to just....stand around, maybe say hi."

"Kinda creepy."

"Eh, I think he's just socially inept." You wave off her concerned look. "And anyways, the professor has taught me to hone in on my skills, I can reach into his mind and stop him from using his powers if he becomes dangerous. Though, I doubt it would come to that."

"Okay...just talk to the professor if he's getting any weirder, alright?"

"Sure thing Ro." You give her a small smile before bounding out of the kitchen and to your room.

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You sit in your classroom with your students, reading from a book of poetry.

"Annabel Lee

By Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee."

As you continue to read you see Scott Summers in your periphery, he leans against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching you intently.

"But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea." You look up to your class, carefully avoiding Scott, "the assignment is simple, create a piece inspired by this poem. Any media you wish, sculpture, painting, mixed. I really look forward to seeing what you come up with!"

You dismiss your class and begin shuffling papers trying to look busy. You know Scott's about to walk up and talk about nothing in particular with you, something likely work related, uninteresting as usual.

"Ah, man..." He stretches and exaggerates his exhaustion. "That was a depressing poem." He sits at a desk kicking up his feet.

"How was your day?" You say making friendly conversation.

"Ya know, the usual, angsty kids, boring classes." He goes on to tell a mind numbing story about a kid that pulled a prank and how he handled it. You nod and hum through the story, feigning interest.

"Wow," you say raising an eyebrow, "that's wild."

"I know right?"

"Well, nice chatting with you Summers, I've gotta get going." You begin to make your way out of the room when he cuts in front of you in the doorway, blocking your exit.

"Before you go, I was wondering," he looks down at you with a smile, "You want to go check out this new bar with me some time?"

"Uh, yeah sure." You say noncommittally as you smile and push past him. Logan is walking through at that moment and you fall in line with him, hoping to start a conversation to keep Scott from following you.

"Hey short stack." He says with a smile.

"Hey grouch." You elbow him returning the smile as you tilt your face up to look up at him.

"Got any plans for the weekend big guy?"

"Not a damn thing," he sighs, "got kid duty."

"Me too!" You squeak excitedly. "I switched with Jean so she can spend the weekend with her new guy."

"Of course." He grumbles, clearly agitated. He's always opted to hang around her, he was friendly with you, but never got too close.

The most you got was some friendly banter, and hang outs in group settings. None of these facts stopped you from developing feelings for the gruff man, much to your dismay. He is head over heels for Jean, and you've accepted it, but it still stings, especially when he's like this.

"Well, maybe you and I can watch a movie, I'll even let you pick!" His smile comes back and it makes your heart skip a beat knowing it was because of you.

"You might regret that." He says with a laugh.

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You sit in the dark, a bowl of popcorn in your lap on the opposite side of the couch from Logan. The glow of the TV is all that illuminates the room, and you're enthralled with the images that flash across the screen. He picked a horror move that you have found particularly disturbing.

Suddenly you're startled, you jump with a small scream and some of your popcorn scatters around you. Logan chuckles from the other end of the couch and you shoot him a dirty look.

"Why did you choose this?" You ask, genuinely curious, "I'd think you would hate this kinda stuff."

"Sometimes I hope the nightmares will be about something like this instead of..." He trails off. He turns to see the look of sympathy on your face, "Eh, forget about it, Come're." He lifts the arm closest to you, inviting you to lean into him.

"What? I don't bite." he announces after seeing your face change to a look of confusion before quickly morphing to one of hesitation. "Come on, we're friends right?"

There's the sting. Friends. The desire to be bundled under his strong arm, even just this once, sounds nice. You take the invitation and scoot close to him, his arm rests around you and let out a content sigh.

You know it's gonna hurt when you think back on this knowing you can't have it again, but for now you can pretend. His warmth and the scent of musk and tobacco that invades your nostrils is comforting. You use every ounce of will power focusing your attention on the movie, faltering at every jump scare when he feels you jerk in surprise and tightens his grip momentarily to soothe you.

"Okay, well that was terrifying." You say when the credits start to roll.

"I told you that you'd regret letting me choose." He chuckles as he squeezes you again.

"Nah, I enjoyed this!" You stumble to correct yourself, "the movie!"

The lights suddenly flicker on and you're blinded momentarily. Logan immediately leaves the couch, claws extend with a snarl, as Jean enters the room. His face softens to a nervous smile and his claws retract.

"Heya Jean," his hand reaches up to rub the nape of his neck, "thought you were supposed to be gone the whole weekend."

You take this as your que to leave, the sting of rejection settles in your chest as you quickly exit the room, avoiding eye contact with both of them.

"Wait, it's not what it looks like..." You hear Logan say.

Once you've made it into the hallway, you allow tears to fall as you walk as fast as your legs will carry you to your room.

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The following day Scott finds you taking a walk around the grounds, "Hey, I was looking for you!" His greeting is strangely overenthusiastic.

"What's up Scott?"

"I'm going to that bar tonight, join me?"

You take a beat to think it over, the events of the previous night fill you with a dread you want to forget, so you accept. "Yeah, that'd be nice."

"Great, be ready by 7." He says before he begins walking back to the mansion.

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You make your way to the front door, your makeup and hair done in your signature styles, wearing your favorite outfit, that one that boosts your confidence and makes you feel absolutely amazing.

Your decent on the stairs is interrupted on the landing when you see Logan coming your way. He stops just a few stairs below you, poised to say something.

"Hey Scotty!" You wave past Logan and hurry down the stairs with a smile plastered to your face, determined to show that you weren't impacted by the previous night.

"Ready to go?"

"Yup!"

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The bar is lively, the music is loud enough to drown out Scott's monotonous chatter, and the drinks are strong enough to help you lose yourself. The night blurs together in a haze of drinks and dancing until you wake up in your bed next to Scott. You don't know how much time you lost or how you got here, but you're thankful for the chance to forget Logan for a bit.

You and Scott are still fully dressed, laying on top of the comforter. You both look like disasters, and you feel like you were hit by a train. You get up and get some pain relievers and a glass of water to begin the process of your tried and true hangover routine.

Scott stirs and slowly comes to, clearly feeling the same, "Here, take these." You say as you hand him a couple pills and your glass. "Then we're gonna need some greasy food."

He grunts in agreement before taking the pills.

"Do you remember what happened last night?" You ask.

"I remember the beginning of the night..." He laughs lightly.

After a short time you and Scott start to leave, but when your door swings open you see Logan standing there, hand up, ready to knock. A look of surprise briefly crosses his face before hardening into a serious expression.

"We need you, now." He states quickly, "one of the students is on the verge of a meltdown and Jean and the professor aren't here."

You nod and follow Logan as Scott calls after you, "I'll make us breakfast!"

"About the other night-" He starts.

"Don't worry Logan, it was nothing. Just hope it didn't upset Jean." You put on your best smile. He looks a bit confused but you're unable to explore why as you've made it to the student in question.

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When you finally return to the kitchen Scott has a plate laid out for each of you.

"Yum." You say trying to hide the disappointment in your voice as you look over the egg white omelette stuffed with veggies and turkey bacon on your plate.

"My special hangover cure." He beams.

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A few weeks pass and you've spent more time with Scott. Walking the grounds, being his sparring partner, having casual sex. He's boring and the sex is mediocre, but you just need something to fill the ache in your chest.

One evening you sit with him in front of the TV watching a movie, "ya know, I used to know someone that looks just like her." He points to the woman on the screen before continuing, "ugh, I usually don't tell other people about this, but damn, she was stunning. Perfect boobs, ass. She was fit too. Worked out. Too bad she was married."

You scoff at him as you get up to leave the room.

"Can I stop by to fool around later?" He calls after you completely oblivious to his own stupidity.

Through laughter you tell him no and make your way to your room. It all makes since now. Every time he's asked you to go out with him it's for some sort of physical activity, meals he cooks for you are always the grossest healthy shit, he doesn't show physical affection when others are around but always had his hands on you when you were alone.

He's obsessed with you but ashamed of liking someone that doesn't fit conventional beauty standards. He's trying to make you fit the mold.

You're lost in thought at the absurdity of it as you crawl into bed with your favorite book.

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A knock on the door startles you awake and your book flies from your hand to the floor. You sleepily open the door to find Scott standing there with a half wilted bouquet of flowers that you had seen sitting in the kitchen the day before.

"I don't know what I did wrong but I'm sorry!" He says I'm a clear attempt to get back in your pants. From the corner of your eye you see Logan walking down the hall and immediately slam the door closed to avoid both men.

"You're done Scott." You yell through the door.

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You are overjoyed at the prospect of having the whole mansion to yourself for a few days. Everyone will be on a field trip with the kids, no one to avoid, no one to play pretend with after Scott's bullshit the night before. You are free to do what you want.

You decide to make yourself your favorite meal, you sing along to the music that plays in the background, dancing around the kitchen while you work. You whip around, spatula in hand as a microphone and sing along to part of the song especially loudly when you notice Logan smiling as he leans against the doorway. Mortified you stop, eyes wide, "How long have you been there?"

He chuckles, "Not long."

"Aren't you supposed to be with everyone else?"

"I, uh...heard what Scott said to you last night." He looks to the floor. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. If you want me to leave you alone, I will. I can go meet back up-"

"No, it's okay Lo, you're a good friend. Thank you." His expression is unreadable as you continue, "would you like to have dinner with me? There's plenty!" You say before you can regret it.

He pauses before answering, considering the option. He doesn't answer quickly enough before you blurt out, "It's okay, you don't have to if you don't want to!"

"No, sorry, no....I'd-I'd like that." You both smile gently before his eyes light up, "Just a sec, let me get something."

He leaves for a few minutes before returning with a bottle of whisky.

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After eating and a couple of glasses of whiskey you and Logan are still sitting at the table talking. You're happy he's here, in your tipsy state you promise yourself to stop avoiding him, maybe even try to really be friends again, make an effort to shove your feelings down and enjoy his company without pining over him.

"He didn't deserve you..." He says as he looks you in the eye.

"No he did not. I was just trying to fill a void, take my mind off of things, ya know. The person I really wanted is not... available." You look into your glass swirling the amber liquid around, "I just needed to forget a bit. Never really cared for Scott to begin with, he was just there."

"I know the feeling." His eyes are pained when they meet yours.

"Jean would be lucky to have you. It's her loss." You say, taking a swig of your drink

His face is confused again, "Jean?"

"Yeah, I've seen how you're always around her, how you scurried away from me when she got home after that movie...how you said you could explain when I was leaving." The sting in your chest is back.

"I didn't say that to her, I was talking to you."

It was your turn to be confused now. "What are you talking about?"

"You didn't stop so I assumed you didn't want to talk to me...and then you kept avoiding me. So I didn't push it."

"What were you going to explain?"

"That I was so focused on how close you were to me that I didn't hear her coming until the light came up. That's why I jumped out of the seat, I was ready to fight. I thought maybe you had felt something that night, but then you left so quickly..."Your eyes probe his as he continues, "Jean stopped me from going after you. She kept telling me that you weren't interested in hanging around me so I let it go."

"What did you want me to feel?" You keep going, hoping this is what you think it is, consequences be damned if it isn't.

"I wanted you to feel the same way I do about you. But I know you don't, it's okay."

"Do you....love me?" You ask cautiously, tears pricking your eyes, ignoring the fact that Jean erroneously spoke for you.

His eyes meet yours and he gives a small nod, "It's okay, nothing has to change. I don't expect anything from you, I-" all the emotion pent up in your body bursts through and tears stream down your face. You're happy, you're pissed, you're hurt, you can't control the tears.

"I'm sorry, I'll go." He's gone before you can blink and you try to follow after him.

"Logan, wait!" You hear him bound up the stairs towards his room. You follow as quickly as your feet will carry you and pound on his door. When he doesn't answer a sob wracks your body. You sit on the floor outside his door and try to stop crying so you can speak.

"Lo, please. I love you too." You say weakly.

The door opens slowly and you look up at him, you didn't expect to see him crying too. He kneels down on the floor next to you and searches your eyes.

"I love you." You whisper. He sweeps you up in his arms and carries you into his room, laying you on the bed and climbing in with you.

He pulls you tight to his chest and presses his forehead to yours as he wipes away a tear, "I have loved you for so long. Since the first time I laid eyes on you I was hooked."

You tilt your face up, lips barely brushing his before fully pushing forward. You smile into the kiss and feel your heart flutter. One of his hands comes up to your neck and he deepens the kiss. It's tender, but hungry.

"Why would Jean tell you I wasn't interested in you?" You say after finally pulling away.

Realization comes over both your faces, "she's in love with you too."

"Well, I only have eyes for you." He smiles down at you. Blush rises in your cheeks and you bury your face in his chest, inhaling his scent deeply.

"Can we just...stay like this for a while"

"Whatever you want darlin'." He kisses the top of your head, "you want something more comfortable to wear? I could get you something from your room...or you could have one of my shirts." He offers.

"I'd like one of your shirts, please." You say shyly. His face breaks into a wide grin.

He retrieves a flannel for you, "you should get more comfortable too." You smile sweetly.

He turns away and changes into a pair of sweats and removes his shirt, respectfully keeping his eyes turned away as you remove everything but your boy shorts and slip the flannel on. It's baggy, the sleeves hang just past your fingertips, and the hem at the mid thigh.

You turn to see he's still facing away and immediately move to him. He hears you coming towards him and turns his head a bit. You wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him tightly as you rest your face against his back, breathing him in.

He turns in your arms and looks over you in his shirt. "Perfect."

You take his hands and lead him back to the bed, urging him to climb in with you before snuggling back into his chest. As he holds you his fingers gently trace over your plush curves in admiration. You lay in each other's arms until you fall asleep, happy.

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Soft beams of light filter through the blinds, the sound of Logan's deep breaths and the rise and fall of his chest at your back reminds you that last night's events weren't just a dream. He stirs behind you with a happy hum, you feel the rumble in his chest as he squeezes you.

"Mornin'."

"Morning Lo."

"I don't remember the last time I slept that well. Guess I'm just gonna need to hold you every night." He burries his head in the crook of your neck with a kiss and you giggle.

"What should we do today?

"This."

🔥

"I see have a better idea." You say turning to him, you tilt your head up to plant a soft kiss on his lips. His breath hitches and you deepen the kiss. Your hands weave into his hair and you pull in closer, swollowing the moan he lets out. His hand moves down from your waist to your thick thigh, hoisting it up on his hip and palming it just below your ass.

You push forward, flipping him on his back and straddling him. You kiss along his jaw, down his neck, you feel the rumble of a gutteral moan in his throat when your lips hit his pulse point and your hips involuntarily grind against his hard cock.

"Fuck, sweetheart." His hands rove your body, from your thighs, your ass, your soft tummy, "you're so soft, so beautiful." He sits up and crosses his legs beneath you and guides your legs to cross behind his back. Your full weight rests in his lap and you feel supported in a way you never have before.

"Every time I heard you with Scott I wanted to break down the door and show you how you should be treated..."

"I should have guessed you'd hear..." You pause to look in his eyes, "Were you jealous?"

"So god damn jealous." He growls. "You deserve to be worshipped. Respected. Heard. Seen as the perfect woman you are." He punctuates every point with a kiss across your neck and collar bones.

When he's finished you press a searing kiss to his lips, funneling in every ounce of your being.

He flips you onto your back and breaks from the kiss when you both need air. "Let me take care of you." His gravelly whisper caresses the shell of your ear.

"Yes, please." Your reply is breathy, full of need.

He unwraps your legs from him and begins to kiss down your body. He pauses at the top button of the flannel and looks up to you, "Can I take this off?"

"Yes."

He unbuttons the shirt at an agonizing pace, after each is released he kisses the newly exposed skin as his free hand kneads the plushness of your love handes.

When the last button is undone he opens the shirt completely to reveal your breasts and tummy, looking at you as though you are the most beautiful and fascinating thing he's ever seen.

His hands drag along your skin up to your breasts, he takes a nipple into his mouth and teases it with his teeth and tongue as the other is pinched between his thick fingers.

You arch your back, pressing them further into him with a small moan, "that feels so good Lo."

He hums happily at your approval and brings his free hand down to rest on your inner thigh.

"Please, touch me." You gasp.

"You're gonna have to use your words sweetheart. Tell me exactly what you want."

"I want your fingers....your tongue...your cock..."you squirm under him as he continues his worship of your breasts."burried in me Lo. I need you."

His hand moves up and the pads of his fingers find your clit over your underwear and you buck your hips up to get more friction. His touch is feather light over your clit, your body twitches in anticipation, another whine escaping your lips.

He sits up on his knees between your legs and grabs the hem of your underwear, yanking them off in one go. He lays flat and pulls one leg over his shoulder with his arm threaded under your knee and hand on your stomach and spreads the other one open, keeping his hand on your inner thigh.

He wastes no time devouring you, his tongue explores every inch of your folds until he settles on your clit, alternating between sucking, nibbling, and flicking it as his hands knead your soft flesh. The hand on your thigh finally starts moving towards your opening, slowly he inserts a finger and crooks it as he starts to pump it in and out of you, dragging the pad of his finger along your sweet spot.

"More, please." You beg.

He adds a second finger and you run your fingers through his hair before taking fistfuls and tugged his head further into you with a roll of your hips. He moans loudly, sending a wave of pleasure vibrating through your clit.

"I'm so close..." You gasp with another tug of his hair.

He dutifully continues working you until you scream out in ecstasy as your orgasm tears through your body. He skillfully draws it out until it's run it's course and your left panting above him.

He works his way back up your body until he's face to face with you again. His hand cups your face and he lands a loving kiss to your lips. You reach between you and grab his member and he moans into the kiss as you guide him to your entrance.

He languidly rolls his hips as he seats himself inside you fully, taking his time, making sure you're comfortable. He pauses when he's fully inside you and looks into your eyes deeply.

"I love you." His eyes are full of reverence, adoration, need.

"I love you too Logan."

He begins moving again, slow purposeful thrusts, his eyes still glued to yours. The intimacy of the moment is intoxicating. He reaches one hand between you and circles your clit, heightening every sensation.

"You feel so good Lo." You manage to gasp out as he brings you closer and closer to to your peak.

He sits up on his feet and continues drilling into you as his fingers circle your clit. The new angle hits your sweet spot just right and you cry out in surprised pleasure.

"Almost there, I want you to cum with me..." You whisper as you arch your back.

"Where?" He says breathlessly.

"Inside me, please....I want to feel you." Soon you feel the rush of your orgasm wash over you, pulsing and contracting around him, pulling his own release from him. He continues working you until you're both spent, when he stills he falls to your side and pulls you into a blissful kiss. Everything feels right.

[sepyana]

Jjba Stardust Crusaders Ep. 21-24 Thoughts

I was gonna watch Ep. 25-26 before this but I wanted to make a clean split between the two parts. I peeped into ep 25 a lil bit and it has a new OP and everything. So it will have to wait for now.

Ep. 21-22

Absolute batshit insane two parter. I was gonna write Advol being alive in my predictions because surely if he was the crew would have more of a reaction? Well, I look like an even bigger fool now. How dare the narrative hide shit from me.

It will never not be funny how every 5 episodes or so we'll get an episode that's just Polnareff torture hour. Araki loves putting him in situations.

So... Fun fact! The stand Judgement is translated as "Mahşer" in the Turkish sub, which means bringing all the sould in one place in preperation for Judgement. I can't blame them for this, when translated directly it just doesn't sound nice to the ear. Finding an İslam equivalent is difficult too since there is a thousand fucking words to describe basically the same concept. I went to research for a bit and I couldn't find a concrete translation for it.

The stand itself is a fine interpetation of the Judgement card, I suppose. Rubbing a gold lamp for a genie trope is so overdone, it's abilities are cookie cutter. The design is nice, at least. I don't mind this that much, the episode is barely about it.

The whole time Polnareff is talking to Judgement you are just begging for him to not fall to it's trap. I like how they wrote this sequence. It made me feel upset but not infuriated, which is a common thing that happens in scenes like this. It's in character and it doesn't drag out for long.

Polnareff just accepting his death was actually hearbreaking. Poor guy.

Fortunately, he gets to live another day thanks to Advol BABY!!! You can just tell he was having fun. It must be nice getting to see Polnareff again. It's in ghe middle of a battle but, that's just how it be.

Guys, they put a fucking rainbow in there guys, look, gu-

Yeah this scene was the funniest part of the show so far. While watching I was like "They should piss in there lol" and then they actually did it. Advol was the one that said it too. "The nature is calling" I can't believe this.

And now we get to the part I honestly kind of hate. It turns out rest of the gang knew, all this time. The whole time they met "Advol's father" they were just acting.

They have absolutely zero reason for doing this, like, even Jotaro was acting there. They could have told him when they landed on the island. The whole thing is just so unecessarily mean that it feels out of character. Joseph even says "Calm down, there is no reason to cry" and look. I get Joseph being that inept and Jotaro not giving a shit but Advol? Kakyoin?? The whole thing is written as a joke so it never comes up again.

The first part feels as though it was written as if they didn't know. They don't slip up at all and their reactions seem geniune. It soured both of the episodes for me to be honest. At least Polnareff's VA's were amazing this ep.

Ep. 23-24

I like these episodes. They didn't blew me away or anything but it was good. It's especially good for some simple characterization imo.

The gang is planning to use a submarine to go to Egypt and we already know it's not gonna go well. If this keeps happening every other episode SPW foundation might stop paying for these. I wouldn't blame them.

We finally get to see Suzie Q again, as indecisive as ever (me too girl). They called her effervecent and all I could think of was that stupid twilight post.

Personally, I think Suzie Q deserves to know about the Holly situation but at the same time Holly doesn't want that. I get where she is coming from but it might be the last time you see your mother. The charity even she is going to is sponsored by Smokey, in case you forgot this was a continuation of part 2. I know I sometimes forget.

^ I went in to check the manga just to see the artwork and wow it looks nice. Huge improvement compared to Phantom Blood. Makes me want to read the manga. I do love me some ink art.

I got a bit dissapointed when I realized this wasn't gonna be a closed space mystery kind of situation. I have a soft spot for that kind of stuff.

Our next stand is this... thing. Whatever the fuck this thing is takes the cake for the most insufferable stand. I have very limited knowledge on tarot, I can't see how her abilites connect to the card. She can transform and blend into minerals. It's not the most unique ability.

Not much else of note outside of a few Jotaro scenes, they show his personality well. He stands in front of the phoen for like a minute before givong the most obvious answer. He waits to be alone with the stand just so he can tell her he is gonna be the one to beat the daylights out of her. He sure is. a guy.

The second part is more interesting in my opinion. Look at this scene:

I watched this 50 times. Kakyoin popping up behind him out of nowhere. The fact that they do a 5 second bro shake perfectly. Their eyes going dark like this is the most serious they have ever been in their lives.

I love how the manga did this scene.

The second part has the gang working together. Silver chariot duels the stand to buy time. Heirorphant green holds the crew in place so they don't get hurt. Hermit purple pulls out the Priestess from Polnareff's throat etc etc.

Jotaro going along with Polnareff's plan for him to hit on her was pretty funny. They overdo it though, ending up in a way worse situation.

I like that Jotaro waits to "get crushed" by the teeth before breaking it so he can make it more dramatic. Kakyoin calls him a show off and he is 100% right.

I know some people hate it but I adore how Jotaro's way to solve problems is to just punch harder. Exceptional. Makes Kakyoin's line "She even outsmarted Jotaro." an episode before even funnier.

I am sleepy so I'm gonna edit in stuff later. Super excited for Egypt.

I think Polnareff creeps up on my favourite part 3 character spot more each day.

I have zero idea what's gonna happen next episode so no predictions. Sorry.

[vio1315]

So one of the panels I went to involved a guy trying to explain why Link/Zelda/Hyruleans were immoral in BotW and Ganon was good (to further a point about ethics being bs or whatever)

But he was factually wrong on a lot of things, so I’ll go through it

Point about monarchies being a poor governmental system, fine. Everything in that sort of category, I’ll give him.

The rest though

Monsters being intelligent, and thus wrong to kill:

Monsters often are shown to be smarter than animals in multiple games, yeah. They use tools, some of them have language, some can even start fires and show indication of cultures. Regardless on where we rate them on sentience though, the fact remains that they’re an invasive force who attack humans on sight. Even if we look at them on the same level as humans, they’ve essentially entered into someone’s country in an attempt to eradicate that people group or control them. If we believe at all in self defense, it’s justifiable. You can however question some methods as needlessly cruel.

Along with this point, it was also referenced that as long as people stayed in their towns and such, monsters didn’t bug them. So they were clearly living at peace until you decided the monsters needed to die

This is incorrect.

If you notice, every town is either walled off (in varying capacities) or in a defensible position. There are also generally guards of some sort.

(I think that fishing village is the only one not this way...? Though it does have a mountain on one end and ocean on the other, idk how good they’d handle an actual attack)

We never hear of this being a defense against people

Rather, we do see two women directly outside their town being attacked by monsters.

People on the roads being attacked by monsters

There’s not boundaries with these being newly established territories. People are staying in their towns for the added protection from monsters who attack on sight.

They would surely attack the towns as well if they weren’t defended.

So again, this is more akin to the country being taken over by a foreign power/people. The monsters, without proper guidance, can’t make coordinated attacks however, and thus are mainly built around. This doesn’t make self defense morally reprehensible however. Attacking their camps isn’t much different if say some foreign country sent groups to set up camps in our country with the intent of killing as many of us as possible to take over. 

(Stables are another beast entirely, though)

Ganon possibly being a good leader, which we have no proof either way on due to him never successfully gaining the position:

If we go back to OoT, we see that after Ganondorf takes over, everything is destroyed. People are dead in Castle Town, and he rules with an iron fist, hurting people in every civilization just to ensure allegiance. He about wipes out all zora and gorons.

Even if we don’t go back, in BotW, he is more beast like (though he maintains some amount of understanding due to his handling of the guardians) but I don’t think this would help his capacity as ruler.

Historically we see him commit evils, though we get less chance to see him do so in a direct capacity in BotW due to his being sealed.

The best we know is his destruction of Hyrulean cities/similar, killing them, all in their own country and capital. So in his current state, his version of ruling over Hyrule involves wiping them out. There doesn’t seem to be much distinction made between targets. Again, calamity ganon is different than Ganondorf was when he had his mind. Even back when he was human, he had a tendency for wiping out people groups, but as calamity ganon, there’s really no holding back in an attempt to have survivors to serve him

He also spreads the malice which seems to make monsters and the pollution that is harmful to humans (and all living creatures, as it even has extremely negative effects on a dragon, which is much more powerful than humans.)

If he has enough mind left, this at best is him wiping out all Hyruleans to have the land for his own... monsters? 

Not even his own people, as the Gerudo are not free from his targeting.

Likely, calamity ganon has lost his humanity, and is not capable as a ruler on any level, lacking strict control of his thoughts and actions. I mean, calamity is in the name.

The attack against Hyrule (resulting in the guardians being overtaken and Ganondorf sealed) being a justified attack:

It was mentioned that the Hyruleans were looking for weapons to destroy Ganon once and for all, and so his attack was self defense.

This required rewatching cutscenes, as I didn’t honestly remember, but basically the guardians were built before his return 10,000 years prior to BotW. They were employed after he struck again, which is where he got his knowledge of them

So they were made in preparation to fight against him. The fact that he knows about them when they’re attempted to be used again, 100 years in the past, suggests it’s the same Ganon, not a reincarnation.

Thus, they have reason to seek out weapons against him as they prepare for his next attack.

At this point they know he’s been doing this over and over again since the beginning of time

It being wrong to assume Ganondorf will be evil in all reincarnations:

Interesting, but this depends on what theory you go with.

I have usually felt it’s the same Ganon(dorf) without resurrection each time.

Such as

from OoT to TP, it’s the same Ganondorf

From OoT to WW it’s the same Ganondorf

in Zelda to Zelda II it’s the same Ganondorf (though he was killed and Zelda II is trying to /resurrect/ him)

in the seasons and ages games, I forget if they’re trying to break a seal or resurrect him, but it ultimately succeeds and he comes in as Ganon

That’s just from memory. 

So I always had the sense that while the heroes tend to reincarnate, through being sealed and breaking out of seals on top of resurrections, Ganondorf is the same, or very rarely reincarnates

This tends to make Ganon (the beast forms) make more sense in my eyes as he kinda loses more and more humanity in the process each time.

But if we are assuming each Ganondorf is separate unless explicitly stated otherwise, and we are assuming he doesn’t get any memories through the triforce of power (which I don’t think has ever been confirmed, and I forget any hints to it honestly, so it might be fanon) In that case, then yes, you’d obviously want to not just murder him as a preventative measure

That said

Every game where he appears does have him do something bad before you’re sent to face him. In BotW, as mentioned before, they’re expecting the same Ganon, who already seems to be in calamity form. And really, when you look at that, do you really think ‘Yeah that looks super mortal and killable’

No, they were expecting that same thing to return

Like they never went baby hunting or any such thing

In the old days, that would have been really easy too. Find any male Gerudo and kill him? Like before Ganondorf became a beast, it would have been simple.

However, most times the story is such a legend by the next game, that details like that tend to be lost to the people anyways

The Yiga clan being justified:

If Ganondorf can not be made out to be good, the Yiga also can’t.

They’re at a similar level to a cult in some ways, much as I enjoy them. They want Ganondorf to reign, though he destroyed half their country and has never spoken a word. We don’t see evidence that he’s even aware of them, I’d say? 

I’d argue they’re better than the monsters, since they only target Link as far as I recall (they’re human and thus capable of such coordination) but it still doesn’t really spare them for serving calamity Ganon who just killed half the country and then flew around the castle not saying anything for 100 years

(I might have missed some lore somewhere, idk)

And that’s without getting into all the ‘Link’s crazy, seeing his dead friends’ and so on stuff. We all know that stuff is part of the games high fantasy world, and we have been given no reason in the narrative to question the authenticity of seeing these things.

In terms of the point made about Link violating the Gerudos customs and cultures by forcing his way into their city? Desperate times is all I’ll say there. If we believe Ganondorf was a true threat, then we can excuse this sort of thing

Basically, the guy ended his presentation saying that ethics were bs (particularly in gaming?)

But honestly if you twist and misinterpret information, you can do that to anything. There’s very legitimate things to hook onto, but this doesn’t really drive home his point to think things through. If you don’t make legitimate cases yourself, why should I take you seriously?

You know in TP it’s implied that the royal family did pretty terrible things to the gerudo people? There’s literally a prison with torture mechanisms in the desert, classically depicted as where they lived, but no gerudo.

We know a lot of the prisoners were sealed away in another realm there too. It could be argued against, but there’s a lot more evidence for this sort of thing.

We know that in ALttP the soldiers who hunt down Link are being mind controlled/similar. They’re actual people that you kill. There’s something to be said there, and a lot of questions you can ask.

I mean, if you really want to stretch, in WW you’re working with pirates, and we never really know what they did before searching for new land. With how they handled things on Windfall, they did kind of do what they pleased to some extent.

These are off the top of my head, with a little effort, you could think of really valid points to question how we perceive good/evil in these games. I think it’s especially cheap to rely on player action to portray these matters.

If you went through a game like Skyrim, you can play it by joining the dark brotherhood and killing and stealing everything in your path. Or you can not steal, not kill outside of self defense, and so on.

The game gives you options, but it should not be assumed that the game’s protagonist has taken every single option.

You can steal in Link’s Awakening, but we can’t assume that as an inherent part of that Link’s character. That is entirely player choice.

So those are all my feelings involving the points brought up during the panel.

The inaccuracies bothered me is all, but I had little freedom to mention all my points at the time, so they go here.

[rainycitysworld]

Sakura and Sasuke’s Wedding

Hello! I was waiting for someone to want to see this so thank you @sakuraharuno156​ :’) Sometimes I’m worried I’ll post something no one cares about (I’m working on not feeling that way but it’s hard!) But if one person is interested that’s more than enough for me! Also @astralcloudscientist because she loves wedding post lol

Here is how I think their wedding would have gone as someone who hasn't read any of the novels (I don't even know if their wedding is in those):

The Proposal:

That night Ino was out with Sai. If she made it home was fifty-fifty, but Sakura didn’t mind. She liked having the apartment to herself. The bath was warm, she had lit her favorite candle, and for once, she would take a night off of her usual medical textbooks. She had some cheesy, less smutty, romance novel she saw Kakashi read once. The man had good taste in bad romance. Lately, she had found herself drawn to them, probably because she wished her prince would come bursting through the door to take her away.

There was a knock at the door not too long into her soak. At this hour, that was odd, but it was probably just Naruto or Kiba coming to say hi after the bars. They did that sometimes. Naruto very earnestly, usually asking her to make him ramen, but Kiba always seemed to be hinting at a kiss, much to her chagrin. But tonight, she wasn’t going to do it. She was taking care of herself, that is, until she heard the door open.

If it were Ino, she would have just come in. And no way she would send Sai with a key when Sakura was home alone. Quietly as she could, Sakura set her book down and blew out the candle, reaching for both a towel and one of the many kunai around the house. But when she opened the door, she came face-to-face with the very last person she expected, “Sasuke?” She hadn’t even noticed the kunai hit the floor.

“Sakura,” he said softly, the two embracing each other for the first time in what felt like forever. “I missed you,” he buried his head in her neck.

“I missed you too,” this whole thing felt like a dream-like maybe she had fallen asleep in the tub. The tub. “Oh shoot!” She pushed him back behind the door.

When he saw her, he really was too excited to see her face to notice anything else, but then it hit him he had just hugged Sakura, who was only wearing a towel. Quickly he covered his eyes, “I’m so sorry,” the red in his face was peaking out through his hands, “I didn’t see anything, I swear.”

But Sakura just sighed. It would seem he was as socially inept as ever, “Really Sasuke,” she walked past him to her room where she changed into pajamas, “who just sneaks into a girl’s house like that.”

“Sorry,” he shouted from the hall, “the doorway unlocked, so I got worried.”

Ino. She never locked the fucking door. Something about they don’t need to when the two strongest kunoichis lived under the same roof. When she walked back out, his hands were still pressed hard to his face. It was almost cute how childlike he looked. “You can look now,” she picked the kunai up from the floor, taking a seat at her couch, “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing back in the village?”

Sasuke cautiously lowered his hands, but her pajamas almost equally caught him off guard. They were light, a pair of shorts and a tank top. If he looked too hard, he thought he might be able to see through them. Then there was the fact her strap was starting to fall off her shoulder. Was she doing this on purpose? “Uh here,” he took off his cloak, draping it over her, “it’s cold out.”

“Thanks,” she pulled it closer to her. It was warm, smelled like him too, she really did miss him, “but you didn’t answer my question.”

This next part he had been dreading. He stepped in front of her and dropped to his knees, “I’m here for you, Sakura. I wanted to know if you wanted to come travel with me.” Sitting like this was humiliating, especially in front of her, but he remembered what Kakashi had told him months ago:

They had an agreed meeting spot to exchange information at sometimes the pervy old man felt like his only connection to the village, the only connection to her. Sad as it sounded. Once the drop of information was done, Sasuke worked up to nerve to ask something that had been on his mind, “Kakashi-sensei, is uh-“

“Yes, she’s good. Actually, before I left, she had a date. I’ll have to ask her how it went when I get back,” he smirked through his mask. He was very curious how his still young student would act.

Not well. “What? A date? With who? Why?” The string of questions shot out before he even had time to register the news.

“Some boy at the hospital and because I told her to go. I thought she’d have fun.” While the fuming look on his face was amusing, he was being serious, “You know every time she sees Ino and Sai or Naruto and Hinata together, she forces her smile. She’s cooped within the village waiting on you to prove god knows what to god knows who, wasting away her youth.” Sure he was being a bit dramatic with his description, but he always found Sasuke responded well to dramatics, “She deserves to have a nice night out on the town, have a drink, go dancing, be happy. Wouldn’t you agree?”

It seemed like even miles away from her. He caused her trouble, “Yeah,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact, “I guess.”

“Look,” he put his hand on his shoulder, “she still loves you, but I don’t want it getting in her head that her life has to revolve around you. Got it?” But Sasuke just looked back at him, confused. “Okay,” he sighed, “When you left, you told her next time she could come. Do you intend to make good on that promise?”

“Of course!” He blurted, somewhat defensively, “But not yet, I still have-“

“Blah blah blah,” Kakashi’s opened and closed his hand, “yeah yeah, I know, I’ve heard the speech. Normally I’d agree, you shouldn’t bring someone you love into this, but I think we’re past that. The girl fought a terrorist group, zombies, and an alien to be by your side. I think showing her the countryside is the least offensive thing you’ve done.”

This is why he hated Kakashi sometimes. He was impossible to argue with. “Fine, next time I come to the village, I’ll take her with me.”

“Well, don’t make it sound like a chore,” Kakashi just could not see the appeal, “do you love this woman?”

“Oh my god, yes!” It had been a while since he had felt this frustrated, “Oh course I fucking love her, have you met her? She’s beautiful, smart, kind, strong, smart-“

“You said smart twice,” now they were getting somewhere, Kakashi was glad Sasuke couldn’t see his smile.

“That’s how smart she is!” It felt like his head was going to explode, “do you-“ he looked back to Kakashi, who had a smug look in his eyes but right now, he couldn’t be picky. He needed advice, “do you think she still wants to come with me?”

Of course, she did. She talked his ear off about it whenever they got lunch, “I don’t know. But you shouldn’t just assume it’s been a while after all.” Maybe he went too far. Sasuke looked like a kicked puppy, “But I bet if you put all your cards on the table, show her what she means to you, you’ll get an authentic answer.”

“Sakura, I love you, and being without you all this time, it hurts a lot,” he said, looking away. He wished he was strong enough to look her in the eye, but it felt too much like he was flailing that at any second, she would kick him out and never want to see him again. “You’re my best friend, so please, come with me.”

Slowly Sakura had brought the cloak up to the bridge of the nose. Of course, she didn’t expect to see Sasuke tonight, but she really didn’t expect this. But she and Ino had talked about this a thousand times. Things weren’t the same as when he left, not exactly, at least. “Sasuke…” she lowered the cloak, “I- I love you too, but I can’t just be your friend. I need more commitment than that. I’m sorry.” For a moment, he was quiet, staring blankly at her. She bit her tongue, resisting the urge to take it back and just agree, but she knew she had to stay strong. What she wanted mattered. She needed to be his girlfriend before anything else happened.

“Okay,” he nodded, “Then do you want to get married?”

Aftermath

Sakura FAINTS and when she wakes up thinks Sasuke is joking

He is not

Ino does come home to them in the living room making out, Sakura in tears

They tell her what’s going on and she’s of course super excited and asks them when the wedding is going to be 

Sasuke says he wants to get back out on the road as soon as possible but he wants Sakura to have the best wedding ever so he says “However long it takes for her to have her dream wedding”

Sakura has been ready for years at this point “Okay let’s just go to Kakashi’s office tomorrow and have him do it, we can leave the following morning.” Sakura explains that she loves everyone in the village but after everything she just wants to be his wife and see the world.

Sasuke has never heard anything sexier

Ino kind of wants to spend maybe her last night in the village with her friend she can't bring herself to kick Sasuke out, the two look way too in love. Plus she has planning to do. No way her friend is getting married in an office.

After Ino goes back to Sai’s the two properly celebrate their engagement 😈

The next morning they have to meet with Kakashi, Sasuke wants to see Naruto and Sakura wants to say good bye to her parents and Tsunade

But the second they step out the door Ino grabs her. They go to buy Sakura something cute to wear and Ino picks up a bouquet because “it’s your wedding, we should put in some effort”

But little do either of them know Ino woke up early and put in WORK

Naruto went with Sasuke to pick up some nice clothes while Kakashi bailed on work to decorate the top of Hokage tower. Meanwhile Tsunade got Sakura’s parents.

That evening Sakura and Sasuke who thought they'd have Kakashi marry them and be done with it were surprised to find the rooftop and each other looking absolutely stunning.

Wedding

I imagine this is what Kakashi was able to do:

Cute lights and flowers! (ignore the non Sakura and Sasuke couple lol)

Naruto wedding post this might be what they wear:

Something hot obviously but also very informal, they just want to look nice for each other.

Of course Ino made a bouquet specially for her bestie :

Tsunade ends up being the one to marry them because there was no way she was letting Kakashi have that honor

Naruto and Ino we're best man and maid of honor, respectively

Kakashi walks her down the isle

Her parents are the only audience. I feel like they don't mind Kakashi having that role, they get it because they don't get it if that makes sense. They're not ninjas, they didn't fight in wars or go through ton of trauma and even if they can be a bit combative I think they get that they've formed their own Team 7 family

They all share a drink after but end the night early because Sakura has to pack- they want to leave for their honey moon bright and early 😉

[namelesswolffreak]

"Boyfriends"

I've been working on this story concept for....3-4 years now and I've finally managed to work everything out to the point I'm confident in posting this little blurb of the main characters. So, I hope you enjoy and feel free to ask questions about them and their world.

Context: This takes place in a world of super powered people heavily inspired by MHA / Marvel / Miraculous. Waker (Way-kur) Atlas is Dare City's main hero who is put through quite a lot on a daily to weekly basis trying to beat the baddies and Cyrus Fauthrin is his infamous thief arch nemesis turned lover and best friend who causes trouble around the city just to get the Hero's attention.

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

The melancholy of the day was waning on Waker as he patrolled the quiet streets of one of Dare’s many neighborhoods which was quite unusual considering every seven seconds a villain was after his head. The sun was barely above the clouds, no one was really awake yet and the only thing that accompanied him was his footsteps as he jumped, hopped and skipped to the next platform he summoned under his feet. He happened to be bounding over Lay Wind Park, the foxes fast asleep in their dens to his disappointment, but the Hero Monuments were still a sight to behold in the early sunrise as they shone with brilliance in what little light was filtering over the surrounding hillsides.

The wind blew past his frizzed locks as he stood above the park near a tree in the shade, expression steeled and focused as he watched for signs of trouble as he waited for a certain someone to arrive. Today was uneventful and rather slow, the kind of day Waker preferred if he were being honest. Heaven knew being bored all day was ten times better than returning home to the countless kitchen sink surgeries he’d have to do with worn needles and his mother’s thread pinching into his skin as he sewed up bloodied wounds full of shrapnel and debris. Much better. The birds were chirping a happy, lazy song as they flew by on the breeze and the distant hum of an awakening city filled the natural ambiance of cicadas and crickets quite nicely as he watched and waited. He dare let out a sigh as the scene took hold of him fully, a warmth washing over him that he hadn’t felt in the recent weeks.

Which wouldn’t be for long as the rustling of tree leaves and a “Boo!” have him falling off of his platforms and hurtling towards the ground with an embarrassingly shrill scream.

“Waker!” A concerned voice follows as a blue blur dives after him.

Ground spiraling as he falls, Waker braces for impact, too late to conjure any platforms beneath him to break the fall so, he readies himself, waiting for the hurt and pain that would surely follow with some scrapes and bruises…………...But it never comes. He unscrunches his eyes and removes his arms from his head to see a blue, sparkling light surrounding him.

Irritation and embarrassment take over him immediately.

His face turns a copious amount of red as he’s carefully scooped up in pale arms that hold him close and, humiliatingly enough, in bridal style. Oh god no, he curses mentally, murmuring a soft “No…” into his shield of arms. This was so not how he wanted to show up in front of his partner after their long and grueling few weeks of not being able to see each other outside of villain fights and breaks in between their testing week.

The sudden warmth of a chest presses against his side and the delicate rhythm of a frantic heart race beneath his one hand as the other quickly grabs for his cape to hide his strawberry cheeks. There was no way in hell he was letting ‘he knew who’ see him in such a state, there was no possible way he could let the witch-like thief catch him like this. A brave hero didn’t get scared or spooked by rustling leaves and the word boo! Absolutely absurd! Though a voice in the back of his mind said he already had.

“You are such a fucking clutz, I swear.” And a huge scaredy cat, the blue-clad ravenette doesn’t say aloud, but his tone implies anyways. “I should take you to my ballet classes sometime, maybe then you’d actually learn some balance.” The comment only makes him clutch the soft fabric tighter around himself.

He’s loathing the thought of unveiling himself now, but he knows he’s been caught, his normally stoic or serious persona now broken and practically burned away as he knows his cape isn’t doing much to hide his warm face or the tenseness of his grip. Plans to forever sink himself into a hole where nobody could possibly ever find him again after this mess are shortly abandoned for now and gaining courage Waker swallows the huge lump in his throat and tries to cleverly reply. “H-hey, what’s a-....What’s up, Witch Boy?” And he knows the intended playfulness doesn’t go through as he’s met with a narrowed glare.

The other isn’t amused. “Witch boy, really? Did I actually scare you that badly that you lost a couple of brain cells?”

“Shu-shut up, Cyrus!” He defends as this “Cyrus” just sighs at him, though his stare more sly than pointed now.

“Get out of that stupid thing so I can see your face.” He says with a tremble in his voice that Waker can definitely tell is laughter, the prick. “Or I’ll totally drop you again.” And like hell he will, Waker knows, but he takes the threat seriously nonetheless and loosens his grip on the cape just enough to see the Ravenette’s brilliant and ever playful smile.

For a moment Waker just stares and admires him, those brilliant blues sparkling, no, literally sparkling as he says something Waker doesn’t catch. The sun is framing his face so perfectly in the light, highlighting those perfectly red cheeks he would love to kiss every morning, and the slight upturn of his lips as he smiles down in reverence at him, and the slow flutter of his lashes that compliment his features nicely. Though braided off to the side Cyru’s hair never fails to make him look so ethereal as the gentle morning breeze brushes back his loose strands. Waker swears it looks like its made up of space itself when he lets it go during the night time, convincing himself he can see stars within the strands when he stands beneath the moonlight. It doesn’t take much to make the hero swoon regarding his partner nowadays. Daydreams of peaceful nights alone on the couch watching movies together after his nightmares keep him awake and alert run through his mind, or the times Cyrus has saved him from getting beaten to a pulp and they spent hours talking over stitching him back together about nothing at all, and every single time Cyrus has stuck up for him at school, reminding him of the warmth this person carries with them and all the love and affection he’s constantly showered in when they’re together. It’s strange how much Cyrus has changed over the past few months from raging emo to ride or die friend, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He doesn’t even try to stop the lofty sigh that escapes his lips as more dear memories cross his mind.

And Cyrus is all too quick to recognize that dumb look on his face.

“Oh, hell no!” Is the only warning he gets before being promptly dropped, this time no blue aura to save him from hitting the dirt below, landing with a thud. “Not this early in the morning!” Though Waker could have sworn Cyrus was sharing the same look with him not minutes prior.

“Ow! Why’d you drop me, asshole!?”

Cyrus cocks his hips as he floats there, his wide brimmed conical now covering his eyes in an intimidating manner, making him way more menacing than he should considering his current attire. “Oh please, don’t even act like you’re hiding that stupid look on your face, Idiot! I ain’t dealing with your whole sappy dappy act this early in the morning.”

By “sappy dappy” Waker knows exactly what he’s referring to and scowls accordingly. Apparently, holding hands and having morning cuddles while complimenting everything about Cyrus is considered sappy and lovingly disgusting. Well at least to some people, it’s called affection and admiration!

“It’s a look that means I like you, asswipe!” Waker shoots back, malice nowhere to be found in his tone though, barring more on playfulness.

“Do you think I’m in love with you or something!?”

And they then stand there -well float there- in silence, both looking each other in the eyes, narrowed brows testing the other to make the next move or say the next snappy comment. And for a moment it looks as if the words really have cut too deep, but Waker isn’t one to remain serious for long as his shoulders begin to shake, prompting the other to clutch his stomach and stifle a grin as their eyes water over with laughter.

“Oh, no, not me, I could never.” Waker quips, leaning back and hugging both his arms, not caring for the dirt now caking his suit. Cyrus is quick to come back with his own natural snark.

“Pfft, as if! Absolutely not. Me and you, the orange haired frizz ball who kicks my ass more than twice a week over that one time I stole a candy bar? You gotta be fucking with me!” He bellows, Waker taking note of the boy flipping upside down where he floats in the air, his face a contortion of joy and happiness as his ripped dress flows with the wind.

He finds the display rather adorable, recalling that such a thing only occurred by accident when the thief was getting emotional. His inept ability to control his powers never failed to amuse the Hero. The little wrinkle of his nose didn’t quiet his thoughtful admiration either as he blushed in between bouts of giggles.

"I wouldn't have time to be your lover anyways!"

“It’s only 6am, when can I admire my boyfriend so it fits within your busy schedule?”

And the laughter is immediately quieted, a heavy silence filling the air, even the crickets and cicadas falling victim to it. The world is waiting in bated breath as if listening to the drama unfold.

Waker holds in a breath. Oh shit, oh fuck, he really fucked it up this time! Way to go, Atlas, you really did a number on today!

…………

………….

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I just did-”

“It’s ok……” Cyrus breaths out, taking a long drag of air before finally finishing. “It’s….ok.” He manages to lower himself to the ground, dress falling at his sides, and crosses his arms in doing so. “We’re-I’m going to have to get used to it eventually.” He shrugs. “Right?”

There’s a weight to his words as Cyrus steps closer to the redhead that Waker recognizes near immediately. They’ve had this talk before, a talk that has led to a misunderstanding or two between them in the past and a verbal fight at that. The term “Boyfriend.” It was a touchy subject to say the least and while it had been a challenge for even Waker himself to start using it, it also seemed Cyrus was struggling to accept the lofty title. A long time ago before the two even met, the word had a different meaning to it for them both, but Waker had long since come to terms with it himself, but understood Cyrus’ hesitation in saying the word freely. He considered his next words carefully.

“I know you don’t exactly like the ter-”

“It’s not that I don’t like it Waker…..”

“I know, Cy, but.” Failing to put his thoughts into words Waker scrambles forward to catch Cyrus’ hands in his own, pecking each delicately, square on the knuckles, gauging his reaction whilst he does so. When Waker is met with a soft smile, he returns it, though his much softer and kinder in Cyrus’ eyes. “I shouldn’t have said it when you’re not ready. Just because I moved past it doesn’t mean you have.” Noticing his smile slipping he clumsily adds in, “And that’s ok! Really, it’s ok and I mean, and I love you and-uh, I get it and I mean I just say boyfriend because that’s what everyone else says, expects- wait no- I didn’t mean to phrase it like that uh-I don’t really get the need for a title for what we have anyways, like so dumb right!?”

Followed by more ridiculous rambling that has Cyrus covering his mouth trying not to giggle. It’s a nervous habit that has come to amuse the thief to no end. “And-it not like it means anything to us, its just there for other people so they know that um, we, us, you and I are an um item I guess wow that was cheesy and dumb and I am so sorry that you have to put up with me oh god I’m rambling and no, don’t look at me like that. I’m doing the thing again aren’t I-” Shaking with laughter again Cyrus has to put a hand on his shoulder to get him to shut up because he knows if he doesn’t Waker could go on well into the night and has before. It didn’t help that he could feel the tremble of the others fingers, realizing Waker was going to throw himself into an anxiety attack if he didn’t.

“Waker!” And Waker promptly closes his mouth, panic clear in his eyes that Cyrus quickly combats by brushing strands of orange out of his face and behind his ear. “Just take a deep breath.” And Waker does, following the instruction intently. “And let it out, slowly.” And Waker follows that too, looking that much calmer as Cyrus pulls him closer. “Slowly.” He rubs his thumbs over Waker’s hands. The trembling is still present, but less so. “There you go.” And doesn’t stop telling him to breath calmly until he feels Waker’s grip relax in his own.

Delicately and softly, each flyaway is combed back into place only to immediately pop out again, but Waker appreciates the sentiment anyways and Cyrus has no problem being given an excuse to keep combing through such lovely soft tufts. He loves the soft mane of fluff on his partner’s head that even since their first meeting has remained as untamed and wild as ever. -Such a shame he always ties it back when he’s on duty though- It just adds to the contrast between his actual self and hero persona, the sweet and endearing ball of anxiety vs the serious and battle ready hero of Dare city who couldn’t catch a break. And he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit to which one he preferred.

“You don’t need to tell me-er.” Waker quickly corrects, trying not to sound patronizing. “I don’t need you to explain yourself Cy. You-we don’t need to have a name if that’s what you want, that’s what I’m trying to say. Official or unofficial or whatever, I won’t treat you any different.”

“I know Waker. I…..I really want to call you that, just I-.......I just like what we have right now and-”

Waker just pecks him on the cheek quickly and pulls away to pat at a spot on the ground, looking longingly back up at him. A soundless “You don’t want to lose me.” goes unsaid as Cyrus complies, Waker taking the shorter one in his arms once more.

It wasn’t a matter of Cyrus being afraid to commit, though maybe it was, not even he was sure of what was going with himself anymore, but a fear that the wonderful friendship he’d built up with the hero would end or change or just not be the way it is now because they suddenly started calling each other boyfriends. He’s had it happen one too many times at this point, every one of his previous “boyfriends” changing everything once they started dating, acting as if kissing and romantic outings were supposed to be their only interactions from now on. They were no longer interested in the random silly things he found on the internet or just hanging out doing whatever, but were interested in using him, his body, parading him around and rubbing it in peoples faces, being denied having fun if it wasn’t their idea of “fun” and more. Cyrus' stomach curls remembering being ignored for weeks to months at a time because he wasn’t feeling up to being in bed with them or awkwardly sitting off to the side while his one boyfriend at the time showed him off to his friends and bragged. It was the same guy who he used to play videogames and eat cookies with on the weekends, talking about anything and everything…...It hurts him to realise there probably was never a friendship there to begin with. Just an elaborate ruse to get him into bed at some point.

And that was one thing Cyrus feared when they had held hands for the first time after awkwardly admitting to harboring feelings for each other after the high of a fight they were forced to join sides on. Never had the thief felt more relieved that his feelings were reciprocated, but also more scared that he had just ruined the one healthy relationship he managed to make in those many months spent together.

Cyrus removes his hat and huddles under Waker’s chin, placing his head right on his heart that gives out a steady, comforting rhythm and brightens when the taller of the two puts his head on him in return. No, Cyrus thinks, this is different.

A long silence falls between them as they cuddle in each other's arms, just watching the sun come up. Basking in each other’s presence, taking in the warmth of their bodies pressed together in this nice early morning, and relishing in the calm which was far and few in between with their double lives and they were thankful. There’s no need to exchange words now as a quiet understanding befalls them both.

It’s only after the sun seems to peak at the crest of the hillsides does Waker make himself heard again.

“Is that why you dropped me?” And Cyrus blinks for a quick second, processing the question before understanding and then playfulness cross his expression.

“No it’s because you’re a dunce.” He huffs. “And fucking heavy as hell.”

Waker chooses to ignore that last bit. “But I’m your dunce.” He boops his nose.

“Damn, straight you are.” And Cyrus retaliates with a kiss on his.

Boyfriend or just “friend who I like to kiss and hold hands with sometimes”, Waker loves him and Cyrus doesn’t doubt that for a second.

[legionofpotatoes]

I love your art, it is very detailed in a neat way. Was wondering how you got started making it as a source of income? How did you get your first paid work, I'd love some advice on how to get started, if that's ok

Thank you. Of course it's okay, although I doubt I have enough work experience in art to really delve into this. I only went full freelance this year, and had been juggling art as a side hobby until then. If you're still interested in my somewhat narrow perspective, and are okay with my long-winded rambles, I'll give it a shot:

So to answer your question fully, I'll describe how I started and move into personal advice and learnings later on. As a disclaimer, I am a white cishet dude in my late twenties with a moderate cocktail of mental illnesses, but overall I can pass for a functioning adult so a lot I have to say may come laced with privilege I cannot fully identify.

So uhh I began drawing in around 2012? I think? Maybe halfway through 2011? And I mostly made fanart for things I enjoyed and tried to branch out in communities that felt nourishing to my style and interests (I caught a bug for alt posters and enjoyed mainstream movies so I spent a long time on posterspy early on). There were a handful of opportunities that came from there but I could only accept a couple because of primary workplace commitments. Still, it showed that networking in a focused community was definitely a good place to start; I myself have huge trouble committing to social networks and really staying socially active, but I knew it was an essential ingredient in succeeding so I tried to make myself be involved in challenges and art support trains etc. as much as I could.

In parallel to all that I also ran a few third party online stores (redbubble, teepublic) for disposable income and would sometimes, if rarely, hit around $100-150 a month from those sources combined. It is a sort of thing that requires helper accounts on other social media sites to promote it on, because the stores themselves have a huge volume of content that translates into low organic discoverability. Obviously it was never gonna be the way towards financial independence through art, and with community projects being few and far between, I opened private commissions in around uhhh 2017 I think, focusing on offering a few styles I knew I could do well, and sometimes operating in individual fandoms (it was mostly a bioware thing to be frank). But I had to close them back down after a year or so, again because of work-life conflict and how badly it was burning me out. The reason I kept trying to monetize this hobby is because I honestly hated what I did for my main job and wanted to see a way out in some shape or form in the future.

And then in 2020 I had to quit my main job altogether because of *gestures at pandemic* and deal with a mental breakdown from all the wonderful things it did to us and me specifically. I took a short break and decided to give art a shot full-time, and that was around May this year. I was planning on opening up commissions again (and I still am), but a few sudden opportunities that fell in my lap moved that timetable down and now I'm grateful to even be doing something I am getting adequately paid for.

So, with that somewhat limited perspective, here's what I've learned that I'd tell myself if I was just starting out:

1. Being a fan of something can be a shortcut towards effective networking kickoffs. Which are important evidently. If you love something and enjoy making content for it, join communities, settle into a combination of social media websites that feel right for those interests + your body of work + your inner rhythm, and try to play to content discovery as much as your mental health allows you to. Like I said, I know that I myself am incredibly bad at self-motivating to talk to people, so I found that synergizing common interests into fanart - which I enjoyed making anyway - could be a way to give myself a gentle nudge forward and build those bridges leading to community activities, which then net experience and coverage. Sometimes even freelance projects from official avenues. Again; picking the right spaces for what you're after is key. Companies roam twitter, concept art recruiters scour artstation or linkedin etc, instagram can land you private commissions and collab opportunities, so on and so forth. Find your niche and try to kick up dust. However...

2. I do not believe that any social profile can replace a good portfolio. The thing that made an immediate difference to me this year was building a coherent, simple website with my best work front and center and a contact form on top. Every single opportunity I got came from that form (maybe via twitter or instagram initially, but always sealing the decision after going through the website), so I firmly believe that showcasing your skills and portfolio in a visually arresting and user-friendly way is a big priority. I had some reservations about tackling that task but fortunately I had help from a savvy life partner and we slapped it together via wordpress in less than a day. Twitter/whatever social media is prevalent in your target groups is definitely important to get the right eyes on your shit, yes, but those eyes will then look for a second stop where your work and rates are more clear and concise. Simplicity is key imo, I cannot overstate this. So make a cute, simple portfolio!

3. Your skills and rates will grow and change as you do. Let them. Over the years I built several lasting professional relationships from my obsession over mass effect and kept getting opportunities both from bioware and their partner companies, some small and some a bit bigger. A one-off job earlier this year opened an unexpected door to another much larger commitment, and then the work I did there brought some attention from small businesses looking for commercial commissions. These were all incredibly different projects in terms of scope and budget, and I've been tackling them all on a case-by-case basis and slowly coming into my own irt my needs, rates, and SOW thresholds. It is still a work in progress (and a LOT of literal work as well), and very much a thing I struggle with in publicly marketing, which is why I felt a tad underqualified to answer your question in the first place (obviously I did not let that stop me). But what it means for me now is that I am rapidly developing into whatever my "version" of a functioning freelance artist is, and when the conditions for that guy are met, I need to be able to confidently plant myself and operate from that space despite past precedents. Do not let anyone bully you into downpricing what you yourself perceive as legitimate products of personal growth and development. Speaking of which...

4. The shitty challenge of turning envy into inspiration, and paddling outside your comfort zones in full riot gear. it is hard, but realizing that being a miserable, self-hating artist in my early days got me nothing but more misery back was the first real step I took and what truly blew the hinges off. I was just not pleasant to be around, I would badmouth my work all the time, and it all somehow made sense in my broken mind because the validation I sought was purely external and the way I sought it was through eliciting sympathy via self-victimization (even when I made something objectively nice). It all led fucking nowhere. Except perhaps to my own narcissism that I one day managed to identify and start managing. So I started looking at things that made me seethe with envy and calmly deconstruct and figure out their inner workings instead, do studies, and find nuggets of inspiration or discover new ways to approach rendering or building up specific elements. It was an application of analytical diligence to what I wanted to be a purely emotional, esoteric workflow, but that I deep down knew wasn't. Art is a discipline and a skill, and maybe it isn't a straight line, but you gotta find some line to thread nevertheless. Being self-hating was almost an identity I had to break out of, and despite it still being like, 4-5% there? I realize its cause and effect on me, my work, and those around me, so it is with a conscious choice that I gently set it aside when I work and especially when I learn. It won't always stay quiet, but the effort is the difference. Your doors towards accepting true growth and venturing into uncharted territories, art styles, and networking will really open from there. But there's a huge caveat...

5. Toolsets, accessibility, privilege, and all the good things that enable artistic expression and profitability are not given equal to all. you might do all the mental work I mentioned to be ready to rock and roll and learn and draw your way out of anything, but digital art is a fucking money pit that asks almost too much at times. I don't got a good case study here but identifying and ensuring accessibility to the tools you need to do your best work is, like, super important. The ergonomics can improve as you make money and settle into the job, but the basics have to be made available to you. And some of that might not even be under your direct control. That can be anything from pen tablets to software subscriptions to opportunities in hiring sullied by sexism or what have you. You gotta navigate all that through careful networking and money/time management. I don't do a good job of devoting specific slices of time to work/study, and my primary clutch is iPad software which went from a good deal to a nightmare scenario over the years. So all I can say here is do what I didn't; network, invest in a PC/tablet, and pick a software you'll learn that won't burn a hole in your pocket.

6. Be nice to work with? This one is hard to articulate and has landed my own ass in hot water in my early years because of how socially inept I am, but nothing is more worthwhile than being.. like. a good person to work with. That can be anything like meeting deadlines, or sometimes missing them but eloquently articulating why, being generous in early stages, being communicable and not too wordy in your emails, having a good grasp on abstract artistic concepts and how to describe them in simple terms, having a clear, laid out framework of your working rates in commercial and non-commercial projects and sticking to those guns with grace, understanding when you need to say no and saying it well, the works. Just being nice. Sometimes that might mean going headstrong with something you believe in, or simmering down and sucking up to the big man, all relative and adaptive. Part and parcel of the service provision dance that we all have to do in order to make bank. Know your lines here, obviously, and don't like. work for nazis. or uh.. *shudders* exposure. but be nice and empathetic and communicable and word will travel eventually. Skill may be in abundance these days, but good people are most certainly not, and capitalism has a way of bubbling up scarcity. Grim, but uh, them's the breaks.

I know I'm ultimately telling you to like. Have a body of work, make a portfolio, grow, and network. But that's really how I see it for now. And being nice can be a cherry on top that sets you apart, along with the inherent irreplaceable voice of your artwork. I think I rambled on enough, but if there is something specific you need my help with, even if you want to come off anon and talk in private, please feel free.

[scorpionyx9621]

I Hope Hopeless Changes Over Time: A Red Hood and Batman Fic

*Source of the image I found off of Pintrest. I tried to find the original artist but the link on Pintrest led to a dead Tumblr account. If anyone wants to find/point out the account to me so I can give proper credit to the artist please please do.*

I wanted to make a fic based on an ask I did from the lovely @dilfbatman about Jason and Bruce. I hope people enjoy this mini-fic that I've expanded upon.

TW: Blood, Physical Assault, Suicide Ideation, Swearing. Bruce being a shitty father but trying. Jason having demons 

3.75K words. 

Bruce was uneasy about Jason staying over at the Wayne Mansion. Even with other members of the family around. Jason has done so much wrong and has hurt so many people. However, at the end of the day, Jason still is his son. So when he gets a call from Jason in a hushed voice asking Bruce to stay the night. He hesitated for a second, but acquiesced, Jason was nothing if not independent, so to be asking Bruce outright to stay at the Wayne Manor meant something was wrong.

"Master Jason wouldn't reach out to any of us unless something was gravely wrong, Master Wayne." Alfred had reassured Bruce, who was staring absentmindedly at the glass case which housed Jason's old Robin costume. The costume that Jason had died in. Bruce always tried to repress the memory of holding his son's cold, lifeless body. The pain he felt from losing his parents burned in his heart as an everlasting stab wound. But the pain from losing Jason, his son, it was too much to bare.

"I'd be welcoming to Master Jason, but keep your distance. Master Damian is spending the night at Jon Kent's house, Master Richard is in Blüdhaven, and Master Timothy is with the Teen Titans tonight. I'll rest assured Jason doesn't try anything to harm you. But don't try to encourage a confrontation." Alfred explained. He always seemed to understand Jason to a tee after he came back to life.

"I don't know how you do it Alfred, you can read the boy like a book." Bruce had retorted. Cocking a half-smile to the man who raised him since his parents died.

"Master Wayne, Master Jason wears his heart on his sleeve. He always has. And one of the reasons why you two fight constantly is because, for as terrific as a detective you are, you are horrifically inept in reading the emotions of your children." Alfred had stated, those words bit Bruce. He wasn't expecting such sharp words from Alfred. "We failed Master Jason. And he's hurt, he's been hurt for years because of it. However he keeps choosing to come back and try and trust again. We needn't come at him with accusations of ulterior motives, but we should be supportive." Alfred stated.

"But cognizant of what Jason is capable of." Bruce added back. Jason may need help, but he's still dangerous. He has tried to kill Bruce and the rest of the Robins multiple times. He wants to trust Jason and warm up to him again. But the man who wears the Red Hood and stalks the streets of Gotham killing those he deems criminals is not his son anymore.

Alfred and Bruce greeted Jason as he walked in the large double doors of the Wayne Manor. The first thing Bruce noticed was the dark circles under Jason's eyes. It seemed as if the man hadn't slept in days. Jason was wearing sweatpants and a fitted black wife beater, accentuating his muscles. Jason would have looked more intimidating had his body language not suggested he was as disheveled as he was, physically and mentally.

"Thanks Alfred." Jason had said meekly towards the butler. He took one step into the mansion and looked at Bruce. Bruce noticed as soon as Jason's eyes met his, his tired irises contorted into anger. His lips pursed downwards but Jason chose not to say anything. Instead just walking past Bruce pretending not to acknowledge him.

"Master Jason, you will be staying in the guest suite on the main floor. I've already prepped everything for your arrival. Please make yourself at home." Alfred had said. Jason just shook is head as he headed towards the hallway leading the guest suite. Bruce didn't notice it immediately but the stench Jason had emitted stung in the air. It smelled like stale liqour and body oder. It seems Jason hadn't bathed in days. Bruce had wanted to say something but chose not to.

The evening went by quietly enough. Jason had taken a shower and changed into another fitted wife beater but still sported a tired energy about him. Alfred had put together a beef pot roast for dinner with red potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery over garlic mashed potatoes. A favorite dish of Jason's. The three of them ate quietly as Bruce continued to size up his son. He was conflicted. At one point he saw the man who blew up the head of a Gotham security force member with a torture decide he had created. On the other hand, he saw the boy who would beg for Bruce to buy him more books after he finished the maximum amount a library card would allow for a week in the span of 3 days. The son who told him being Robin gave him magic.

The dinner ended as it began. With awkward silence and the father-son duo eyeing each other. One with cautious trepidation and the other with abject hate. Bruce had decided not to go on patrol tonight as he felt he needed to be at the manor should anything happen while Jason was here. An uneasy sense of dread built over Bruce as he had said good night to Jason as the two passed by each other in the halls. Jason simply spat 'Bitch' at Bruce and walked into the bedroom. Bruce had been bad with other people's emotions, but something didn't sit right with the way Jason was carrying himself. He had decided to stay up tonight regardless. A sense came over him after being sworn at by Jason. A sense he hadn't felt in a long time. He felt as though his son needed help.

————————————————————

"You're a monster"

"Jason is a murderer"

"Stay away from Jason, he'll kill you."

"No one wants you around, Todd"

"You're just a good guy trying to be bad"

"This is the kid you had to replace me with as Robin? Bruce he's pathetic."

"I can't believe my daughter wasted the Lazarus Pit on a miserable failure like you."

"Maybe I'd be better off dead"

Jason tossed and turned. It's been days. He couldn't get the voices out of his head. Those whispery, moany voices that taunted and tormented him. He knew it was a result of the Lazarus Pit. Ever since Roy died and everyone left him the voices started taunting him again. He tried everything he could to get the voices to stop. He drank, he read, he worked out, he did everything he could. The only way the voices became quiet were when he was beating the ever-loving shit out of some criminals. This was not the mindset Jason had wanted. He wanted to go back to being supported by Bruce, the man who betrayed him. He knew that Bruce was weak. He couldn’t kill the Joker because of his weakness. 

Jason got up and walked over to the connecting bathroom to the suite that he was staying in. He went to the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. Against his better judgement, Jason looked up to the figure he saw in the mirror. He took note of his jawline, his face, his green eyes, his muscles.. but one thing that caught his eye was the fucking skunk streak of hair at the top of his head. The physical reminder of his dip in the Lazarus Pit. He had just re-dyed the spot not two days ago and it already came back. He did everything he could to try to hide the streak. It’s what he hated most about his new body. The pit wiped away all of the scars he had on his body. And any new fresh scar or wound would just fade in a matter of moments due to the effects of the pit. The only thing that ever stayed was that damned streak. 

Jason had nothing but disgust and contempt for the man he saw in the mirror, which, ironically, was himself. 

“You’re just using the sarcasm to hide your hatred.” 

“It’s your fault that everyone hates you.” 

“Killing the sick of the masses to save those who are weak is your calling” 

“Those reptiles deserve to die” 

“I don’t want to kill unless I don’t have to.. I don’t want people to hate me..” Jason tried reassuring himself. The voices in his head kept getting louder and louder. “I want Bruce and everyone to love me again....” He continued to try to re-assure himself. It was a false sense of hope as always. His mind soon wandered to a moment where he was on top of Dick in a fight. Confronting his older sibling and reciting a quote he had heard from a Japanese philosopher and optimist as he had the barrel of a gun placed against his older brother’s temple. 

“Do you know what the most convenient phrase in the world is, Dickie? It’s ‘I’m sorry.’ Anyone who hears that is obligated to forgive, no matter how hurt or angry they might be... There's no more disgusting phrase in all the world. It's used to displace your suffering unto others so you can escape your sins... The moment you employ it, your suffering becomes the other person's. A thing can be unforgivable, but oh, if they apologize... I say there's no reason to accept that suffering. You don't have to forgive them. Cast aside the mask of your conscience.“ 

“Stop this. Please stop this.” Jason had begged aimlessly into the air. He didn’t want to live like this anymore. He didn’t want to live, period. He just wanted all of this to end. He had caused so much pain and so much suffering to the people of Gotham all so he could attempt to hurt Bruce. But those words kept repeating in his head. He knew he had to stop this. He needed help, he wanted to go to Bruce and explain what was going on but Bruce would just have him institutionalized. His murderer of a son starts hearing voices in his head? A one way ticket to a padded room. 

Jason suddenly stared back into the mirror and saw something he detested. The green eyes that stared into his soul. The one he hated more than anything else. Was himself. This thing was staring him in the face mocking him, and he wanted it gone. 

“Do it Jason.” the voice had beckoned from the mirror. “Kill them all. Slit Damian’s throat and watch the fucker bleed. Bash Tim’s stupid face into the concrete until there’s nothing but mush. Rip Dick limb from fucking limb. Watch Bruce as you choke the last bit of life from his eyes. I promise all the pain will go away once all of this is done.” the voice sounded almost sweet as it promised to do all of this. Jason just retched as he saw the green eyed monster promising poison to him. He felt his vision fade to black. 

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

STOP IT. SHUT. UP. 

*CRASH* 

Bruce had jumped up from the chair he was sitting on in the library, the voice came from the suite that Jason was staying in. Bruce didn’t have time to think. He just ran towards the noise. He threw the door to the suite open and ran to the bathroom. There he saw Jason in front of a heavily cracked mirror. Jason was hyperventilating and he saw blood oozing from Jason’s fist which was pressed against the mirror. Bruce saw from the reflection that Jason had split open the left side of his lip seemingly from a shard of glass. It wasn’t long before Jason glanced up at the imposing shadow in the mirror and noticed Bruce’s presence. 

“YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME BRUCE.” Jason had shouted at his reflection. Jason was shaking. Bruce had wanted to assess the injury that Jason gave himself. But he knew he was cornering a scared animal if he pressed any farther forward. Bruce stood their frozen. Pondering between trying to press forward upon a killer, or to check up on his son. 

“Jason, I just...” Bruce was cut off by another scream as Jason turned around. 

“IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL KILL YOU WHERE YOU FUCKING STAND YOU PIECE OF SHIT.” Bruce finally got the cue. The hitch in Jason’s voice. This is the same hitch his voice made when he was a kid and was angry at Bruce. Alfred was right. This is his son. And right now Bruce needed not to be the Batman approaching the Red Hood. He needed to be Bruce, to help his son. 

Bruce walked forward to Jason, still shaking as blood oozed from the gashes of glass on his fist. Bruce decided against everything in his gut telling him to stop this criminal. This monster who killed for sport and to prove a point. He needed to help Jason, his son. 

Bruce was knocked back by a fist to his chest. Glass imbedded itself into Bruce as he felt the sting of their shards. Jason was right, he was going to hurt Bruce if he approached. Oracle was right, Jason had been abusing venom. The quick gain in muscle mass was proof enough but the stinging pain in Bruce’s chest also proved that hypothesis. Jason barred his teeth as his eyes displayed a seething hatred. Bruce would have been frightened on any other day. Today, Bruce felt a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. Bruce collected himself and got up to approach Jason again. 

“I TOLD YOU I’M GOING TO KILL YOU BRUCE. I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS. I WANT YOU TO DIE. I WANT ALL OF US TO JUST FUCKING DIE.” Jason screamed even louder this time. A hot stream of tears worked their way down Jason’s cheeks. Bruce no longer saw a rage-induced monster but the boy who took a tire iron to his gut on the streets of Gotham. The boy who would was thrilled at every opportunity he got to show Bruce the A’s on every test he got in school. This was his baby boy who needed his help. 

“Jason Peter Todd that’s enough.” Bruce said firmly, but not harshly. Jason stared directly into his eyes. “Jason. I want you to listen to me.” 

“Go to hell you motherfucker.” those words which escaped Jason were laced with poison. Bruce didn’t waver. 

“You can punch me as much as you want Jason and I’ll deserve all of it.” Bruce came closer to Jason. Jason proceeded to physically make himself smaller. Like a scared animal. Bruce remember what he did to Jason after he had seemingly killed The Penguin. How he beat Jason to within an inch of his life. His heart plummeted to his stomach as he saw Jason cower like a scared dog over his approach. 

“What are you going to do Bruce, beat me to a fucking pulp again? You hate me more than you hate the fucking Joker, don’t you?” Jason asked. Bruce truly saw the fear in those green eyes. He had to take a moment and realized just what he was doing. He unclenched his jaw and relaxed his shoulders as he approached Jason. This time he was back within striking range of his son. 

“Jason. I failed you. I have been failing you for the past 10 years since your death. I have failed this city and this family in providing the protection it needs. I couldn’t kill The Joker because I’m weak.” Bruce sucked at emotions and emoting. But Bruce hadn’t felt this shaky and wavering since the day he lost Jason. His son needed to know the truth. He deserved to know the truth. “Jason I never hated you. I hated the actions you have taken against the people of this city. But I’ve come to realize that the hatred and contempt I’ve held is because you do what I can’t do.” 

“Oh so now you’re coming over to apologize? I don’t owe you shit after what you’ve done to me.” Jason had stated. He may have been acting like a pinned animal. But his mouth will never not cut like knives. 

“Jason, when we had fought in the abandoned apartment. And you had the Joker with you. You had tried to shoot me after I had turned away from you.” Bruce said. Inching ever closer to Jason while trying not to be imposing. “In that moment, I threw the batarang because I knew you were going to retaliate against me. But I need you to know in that moment I turned away. I turned away because I decided I wasn’t to be the one to decide the Joker’s fate. He had taken your life and it wasn’t up to me to decide. I want nothing more than for the Joker to pay for the countless lives hes taken and ruined.” Bruce swallowed hard as he felt tears beginning to well in his eyes. “I failed you because I couldn’t kill the Joker. But in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to have my baby boy back. I wanted you back in my life. I still want you back in my life.” 

“Bullshit. Fucking BULLSHIT.” Jason spat at Bruce. The emotions were flooding out of his face. Anger, hatred, fear, but most of all sadness. Jason’s voice began wavering as he began to cry. “If you loved me why in the fuck have you never realized I’ve been trying to help the people of Gotham. Instead every time I take matters into my own hands all I meet are your fucking fists. I hate your guts Bruce. We’d all just be better off fucking dead. It’s all Hopeless. I’m hopeless.” 

Bruce took a deep breath. He tried to find his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to be able to reach out to his son again. “You’re absolutely right Jason. I’ll bet Gotham would be a whole lot better without me. Without the pain I have caused. And no amount of apologies will fix the pain that I have caused you. No words will ever take back the transgressions I have taken against you.” Bruce was crying this time. “But know this. You always have been my son. And I love you so much. The day I lost my parents was agony. The day I lost you, I felt like I had lost myself I felt I had died a bit inside.” Bruce choked out. “We both have done so much we regret. If I could take back all the times I hit you I would do it in a heartbeat. But no amount of sorry will take back that pain. I shouldn’t be in the position to be asking this. But I just want my son back.” Bruce swallowed. “You have every right to hate me, but I will never stop loving you. You aren’t hopeless and you never have been. You never have been a burden. You are valued by so many people. I. I love you my son. I love you Jason."

Jason’s face relaxed from a position of contempt and hatred and soon was overcome with years of pent up tears. Jason let out a hearty scream as he proceeded to weep and sob. As if a dam had broke and was threatening to engulf a town in an apocalypse. Bruce went against everything he had known and was screaming from the inside of his body and wrapped Jason in a hug. He was almost as large as Bruce himself and barely fit around his arms. But Bruce held his son and hugged him tight. Jason was crying uncontrollably. 

“I’m hearing these voices. They’re telling me I’m a monster and a killer and that I should kill all of you.” Jason shouted between sobs. “But I don’t want to. I’m so afraid Bruce. I don’t want to hurt anyone unless I have to.” 

“Just breath Jason. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Let it all out.” Bruce had solidified his resolve and worked on being there for Jason. He couldn’t run away this time. His son needed him more than ever. And Gotham be damned. He’s not making this mistake twice. He’s staying here. For Jason. 

It felt like hours before Jason had run out of tears and sobs. Jason was fading and seemed like he was about to fall asleep. The shards of glass that were imbedded in his hand seemingly prevented Jason from bleeding out. Bruce had saw Jason’s eyes glaze over as his breathing calmed. 

“Jason, I’m going to pick you up and take you to bed.” Bruce had said, asking for permission from his second son. Jason simply nodded as he starred off. He was numb now. The pain seemingly gone for the moment. Bruce lifted Jason up and was taken aback by just how heavy his son was. He truly was 225lbs just like his records showed. This wasn’t the son who hid under the cabinets when Bruce first brought Jason home. But Bruce still saw the boy as his son nonetheless. As Bruce laid Jason on the bed Alfred had approached with a first aid kit. Proceeding to begin to clean up Jason’s hand. Jason was so exhausted he barely felt any of the picking and pulling or the iodine going into his wounds. He kept his eyes fast forward on Bruce. 

“Bruce. I. I’m sorry.” Jason had said meekly. 

“Don’t apologize Jason.” Bruce had stated. He ran his hand through Jason’s hair, giving a soft massage to his scalp. “You get some sleep now. I don’t think you’ve rested in days.” 

Bruce had remembered the time he had read Jason to sleep. This time he had thought back to a poem that struck him from his phone. It was from a famous lyricist and singer. As Bruce pulled up his phone he had found the poem and recited it as Jason fell asleep. Things are far from perfect or even better. But tomorrow was going to be the first day of the rest of his and Jason’s lives. 

“They told me once, ‘there's a place where love conquers all’

A city with the streets full of milk and honey

I haven't found it yet, but I'm still searching

All I know is a hopeless place that flows with the blood of my kin

Perhaps hopeless isn't a place

Nothing but a state of mind” 

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

pHEW GOD THAT WAS LONG. I hope you all enjoyed the fic! This was my first published attempt at angst and whump and while I feel some parts are cringe. I am proud of what I made. 

Big thanks again to @dilfbatman for inspiring this fic. The inspiration of the title is the song Hopeless: by Halsey. The quote about I’m Sorry is from the character Shadow Maya Amano from Persona 2: Innocent Sin. And the poem at the end is the first part of the lyrics to the song Good Mourning by Halsey. 

[destielfanfic]

My First Destiel Fic, vol.3

Thank you guys for sharing your memories! My First Destiel Fic is a nostalgic survey open to any destiel fan and has a simple goal - to celebrate fics that were our gateway into a wonderful world of destiel shipping. Thank you, fic writers, you are our heroes!

from @nextheirofslytherin

my first destiel fic was “In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Dare Elsewhere” by RhymePhile. the girl i liked who got me into supernatural in middle school recommended it to me, so it always has a special place in my heart 😅 it was the first fic i read on ao3 too! i read it while i was watching s3 (cas hadn’t even shown up yet!) but the show was in its 9-10th season

All fic titles link directly to the fic, when it’s possible, we have added another link to our review or submitted rec post.

In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn’t Dare Elsewhere by rhymephile [M, 34,000 word count, posted 2010] (our review)

It's 1995, and Castiel's high school years are destined to be difficult: home-schooled until eighth grade, he is awkward, shy, and socially inept. The weird kid with the funny name would rather isolate himself and draw in his sketchbook than deal with the constant bullying he faces every day. Things only get worse in his junior year when he excels in home economics class, leading the captain of the baseball team, Alastair, to start taunting him for being gay. Then new student Dean Winchester arrives at Flour Bluff High School, sharing many of Castiel's classes. Castiel has seen his type before -- handsome, athletic, arrogant, and sure to be the most popular kid in school. But Castiel eventually learns that he and Dean have more in common than he thought, and they form an unlikely friendship.

from @deansbff

i joined the fandom in the beginning of 2019 and molting expectations by tricia_16 was the first fic (over 11k words) that i read. it really made me fall in love with deancas because i realised i didn't need them to be in the canon!verse to be so wonderful, their relationship was amazing in whatever universe they were in and it was always intriguing to read about!!

Molting Expectations by tricia_16 [163,100 word count, posted 2019]

After having trouble coping with a traumatic incident on the job, Dean takes his little brother's advice and leaves everything behind to go stay at the old family cabin in Colorado. Nobody's been there for years so it needs some major work, but it's secluded, and that turns out to be exactly what Dean needs in order to start to feel at peace again. Now in the mountains with nothing but nature to amuse himself with, he takes up bird watching and plans a hike into the mountain range across from his cabin in search of a golden eagle. High up in the mountains, he discovers human footprints. Thinking someone is in danger, he follows them into a cave and quickly becomes familiar with a form of wildlife he never could have imagined: winged people who call themselves angels.

from @bornonathursdayinmarch

I actually started out in the fandom against Destiel. I mean, it was pretty clear that Dean Winchester was not into men. But then I read “Redemption Road” by accident around 2015. I didn’t know it was Destiel. But I got really into it and this fic totally changed my mind on Dean/Cas. I have since read hundreds of Destiel fics and I am more into the ship than ever. My absolute favorite fanfic is “Sweaters and Cigarettes” by lemonoclefox. I love how shy, caring Dean softens cynical Castiel and how in love they are despite being so different. It makes me smile when I’m down.

Redemption Road by spnredemption (the fic is a collaborative effort of a group of destiel writers and artists) [NC-17, 650,000 word count, 24 episodes, posted 2011-12)

With Castiel having set himself up as the new God, drunk on power and volatile as a nuclear reactor, Dean, Sam, and Bobby find themselves on the run from the jealous, capricious monster wearing the face of their friend. Desperate for protection and wary of his brother’s mental state since Castiel unlocked Sam’s memories of Hell, Dean knows Castiel must be defused before he can wreak further havoc in Heaven or on Earth. Although Bobby advocates for destroying Castiel by whatever means necessary, Dean is convinced the Cas he once knew still remains, buried somewhere beneath the mass of poisonous souls and calling out for help. Determined to save the angel who once rescued him from Hell and redefined his purpose in life, Dean himself must resist the allure of the false deity vying for his obedience, and come to terms with the knowledge, long-suppressed, that his feelings for Castiel run much deeper than brotherhood. It is this bond, and the dubious distinction of the Righteous Man, that will ultimately grant Dean access to where Castiel’s grace languishes in Purgatory. However, what Dean brings back with him is broken, angry, and only half-angel, certainly not the Castiel he remembers—and nor is it the only thing that returns to Earth with them…

Sweaters & Cigarettes by lemonoclefox [NC-17, 150,000 word count, posted 2014]  NOTE - the fic was deleted from ao3 by the author, please see our review for more details

Dean Winchester is in high school, crushing hard on Castiel Novak, the unbelievably hot goth who Dean does his very best to convince himself he hates, despite the fact that he can’t really stop staring at him. Dean tries, but when the two of them finally cross paths, their first conversation takes a surprising turn. And suddenly, they both find themselves falling harder and faster than they ever could have expected.

from @iamasphodelknox

Hi! The fic that made Destiel my OTP was The Walk series by Persephoneshadow. It blew my mind and I hadn’t even started watching Supernatural yet. 🙈 I started watching the show last year, just as Season 15 was starting. I’m a newbie but this comfort ship felt like coming home. I also read a turn of the earth by microcomets just as I got to season 4 and it is one of the best things I’ve ever read, fic or no. :)

The Walk by Persephoneshadow [NC-17, 190,000 word count, posted 2017]

Castiel tells himself it was a one time thing, even if his night with a hooker named Dean changed his whole world, but he can’t keep away from the man fate keeps throwing in his path. Castiel is married and he knows his sexuality is an affront to God and everything he’s ever been told is right. Dean tells himself he doesn’t care about the weirdo with blue eyes, but every time they meet he gets a bit closer to something like hope. Dean’s nothing but a homeless waste of space with a brother in foster care a world away and a father in the wind. As the connection between these two lost men deepens, it threatens the carefully maintained lies their lives are built on in a story of faith, mistakes, and the journey of love.

a turn of the earth by mishcollin microcomets [NC-17, 95,300 word count, posted 2015] (our review)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run. Frigging fantastic. (Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline pre series and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

If you enjoyed the fic, please drop by the archive (AO3) and let the author know with your comments and/or kudos! And if you found our recs useful, let us know by Liking and/or Reblogging our posts!

You can find all My First Destiel Fic posts under this tag!

[sevilemar]

Probably my biggest takeaway from the larp is that reacting to something another player throws at you feels different than seeing it from the outside. Because while I am in the situation, all I can do is be in that situation, and ideally react as the character. It doesn't feel very cool at all, especially in the beginning when you are still trying to get a feel for the character. It feels, at least to me, like I'm stumbling around, unsure of everything except that I have to react somehow.

But the thing is, it doesn't look that way. From the outside, it looks like you're someone, and that someone is part of a story. It looks way cooler than it feels, at least for me. But maybe that is because I have not yet had the pleasure of inhabiting a character I really know well, that I am really comfortable with.

And here is the astonishing part, the part that kinda blew my mind a little bit: that's true for fucking life as well. I have always admired people who seemed to know what they were doing in social situations, people who effortlessly seem to fit into groups, or had someone to talk with all the time like it's no big deal. I always felt that whenever I tried it, it felt clumsy, and like I was stumbling around helplessly. Because it didn't feel as effortlessly as it looked on other people.

But once I thought about it, there were so many situations where I now notice that it did not look clumsy at all to other people, it must have looked just normal. So many. And that just blew me away. Because fucking hell, all this pain of feeling like the most socially inept person in any given room was so fucking unnecessary! Because it simply was not true. Or it was true, but only in my mind, not in everyone else's.

I'm not sure how I feel about this revelation. Ecstatic for sure, because it reveals a lot of doors in my mind that had disguised themselves as concrete walls before. Also angry that I only discover this after almost four decades of life. And sad when I think about all the unnecessary pain it has caused me over the years. I am still processing here, folks!

But I am also insanely grateful for the larp to have given me the experience and the insight. Thank you so much to all the awesome people who were there with me, you're the best <3

[sour-heart-treats]

Hi, anon here who asked you about the topic question. Thanks for letting me know. With that being said, could I get a Fire Spirit X Wind archer angst with fluff in the end? Maybe Fire Spirit is helping WInd Archer recover from trauma when he turned to Night Raven?

"Steady... Steady..." Wind Archer murmured to himself, trying to keep himself calm. It had been so long since he had picked up his bow, not since he had been purified of the crimson poison that once coursed through his veins. It wasn't entirely gone, as he could still feel it pulse through him now and then, intruding his thoughts in ways to terrify the archer of himself. Closing an eye to check his aim, Archer let a pure arrow fly, only to see it fizzle out before it struck the tree he'd been aiming for. 'Useless,' the poison hissed at him, 'Your repentance has only weakened you. What a shame, being stripped of your ability to protect.'

Shaking his head, Wind Archer turned to another tree, deciding to attempt a quick shot. This shot landed, though he swore he could have seen a violet tinge within the arrow's glow before he willingly dissipated it. 'You could have saved someone with that. Corrupted them to be free from that Tree.' There was a huff, and Archer lowered his bow. "From one enslavement to another, isn't it? At least I'm happy where I stand now." There was a nagging doubt that certainly coincided with that rot within him 'Are you truly happy? Or is it simply a ruse?'

"I am." Wind states with as strong of a tone as he could muster. "I am happy. I am loved. You are not going to take this away from me no matter how many times you try to drill yourself into my head." The essence of the breeze could have sworn he heard a laugh that was not his own within his mind. It was familiar, yet it was not him. 'You are angry. The poison hasn't left, and here you are tapping into it to use it against itself? Clearly, you haven't reformed at all.'

The archer blinked, taking a step back from a foe that wasn't physically there to begin with. He could feel his leaves tinge to an ugly, drooping brown as the wind around him kicked up to a steady breeze. "No, I... I'm not-" 'Not reformed. You are still as diabolical as you once were, Raven.' A shaken breath fell from Wind's mouth, his body tensing from this poisoned blood attempting to go at him again and again. He hated this- especially when he was alone.

'Oh, hate you say?' Shit. 'Someone so hateful could be seen as evil, yes? Just like the scarlet drink that you-'

"Silence! Silence!" A gust of wind blew through the forest, Archer's gem shining bright against his dimming leaves. "Stop using my words against me! I am no longer Night Raven, so do not even attempt to address me as such! I am... I-I'm no longer that tainted fiend..." He swore his legs were turning to liquid the more he resisted this headache that continued to dig at him. 'You stand on your grey ground, believing that you are apart of one side solely.' The wind that blew only grew into what was practically a gale, the voice growing louder. The wind’s vessel lifted his bow once more, growling at this voice in his mind- or was it himself-?

"Hey, Archie, I heard the wind picking up so I- OH SHIT-" Fire Spirit narrowly dodged an arrow, to which it fizzled out before landing, the wind suddenly cutting short as the wielder of the bow realized what he had nearly done. "F-Firey..." Archer's voice was low and worried. "My apologies, I... I was losing myself for a moment there." As guilty as Wind felt, and as dangerous as that arrow was, there was nothing more than a laugh from the spirit of flames. "Ah, it's no problem, Archie! I may be a spirit, but I'm pretty sure even your arrows can't purify my everlasting flame!" The archer would like to disregard that his arrows very well could purify and let the spirit pass on just like any other... Which thankfully he could due since Fire Spirit had floated over to him, grinning despite his very recent near post-death experience. "What's goin' on with you?" The question was so casual and unlike the situation just before that it nearly made even the embodiment of wind forget that he was just having a mental struggle with himself.

"Just training..." Wind would mumble, deciding to let his bow dissipate to prevent any further danger who's closeness was... Certainly getting to his cheeks in the smallest of forms. There was a playful scoff from the other, Fire Spirit landing himself on the ground before Windy and taking the forest guardian's hand. The grass may singe beneath him, and he may be uncomfortably warm to the legendary, but it was nothing to mind. "You really think I'm gonna believe that when you made winds strong enough to break some sturdy branches?"

"You underestimate how weak the forest is thanks to when I was gone-"

"Maybe I do! But c'mon, Archie, you're not gonna convince anyone with that."

There was hesitation from Wind Archer, though past that his gaze quietly lowered to the autumn leaves that surrounded him and the one who cared more than that so-called Millennial Tree. "Well... I suppose I could say... But promise me not to take it out of proportion like that instance where I had lost my scarf, understood?"

"It wasn't even the scarf I was worried about- it was the fact you had the Tree's face carved into your skin!"

"Same difference."

"No!! It's really not!!"

That was enough to get Archer to laugh, something soft and gentle that caused the gentle swaying and falling of leaves. One of which burnt from Spirit's hair, but it wasn't seen as anything significant for the time being. "It, ah... The scarlet poison was at it again, simply." There was a huff of a swear from the hothead, though it wasn't seen as an interruption. "It continues to nag at me, that going back to purity was a mistake, and that I still... That I am still that Night Raven figure I thought I had abandoned." For once, Fire Spirit's expression turned serious. It as odd, almost intimidating to see such. "You're not that dumb corvid cosplayer, I can tell you that. Don't let it get to you." Though... Words seemed to fail in consoling. Leave it to Fire Spirit to be inept in comfort, considering he's never really had the chance to learn it himself. "Look, how about we go to that cliff you always like to go to? The one where your breeze makes 'all the flowers dance in beauty' or whatever you say they do?"

"...I would like that... I would like that very much, actually."

[greyfix]

One More Chapter 4: Contemplation

Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 3.5, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (if it’s not linked it’s not out yet)

Ao3

Summary: Midoriya overhears Todoroki talking to Jirou about his feeling towards both him and Bakugou. What will he do with all this weighing on his mind, along with his new relationship with Bakugou?

Word Count: (All chapters including unpublished ones) 4,215

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Swearing

Author’s Note: So, This is like one of the fics that i’m most proud of. But alot of people dont notice that it is the Sequel to Katsuki, Katsudon and Kisses and that it picks up right where it left off in The Next Morning. All of the chapters should be out by 02/25/21.

Katsuki couldn’t concentrate on his training. He had been spending more time on the training grounds, yet less and less of it actually progressing. He thought of it this way. At least he was getting his aggression out.

He didn’t know how he felt about this whole situation with Todoroki. He has been in love with Izuku for as long as he’s known what love was. He never really thought about how he felt about anyone else. He generally wasn't good at talking to people, so he didn't get along with a lot of them, meaning he got used to people not liking him and when people dont like you, it doesn't matter to them how you feel.

He worked well with Todoroki. He’d never admit it out loud, but he knew it was true. He didn’t seem to be repelled by his abrasive personality either. On another hand, hero relationships and romantic relationships were very different.

He was good with Izuku. He had longed for what he has with Izuku now for years. But he never thought about Todoroki in that way. Could he be in a relationship with someone other than Izuku?

Todoroki is strong. He does what needs to be done. He has protected Izuku more times than Katsuki could count. He’s saved my ass a few times too. He thinks, though he doesn't do it beforehand like Katsuki and Izuku do, he always figures something out as he’s charging in. He also takes no shit.

Katsuki, whether he liked to admit it or not, admired Todoroki. But did he have the capacity to love him?

He’s perceptive. He knows what’s going on in your head always, though he’s socially inept and doesn't really know how to communicate it to people. He was like Katsuki in that way.

He looked around the training grounds. Kirishima was a ways away trying to strengthen his hardening by hacking away at some rock. Izuku was jumping around, just straight out exercising. And not too far away was Todoroki himself. He was standing in the center of a large puddle of water. He was trying to further his quirk by continuously producing ice from his right while hot flames glowed on his left.

He looked so into what he was doing that he didn’t even notice the pain. That couldn’t be healthy. Not that Katsuki could lecture about healthy habits. Despite that he looked almost serene. Like he was at peace with himself.

Katsuki looked away when he realised he was staring.

He stopped thinking and continued training. He blew everything up. Everything.

~

Katsuki couldn't sleep that night. He was mulling over everything in his head.

He thought about Todoroki. He thought about everything Izuku said. About how he feels about the both of them.

And finally. After hours and hours of overthinking things.

He came to terms with it.

He knew how he felt.

He knew what he wanted to do.

Now all he has to do is act on it.

[moonxjoon]

How Can I Help You? | chapter 1

one | two

Pairing: HueningKai x barista!Reader 

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2k

Synopsis: Working at the local cafe in town is normally a tiresome day job, until you meet a particularly fascinating young guy who frequents your shop more and more often than usual. 

A/N: Requests Open~

You clutched your peacoat flush to your chest, forcing out a deep breath which brought forth a wisp of clouded air that you could see infringing on the cold air. Your tired breaths slowed when you finally halted your semi-jog, arriving at the teal-colored door of the local corner coffee house you were currently working at on your days off from university classes. 

The street adjacent to the building was already saturated with early morning commuters, public transportation bussing, and the occasional biker or runner. It was a raucous, lively Monday morning in the midst of the brisk winter months, teetering on the edge of springtime (which was promised to come sooner rather than later as a result of an inquisitive rodent spotting its shadow a few weeks prior). 

You used your boss’s key to unlock the hackneyed door, swinging it open to let in a gust of sharp, biting air throughout the settled shop. Your entire body loosened up when you shut the door behind you and made your way behind the counter to get ready for opening. 

You pulled off your scarf and coat, hanging it on the coat rack situated at the front entrance. “Morning!” You said to yourself and perhaps even the shop itself. 

Your morning opening routine involved opening blinds, cleaning the espresso machines, and prepping the pastry and snack counter. After your first hand duties were completed, you checked the clock on the wall to see that it was still 6:43, seventeen minutes before opening. You instinctively yawned to yourself, as you had gotten less than adequate sleep the night prior. You had finished up two research papers and an observational lab report for the following week, knowing you would barely have enough time to complete the assignments during your work days. Sluggishly wandering into the back room where breaks and team meetings were commonly held, you grabbed the chalkboard sign used to entice outside customers to stop in and grab a quick cup of joe before starting their day. You wiped it clean and meticulously calligraphed an eye-catching, curtailed version of the store’s menu, highlighting new seasonal drinks and different types of house-made patisseries. 

Wearing nothing but your shop uniform and apron, you braced yourself as you opened the front door, the bitter coldness immediately intruding through your clothing. You propped the A-framed sign at the very front of the shop, repositioning it more than needed to satisfy your perfectionist psyche as well as making sure it didn't take up too much space on the footpath for passers-by. Just as you finished setting up the sign, an incoming cry triggered your fight-or-flight response, making you jump. 

“S’cuse me!” You heard the voice, envoking you to spin around on your heel to see where the exclamation came from. At the very last second, as a blue blur flashed before your eyes, your legs that were stuck at the entrance of your shop finally decided to move for you. You narrowly evaded the biker, who was traveling downhill on the sidewalk and jerkily dodging people and uneven pavement bumps. You watched as he spun around on his seat, quickly waving to you and not exactly abiding by the biker rules of the road. “Sorry bout that!” 

Your racing heart slowed enough to take note of the boy on the bike. His bright aqua hair blew messily in the wind. His back was adorned in a beige jacket and dark pants, and his dark blue tie fluttered over his shoulder, flapping wildly from his breakneck riding.

“There’s a bike lane for a reason!” You called back to him, watching precariously as he narrowly avoided other pedestrians. Knowing he couldn’t hear you anyway, you rolled your eyes and made your way back into the warmth of your brewhouse dwelling. 

Laidback rhythms and soft melodies mixed with a cacophony of brewing machines filled the shop as you prepared orders for the now growing line of customers waiting for their daily dose of caffeine and sugar. The first hours of the morning were spent operating alone, as your other coworker called in about fifteen minutes prior to opening that she would be coming into work late. Typical, you thought, as you poured another medium vanilla chai latte and handed it to a young woman, too busy talking on her phone to even say ‘thank you’. 

Your brow began to sweat a tad while you prepared espresso after latte after macchiato after cappuccino. After the dozenth cup was served to the last patron in line and no one else needed to be helped, you took a deep breath and used the end of your apron to wipe away the excess perspiration that had collected at the apex of your forehead. Even though it felt like nearly below freezing outside, the whirring machines and scalding drink-making process made the small shop exceedingly sweltering. 

You propped your bottom on the edge of the cashier counter and promptly took out your phone for a quick break. You opened your instagram app and liked a few aesthetically pleasing dorm photos on your explore page. Just as you were admiring a particular picture of a minimalistic yet fashionably tasteful flat arrangement (silently wishing you had the money to make your own room look like that), you heard the telltale ring of the doorbell, signalling there was another customer that needed to be tended to. You sighed to yourself and slipped your phone into your apron pocket, turning to face the cash register, ready to take yet another overly complex order. 

“Hi, how can I help you?-” you casually glanced up to the person, but your words caught in your throat as you made eye contact. Standing before you was a towering young man who you guessed was around you age just by his youthfulness. Soft chocolate-caramel locks were splayed across his forehead, leading down towards even darker mocha-colored irises. His hair and eye color starkly contrasted to his pretty much flawless milky skin tone. Before his lips even parted to say a word, you immediately deducted that he was one of the cutest guys you’d ever laid eyes on. 

“Good morning.” He said. With a sharp intake of air, your teeth unconsciously grabbed onto the sides of your cheeks, which were now progressing into a darker and darker shade of pink. You noticed his lips as he spoke; they were a deep cherry color, almost matching his own cheeks. You suspected this was because of the chilly outdoor weather, unlike your own blood flowing to your face due to the fact you were staring up at an incredibly good-looking guy. 

The boys eyes tilted upwards to the menu hanging just above your head before returning back to your unbreaking gaze. “I’ve never been here before, mind if I ask what you recommend?” His voice was alluring in a way and you focused on every word as it came out. You blinked a few times, hearing those particular words strung in that order, but not entirely processing them. When an uncomfortable and unnecessary amount of time passed between him asking and you answering, your brain forced out words by itself, resulting in a clumsy and uncalculated response. 

“Uhm, I’m sorry, what was that?” you asked, shaking your head and breaking eye contact which was also starting to get weird. You stared at the buttons on the register, now completely and utterly flustered. You inwardly scolded yourself for making yourself look like a fool. It was one thing if it was any other customer, but you had to be caught off guard by a boy- lord knows how inept you are at holding a conversation with a guy that you find even minimally cute.

“It’s alright. I was just wondering what you think is good here. I don’t really drink coffee, but I need the caffeine to keep me up for today. Being back from break sucks.” The brunette laughed slightly to himself- god, even his giggle was cute. 

You held your grip on the sides of the register, praying you wouldn’t continue to make yourself look like a newbie at her job. Come on, just pretend he's just a normal patron, because that’s all he is. Go about your coffee schpeal and recommend the classics. 

You glanced back up at the boy, who was still staring at you with the most pleasant, friendly smile. 

Through your peripherals, you noticed his apparel. It looked strangely familiar, like the clothing was seen somewhere before in the inner recesses of your mind. You had a realization that the tan single-breasted suit with light blue trim was the exact same uniform worn by the guy that nearly ran you over this morning. 

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to act like a normal person, not letting some random captivating dude distract you from your job. “Oh, well we still have our holiday drinks in season; there's our peppermint cappuccino, gingerbread latte, mocha praline swirl...hot chocolate?” You tried, countering his smile with a homely smirk. 

His hand came up and gingerly caressed the back of his neck, his eyes once again scanning the board behind you. “Hm, what’s your favorite here?” he queried, making the settling blood in your face heat up once again. 

Your mouth opened once, then twice, both times no words coming out. On the third try, your vocal cords finally decided to work. “Oh, that’s a hard question, I’m like a coffee fiend.” The painful grasp on the register slowly eased when to your surprise, the same chuckle from before erupted from his chest. “I’d recommend everything, but one of my go-to’s is our cinnamon dolce latte with brown sugar cinnamon and caramel.” you said quickly, now hyper-aware of your awkward demeanor. 

He nodded his head, making his hair bounce up and down playfully over his face. “Alright, I’ll have a small cinnamon dolce, in that case.” You noticed that not once did his smile leave his face. Your mouth perked up, enjoying your short chat. “Got it. That’ll be $3.15.” He reached into his satchel that was slung over his shoulder and pulled out a wallet, handing you a crisp five dollar bill. While he was doing that you took the time to check out his lapel, which had an emblem patch stitched on his front pocket. The black embroidered crest was adorned with gold trimming; woven in were three tri-colored stars of yellow, green, and blue. 

Before he had a chance to notice your subtle appraisal, you accepted his currency, brushing his slender fingers in the process. The innocent and simple gesture made your own fingers tingle as they came into contact with foreign skin. His fingertips were chilled as your clammy hands met his, making goosebumps form over your wrist and up your arm. Suddenly your legs were locked in place, yet all the while felt formless and weak. 

“Wh-what’s the name for the order?”  you asked and silently berated yourself for sounding so automatic yet pathetic at the same time. 

“Huening Kai. But you can just put Kai.” Another beaming grin crossed his face as he wiped away a stray piece of hair hanging in front of his eye. It looks so smooth and soft, you thought. Your hands suddenly felt the need to find purchase in his locks, just to see how the mop of shiny brown hair would feel under your touch. You’re repulsive! What is wrong with you? Get your mind out of the gutter! Your mind shouted at you, bringing you back to reality once again. 

“Kai. Got it.” You grabbed a cup and a magic marker, writing out the name as neatly as possible. An unexpected wave of confidence came over you before you could stop your lips from speaking you spat out, “Nice name, Huening Kai. Very pretty.” You bite your tongue, immediately regretting your words. Just as you were about to explain yourself that you didn't mean for that to sound weird or come across as creepy, your head shot up to see that his expression changed to a softer simper. His head tilted a bit, like a puppy studying it’s owners face in confusion. 

“Thank you, I don't get too many compliments on my name. I appreciate it…” His gaze trailed down from your eyes to your collarbone and right above your breast. He leaned forward over the counter, examining you. A warm heat followed his eyes, making the room feel even hotter than before. “Y/N. Hm, I like yours, too. It fits you.” He said and you momentarily thought he was a mind-reader, until you realized he was studying your name tag attached to your shirt. 

You uncontrollably erupted in a giggle, exalted by his compliment. “Thanks, I used to hate it, but I guess I don’t mind it anymore.” 

You were kicked back into gear when you peered behind the boy and saw more people had made their way into the shop and were waiting for their orders to be taken. “Your drink will be right out, Kai.” You replied and spun around to your workstation so he wouldn’t notice the redness permeating across your face. 

As you made his drink, you made sure to take special care in not messing up the simple order, as you had made numerous drinks in your time at the shop; you haven't had a single customer complain about any of your beverages thus far, so this one shouldn’t be any exception.  

The brew was ready, and you took your time making sure the whipped topping was laid expertly and not overflowing. You pressed the lid shut and ensured not a single drop of coffee spilled. “Kai?” you stepped up to the counter at the other end of your station, seeing him waiting patiently and scrolling through his phone. When his name was called, he instantly perked up and smiled. “That was quick!” he exclaimed, slipping his phone into his trouser pocket in exchange for his drink. 

Your hands skimmed each other once again, the same exact warm feeling shooting up your arm like before. Ignoring it this time, you gestured to the line of people gathering at the front of the store. “I gotta be. Coffee making pays surprisingly well, can’t afford to be slow.” 

Your statement was ironic, as these past few minutes felt like an eternity, just being in the presence of this stranger. 

He took a slow sip of the latte as you spoke. You were surprised when his eyes grew wide, and panicked as the thought crossed your mind that you prepared the wrong recipe or maybe he burned his tongue. You should’ve warned him it’d be scalding hot! 

“Wow. You’re pretty good at your craft, not gonna lie!” His overly charming grin came back once again, which made you wonder how his cheeks weren’t sore yet. Before you could thank him, he started making his way to the door, waving as he made long strides to the exit. “Thanks, Y/N. I'll leave you to your work now, gotta get to class soon, too.” 

Your encounter was over too soon, and you felt a certain tug at your chest when he pressed his fingers to the glass paneling of the door. “See you around!” He shouted over the heads of the customers queued up at the register. And just like that, the pretty boy Kai was gone. “See you!” You tried to call out, but it was too late. The door shut and from the storefront windows you could see the tousled chocolate locks flying haphazardly in the outdoor wind, until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. 

Your heart had slowed to a regular beat, and you let out a disappointed sigh. You remembered your other patrons and you speedily went back to your post and second nature kicked in and your day continued normally.  

“Sorry for the wait, staff is short today.” You apologize to the man standing before you, the bags under his eyes and vitriolic frown indicating he was not in the mood to wait any longer than he had to.

He has to be back sometime. You thought and mindlessly typed away the order for each customer, switching back and forth from brewing and the register. He must go to the same academy as the other dude from this morning. You recollected the blue-haired boy that donned the same uniform as Kai. Damn, I kinda hope he comes back.

It wasn't typical of you to think about someone so strongly after having just met them, but for some reason, this guy lingered around your thoughts. From his tall figure to the way he said your name to his cheeky smile and laugh and even to his cold fingers. You scolded yourself for what seemed like the hundredth time for letting a simple crush affect you so. 

You forced out a frustrated huff as your thoughts got the better of your judgement and you accidentally switched up two girls’ orders, earning you a few disgruntled remarks about not doing your job right and an eye roll. When the day couldn't seem to last any longer, you checked out the clock to see if your shift was almost over. 7:36. Lovely…

[raybyanothername]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker Characters: Harley Keener, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds Additional Tags: Background Relationships, Big Brothers, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism Summary:

When in doubt, call for help.

Five times Peter calls Harley for help and one time Harley calls Peter.

If you like this fic and are feeling generous: https://ko-fi.com/raybyanothername 

1.

Harley was elbows deep in an engine when his phone started ringing. He grumbled, pulling his hands out and slid from beneath his mother's sedan with a few grunts and one curse word. He managed to avoid tripping over his own feet as he stood, catching himself on the workbench. He tapped the green button without looking at the screen.

"I screwed up Harley," the voice was soft, light and the teenage boy on the other end of his phone was sniffling. "I screwed up and now Tony's pissed at me, May's mad, and I don't know how to fix it."

"Pete," Harvey said his name slowly, "What happened?"

This was the moment Harley Keener, age 17, realized he had more than one younger sibling. And spiders were harder than sisters.

"So… Tony took your suit?" Harley's eyes scrunched together.

"Yeah. He said if I'm nothing without the suit than I shouldn't have it." Peter had stopped sniffling now, which Harley took to mean that the crying portion of the evening was done. His voice was still a wavering whisper.

Harley sighed, plopping down from his perch on the work table to open his minifridge. "You're making me agree with Tony. And I was really looking forward to arguing with him."

"What?!" Peter screeched, "But. I'm Spiderman, I can't just disappear!"

"You're also 15." Harley rolled his eyes, already prepared for sputters and rambling defense. "You've quit most of your hobbies, Pete. All the stuff you use to enjoy. Just to be Spiderman."

Peter squawked, "Just?!"

"Dude, you have your whole life to be a super hero." Harley wished he lived closer to New York so he could show up in Queens with ice cream and a foam bat. "You only get a few years as a kid."

"So, what? I just stop being Spiderman?"

Maybe Tony would pay for a plane ticket?

"Technically, you were Spiderman before Tony gave you a suit." Harley grabbed a soda from his fridge, he popped the top one handed. "But. You could also take a break. See what being Peter Parker is like again."

Peter was quiet for a minute. "Just Peter Parker?"

"Just?!" Harley mimicked Peter's earlier outrage. Peter chuckled. "Peter Parker is way more than Spiderman. Just like Tony is more than Iron Man."

Peter was quiet again. Harley drank his soda, slurping loudly so Peter could hear him. The teen started laughing again, "You're way better at explaining this than Tony was."

"Who do you think lectures him about it?" Harley grinned to himself. They answered simultaneously.

"Rhodey."

"So... why's May mad?" Harley asked as he started back towards his workbench.

Peter's laugh turned nervous, "I…kinda got detention. For ditching school."

Harley paused in his step, "Dude. You screw up our plans for MIT, I will kick your ass. Spider powers be damned." He took another drink, "Speaking of, does Ned own a foam bat?"

-.-.-

2.

>>> Help!!!

Harley looked at the three exclamation marks as he walked out of class. He started walking towards Amherst St as he typed out a response to Ned.

>>> What's Peter doing now?

>>> Planning.

Oh. That could not be good. Harley checked his watch and then tapped on his phone app. Peter picked up quickly, which meant Karen had redirected him.

"Ned is concerned." Wind whistled. Definitely swinging.

"It's a perfectly good plan!" Peter's voice was huffed. The wind stopped. Peter cleared his throat, "It's way better than his European bachelors plan!"

Harley stopped mid-step, "What is Ned planning to do to the European bachelors?" Someone jostled him from behind and Harley kept walking.

"No," Peter scoffed, "We'd be bachelors in Europe. Pick up women in every city sort of deal."

"Given that you're both awkward and completely inept at flirting -" Peter screeched "- I agree, that's a horrible plan." Harley punched in his code at the entrance to his dorm.

Peter immediately launched a defense, "I'm not completely inept! I got the most popular girl in school to go with me to Homcoming onc-"

"Then you ditched her to take down a supervillain.

"- And! I'm smooth, like I'm a superhero, so obviously I have killer moves."

Harley snorted, "Are you or are you not currently standing atop a building in your suit talking to midair." Peter shut up. "And gesturing! I'd be missing a key part of the whole scene if I forgot the hand gestures."

"Okay…you may have a point." Peter grumbled. Harley smiled to himself as he climbed the stairs. He'd just reached his room when Peter finally broke under the pressure of silence. "But my plan to ask MJ out will totally work!"

Aha! MJ. He should have known.

"Please," Harley threw his bag on his bed and took a seat at his desk, "Enlighten me." He kicked his feet up onto the desk as he leaned the chair back onto two legs.

Peter immediately jumped into a thorough explanation of his courtship blueprint, "So it starts on the plane…"

-.-.-

3.

There was a loud ringing in Harley's ear that wouldn't stop. He groaned and pushed at the large piece of a building on his chest. At least he was fairly positive the debris was from a building. That had been what the dude with the superpowers had thrown at him.

"How the hell did Tony handle a moon?" Harley whined as the repulsors in his hand blew the rubble away. He stood on shakey feet. At least the superpowered maniac had been subdued by his drones. "Nate, damage report?"

Harley shook his head as his A.I. began listing out his injuries. Nothing major, just a few bruised ribs and a possible concussion. The damage to the area was worse, several of the buildings were missing sections of walls, even foundations.

"Dude, couldn't you have given some consideration to structural integrity?!" Harley aimed his shout at the person he'd just taken into custody. Given the way they were snarling and struggling against their restraints, Harley considered the chance of a response minimal.

"Shall I reach out to the Xavier Institute?" Nate's electronic voice filtered through Harley's ear. He merely nodded and within minutes Nate had an E.T.A blinking in the upper corner of his display.

It was longer than Harley was hoping for. His dream of a nice long soak before bed was looking more like a quick shower at this point. He blamed Tony. It was his idea, and his requirement, that Harley sleep a minimum of six hours a night before work. It was in the Young Avengers' contract AND his Stark Industries contract.

"You have an incoming call from Peter Parker." Nate didn't wait for Harley to acknowledge him, he connected Peter immediately.

"If this has anything to with superhumans, metahumans, or a coming apocalypse I must inform you that I'm already at my maximum superhero hours for the week." Harley grinned as Peter's face appeared on his screen. The younger man's face immediately startled, eyes going wide.

In the video call Peter was standing in his dorm room, two ties in his hands, "I just need to know which color I should wear for my presentation…"

"Well, then…" Harley laughed, "Free as a bird. This is the Stark Foundation thing right? The proposals for funding?"

Peter nodded and his voice literally squeaked, "Yeah."

"Purple." Harley ignored both the red and blue ties in Peter's hand. "Everyone always wears red for that and Morgan will be there so she'll get a kick out you wearing Rescue's colors instead."

"Pepper won't think I'm trying to butter her up?" Peter threw the ties in his hand on his bed and started rifling in one of his drawers. He emerged with a triumphant cheer and a purple tie in hand. There were cartoon stars drawn on it in yellow.

Harley grinned at Morgan's attempts to 'brighten up' Peter's wardrobe, "Nah. Rhodey's judging this year." Peter visibly breathed out. "Relax, Pete, your project's good on its own. You deserve the funding, same as everyone else."

"I just don't want anyone to think I'm taking advantage…" Peter averted his eyes. Harley snorted. Peter glared.

"Dude, Tony offered you the money to fund the project outright and you applied for the grant instead," Harley looked pointedly at Peter before rolling his eyes. "Now, put on your tie and try not to stutter."

The sound of a jet landing nearby cut off Peter's attempts to defend himself. Harley smiled before he hung up. It was officially bath time!

-.-.-

4.

There was no doubt in Harley's mind who was calling. The phone hadn't shut up in at least half an hour and there were only three people in his life that persistent. And his little sister was in Bali with Morgan, so that left Peter. Nate would have informed him of any family or Avengers related emergency, so Harley just let it ring. Eventually, it stopped.

God did his head hurt. He had no idea how Tony had ever managed to function back when he drank. Harley barely managed to grab his trash can when the phone started up again.

"Nate!" Harley called out as he crawled from his spot on the floor to the couch. He brought the waste basket with him.

"How may I be of service, *sir*?"

Harley cringed. Nate only sir-ed when he was annoyed. "Will you please tell Peter to call back later? I really can't deal with the noise much longer."

"Of course, sir."

The window in front of Harley darkened and then Peter appeared on his screen. "Harley! I've been calling for an hour!"

"Sh-" Harley groaned and then tried not to get any splatter on his hair as emptied his stomach. Peter gaped at him from the screen.

"Are you…*drunk*?" Peter whispered the word like it was a curse and his eyes even darted around like he expected someone to reprimand him. Which…okay, Harley understood that. "Mr. Stark will be furious! It's 10am!"

Harley glared at him, "I'm hungover, not drunk. And it's Saturday, Pete." Peter looked unconvinced, lips pursed and eyes wide. "What'd'ya need? I need to crawl to my bathtub sometime in the near future."

"What?" Peter's lips quirked and he hid a laugh by biting his tongue. "I…uh, just need some advice."

"If you're trying to get back with MJ again I will get on a plane right now to vomit on you." Harley said with a monotone. "You've both broken up with each other now. The circle is complete."

Peter blushed, "It's not MJ!" He started stammering and waving his hands around immediately. Harley blinked as he attempted to dissect Peter's description of study breaks and movie marathons and… Oh!

"You finally figured out you're in love with Ned, congratulations." Harley droned out, though he did manage to smile when Peter startled so bad at the word love that he got himself stuck on the ceiling. "I promise to be more excited when my body stops trying to invert itself."

"That's why we're not suppose to drink!" Peter crossed his arms as he jumped back to the floor. He frowned at Harley.

Harley shrugged, "Everyone has to try being drunk at least once right?" Peter's brow furrowed further. Harley sighed, "What advice do you need, Pete?"

"Well…" Peter dropped his hands to his side. His eyes shifted to the ground. "…I don't know how to ask Ned out."

"Repeat after me, Pete," Harley started. Peter scrunched up his brows, but nodded. Harley grinned, "Hi Ned."

"Hi, Ned."

"I like you..."

"…I like you…" Peter fidgeted.

Harley continued, "As more than friends."

"As more than friends."

"Can I kiss you?"

"Can I kiss you?" Peter repeated the words and then coughed, "What?! No! I can't say that, it's too forward!"

Harley rolled his eyes and then immediately flinched. "Nate?" Harley groaned. His A.I. chirped to attention. "Send the recording of this video to Ned."

"As you wish." Harley smiled at the lack of 'sir.'

On the screen Peter was yelling. Harley just leaned back against his sofa, "I've been watching you two pine after each other for years, Pete. You'll thank me later." He reached forward and hit a button on his remote.

Peter's face blinked away.

"The video has been received."

Harley nodded and then started the long crawl for his bathtub. Nate decided to report on the side effects of excessive alcohol consumption the whole way.

Three hours later he got a text from Peter.

>>> You're an asshole when you drink. >>>…but thanks.

-.-.-

5.

With great power came great responsibility… and apparently a whole slew of teens who didn't realize superheroing didn't come with health insurance.

"How does someone even break this many bones sparring with a dummy?" Harley groused to himself as he read over the incident report from the last Young Avengers training session.

Tony'd taken one look at it, burst out laughing, and handed the report to Harley. He bet Captain America didn't have to deal with this sort of thing.

"Na-te…" Harley whined and pushed his tablet away to lay his head on the table. His A.I. chirped to life with a sound exceptionally similar to a snicker.

"How may I be of service?" Nate was far too cheerful.

Harley glowered at the ceiling, "How much would it cost to pad every surface in one of the training rooms?"

"Calculating…" Nate drawled, "I don't believe that will be conducive to a realistic training experience."

"Let me dream," Harley sighed and reached for his tablet just as it began to chirp with new notifications. None of them were from his team or a medical professional, for once.

His phone started ringing with Peter's ringtone and Harley had no time to greet his little brother before the younger man started rambling, "Open the attachment! Open it!"

"Okay…" Harley chuckled and clicked in to one of his notifications, it was indeed a message with a photo attachment from his favorite spider-themed superhero. He grinned as the message loaded up on to the projector screen, "This isn't some weird porn like last time is it?"

"That was perfectly tasteful fanart of me!" Peter was definitely blushing, and bouncing on the balls of his feet based on his excitement. Based on the thudding, he might even be bouncing from wall to wall.

Harley tapped slowly on his screen, "I don't know, that was an iffy pose for you and Deadpool to be in together... You know he's too old for you right?"

"Harley!" Peter whined just as Harley finally hit the button for the photo to pop up on the screen.

"Holy shit…" Harley breathed out at the ring suddenly sitting before his eyes. It had a spider web like design around the band and some small red and blue stones at key joints in the webbing. "Is that…"

"It's good right?" Peter launched into a frantic ramble immediately, "I know it's kind of Spiderman themed but Ned's been my Guy in the Chair for years now so I thought he'd like the nod, ya know? Sort of, I don't acknowledging his contributions as my teammate and my…my…uh…"

Harley pursed his lips as Peter stumbled over calling Ned his boyfriend.

"…it's just not enough of the right word!" Peter stomped his foot. "He's more than that, and I want to get this right…"

"Want me to send him a recording of you rambling about how to phrase your proposal?" Harley asked and Peter squawked. Harley laughed, "You got this Peter. He'll love it."

Peter let out an audible breath, "Okay, yeah, you're right."

"You've been inseperable for years, even before you starting making out on rooftops," Harley teased, illicting another squawk from Peter, "Chances are you won't even have to say anything, just get down on one knee and show him the ring."

Harley looked up at his screen at the intricate metalwork. It was absolutely the most Peter style ring he'd ever seen.

"And hey, if he says no, I have a whole legion of semi-competent teenagers you can have has consolation."

Peter snorted, "No way. The Young Avengers are your problem. I'm strictly a solo guy until we get invaded by aliens."

"I'll throw in a set of ginsu knives!" Harley half-begged as Peter started laughing at him. His tablet chirped with a notification from the Avengers medical unit. "Please?!"

"I'll take the knives as a wedding present instead," Peter chuckled. Harley pouted for a second until he heard a faint gasp from Peter's side of the phone.

Ned's voice was quiet from distance and slightly squeaky, "What wedding?" Peter's line went dead just as Harley started cackling.

"I have the estimates for a padded training room," Nate cut in as Harley slouched back in his chair.

"Email it to me," Harley sighed and kicked his feet up on the chair, "I'm gonna celebrate Peter's engagement first, before I get bombarded with wedding planning."

Nate chirped unhappily as Harley ordered one of his drones to grab him a bottle of champagne. It was 5 o'clock somewhere after all.

-.-.-

+ 1

Being Peter's big brother was a lot easier when Peter was the one coming to him for help. Girls, boys, spidey-related mishaps - Harley could handle it all. This… this was out of his area of expertise.

"Hey Harley!" Peter answered on the first ring in a chipper voice. The sounds of machinery in the background told Harley he was at his lab, probably manufacturing some cool new gadget.

"Hey…" Harley's voice sounded rough and strained even to him. "You, uh, got a sec?"

Peter's side of the phone suddenly went quiet and his voice lowered to a whisper, "Is everything okay Harley?"

"Tony might have been right about my overextending myself," Harley cleared his throat and ran his hand through his hair, "With the Young Avengers and taking over Stark Industries and coordinating with the Accords council and-"

"What do you need?" Peter asked, all ready to launch in to action. Harley heard him futzing around his lab and had to smile at the visual in his head. "What can I do?"

Harley took a breath, glanced around at the deserted beach he was sitting on. His Iron Lad armor, and Nate, were nowhere in sight. There was an empty bottle of tequila at his feet. Harley really hated when Tony was right.

"Well… I kinda need a ride, to start."

"You got it!" Peter starting typing, the familiar sounds of clacking keys practically music to Harley's ears. "Where are you?"

That… was a really good question.

"Haven't a clue," Harley chuckled dryly. The sound cracking in his throat, "Honestly, I'm not even sure this is the phone I had last night."

Peter coughed to hide his squeak, "Don't worry, I'll triangulate your signal, Harley. You'll be home in no time!"

Yup. Home. Where Tony would be waiting with worry and disappointment in equal measure.

"Damn. I really screwed up this time, huh Pete?" Harley knew he was in trouble when Peter didn't laugh. Welp. Even big brothers screw him sometimes, or so Rhodey had told him once.

"That's what brothers are for right?" Peter said with a half-laugh Harley knew was meant to be comforting.

It actually was too. Harley fell backwards into the sand, "Yeah, thanks Pete."

[smokeybrand]

Harley Quinn and the Miscalculation

Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey is bombing in theaters and what i was apprehensive about, is coming to pass. All of this rara, GRRRL-power, superficial, laughably toxic, feminism saturates this picture. And that’s fine. A little misandry never hurt anyone, especially with as much unapologetic misogyny that is rife within Hollywood. Still, there is a limit to and, while i didn’t mind the whole emancipation equal initialization angle this movie was going for, i can see why it would turn off so many others. We’re on the back end of the MeToo movement now and, in a world where Amber Heard has been exposed for the violent abuser that she truly is, the climate is a little different from when this flick was greenlit. It’s wild watching a marketing strategy trying so goddamn hard to alienate half their audience. Seriously, that sh*t was box office suicide but its not the reason why BoP failed. The media wants to blame sexist men for not supporting an all-women production but that’s not realistic. The demo breakdown for those who went to see BOP skewed heavily male. No, there are several reasons why and i kind of want to go over them here.

Issue 1: Feminist Marketing

The biggest issue this movie had was the way it was marketed. Besides the gung-ho drive in an attempt to appeal to that ludicrously vocal minority of third-wave feminists that don’t support sh*t outside of their own little echo chamber causes, it appears the WB did everything in their power to shoo away and semblance of testosterone. I noted this early, but that sh*t blew up in their face immediately. No one want to sit around and be preached at or two hours. I endued that sh*t because i enjoy comics and Margot’s Harleen is pretty legit but, goddamn! In a world of Nice Guys and Neckbeards, going so hard at that misandrist angle was a goddamn mistake. That, and the misleading push of Harley Quinn. This is not a birds of prey film and never should have been promoted as such. I could tell this was a Harley Quinn film immediately, but Normies sure didn’t. I imagine they wanted more Harley but saw the Birds top billed and decided it wasn’t worth the trip.

Fix: Better Marketing

To just say “Better Marketing” is kind of glib, but bear with me. There’s a lot to this. First thing first, that title should have never got approved. You want to lead with Harley, you lead with Harley. Hilariously, someone at WB thought so, too, and they changed the name. Personally, out the gate, i would have named this thing “Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey.” from the start, you set the expectation that this is a Harley Quinn movie AND assert that the BoP will have some sort of presence. The movie, itself, can still be exactly what it is, but that title change alters the entire expectation of that whole experience. Doing that also gives you an opportunity to promote this thing in a more balanced manner. Maybe don’t attack all the dudes that might want to see your flick with bullsh*t politics. I rather liked the idea of an all-girl gangster flick. It worked super well for Widows. If executed properly, you can even keep that whole Tarantino-esque vibe. But that might conflict with the second issue...

Issue 2: Hard R Rating

Everyone wants to be Deadpool but no one can be Deadpool. Look, i love the Hard R in my capeflicks. The aforementioned Deadpool was excellent and i absolutely love what Philips and Phoenix brought in Joker, but if you want to see how to do a proper R rated superhero film, look no further than Logan. Holy sh*t, that movie was good. and violent. and moving. I cried at the end of that thing. Shed me a man-tear, for sure. The thing about all of these films? That R was earned. You want to go Tarantino? You go full Tarantino. Bop did not commit like that. This motherf*cker was a “hard PG-13″. Seriously, the violence in this thing was akin to the violence in The Wolverine, a PG-13 flick. Why did they need that Hard R? Just to keep pace with the other Hard R flicks? See, that alienates your best bet at a profit.

Fix: go for that “Hard PG-13″

You want kids to see this thing, specifically young girls. Girls LOVE Harley, as they should. She’s become one helluva character. The growth shown in her comic persona is to be celebrated and this movie kind of touches upon that. 14-year-olds can’t get into your unnecessarily R rated film. You want those 14 and 15-year-olds to see your movie multiple times, and this thing had the potential for just that. Instead, they went too hard for that Hard R and it ruined a massive source of revenue. Besides, you already have a mature Harley show airing on that DCEU streaming whatever. The adults can check that one out, especially since it’s f*cking dope.

Issue 3: Character Interpretation

Harley Quinn has a very specific, very Snyder-esque design. You can’t shake that. Quinn is gonna Quinn. How the f*ck did the rest of these characters land on their respective situations? Hell, Cassanda Cain is “in name only” and that sucks! Cass is one of the dopest Bat-Kids in the fam and she’s relegated to that? Really? You barely even hint at Montoya’s sexuality, which is fine because it doesn’t define her, but to push this flick as LGBTQ, or whatever, without acknowledging the biggest L in the film seems disingenuous to me. And Huntress? Oh, my darling Huntress. You were the best thing about this movie and they didn’t even let you be IN the goddamn movie. Look, I’m all for creativity and letting creatures create but come on. At some point, you gotta give a little back to the fans, not just slap them in the face with such mediocre adaptions.

Fix: Better Characterization

Out the box, you should have NEVER adapted my girl Cass the way you did. Everything about this character is bogus. Where is my socially inept, traumatically mute, bad-ass human weapon? You give me a potty-mouth pick-pocket instead? For real? Nah. A much better character for this would have been Bluebird. How is Harper Row not perfect for this part? Considering her origin, she could start off as Harley’s protege and become better, actually become Blurebird and join the Birds later on down the line. How is that not a thing? And Montoya? Aside from a lack of screen time, maybe tie her into the plot a little better. Aside from a few throwaway line, what do we really know about her? Canary is fine, they did more than enough to give her character legs, but all of the Birds should have gotten as much time to develop. Speaking of time, my darling Huntress should have had WAY more screentime. She was SO dope and it’s a crime you didn’t give Winstead enough time to play with this character because she was having very real fun with her.

These three problems crippled any opportunity this movie had at being great. I’m sure WB thought they had a hit on their hands, or that the name “Harley Quinn” could carry this flick on it’s own but really? After Wondy and Aquaman, hell, even Shazam to a certain extent, you’d think these cats would have learned something. Instead, they opted to go hard with the Snyder-isms and the Box Office reflects all of that. This should have never been a BoP films. Margot should have definitely went for Gotham City Sirens. Still, we got what we got. It’s not good, but it’s not that bad, either. If they would have done the above three things, it could have been great. Missed opportunity.

[matrixaffiliate]

Quarry

NEW STORY! FFN and AO3

Marlene has sworn to protect Princess Lily, which means she's going to be following her on a runaway journey from the arranged marriage Petunia has put together. Sirius has sworn to protect King James, which means he's going to be following him on a secret mission to find out what's going on in the faraway country of Privet, and why they want him to marry their princess.

A Blackinnon and Jily Royal AU! @women-inthe-sequel reblogged this prompt and my mind ran away with it. I'm going to be updating this one weekly and I'll post two chapters each week. One week will be our lovely ladies Marlene and Lily, and the next week will be our wonderful Marauders Sirius and James. I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: A princess runs away because of an arranged marriage, befriends a gang of outlaws, falls in love with one of them, only to find out he is actually the prince who she was supposed to marry, who also ran away.

Chapter 1

Marlene:

This was an absolutely awful idea. Horrible. Stupid.

"Really, Lil's, let's think this through!" Marlene pleaded as Lily threw more things into her rucksack. "I know you're angry, trust me, I'm livid! These new proclamations mean my family has to leave the kingdom too! But it's not like you're going into potentially hostile territory by yourself. I'm going with you, and I'll protect you as I always have. I won't leave your side, I swear it!"

Lily just gave her a sardonic laugh.

Marlene eyed the princess she'd sworn to protect, "When has any royal demand stopped me from holding my oath?"

Lily shook her head, "This isn't going to be Petunia and Vernon power playing and having to fulfill the wishes of my dead parents. You're saying you're prepared to go to the chopping block for murdering a foreign king in the name of protecting his queen from him?"

Marlene grabbed Lily's arm as she reached for another item. "No! I'm saying I'll go to the chopping block protecting my best friend at any cost!"

That seemed to do it, at least Lily stopped haphazardly throwing things into the sack she'd somehow procured.

"Mar..."

"Lils, please..."

"I'm sorry, Mar," Lily shook her head, "I release you from your oath. You no longer need to protect me. I'm done being a princess."

Marlene managed to maintain enough self-control to not smack her best friend across the face. "Did you grab a second rucksack or do I need to go rummage one up myself?"

"You don't need to come," Lily shook her head.

"Like hell, I don't!" Marlene snapped. "Now give me my sac!"

Lily grinned, "I knew you'd come around."

"We need to stop by my parents' on our way out of the country. It would be best for them and my sister to make their way out before your sister and her pig husband connect the dots to them." Marlene took the proffered sac from her best friend. "Now I'm going to go pack every weapon a highway-woman would need to protect a former princess."

"I'm not totally inept," Lily glared daggers at her and Marlene blew her a kiss.

"I know love, but you didn't spend years training to kill a man with your bare hands. However, your bow skills will be immensely helpful in making sure we eat."

Lily stuck her tongue out at her as Marlene slipped into her room.

To get to the princess' room you had to go through her guardian's room, and that was Marlene. She'd been made Lily's official protector when they were sixteen, taking a magical oath to protect Lily at any cost, but her family had been looking after Lily for much longer than that. When Lily showed magical abilities the King and Queen had sought out magical families to tutor her, and the McKinnon's had been selected. From about nine years old, Lily had been a second sister to Marlene. When the King died after falling from his horse when the girls were fourteen, the Queen went into a deep depression. She asked the McKinnon's to house and care for the princess and that was when Lily moved in permanently.

Until the Queen died two years later.

Petunia and her new husband took over the kingdom then. They ordered the return of the princess, and McKinnon's were worried. They insisted that Marlene accompany Lily as her protector. Told the royal couple that they'd get both girls or neither of them.

Marlene smiled as she remembered how angry Vernon had been, but how the young King finally caved.

Then Marlene's dad contacted members of the royal guard he trusted, and Marlene began training to protect Lily not simply with magic, but also with skill and strength and weaponry.

Merlin, it was fun!

Now, three years later, Marlene was going to have to really use those skills. Vernon had decided he was done living with magic folk and was kicking them all out of the country. Lily was being married off to some unknown king in a country called Godric's Hollow, far away from their home of Privet. Vernon told Lily that it was the only way he could see to be rid of her while following her dead parents' wishes and Petunia said she hoped the man treated Lily as the scum she was.

Marlene nearly cut their throats out.

That had been this morning.

Marlene changed into traveling clothes and threw two more sets into the sac before opening her personal armory. She couldn't carry it all, which made her feel like she was going to be leaving behind one of her limbs. She was going to make Lily get her a new set once things settled down. Marlene slid her three hidden daggers into place, belted on her rapier, coiled her silk strangling cord neatly before concealing it, and secured her wand in its holster.

Now to see if Lily had thought far enough into this crazy plan to consider a tent.