#god this is so long

[euovennia]

headcanons for simon being the mom/dad friend to reader and her just eating that shit up? like yeah, that giant intimidating guy wearing a skull mask is my best friend. he’s really cute right? (he is)

anon your brain is huge and i love it, thank you for such a gorgeous request! just want you to know that your second request will be up sometime soon, i just wanted to split them! thank you again for requesting, i hope you enjoy <3

pt. 2

fair warning to anyone reading, this is my first time writing headcanons (more like a short story with bullet points because my oh my i got carried away) so please don't shoot! anyway, i've got some ideas rolling around in my head so just jump into it:

let's get one thing straight

becoming friends with a man like simon is not an easy task

while you may be somewhat quick consider him a friend because you're both skilled enough to have made to the 141, it takes a lot longer for him to also consider you a friend

the process of getting him to this point is an arduous journey and some people (probably gaz and rudy bc i can see these two being equally terrified of this man) will not hesitate to tell you to cut your losses and leave him alone

i reckon simon is the type to verbally tell you this himself

and maybe for a bit you do leave him alone

but then one day you see him sitting alone in the commons area with what you deem to be the saddest plate of dinner ever and you just crack

cue you sliding into the seat in front of him with your tupperware full of homecooked food you'd stashed away the night before

naturally he gets frustrated and a maybe a lil annoyed so he goes to leave

but then you slide your tupperware of food over to him and his movements just kinda stop as he stares at you with his typical ghost stare

think 👁️👁️

he'll push the container back toward you causing you to push it back toward him

it becomes an almost vicious cycle before he finally snaps and spits out something like, "what's your fuckin' problem?"

to most he's a scary man with an even scarier voice so that would've been where most people drew the line (let's face it though, most people probably wouldn't have sat with him in the first place)

but all you can focus on is the piss poor excuse of a meal he'd retrieved from the mess hall so you just push it back toward him one final time with a simple, "eat."

he'll narrow his eyes and straighten his posture in an attempt to scare you off but when that doesn't work he'll tell you something along the lines of, "i'm spitting it out if it's shite"

he does not spit it out

from that day on, you'll seek him out with two tupperware containers filled with whatever you'd cooked up the night before and offer it to him

the first few times he's hesitant to accept simply because he doesn't wanna get used to the unusually kind gesture but it eventually gets to a point where he just stops getting a plate from the mess hall and instead waits around for you to feed him

these small dinners you share make it nearly impossible for simon to avoid your talking

he almost debates getting up and leaving a few times but then he remembers he'd be eating soggy meat and vegetables if it weren't for you so he decides to entertain it

and to the surprise of absolutely no one he eventually starts warming up to you, even throwing in a few comments and sarcastic quips of his own

and after a long while of having these dinners with you, he decides he likes it – he likes hearing you talk, whether it be about how you and gaz hid price's hat somewhere on base and blamed it on soap or what the latest celebrity gossip is

so what does he do?

he tries to block you out

it doesn't work because you're a stubborn little shit and refuse to let him fall back into his bubble of solitude and self pity

and he eventually realizes this so he just kinda accepts it after a while (more like a week)

and the two of you become quite chummy

well

as chummy as one can be with a person as closed off as ghost

instead you always being the one to seek him out come dinner time, he'll be the one to start finding you

it's a surprise

a delightful one

but still a surprise

his short, clipped responses will morph into longer, more thought out ones as your friendship continues to develop and you can't help but notice just how smart he really is

despite his everything that's happened to him in the past, he's actually quite in tune with the emotions of other people; his observational skills are off the charts

so you'll eventually start asking him for advice on anything and everything, even if it's not something that pertains directly to you because his wisdom outside the battle field is something to truly behold

it's amazing what can be solved without heavy loads of artillery and violence!

anyway

simon quickly becomes very used to this dynamic

you two having dinner, talking about everything and nothing all at once and while he may never verbalize it, he truly does appreciate it

he'd convinced himself long ago that his life was just cursed and that the people he loved and held closest to him were always destined for terrible things so he just closed himself off

he put on the mask and became ghost whereas simon was kept tucked away in a place no one even bothered to try and discover

but then you stumbled your way into his heart with your homemade food and endless chatter and he can't help but indulge himself

maybe having a friend isn't all that bad

and so the dinners/mini therapy sessions continue

until one day you don't show up

while he is a bit disappointed, simon decides to let it go because you've had dinner with him for god knows how long now

you probably just wanted a day to yourself and he understands that so he doesn't pry

even when he barely force himself to finish the sludge smacked onto his plate from the mess hall – how was he so comfortable eating that for so long?

but you don't show up the next day

or the next

and by the fourth day simon is just downright angry

and a little sad and worried

but mostly angry

who do you think you are to waltz in his life, make yourself cozy in his extremely tight knit circle, and then just leave him high and dry with no goodbye? (wow that rhymed)

if you're gonna ditch him like this then he's gonna make sure you sit through the awkward pain of saying it to his face

he spends an embarrassing amount of time looking for you before he even thinks to check your room

he walks up to your door, fully prepared to slam that door open and confront you

but then he hears you fall into a particularly nasty coughing fit paired with a muffled groan of agony and suddenly it just clicks

you got yourself sick

tempted as he is to simply walk away, he knows deep in his heart he can't do that to you

which is why you open up your door to see ghost awkwardly standing there with a tray of hot soup, water, and some medicine

you nearly cry in your haze of sickness

you'd spend the past four days miserably rotting away in your bed and to suddenly have simon by your side offering you soup and medicine? it was almost too much

ever since that day there had been a gradual shift in your friendship

it started with you two coordinating who would bring dinner on which days

but then it turned into simon being the one to bring dinner nearly everyday

which then evolved into him finding you throughout the day and offering small snacks and drinks

but he's a busy man and he can't do this every day so he'll settle for sending a simple message of, "you doing ok?"

and most times you say yes

but on the off chance you say no he'll take a few minutes to message you back and forth until you feel at least a little better (no this is not achieved by him sending you bad dad jokes, he would never do such a thing!)

but eventually the man just gets so tired of constantly going around base trying to find you that he'll simply just start to linger around you whenever he's free

gruff words of assurance and friendly pats on the shoulder become a staple for the masked man

when the team becomes privy to the newly formed friendship between the two of you, it's almost scary

like

imagine this 6'4 beefy mountain of a man hanging around someone half his size just chilling

i reached the character block limit how awkward anyway

it's odd and you know it is so you'll play into it

like that time you loudly asked ghost to grab the blanket from your room while you two were sitting on the couch in the common area while the rest of the team filed in

and him immediately going to grab it while the team are completely gobsmacked when he promptly returns with your blanket in hand

cue soap asking ghost the same thing a few days later and only receiving a glare in return along with a stern, "i'm not your maid, johnny."

then he just walks away leaving soap to feel like an idiot

it becomes apparent very quickly that simon has a favorite and that favorite is you

especially when he's the one to sweep you up into a quick hug with a quick pat on your head after the team completes yet another mission

you make it a point to squeeze onto simon just a tad tighter when you see soap looking over in complete bewilderment

seriously, how did you tame the legendary ghost?

and honestly?

you're not quite sure yourself

you just soak it in because you'd be a fool not to

maybe one day you'll ask him yourself

maybe you won't

doesn't matter either way because at the end of the day you're the only one who can proudly call ghost your best friend

even if he doesn't refer to you as the same

he totally does he just never says it out loud because he's secretly terrified you don't feel the same

regardless

you two are very much attached at the hip

what with you constantly getting yourself into trouble all around base and ghost not wanting you piss off the wrong person

he is very much your guard dog and you make it everyone's problem

soap went too hard on you during your sparring session? ghost is already glaring at him

gaz won't stop bugging you when you're actually trying to get your work done? ghost is pushing him out the door

price is about to lecture you for something gaz and soap framed you for? ghost is quick to rat them out

it's sweet really, the friendship you have

it warms your heart thinking about it

and it warms his too

even if he won't admit it

he's just grateful you didn't give up on him even when he wanted you to

because he's found that, sometimes, it's nice to have a friend

and he's glad it's you

:)

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Prompt: Daddy Daemon and Mommy Rhea finally find common ground and maybe fall in love through mutual violence against the bane of their existence: Viserys.

Enjoy the absolutely unhinged AU we entertained the idea of one time. Feeding you well with nearly 3.3k of Daemon being mentally unwell & Rhea being a mama bear

Adrenaline had not stopped coursing through him since he had found Rhaella sobbing in the gardens, wailing and carrying on worse than when he’d taken Yorick to squire. Words tumbled forth from her, muffled by his chest as she desperately clung to him; as disgusted and angry and hurt by betrayal as he’d been nearly fifteen years earlier.

Daemon had gone to Viserys, had unburdened himself of his feelings about being tossed aside to be further forgotten and ignored by their father, and he’d nodded and hummed and patted his shoulder in a bland attempt at comfort. That his elder brother would turn around and wound him so, would do to his child what was done to him–worst of all by his own hand. Hells, this was worse! Daemon had at least drunk himself into compliance so he could make nice for a day while the realm watched him put a black cloak around that bronze bitch’s shoulders, and she had at least been willing and girlishly excited enough he’d thought once would not hurt. There was no complacency from Rhaella, she had not wanted anything more than to aleve her brother of the duty of giving sympathy to the king.

She was wrapped in the blankets from his bed, and curled in on herself on a couch with her head on his lap. Daemon wanted to get up, to pace and spit venom, to go to his brother and smash his face into the model of the old empire he fancied so; he wanted to curl protectively around what was his and not let anyone touch it, hissing and snapping like The Blood Wyrm with anyone who came too close. He stewed in his anger, fingers curling into one of the black blankets.

He wanted and he ached and he yearned. Power some days, recognition and respect all of them, affection too. No one he wanted to gave him that one, not how he desired; but Rhaella so desperately clinging to him for protection and love like how he had done with Prince Baelon and then Viserys…maybe that was how he had wanted it? To be a first choice, to be needed.

There was a pounding on the door, and Ella startled in his lap before huddling in on herself more.

“Leave!” He barked the order as his head snapped towards the door. The knocking did not stop.

“Daemon, open the fucking door!”

“Mother!” Ella’s call was broken and achingly familiar, drawing foggy, half-remembered visions of Vermithor setting a pyre alight to the front of his mind.

“Ella?!” It was Yorick who burst through the door, one of the infrequent flashes of real emotion on his face: outrage and grief–the most common combination Daemon had ever witnessed from his older son. Their mother followed behind him, only to bump into him a moment later. They both stood only a foot into Daemon’s chambers, staring at him and Rhaella.

“You, you–” she pointed at him, face twisted with blind fury for only a moment before her gaze fell to their daughter, “my sweet girl.” She rushed to where they sat, dropping to her knees to take Rhaella into her arms. It was strange and uncomfortable seeing the Lady of Runestone in such a position, to feel her arms brushing against him as one of the children they shared held onto her without getting up from where she laid on top of him.

“I am sorry! I am sorry! I didn’t think that–I just wanted to help!”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“It is mine,” Yorick mumbled. He was always mumbling if he was dejected.

“It is Viserys’s fault,” Daemon snapped.

A strange look passed over Lady Rhea Royce’s face as her eyes, brown and terribly common, darted up to him. Their gazes met, briefly, and then she looked back down to Rhaella. “Go to your brother, sweet girl.”

“But, but–kepus.” Her voice sounded so small when she twisted around to look back up at him, her mismatched eyes watery and pleading.

“He will keep you safe, just over there,” Daemon pointed to the tall divider painted with dragons that separated his chambers in half, and he glanced at Yorick when he continued, “jātās.” Rhaella sniffed hard as she slowly sat up and slid off the couch, and she still held the blankets tightly around herself as she shuffled over to Yorick’s side. Neither of them touched the other, but she was still close enough it was as if they moved as one.

Daemon sprang up immediately, standing at full attention almost before Lady Royce could get herself out of the way to not be knocked in the face by his knees. When she was standing and looking up at him there was anger on her face again. His lip curled and he turned towards the door, but before he could leave to go do something, she grabbed his arm.

“Will you fucking think for five minutes?”

“All I have been doing is thinking, and I decided the best way to off him is to cave his head in.” Daemon pulled his arm further away to try and get her to let go, but the Lady of Runestone held fast to him. He could have pulled harder, yanking his arm from her to go do what he needed to do as she fumed, but he knew she was not mad at him this time. Their anger shared a common goal that served something besides staying away from each other, probably for the first time ever.

“Something has to be done! I will not just sit here and let Viserys marry my daughter!” Not when his brother would treat Rhaella as little more than a broodmare to replace him with, not when Rhaella had flung herself into his arms and screamed her hurt that he could fix.

“Do you think I want that to happen?! Do you think I want our daughter to go through what Aemma did?! We just–gods you are so stupid!”

“I am not stupid!”

“When have you ever had a fully formed plan? Tell me quickly.”

“Going to Dragonstone when Viserys exiled me for Yorick cavorting with that boy from the brothel was a fully formed plan. It is not my fault he brought you to the island and hardly made a decision he was not pushed to.” Sometimes Daemon forgot his brother had barely been primed to rule, and that their quarrels as boys would end with Viserys acting as if he had indigestion.

“Yes, of course, hinging your bets on that cunt making a decision is a perfect, well-formed plan and not some malformed stillbirth of an idea.”

His lips went tight as he glowered down at her. Lady Royce’s insults would be funny if they were not so often pointed at him. “Do you wish to help me save Rhaella, or not?”

***

It took everything in Rhea to keep her expression calm. Her heart hammered in her chest and her hands felt clammy. The weight of the gold ring with its raised emerald felt like it should keep her from raising her hands as she attempted casual gesticulation, and she wanted nothing more than to look at her good brother with disgust after everything he'd done. She hated him, had for years. He was ineffectual and weak and as fickle as the day was long, preferring to stick his head in the sand instead of making any kind of firm choice or resolving a single issue that arose. He had spent years making one of her dearest cousins miserable, keeping her from rest and subtly blaming her for each lost prince as he put on a show to make everyone feel more sorry for him than they did Aemma. He was not going to do the same to her daughter–his niece–no matter how much she “reminded him of Princess Alyssa.” Ella was not dying in the child bed after promising anyone an army of sons.

“A shame Daemon could not join us.”

“You know how he is,” she replied with a noncommittal shrug.

“He is prone to going into moods,” a disarming, almost bland, smile pulled up the corners of his mouth, “he has been since we were boys. There is dragonfire in him.”

Kinder words than she would have chosen on most days, although they were not untrue. That “dragonfire” had been part of why Daemon had been so exciting…then he decided to point it at her. Things usually lost their charm when their worst parts were aimed in Rhea’s direction.

“One could still hope the king’s brother would be pleasant enough that Ser Westerling and Ser Marbrand would let them speak to each other.”

When Viserys let out his annoying little chuckle Rhea wanted to punch him in the face. Nothing about this was enjoyable or casual, and laughter would not divert any tension. Although, if he was so at ease she must have been doing a decent job at pretending to not be bothered. Her father would have been proud of his little girl playing politics so well.

“Have you told him of my announcement? Surely such joyous news would see Daemon’s mood improve.”

“I tried to talk to him earlier, but you know how he is, Viserys,” Rhea stood up and turned away from him so she would not have to see his satisfied smile for another moment, “something wedged itself into his mind and he will have to wait it out.” She traced a finger over the decanter on the small table near their chairs, the digit easily gliding along the neck and crest of the glass dragon.

“But that is enough about my husband, there are other things to talk about than him.”

“Like the rejoining of the two halves of House Targaryen.”

Bile rose in her throat. He'd said as much when he betrothed Yorick and Rhaenyra, ignoring her father’s petitioning of Jaehaerys to have at least Rhea's heir known as a Royce, and now he said the same thing about his wanting to marry her daughter–the girl who so often went by Ella Royce. Not that any of the Targaryens seemed to care what her sweet girl wanted. She took the stopper out of the mouth of the dragon, and placed it on the table. Rhea needed both hands, and she was not going to back down now. She poured wine into two glasses, her hands hovering over one of them a bit longer as the powder her husband’s bastard had snuck from the grand maester’s chambers poured out of the well under the emerald in the ring and into the dark red liquid filling the goblet.

Rhea turned back around to face Viserys, both goblets in her hands and a fake smile plastered across her face. “Indeed. Something so joyous as your honoring House Royce twice over by betrothing Yorick and Rhaenyra, and then announcing your intent to have Ella as your new queen requires much discussion. And perhaps, also celebration?” She extended one of the glasses towards the king, and he gladly accepted it.

She smiled into her own goblet as her good brother drank some of the tainted wine. King Viserys could not content himself with trying to take her oldest son, pretending Yorick was his and snatching him away to saddle him with her fate: an outsider married to one of them. This was for Yorick and Ella, and Aemon eventually. The Targaryen dynasty would not take anything more from House Royce, not unless it was willingly given.

Rhea barely paid attention as the minutes passed, letting the king talk himself in circles. She would nod where appropriate, blow smoke up his ass if his pause seemed to be for a response. Eventually he grew listless, and Rhea excused herself under the guise of attending to her duties, whatever her good brother assumed those even were when she was away from home.

“Seven hells,” Rhea grumbled just loud enough to be heard, “you would think he would want to be at least a bit moderate if he wanted to speak with me.” She paused in her walk from his room to look over her shoulder at the two kingsguard stationed outside Viserys’s chambers.

“Do let me know when His Grace will have had enough time to recover his faculties for a conversation. I do not know his tolerance for wine as well as the two of you would.”

***

Daemon glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment to see if she was keeping up, they needed to move quickly if they wanted to make it to Viserys’s chambers before the kingsguard checked in on Viserys’s progress with “sobering up,” and he was not above simply leaving Lady Rhea behind. She kept pace with him though, trotting along behind him as he led her through the secret passages of The Red Keep.

She had insisted on coming even though her part in the affair of saving their daughter from the angry despondence they had been shafted with was over. But she had said that she wanted to see the whole thing through, and that she wanted to make sure he actually did it. As if Daemon wasn't full of righteous fury, building up over years and finally spilling forth after being given a taste of what he craved; as if he could not be trusted to do what needed to be done.

He stopped before a spot in the wall where light filtered into the secret passage between a small gap in the bricks, and pushed, opening the hidden door just a crack. He pressed his face against the door, peering into the room beyond to make sure he had remembered the correct paths to the king’s chambers. When his eye landed on his elder brother, softly moaning and bent over the great, oblong table where his model of Valyria sat, Daemon felt a mixture of sympathy and rage bubbling up inside him. That was his brother, the person who had raised him when their father withdrew from the world. That was his betrayer, the person who constantly sent him away and had put his hand on Daemon’s daughter.

He pushed the door open and stormed past the tapestry hanging over part of the secret door in order to conceal it. Viserys was slow moving and clumsy when he sat up, and his pale eyes were bloodshot.

“Wha–Daemon?” His words were slurred, and the look on his face was far away. Viserys seemed so fragile under the effects of the poison that Lady Rhea had slipped into his wine.

“Don't just stand there.” Her whisper came out as a hiss, and she shoved him from behind so he had to take a step towards Viserys. Daemon looked back at her, both of them frowning and full of fire. She was right; they needed to act quickly, he needed to let years of carefully tended anger carry him forward like he always did.

Daemon crossed the floor and hauled his brother out of his chair by the shoulders, the extra fabric of his black and red coat bunching in his fists. The king, just a hair shorter than him, was dead weight in his arms, ineffectually struggling against Daemon’s hold on him as words, all mumbled mush, spilled from his mouth.

His bright purple eyes flitted from his elder brother’s neck, to the model of Valyria, to the fireplace. It had seemed so simple before actually being in his apartments, but now his wife’s warnings of the consequence of not thinking nagged at his mind. It was strangely less grating than usual.

“The balcony.” Her words, still hushed to not draw undue attention to their actions while the kingsguard continued to wait out “His Grace’s drunkenness” just outside, were matter-of-fact and unexpectedly calm. She had always been quick to think, and when it was aimed towards collaboration Daemon actually welcomed it was an admirable quality. He followed Lady Rhea as she walked quickly to the other end of the room, throwing open the glass doors that blocked their path. As he was dragged into the twilight something seemed to pierce the fog of Viserys’s mind, and he moaned again, louder than before.

He adjusted his hold on his brother, letting go of one shoulder to stand beside him and wrap the free hand around his mouth. Lavender eyes darted up to meet Daemon’s brighter gaze, searching and desperate and only slightly less far away than before. His heart beat impossibly fast, and he knew that somewhere in the depths of the dragonpit Caraxes was restless and grumbling.

“You do not get to push me off for years, ignoring me until I do some trick to please you and then discarding me as soon as you’re upset, and then believe yourself entitled to putting your hands on my daughter. Rhaella wants you as much as you do me.” With that, he finally freed Viserys from his hold on him and shoved him in the chest, sending the listless king easily over the railing of the balcony.

His wife came up beside him, one hand on the railing and the other on his bicep, as she looked over the balcony to see the last of Viserys I’s fall and broken landing. Daemon didn’t look down at his brother, instead glancing over at Lady Rhea as she winced. The weight of what he just did, what they did, felt heavy. It needed to be done though. Viserys had had as much coming all his years of selfishly casting him aside, at least that’s what the hurt and adrenaline was telling Daemon.

“Come on, you cannot get distracted now,” he stepped back from the balcony and grabbed her hand, pulling her back into the interior of the late king’s apartments and towards the door to the secret passage, “you said we needed to not be suspects, and we will be if someone sees you gawking at the body.” She huffed from behind him, but she did not say anything or fight his hold on her. Pliant as the night at Storm’s End she’d gotten drunk enough to open her legs to make a child to claim Silverwing, but without blushing or giggling like the night of their wedding. Strangely, Daemon liked this better.

His nerves still raced when they slipped into the tunnel hidden between the walls of the keep and closed the door, leaving them in the almost-dark of the secret passages. He walked quickly, navigating back towards his own apartments and their hidden door in the false back of the wardrobe that he’d discovered as a boy. Daemon must have been going faster than when they were going to the chambers of the king, because Lady Rhea took hold of his hand again and stopped him in his tracks.

He looked back at her, and her expression was unreadable. It was soft though, softer than it had been for over a decade. Her eyes were amber when they met his, warm and almost golden in the dim light of the hidden passage. How had he never noticed that before?

“I…I appreciate your–”

That ignited something in him, and Daemon cut her off with his mouth, taking her face in his hands and pressing his lips into hers. Rhea let out a sound of surprise that was muffled by their kiss, but soon she met his enthusiasm with her own.

They were all teeth and tongues and soft moans as he pinned her against the wall. Her hands threaded through his hair, and Rhea gasped when he pressed himself against her. Their lips met again, and he growled into her mouth when she rolled her hips against his.

[orphetoon]

Different person, I desire info on the ace attorney au

HI SORRY THIS IS LIKE A MONTH OLD AT THIS POINT

idk if i'll ever do more art bc when will i ever be interested in jjba AND aa at the same time again but just for you. the rough timeline of the entire au

PART 1: PHANTOM ATTORNEY

basically phantom blood but without vampires. jonathan is a defense attorney, the assistant switches between erina and speedwagon; first case is probably defending speedwagon. zeppeli isn't a hamon user here, but rather a spirit medium who gives jonathan some training. jonathan can't actually talk to ghosts, his ability is probably more similar to apollo's; maybe he can sense someones spirit 'wavering', aka when they're unsure.

main antagonist is dio, who is the opposing attorney. he's done a lot of shit he's never gotten caught for, but jonathan manages to reveal his crimes in the final case. dio gets sentenced to death, rip king.

PART 2: uh. battle tendency doesn't happen here.

idk how long it would've taken someone to get executed back in ye olde england times but for this au its long enough for jonathan to have at least two kids. one of these is george ii (joseph's dad), the other will create a branch family (aka giornos gotta exist somehow)

shortly after dio's execution, he forms as a vengeful spirit and is able to forcibly possess jonathan and kill him. dio's a bitch tho and continues to possess joestars whenever possible, but due to uh. reasons? he's not able to kill the next generation of joestars until they have had their own kids. deciding that going after the whole lineage would be tiring, dio just decides to focus on joseph and his descendants.

PART 3: jotaro fucks up

joseph manages to spirit train well enough that dio can't possess him or whatever, and lives a long life. holly manages to avoid him as well. jotaro was on the track to be strong enough to shut dio out, but decided to be an idiot 17 year old and try to banish dio for good. by some means both he and dio fail at their goals, and jotaro is stuck with dio...not really possessing him, but giving running commentary 24/7. joots tries to live with it for awhile, but the thought that dio could eventually succeed in possessing him and hurting those around him (aka baby jolyne) causes him to distance himself from everyone.

PART 4: AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT

apologies to josuke for stealing his part number.

anyway. almost completely unrelated to all that, pannacotta fugo is a prodigy prosecuting attorney who has one of the highest success rates in the country. he has a found family sort of thing with the rest of bucci's gang, who he's all advised on legal matters at some point. they (sans fugo) run a restaurant; this isn't important at all to the au, i just like the idea. anyway, fugo's life is pretty good, until.

giorno fucking giovanna.

he arrives out of nowhere and quickly becomes the best defense in the country, even tho he's younger than fugo (both of them are too young to be attorneys, but this is aa). doesn't matter if his client is clearly guilty, giorno can get them off the hook (he only takes clients he believes should be seen as innocent, but giorno has his own interesting moral system). these two idiots battle it out in the courtroom, until bucciarati is framed for a murder.

unable to defend him, fugo turns to the only person he can, giorno. giorno completely clears bucci's name, unraveling the truth of the case - aka taking down diavolo, who's organized most of the crimes in this 'game'. since trish is the assistant for this game, she becomes kinda the main character during the final case lol. either way diavolo goes to jail, and both gio and trish are sort of folded into the bucci gang.

PART 5: GHOSTS ARE REAL

the second 'game' would be giorno with jolyne as an assistant; he clears her from the vehicular manslaughter and both of them resolve to solve the conspiracy behind it (it's pucci. pucci's behind it). josuke is here as a side character, being a police detective

the final case involves revealing pucci's crimes and jolyne finding a way to free her father from dio's spirit. no universe reset here lads :)

50/50 onto whether giorno finds out he's actually related to the joestars or not. he still bills them either way

PART 6: feedback investigations

fugo gets his own games but idk a whole lot about the investigations games so uh! lets just say its normal aa shenanigans with the purple haze feedback characters in there as well

[offorestsongs]

OC INTRODUCTION ❣️KALLE BRUNNE

BASIC INFORMATION

name 🐚 Kalle Brunne

age 🐚 17

birthday 🐚 02.06

height 🐚 173cm

homeland 🐚 Coral Sea

dorm 🐚 Octavinelle

class 🐚 2-C (Sophomore)

best subject 🐚 Defense Magic

club 🐚 Science Club

dominant hand 🐚 left

Quiet, mysterious and always looking like he would rather be somewhere else, Kalle is Azul's loyal yes-man. He spends most of the time on the sidelines, carefully observing people around him and gathering information. He acts as Azul's eyes and follows his every order, gossip says.

Like the rest of the Octavinelle trio, Kalle is a merperson and actually went to the same middle school as them, though they never interacted much. To be fair, Kalle had never interacted much with anyone. As the middle child out of a gaggle of loud kids, he grew up either being forgotten and left behind, getting compared to their more accomplished younger siblings or being mocked by their older siblings' friends. They quick learned that the best way to survive is to fade into the background and let people more powerful than them cover their back.

At Night Raven College, when the word about Azul's wish-granting abilities spread out, Kalle came to him, offering his services in exchange for a safe and secure place in the school metaphorical food chain.

Just as smart and cunning as Azul and the twins, he follows Azul's orders blindly. Determined, methodical and good at planning. While he usually doesn't speak much, when he does, it's usually something sarcastic. He tends to say he has a low stupidity tolerance.

While they're good at keeping his cool and seeming indifferent to most things, inside they're a deeply emotional person who learned how to hide almost everything about themselves, including their opinions and interests.

Their signature spell is called Seaglass. It allows them to see through another person's eyes for up to 30 seconds at a time without the person knowing.

TRIVIA/OTHER FACTS

🐚 twisted from Ursula's cauldron

🐚 Rook calls him Monsieur Lunette (Monsieur Spyglass)

🐚 his merfolk form is based on coral groupers, which are the fishes known for hunting with moray eels

🐚 their last name comes from the word "brun", which is danish for "brown" (since Hans Christian Andersen was Danish hihi)

🐚 they're actually a BIG science and biology nerd

🐚 they're also, surprisingly, very interested in makeup, seeing it as a kind of science as well, but it's the interest they're the most secretive about

🐚 at first they joined the Board Games Club because of Azul but quickly dipped because they found it boring and they though Idia was annoying (lmao)

🐚 if he could, he would live entirely on black coffee or some inhuman mix of energy drinks

🐚 loves researching the most random topics; you can often see them in the library, wandering between the shelves, searching for something that will catch their eye

RELATIONSHIPS

Azul Ashengrotto — here's the thing, you see. Yes, Kalle admires his inteligence and magic powers and will do basically anything he says without hesitation. Does he actually like Azul as a person, though? Well. Sometimes, during the times when Kalle tries to not feel jealous of his magic or his place in the school's society. He tries to not think about Azul as a friend, though, trying to keep their relationship strictly business-like. (They're so friends.)

Floyd Leech — oh, boy. Their first meeting, still back in middle school, ended in a bit of a disaster, with Kalle losing his patience for once and yelling at Floyd. That made Flody think that maybe Kalle is somebody like Riddle — somebody easy to anger. Somebody fun. Unfortunately for Kalle, the fact that he actually has a great control of his emotion and rarely loses his cool only made Floyd more persistent. He wanted to push Kalle's buttons, see what exactly it is that sets him off, tests the limits of his patience. And well. It would be easier for Kalle if they could simply dislike Floyd. See him as simply lazy and chaotic and stupid, instead of noticing his intelligence and the ability to see through people and feeling drawn to his antics. They often argue, though it had long lost any fire and now sounds more like friendly bickering and if they sometimes make out in the hallways— that's Kalle's bussines, alright.

Jade Leech — probably the only person from the Octavinelle trio that Kalle has a simple, straightforward relationship with. They're friends, in their own weird way. Neither of them has the need to pry into the other's affairs but they feel comfortable in eachother's presence and Kalle shares Jade's interest in different land flora.

Kalim Al-Asim — easily one of Kalle's most disliked people at school. He doesn't know what it is about Kalim that wears his patience so thin so quickly and he doesn't want to find out, preferring to stay as away from the boy as possible.

Jamil Viper — in another universe, those two maybe could be friends. Sadly, for now Kalle spends most of the time observing Jamil with suspicion, not trusting anything he does. They're also — most importantly, very embarrassingly — just a bit jealous of the way Azul tried to befriend Jamil. But that's a secret.

Rook Hunt — if Kalle could ask a genie for one wish, it would be for Rook Hunt to finally shut up. Sadly, there's no genies nearby and so Kalle has to suffer through every Science Club meeting. Even more tragic, Rook seems to know a lot about about a lot of different things Kalle finds interesting and so they make the same mistake everytime, agreeing to help Rook with a club project only to regret it after, when he has to listen to the boy talk about sunsets or Vil’s eyes for two hours.

Trey Clover — he's not sure if he and Trey are friends, but Kalle likes him. He's usually the most sane person around, which feels like a breath of fresh air after being in the same dorm as the Leeches. While they dont necessarily hang out, they sometimes spend time in the library together and being the upperclassman, Trey helps Kalle with homework from time to time.

[bubblingacid]

Stealing your idea and making the ask fandom related >:)

What do you love most about bsd and (why) would you recommend it?

Mocha, get prepared for a long ass rant cause you've got me monologuing

I think my favourite part about bsd is the love for literature and stories that the story has.

Its a bit hard to explain but all the characters are based on classic literature authors and their works. So the story has these layers that you can peel back if you learn more things about the authors or read their works, bsd managed to make me genuinely interested in reading classic literature and I'm still amazed by that.

It also has so many interesting characters and relationships between characters + alot of the times these relationships are connected to the authors' real life relationships with eachother.

I think its also nice that I feel like I can trust the author, he has his flaws but I feel like I can trust him to give us a satisfying conclusion to things. He's incredible honestly.

As for wether I would recommend it? I think that's heavily subjective. Getting into bsd can get pretty difficult I think?

The anime for one sometimes (alot of the time) fucks up so many things from the manga and light novels and that reduces the impact of the story.

Also, the first season kinda sucks but it gets much much better ( thats not to say its completely bad, it has its moments but I didn't get into bsd properly until s2)

Honestly, it depends, are you prepared to spend your time watching something a bit clunky until you get to the good part.

Frankly, if I wanted to recomended bsd to somone I'd spend some time checking if they are wierd enough about stories and exposing them to parts of bsd slowly by talking to them about it.

Would I recommend it to you specifically, idk, really. You might like it, I do think you should give it a shot cause you don't fall in either or catagory of 'would' or 'wouldn't' when it comes to who I'd recommend it to.

So, maybe try it out, you might end up loving it like I did.

Also, if you start, don't just stop at the anime, the anime has like half of what we really love about bsd.

[sibillascribbles08]

Okay last of these for the prompt month. Like how I wound up highlighting how they first became friends, started dating, proposed, and now for the Valentine's Day prompt, may as well wrap it up with them spending the day with their daughter.

This is probably gonna be so cute I'm gonna barf

"Dad?"

"Yes? Dearest daughter of mine?" Donatello hummed as he undid the lock on the apartment door and swung it open. He'd just picked up Holly from school, the same place that Hueso's son went to preschool in the city.

Yeesh, five years old already. Donatello was tempted to invest time in building a device to slow down time but that probably wouldn't work out how he expected it to.

Holly darted into the living room, already tossing her bag onto the sofa. "It's Valemtines."

"Valentines." He softly corrected her pronunciation. She learned to talk at a very young age, but big words still gave her trouble. "It is, did you learn about that in class?"

"Yeah." She smiled up at him, leaning back and forth on her toes. "Miss Orlow said umm... its fun to partic... um, join in on surface holidays."

"It is." He knelt down so she wouldn't start straining her neck--or attempt to climb up on the back of the sofa. "Did you do something in class for it?"

"We made cards." She bounced a few times. "For classmates and..." Holly dove for her bag, opening it up. A handful of pencils, markers, and some balled up scrap paper fell onto the floor. Donatello made a note to help her clean it out later.

She pulled out a folded piece of paper, the colorful scribbles and stickers already visible. At first she turned toward her father, only to suddenly hide it behind her back.

"No. Wait till Daddy gets home. It's for you both."

"Aw, what?" Donatello gave her a smile and slowly reached toward her. "Can't I have a little peek?"

"Noooo." Holly whined and darted to the other side of the sofa.

He laughed and moved forward a bit to start picking her supplies up off the floor. He put the pencils and markers into the proper slots in the bag. "Do you want me to throw these pieces of paper out? Are they important?"

"Um," Holly approached, keeping the card far away as she took each one and unwrapped it. Eventually she held up one of them and pushed the others aside. "Keep this one."

Donatello nodded and took the others, putting them in the recycle bin.

Holly followed him to the kitchen. "You and Daddy have plans? Valem... Val... Val-en-tines is big for parents, right?"

"It's often a romantic holiday, yes." He opened the fridge and tugged out a juice box, offering it to her. "But we hadn't planned anything this year. A night out means having someone watch over you and shockingly, even Uncle Leo has plans."

Holly gave him a big frown as she took the juice. "I'm big. I can take care of myself."

He tried not to laugh out loud. "You are the biggest you've ever been, I won't deny it, but you still can't be left without someone to watch over you in case something happens. But! That is quite alright." He suddenly snatched her off the floor and Holly squealed out a laugh. "Your daddy and I both agree that spending Valentine's with you sounds like more fun anyway."

Holly gasped. "What if I planned Valem-Valentines day?"

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

The question made her expression shift from excitement to deep thought, her tiny eyebrows almost pressing together as she squinted. "Um..." Then she wiggled, an indicator that she wanted down.

Donatello lowered her to the floor before he let go.

"Dad? Can I talk to Aunty April?"

"Sure, let's see if she's busy." He pulled out his phone and dialed her. A few rings later, April picked up.

"Hey Donnie." She chimed.

"Sounds like you're in a good mood." He smiled. "Sunita have something big planned after work today?"

"Work?" April snorted. "As if, I took the day off. Let some of the new kids do some reporting. My girl and I got the whole day to ourselves."

"Ooh, making me jealous."

"Aw, Jase at work today?"

"Indeed, his turn in the office, and I have some work to do myself as soon as--"

A sharp tug on his pant leg reminded him why he started this call in the first place.

"No, never mind that, Holly wants to talk to you."

"Oh? Sure thing, put her on."

Donatello handed his daughter the phone.

Holly took it, then glared at him. "No listening. It's a secret."

"Of course." He turned away from her, waiting for her to walk out of the room to talk to April, but instead she only moved a few feet away.

"No listening." She insisted.

"I'm not listening." He nodded, biting his lip, trying so hard not to laugh.

"Aunty April?" Holly spoke into the phone. "I'm planning Valentines day... yeah yeah for my daddies, um, but what should I do?" A long pause. "Oh, yeah yeah, maybe um, I could decorate?... I have a blanket I could use...yes! Okay, thank you Aunty April."

Donatello waited until his daughter tugged on his pant leg again before turning to retrieve the phone. He saw the line was still connected, and put it to his ear. Holly stared at him, obviously watching for something.

"Just what were you two planning?" He said into the line, trying to play as dumb as possible.

"Obviously it's a secret." April snickered. "Have a good night, Donnie."

"Indeed, you as well April." With that he hung up and put his phone away, seeing his daughter still eyeing him. "So? Should I leave you to it or..."

She furrowed her brow again, glancing around the kitchen for a bit without saying anything. He fists clenched at her sides and a low hum started to emerge from her throat.

Donatello tried to figure out what she was thinking. "Do you need the kitchen?"

Holly nodded.

"So should I leave?"

"Um... I..." Her gaze turned to the floor. "I don't know how to cook."

Once again he bit back a laugh. "Well, as much as I believe in experience being the best teacher, I would rather you not try and take on such a task by yourself. So, will you let me help?"

"Um, only with cooking." Her gaze became determined. "And grocery shopping. That's it."

"I can agree to those terms. Do you know what you want to cook?"

"Aunty April said barbie que?"

"Barbecue, I assume she meant Korean Barbecue. That should be easy to prep. Should we go take care of shopping now?"

Holly jumped. "Yes!"

"Do you want to get changed?" Donatello offered, knowing his daughter was sometimes very particular about her "school" clothes and her "casual" clothes.

"Yes!" She jumped one more time before darting off to her room.

Donatello smiled and pulled his phone out once more, texting his husband.

>Holly is planning our evening

Only a few moments before a reply popped up.

>Sounds like fun.

>How's work?

>Busy, like it always is when you get on an inventing streak and don't think about all the paperwork for the patents.

Donatello sent three whole lines of hearts and pleading emojis.

>I'll forgive you since it's a holiday, but we're working on this as soon as Draxum offers to look after Holly for the day again.

>I love youuuuuuuuu

He sent another line of hearts.

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

Shopping had been fun, but negotiations started all over again as soon as they got home. Holly wanted to prep food right away, but Donatello had work to do and it was far too early to start on dinner. He managed to convince her to focus her time on decorating for now, although Donatello was absolutely not allowed to come out and peek until it was time to cook.

He took the deal, the silence in the office--that doubled as Holly's second playroom some days--allowing him to catch up on a few things.

But, after just an hour of blissful silence, a loud crash came from the kitchen.

Panic and instincts had him rushing out of the room and straight toward the sound. He saw Holly on the floor, right next to one of the swivel chairs that normally stayed in his bedroom.

"Holly?" Donatello dove toward her just as she began to push herself up. "Are you okay?" He helped her up, only for her to push his hands away.

"Fine." She snapped. "I told you no peeking."

He let out a ragged sigh. "Holly, I heard the chair hit the floor. You could have been badly hurt." He looked at the object. What was it even doing on the floor? He glanced around the room, at the unbelievable amount of paper decorations a five year old managed to put around the kitchen in the span of an hour, and finally saw the garland that was only partially hung on the doorway. "Were you trying to use that chair to climb?"

She puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms.

"Holly, that's not safe." He stood and picked up the chair, nudging it toward the living room to put back later. "If you need help reaching high places you should ask me."

"No!" She stomped her foot. "It's a surprise."

"That's not worth hurting yourself over."

"Mmmm!" She practically screamed with her lips closed, the sound getting higher and higher, more ear wrenching.

Donatello managed to snatch his frustration and wrestle it down. Yelling wouldn't help. Snapping wouldn't help. He took a few seconds to breathe.

"Holly." He knelt down in front of her.

She turned her head away.

"Give me a sign if you're listening."

The tension at least left her shoulders, and eventually she gave a nod.

"I understand that you want to surprise Jase and I, and I understand wanting to do it yourself, but I don't want you to get hurt. If I call Shelldon over to help you with the hard to reach stuff, is that acceptable?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "But you've already ruined the surprise."

"I've barely seen any of it." Donatello said as he slapped his hands over his eyes. "Promise, and I won't look at anymore. Do you want me to call Shelldon? Is that fair?"

Silence.

"Dad can't see you right now. Are you nodding or shaking your head?"

"Nodding." Holly mumbled. "Shelldon can come over."

"Okay, let me leave the room and call him. And don't try to climb anything else until he gets here." Donatello stood and headed out. He knew where the door was, he had this apartment layout memorized. Still, he let himself bump into the corner of the entrance while his eyes were still covered. Holly's giggles confirmed that the stunt was worth it.

Once he got to the hallway he tapped in the call for the droid. He kept his back to the kitchen, not even wanting to give the impression that he was looking.

He heard Holly's footsteps on the wood, then the hallway rug before she hugged his left leg.

Donatello glanced down at her. "Everything okay? You sure you're not hurt?"

She nodded. "Sorry for shouting."

He knelt down once more to gently rub her head, always so amused by the short bits of hair on her scalp. "I'm not upset. Sorry for almost ruining the surprise."

Shellon picked then to arrive, giving his signature taps on the window. Donatello gestured for Holly to go let him in. Thankfully easier and safer for her since he always came in from the big window in the living room. Holly could easily climb onto the ledge and undo the latch.

"Donnie." Shelldon's voice rang through the apartment as he flew in. He lowered himself before his body transformed, giving him arms and legs. "What's happening? What do you need?"

"Oh, I don't need anything. Holly needs some help with setting up the kitchen." Donatello pointed. "I'm not allowed to help, so it's your job to make sure she stays safe."

"Oooh, decorating?" Shelldon turned to Holly, still taller than her, but she was certainly catching up. "Is there a party?"

"Valentines." She shouted the word with such confidence.

"Alright, well let's get to it!" The droid ran off to the kitchen, Holly not far behind.

Donatello smiled at their retreating footsteps and returned to his office.

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

Donatello spent the next couple of hours working. He kept an ear out, knowing Shelldon would alert him if anything went wrong, but the most he heard was Holly's infectious laughter dancing down the hall.

Finally, a little after 5 PM, Holly called him out to start working on dinner. He took a moment to marvel at her decorating. Paper chains hung all around the kitchen by now, in shades of pink, white and purple. Paper hearts were taped to the wall. She'd tossed one of her colorful blankets over the table and even put out plates--though it was all the plastic ware Donatello kept within arm reach for her.

There were also stickers. A lot of stickers that he assumed she got from class. All of them plastered all over the cupboards. He inwardly cringed, but refused to let it show on his face. He'd save the sticker lecture for later.

Donatello helped Holly prep for dinner, which meant he was actually doing most of it, carefully holding her hands as she held onto various veggies and meats. He showed her how to cut each of them, but refused to let her do it herself. Maybe next year, he told her.

During all this, Shelldon got called back to the lair by Leo. When everything was prepped, Donatello got the grill out and set it up on the table.

Just then, the front door opened.

Holly gasped, rushing for the entrance. "Daddy!"

Donatello couldn't even get out of the kitchen before he heard his husband grunt, and then laugh.

"You should be careful with the jumping," Jase said. "One day you're going to knock me over."

Donatello stepped into the living room, seeing Jase holding Holly with one arm while his other gripped a couple of grocery bags. Donatello took them, letting his husband hug their daughter properly.

"So? How was school?"

"Valentines." Holly shouted.

Donatello chuckled as he moved to the kitchen to put the few food items away, knowing one of them was to surprise their daughter with.

"Valentines? Did you do something for the holiday?"

"We made cards." Holly's feet thumped against the floor. "I made you and Dad one. You gotta see now. Dad! Come see!"

"Coming." Donatello called as he closed the fridge and folded up the reusable bags. He returned to the living room where Holly had her hands behind her back again, stomping her feet with excitement.

She waited until Donatello stood just behind Jase before holding out the handmade card. Jase took it, holding it up so they both could look at the cover. A few paper hearts were glued on the front, stickers all around, and in each of the hearts was a childish rendition of the three of them.

Donatello couldn't hold back his snort when he saw Jase's eyes were just two giant circles with dots.

Jase shot him a glare.

"What?" He tried to smile. "She really captured your eyes." He poked at the side of Jase's lenses.

His husband retaliated by reaching up and tapping the button on the side of his head set. A light crackle rang through the air as his glasses materialized on his face.

"Square eyes." Jase flicked at the lens.

"Hey." Holly waved her arms. "You're supposed to open it."

"Right, of course." Donatello gestured to the card before tapping his headset to put his glasses away.

Jase opened the card to reveal more stickers, some crayon drawings of hearts, and a short message scrawled out in almost illegible handwriting. And that was most certainly not how you spelled Valentine's.

Still, he could make out the phrase, "Happy Valentine's Day, Dads."

"So?" Holly tapped her fingers together. "Do you like it?"

"Daughter Dearest, I love it." Donatello smiled at her.

"Indeed. I think the pair of us are going to be fighting over who gets to keep it on their night stand." Jase closed the card and held it close to his chest.

"Hmm," Donatello hummed as he snaked an arm over his husband's shoulder. "Wrestle you for it."

Jase yelped when he was pulled back against Donatello's chest. "Donnie!"

"No? Smooch battle then? You know I'll win." He leaned over to kiss his husband on the ear and the cheek.

Jase chuckled as he tried to shove him away.

"Dads." Holly whined. "Do that after dinner."

"Ah, she does have a point." Donatello let go. "We don't want that going sour."

Jase loosened his tie. "Let me go put on something more casual then and--"

"No!" Holly insisted. "You're supposed to be fancy. Dad should go change."

Donatello blinked. "Huh?"

Jase smirked and undid his tie, letting it hang around his shoulder. "You heard her. Go put on something nice."

"I'll get dressed up too!" Holly announced before she darted off to her room.

Donatello shook his head. "She's very excited about this."

"I can tell." Jase smiled. "Seems like you had fun today."

"Actually I spent most of it working, she insisted on it being a surprise."

"I'm glad she's enjoying herself." He nudged Donatello toward the hall. "Now go change."

Thankfully changing didn't take long--he could get away with wearing something simple as long as it looked nice--and he managed to meet his husband back in the kitchen before Holly came out of her room. He found Jase staring at the sticker covered cupboards, his frustration evident on his face.

"I know." Donatello patted his shoulder. "I'll be talking to her about it later, but not tonight."

Jase let out a long sigh and ran his hands down his face. "I suppose it could be worse. It'll never be as bad as the time Mikey gave her those finger paints and she decided to turn her bed into a rainbow."

Yeah, Donatello remembered that. Even if the paints were washable the reds and purples left a permanent stain.

Still, "You say that like it's not a fond memory at this point."

Jase crossed his arms. "I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, you mentioned earlier that one day she's just going to knock you over. Sometimes it makes me dizzy, how fast she's growing."

His husband let out a long sigh. "You didn't have to word it like that. I don't want to think about--"

"Ready!" Holly shouted as she rushed into the kitchen, now wearing her sparkly purple dress. "Sit down, sit down. I'm going to get um, drinks!"

Jase put a hand on her head to stop her from running. "And what about you? You're joining us for dinner, right?"

Holly stared up at her daddy with wide eyes, the same dark shade of brown as him. "Um... no? Your Valentine's dinner."

"You need to eat something, Holly."

"Ummmm..."

Donatello shrugged. "We could just give her her Valentine's present early."

Somehow her eyes got even bigger. "I get a Valentine's present?"

"But of course." Donatello held up a finger as he moved to the fridge. "It's about celebrating your loved ones, not just the romantic sort." He opened the door and pulled out a lidded tray, the whole thing full of shrimp with a couple of dipping sauces. "So I told Daddy to pick this up for you."

Holly gasped, practically in slow motion as her arms lifted up as she took in a deep breath.

Donatello covered at least one of his ears.

The screech that came out of her mouth shook the paper decorations on the wall. "Shrimp?"

His uncovered ear started ringing, but he couldn't help but laugh as she scrambled toward him, jumping up and down for the tray. He handed it to her. She kept shouting "yes" over and over again as she ran in a few circles and then darted off to her room.

"Holly!" Jase called after her. "Ugh, you're supposed to eat that at the table."

"Relax." Donatello rubbed his shoulders and nudged him toward the table. "Sit down. Do you want anything fancy to drink?"

"Maybe after dinner. And if she makes a mess in her room with that shrimp, you're cleaning it up." Jase plopped down in his chair and turned on the grill. "Barbecue, huh?"

"April suggested it to Holly." Donatello shrugged and got them both a glass of water. "But I know it's one of your favorites, so I figured why not?"

Jase snorted. "You just love it because you can eat more meat than veggies."

"That's normal for me." He put the waters on the table before he sat down. "But yes." He rested his chin on his hand, staring at his husband and all the tacky paper decorations in the background. Jase met his gaze, still appearing tired and frustrated, but Donatello could tell it wasn't serious.

After the brief silence, Jase raised an eyebrow. "What are you staring at?"

"Only at the most handsome man in the universe, of course."

Jase shook his head, his cheeks turning just a shade darker. "Save the sappiness for after dinner or I'm not going to be able to eat with all the cavities you're giving me."

Donatello bounced his leg to burn off the giddiness in his chest. "Happy Valentine's Day, Love."

Jase hummed in agreement. "Happy Valentine's. Now is that grill hot enough? I'm starving."

"Glad you have your appetite."

"I didn't eat enough during lunch. Devin kept coming in with questions thanks to the recent wave of investors crawling around and--"

"Daddies?" Holly's voice suddenly came from the other room. It was high pitched, and followed by a sniffle.

Jase leaned back in his chair before shouting back to her. "Yes dear? Are you okay?"

"I threw up." She managed to get out before bursting into sobs.

Jase glanced back at Donatello. There was a brief pause before he said, "She ate the shrimp too fast."

Donatello sighed. "She ate the shrimp too fast."

"Well, what did I say earlier?"

He couldn't help but grumble a bit, but got up from his seat and walked around the table. "Okay, I'll go clean it up. You're lucky it's a holiday and I love you."

"Love you too." Jase caught his hand as he walked past, planting a quick kiss on the back of it. "Bring her to the table when you're done, she should be eating with us anyway."

Donatello agreed, and left the kitchen to see Holly still standing in the hallway, clutching her dress as tears ran down her face.

He towered over her for a second, but still did his best not to look intimidating. "Did you eat the shrimp too fast?"

She sniffed and nodded.

"Alright," he patted her head. "Let's asses the damage, shall we?"

[halfagone]

Danny's Obsession

I should really be studying right now, or working on some of my fics, but Danny Phantom has gripped my mind and it is NOT planning on subsiding any time soon, so I need to get it off my chest.

Imagine if Danny's Obsession is Never Changing.

Let me explain:

I love the Phandom's headcanons for Danny's obsession, especially the Protection ones, because those are always so *chef's kiss* but lately I've been thinking about where Danny's head might have been at, especially right after his accident. Plus, what little he knows about ghosts at this point in time.

His parents HATES ghosts. We know that. This is fact. They talk about how they plan on ripping apart Phantom molecule by molecule. But at the very beginning, when Danny is still freshly half-dead, what does he know about ghosts? Well, whatever his parents have told him about them since he was little. Which is... not the most accurate of information, as well all know.

So here's Danny, freshly half-dead, trying to understand what just happened to him, trying to figure out how to get his new powers under wraps (this is before he becomes a hero after defeating the Lunch Lady, of course). He doesn't know what he is, all he knows is that he's not the same anymore. And for a kid who's been told that ghosts are horrible monsters since he was a child, how do you think he would cope with that? Personally, I would try to convince myself that there's nothing wrong me, really. Nothing has changed. It was just a little zap, sure it was really fricking painful, but nothing he can't deal with, y'know? These powers are just from ectocontamination, they'll go away eventually.

But they don't.

And now his parents' equipment keeps on going off around him. And his powers aren't just not going away, but he's getting more of them. And his new life as a secret superhero keeps on getting in the way of his civilian one, and as much as he wants to pretend that everything was the same as before, he can't ignore the people who need help or protection because he's a good kid.

And then he meets Vlad, whose ghost form looks nothing like his human one even if he's just as annoying. But that's easy to write off because Vlad is Vlad, he's an annoying, crazy Froot Loop, he probably just looks that way because he's dramatic af.

And then The Ultimate Enemy happens. And Dan happens. And he can't recognize what his future self has become even though he recognizes himself. That's his hair, his hazmat suit (if modified as he grew up), his memories, his powers.

Danny changed, and he didn't like the person he'd become. But how much of that is Vlad and how much of that is Danny? Can he really blame all of that on Vlad and his influence?

And, depending on the fic and the writer's personal headcanons, Pariah Dark could have been a good king once upon a time. But then, of course, he became too dangerous and they had to lock him away. And, again, if the writer so wishes, and Danny is supposed to become the next Ghost King, how do you think he would react in that situation?

Well, I think he would attribute that to change. To how time and changing circumstances warped him into something dangerous and horrible. And Danny doesn't want to be like that, become that. So he pretends that nothing is wrong, that this is all fine, that really nothing has changed.

And if a ghost's physical state is affected and will change depending on their state of mind or as a psychosomatic response like some authors, that I've seen, headcanon, do you know what that means? That means Danny wouldn't age. Because he's so desperate to pretend that nothing happened to him. And while everyone around him, his friends, his family, grow up and grow old, so long as he's stuck in this frame of mind that just because he's now half-dead doesn't mean he's different. Well... that could cause a lot of problems.

Of course, that also means we could see Danny finally come to terms with some of his trauma, like everything surrounding the Accident, his parents' own prejudices or neglect that have left him feeling cornered or forgotten. And maybe even the acceptance that, yes, he has changed because of his death, but that doesn't mean he's different than before. It just means he can do more. And at the end of the day, he's still that good kid that wanted to help other people, even though he had no obligation to, or because he was responsible for the ghost attacks.

It just means he's a good person. And THAT will never change.

But of course, I like the angsty route ;P

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Expertise can't help you here.

[alwaysshallow]

boys trying to survive nnn with their partner (141 + los vaqueros + könig x f!reader)

a/n: if it wasn't for @blissful-bunny, there wouldn't be nnn. LMAOOO i hope y'all will enjoy, it's my first time doing something like this... and i think i don't hate it as i did before!

mdni, as always. nsfw below + keegan's version here

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Being around Ghost durning this time is funny, to say the least. You know about this bet from Gaz, when you invited the whole Task Force 141 for dinner. There wasn't much of a reaction from you, just a nod and a hum that's interesting to hear that. Nothing more, until your boyfriend's friends went home, and you stayed with him, washing dishes.

"You think you're gonna last?" you ask, and you pretty much can't stop yourself from laughing when he gives you a side eye.

"'s just a month." he grumbles, and you know, you somehow irritated him. Or, the bet did, you're not really sure. "Been through worse."

Theoretically, it is true. He's military, he has seen things that you won't ever see, something so stupid like this challenge shouldn't be something hard to do.

Practically? Practically, he takes every fucking chance to get closer to you. You're making breakfast, showering, washing the dishes? He's gonna be right behind you. It's not surprising at first, he liked to be near you always, but it has a malicious intent to it, when he drags his clothed cock up and down your ass, grunting right into your ear. He gets you worked up, and you're pretty sure he's gonna lose, but he stops right before he cums.

You can't really decide if it's funny or sad to see him like this. It's his pained expression that he gives when he bites on his lower lip, grumbling something about watching you touching yourself, so it will be better. You can't really say no to a man starved, so you put out a show for him, thinking how so much better his fingers would be in your pussy.

If it would depend on you, you'd kneel and relieve him, but what can you do, when he has this ridiculous challenge of his?

He breaks after two days, when he sees you in your shared gym, exercising. It's unexpected, when he puts down dumbbells you were working with, doing squats; you want to ask what's wrong, but when he lifts you up, your back hitting the wall, you just know. You even forgive him when he doesn't prep you enough, and he just thrusts into you without much thinking of it, his balls heavy.

You know you won't leave this gym for a long time.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"You're participating in what?"

To say it was weird, was one thing. To say that Kyle does it, was even weirder, especially that he was straight from two months of deployment. Needy. You knew it, as you were with him almost three years by now, he had always spent hours in bed with you because he missed you like a madman. These two months were pretty much the longest you've been separated with him, so, you can imagine your surprise, when you learned about the challenge, when you two were cleaning your apartment. He was touching you every now and then, giving you little kisses, and now he was talking about something like this.

"I'm—"

"—No, I heard you" you chuckled, shaking your head. "I'm like… trying to understand who convinced you to do so."

"Bet with Soap. Lad thinks 'm not gonna last with you." he murmurs, and you just know that this motherfucker made this as a personal challenge. So, you just nod your head, to Kyle's surprise on his pretty face. "That's… all you're gonna say?"

"What else I'm supposed to say?" you raise your eyebrow, amused. "That I feel sorry for you, this will do?"

"That ain't funny."

"It is, kind of funny." you grin, as you kiss his forehead, at which he closes his eyes, so you repeat kissing his forehead a few times. "I'm gonna support you in this, yeah? So it's gonna be easier."

It wasn't easier. You could see that he glances at you every now and then, when you are doing domestic things around the house, giving him little, encouraging smiles. Little do you know that Kyle's bulge is growing larger and larger every time he looks at you.

Gaz is pretty calm, at least until he sees you in his t-shirt (that is way too big for you) and just panties underneath, sitting right beside him with a bowl of popcorn. You two planned to watch a movie, but your boyfriend quickly brushes it off, as his hand wanders under the hem of your panties.

"Kyle, you—"

"I know." he almost growls, as he puts you on his lap.

The moment he feels your wetness, he's a gone man; he makes you ride him, and the challenge is just a fading memory, when his lips attack yours.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Soap is absolutely offended when everyone in Task Force 141 tells him he's gonna lose the challenge. He can't shut up about it for an hour straight, as he lays with his head on your lap, telling you something about celibacy and being true lover, not some "horny arse like the others". You listen to it with a small, amused smile on your lips because as much as you love your boyfriend, everyone is right about it.

He's not gonna last, and he knows it personally too, but you say nothing about it. You just listen to Johnny's ramblings, until his eyes are on you, observing your reaction so casually.

"What do ya think? 'm gonna beat it? Be the best?" he tilts his head like a puppy, squinting his eyes. It's an icy ground you're standing on right now.

"I think… it's gonna be hard." you answer; slowly, reluctantly. It's not something that he wants to hear though, as he groans, shaking his head with displeasure. "What? You asked!"

"I ken it's gonna be hard. 'm askin', if 'm gonna beat it" he emphasizes his last words, and you can feel he barely holds himself from rolling his eyes.

"…well, baby, as much as I have faith in you in other things…"

It's not a good answer for him, nor for a challenge, considering that you end up getting fucked by him – it's some kind of punishment, he tells you, when he folds you in half. He tells you that he also didn't lose the challenge, technically, as you had sex November 1st , at 3 a.m. You nod, hesitantly, so you could go to sleep without causing him to ramble about it again; you are exhausted.

It takes him three days of fucking you in various places to finally come into the conclusion that the challenge isn't for him. Three days of promising and hearing him whining that it's gonna be 'st the tip, baby, to feel you good.

"Good that you've figured that out." you say with a small smile, in restaurant's bathroom, his forehead against yours, as his cock is still buried deep inside you.

"Lasted longer than lads. Sure of that."

John Price

You want to think of your husband highly, when you hear of this stupid thingy. The authority, someone that leads the Task Force 141, setting the example for his younger proteges with his willpower. Someone who actually cares about engaging in challenges, even if they're stupid, even if he shouldn't even look at something like this.

Yet, you know John, you're married to him, for God's sake – and you know his sex drive. When this man is home, nothing and no one stops him from getting what he wants, and that's on you. In your mind, there's a core memory of him saying that he absolutely loves your pussy, multiple times.

So it's not a surprise that he doesn't participate in this challenge. It's not a surprise when he babbles about having kids with you while he fucks you wherever he can; kitchen counter, under the shower, your couch. His obsession over kids grew over this month more than ever, and you were happy to meet his expectations in a middle, since you thought of having a little angel in your small family for a longer time now. Having a dog wasn't enough.

A surprise comes when he proudly admits that he won in the end of the month. Boys are pretty much shocked by this, considering that their Captain didn't even look frustrated once, and he was in better mood than usual. Yet, they don't have a place to complain, so they accept the defeat with a frown on their faces, and a quick comment from Soap that he for sure cheated.

"You didn't win, honey." you laugh to him, sitting at his lap, when he's in his office, alone.

Price arches his eyebrow in amusement. "I did."

"That's not really—"

"Listen, we were tryin' for babies, weren't we? It wasn't egoistical fuckin'." he explains, completely serious.

It takes all in you not to either gasp or laugh again. "So, if it would be without the intention of making babies, you'd lose?"

He gives you a quick nod. "Exactly, missus. Exactly."

Alejandro Vargas

It's easy to last a few days for Alejandro. Maybe even a week, or a bit more. With his kind of work, being a Colonel, you often didn't see him for days, or even weeks if it was a bad time. Right now, with working over destroying a Mexican cartel, being home was rare for him. Was it saddening? Of course, but you knew what you were doing when you married him, you've talked with him about it for days, maybe weeks, even.

So, maybe that's why he didn't really think much of a challenge when he agreed to it, one of the nights he was drinking with Los Vaqueros. Just for fun, just to make a fun memory in this mess they were in. Days were passing in the blink of an eye with the same routine; a few hours of sleep if he's lucky, patrol, documents, action and repeat. Nothing too fancy, nothing too new for a man of war like he is, he got used to it all.

Harder was the moment he came home to you, where you were waiting for him with your open arms, all needy for his presence, for his touch, but somehow, somehow he managed, giving you the best orgasm of your life with his mouth only, even if he was in need too.

"Cariño?" he calls you, confused, when he doesn't see you in bed in the next morning. In his sweatpants only, he goes to the kitchen, following the sound of pan that sizzles lazily in the background.

"Makin' breakfast, Ale!" you reply, looking behind your shoulder with the biggest smile that slowly falters the moment you see his eyes darkening in the span of seconds. "What's with the face?"

He approaches you slowly, caging you between his arms. "Just… appreciating" he says, as he starts kissing your neck "my little wife. Who's been really patient with me, gone for so many days. And now, you're making me breakfast—" he groans, shaking his head. You can feel his growing bulge, as you grind your ass against it.

It's obvious that Colonel lost the challenge, after he arrives to his work with his wife, his arm possessively around her. Why? Maybe it's your neck covered in hickeys, your trembling legs, or his arms visibly scratched, but no one says anything about it in the base.

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

You have a kind of forbidden romance with him; you're the one of Los Vaqueros, and the romance is absolutely prohibited here, to prevent the collapse of the squad. Not to mention that he's a right hand man of Alejandro, so he has to follows the rules directly. Maybe even more than anyone here, to be honest; setting an example that he's not a exception to the rule.

It doesn't help that you're so kind. That you nod every time you see him as a silent greeting, and then you rush to do whatever you have to do today. It doesn't help him that you're helping everyone around you with a smile that could light up the whole town, and he smiles every time he sees it, too.

Everyone pictures that Rudy would win the challenge easily, since in their heads, his head wasn't occupied with anyone, and he could easily withold himself with his desires.

And maybe he would. Maybe he would, if you weren't the one guarding the base with him, if you weren't the one who was smiling at him with those plump lips of yours.

"If you'd only know how much I thought about… hah—" his breaths are ragged, as the pace of his hips gets quicker. His lips finds yours, as he kisses you with such hunger, you know without a doubt that he means what he says. It automatically makes you smile.

"It's fate that binds us, then" you say, your fingernails clutching at his arms; you're sure that you're the creator of bloody crescents here, but you can't care less about it. Not when the man of your dreams is fucking you.

He smiles at your words.

Rudy never been a good liar, and you painfully learn it, when Alejandro asks him why he's so happy; as you stand nearby, you hear the whole conversation. It's cute in some way, the way he's a blabbering mess, without any sense of it.

It takes Colonel's one look at you, and he knows.

You never walked faster to your work, neither did Rudy.

Konig

If you think he's gonna even try playing at this, you're in deep denial. Maybe if he'd be alone he could try of a genuine curiosity, but not when he has you. Such a pretty, obedient girlfriend, that he has wrapped around his finger, and a girlfriend that is pretty much at his service every time he wants.

He's a man to laugh about that challenge with his squad, telling them that they're filthy, and he would last the whole month, maybe even longer, if it weren't for you. Because he's such a caring boyfriend, he listens to your needs, even if you're whiny.

At least, that's the story that his squad knows.

He tells you about this while he folds you in half, that he needs to act a little grumpy around his squad, to put a facade that he's hungry because it's the right thing to do. When you suggest that he could even try, he barks a low laugh, while he pumps his cock before thrusting into you.

"Schatz, as if. Not gonna play the kids game." it's all he says, kissing you with affection on your swollen lips. "I do not intend on torturing you like this. You wouldn't survive a day without my dick."

There's some truth to it — but you're truly wondering if that's you who wouldn't survive without his dick, or he, that wouldn't survive without your pussy and sex, considering he is even more of a maniac than you are.

dividers by cafekitsune

[izacore]

Our Flag Means Death season 2 episode 1.

[stil-lindigo]

the fox god.

a comic about a trickster.

--

creative notes:

–

all my other comics

store

[judoflipped]

percy jackson quoting ROMEO AND JULIET at annabeth chase I'm literally going feral right now all my life has led to this moment

[artrealla]

[yourtamaki]

rip my ribcage open (devour what’s truly yours)

zoro x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

warnings: tummy-pusher zoro, squirting, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, prone bone, chokehold, slight breath play, creampie, violent imagery, religious imagery, bit of aftercare.

zoro thinks you might be trying to say his name.

he’s knelt between your legs, sitting back on his haunches and rocking his hips just enough to fuck you with the fat tip of his cock. there’s a rhythm to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest. short inhale, long exhale, the same way you always sigh his name when he’s reduced you to this.

tears dotting your lashes, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth, hips bucking mindlessly trying to get him to slip in deeper.

fuck, you’re hungry for it.

zoro is not a man of many indulgences. he doesn’t allow himself to be. having too many vices can only lead to a weak mind and an even weaker will. he eats but he does not savour, he sleeps but he does not dream.

but he’d be a shit swordsman if he didn’t understand the balance in all things. denying himself all of life’s comforts would make for a rigid spirit, brittle and easily broken. so he’ll sip on some sake and enjoy its fire in his belly, he’ll nap on sunny’s deck so when he wakes, it’s to the sight of his crew set to the backdrop of the setting sun. and when the sun dips below the horizon, there’s nothing to stop him from finding you in the dark and pulling you into a hungry kiss.

that balance is what makes nights like these all the better. knowing that having you like this, spread open and vulnerable, is good for him. that you’re making him a better man, a stronger man, just by letting him take you apart and make a mess out of you. there’s no need to resist the temptation now of bending low to press his lips to your trembling ones in a slow, ravenous kiss.

you taste like need and the sweetest of sins and he licks at the roof of your mouth, knowing he’s damned himself long ago to crave you for as long as he lives.

"if you want something, you have to ask,” he says, pulling back and idly groping at your tits, pinching your nipple when you don’t answer. you throw your head back at the sudden sensation and a wild heat blooms in his chest at the sight, scorching his ribs. how easily you bare your neck for him. how thoughtlessly.

"please, zoro, please. want you deeper, i wanna feel you here,” you take his hands, sliding them down your body until they come to rest on your lower stomach. irritation, sharp and sudden, cuts through his haze.

“don’t fucking beg,” he says, low and even, “you don’t have to beg. ever.”

it’s so far beneath you to plead, he has to swallow down the growl building in the back of his throat. zoro would topple empires for you, would cut the very moon in half if you asked, and you think you have to beg him for anything?

he doesn’t wait for you to nod before he starts pushing in. it doesn’t matter if you understand yet or not, he’ll fuck it into you until you do.

there’s a moment after he’s bottomed out inside you where neither of you move a muscle. he grits his teeth from the effort of holding on to the frayed rope that is his restraint and letting you get used to the wide stretch of him. ages pass before you reach up, slowly as if to not startle the beast above you, and cup his face in your soft palm. you stroke your thumb across his cheek, just on the edge of his scar. your touch is warm and gentle and cracks something inside him wide open.

the rope slip from his fingers. he lets it.

there’s no warning, no build-up before he’s pressing both palms down on your stomach and fucking into you. you reach up to hold on to any part of him, settling around his neck, a balm on his flushed skin even as your nails dig and bite into him.

“you feel that? hmm?” his smile feels jagged and sharp, more demon than man but you only moan at the sight of it, “you feel me in there?”

it’s a strange sensation, feeling himself carve a space inside you, the push and pull. it’s filthy and more intimate than it has any right to be and he fucking loves it.

“fuck, feel you i feel—” a rough thrust cuts you off and when you catch your breath, you’re still rambling, “—so good, you’re so good.”

zoro’s been called many things in his life but good isn’t one of them. it’s never bothered him before. good men don’t claw their way up in the world and leave a trail of slaughter in their wake. good men don’t scream at the heavens and demand to be heard.

zoro is not a good man. but he can be good. to you. for you.

“breathe, baby,” he says, “don’t forget to breathe.”

he presses down a bit harder and your reaction is instantaneous, legs kicking out, the tears that have been threatening to spill over since he stuffed a pillow under your hips finally sliding down your cheeks. you take him so beautifully and something barbed wraps around his heart and squeezes at the sight, shredding him to bloody pieces.

he knows you’re close before your eyes start to flutter, can feel it building like a storm inside you and chases your pleasure with reckless abandon.

“zoro.”

short inhale, long exhale. his name a sigh on your parted lips as you clench tight around him and cum. he doesn’t stop moving for a second, doesn’t let up the pressure even as he feels you gush all over him, soaking his cock, his thighs, his stomach. his strokes stay sure and steady as he fucks you through your high.

you shudder beneath him before relaxing back into the bed and he slows to a stop to let you catch your breath. it hurts to look at you, all divine and fucked out. it’s a sight too holy for a hellbound man like him to behold but he drinks it in anyway, burns it into his mind. 

what’s one more sin to a demon?

zoro slips out of you with a hiss through gritted teeth, taking a moment to admire the creamy ring around his base, your arousal and cum still dripping off him. you’ve marked him as yours and yours alone without even trying and his cock twitches at the thought.

“no why?” you whine as he pulls back further, “give it back.”

“turn over,” even as he speaks, he’s manhandling you until you’re laid out on your stomach, hips propped up with the pillow he takes care to push under you. zoro kisses down your spine before settling between your spread legs and greeting your cunt with a broad stroke of his tongue, “i ever tell you that you taste good like this?”

“like- mmm fuck,” you say, all breathy as he circles around your swollen clit, “like what?”

“stretched out,” he murmurs, “open.” 

you’re past the point of words as he grabs two handfuls of your ass, spreads your sticky lips open with his thumbs and buries his tongue inside you. he savours the sweet little gasps you let you like the finest sake, groaning into your pussy as you start to rock your hips and grind your clit against him. he can’t catch a full breath, thinks he might be suffocating, and moans a bit louder.

a swarm of words bubble up hot and fast in his lungs, taking up space where breath once lived. half-formed thoughts try and fail to take shape in his mouth, weighing down the tongue that makes you writhe in the sheets. 

he can’t bring himself to speak but if he could, he’d show you. zoro wants to crack his ribs open so you can see the bloody wreckage you’ve caused, let you crawl in and keep you safe next to the heart that’s always, always, been yours. he’d probably burst into flames with so much goodness inside him but that’s alright. at least he’d keep you warm.

the words stay trapped where they are though and all he can do is all he’s ever known how to. he goes to work. zoro is singleminded in his task, fingers digging into the fat of your ass to keep you still while he devours you whole and it doesn’t take long before he’s pushing you off the edge he never let you stray too far away from.

he laps at your folds until you start to squirm away, crawling up the bed and away from him. he lets you put a bit of distance between you, lulls his prey into thinking it’s escaped before he pounces. between one breath and the next, zoro’s on you, draped along your back, licking at the sweat that beads down the nape of your neck. you arch into him, pushing back against the hardness digging into your ass before he rests his weight down on you, forcing you flat on your front.

“where do you want me, baby?” he asks, kissing behind your ear, “tell me where you want me.”

in this moment and in all others, zoro would do anything you told him to. you could make him hump you like an animal until he cums and lick your skin clean or stand across the room and jack off by himself with nothing but the lingering taste of your pussy to help him get off. he’d do it and he’d do it without an ounce of shame.

“want you inside,” you slur, “wanna be full.”

his entire being in the palm of your hands and you choose to be merciful.

“you sure?” he lifts up off you just enough to get a hand around his base and nudge his tip against your clit, “not too sensitive?”

“yeah, pl- i can take it.”

his grin is all teeth when he hears you correct yourself, “that’s my fucking girl. stay still, baby. let me take care of you.”

you’re soft and slick from his spit and two orgasms and when he bottoms out all at once, it’s with a low groan in your ear that echoes behind your breathy moan. sinking back inside you feels like rapture, like something he’s done nothing to deserve but basks in anyway with an endless greed.

he wraps his arms around you, one across your front groping at your chest while the other hooks around to put you in a headlock, keeping you pressed flush to him as he starts to rock into you. zoro is quiet in his worship, purposeful, and you’re nearly as quiet in receiving it, the room filled only by your soaked cunt and ragged breathing. though you don’t say anything, he can hear you loud and clear.

short inhale, long exhale.

a holy call he’s helpless to answer.

zoro fucks you to the rhythm of his name, short, devastating thrusts with his whole weight thrown behind him. he wants to live in this moment, could spend the rest of his days with his cock dragging along your walls slow and sure, relishing the way you tighten like a vice around him every time he flexes and cuts your air off mid-gasp.

but he swore an oath at your altar and zoro has always been a man of his words.

he cums with a sigh of your name, spilling inside you for what feels like ages before he collapses over you boneless and spent, his softening cock keeping you plugged nice and full just like you asked so sweetly for.

“you okay?” he asks, pulling out as gently as he can and helping you roll over when your trembling arms make it clear you can’t do it on your own.

“mhmm,” you pull yourself up until you’re nose to nose with him. zoro holds still as you scatter kisses across his face like stardust. his temple, his scar, the corner of his mouth. there’s no order, no pattern he can discern to the affection you bestow but he accepts it the way all blessings should be received. with silent gratitude.

“nothing hurts?” 

“no. but you’re carrying me to the bath.”

“okay.”

you tuck yourself into his side, reaching up to idly roll his earrings between your fingers, “and washing my hair.”

“okay.”

“and i’m gonna wash your hair.”

“okay.”

“say something else.”

he thinks for a moment, thinks of all he could never put to words and lets them stay as thoughts. instead, he meets your eyes and settles on a simple truth, “you’re beautiful.”

a smile, radiant and bright, breaks across your face. what happens, he wonders, when a demon is the cause of something as divine as your smile? it’s a question he doesn’t mind spending his life searching the answer to. 

dedicated to: mah wife @katslutski and the loml @saotoru

[azuremist]

TME and TMA as intersexist terms: as written by an intersex transfem

I’ve had a few different people in my inbox asking me why I view these terms the way I do. In particular, why I claim it’s intersexist. So, I thought I’d lay out a few examples, so everyone can understand where I’m coming from.

Imagine an intersex woman. She was assigned female at birth by her doctors, and was able to go about her childhood as a woman with no inclination that anything was amiss. Sure, she didn’t experience certain parts of puberty, but puberty was different for everyone, right?

But, later in life, she learns she has Turner syndrome. This is an intersex condition where a woman has only one X chromosome, rather than the usual two.

Soon after she learns this, she finds that laws are being made to attempt to keep trans women out of women’s spaces (often specifically sports) which use chromosomes as a defining factor of womanhood.

Would this intersex person be considered “transmisogyny affected”? She has been raised as a cisgender woman with no problems regarding being ‘clocked’, but she is also a direct target of transmisogynistic laws. She lies in a gray area.

Now, let’s go to another intersex person. Imagine an intersex man with PAIS. AIS is an intersex condition where babies are born with testes and XY chromosomes, but their body is immune to or can’t respond to androgens (which includes testosterone). Intersex people with partial AIS (PAIS) often develop a vulva and clitoris during puberty.

This intersex person identifies as a man, and he was assigned male at birth. However, his body does not produce testosterone, and he went through a feminizing puberty. To the average eye, he appears to be a woman now because of this.

Would this intersex person be considered “transmisogyny affected?” He was assigned male at birth, and now appears to be a woman, much like many transfems. However, if many saw how he looks now, stating that he is a male, they would probably clock him as transmasc. He was raised as a boy until puberty, and then faced astrozcization from his peers when he began a puberty that feminized him. What he was facing was a form of intersexism where transmisogyny was playing a huge part. Does his childhood matter? Can one become TME over time, when they were TMA as a child? Again, he lies in a gray area, where the answer is not quite so simple.

What about the “opposite”, per se — an intersex woman who had a masculinizing puberty? She has aromatase deficiency, which means that many ‘male’ hormones (which would usually be converted to ‘female’ hormones) would remain unconverted. She identifies as a woman, and was identified as a female at birth and was raised, until puberty, as a female. But now, she would be clocked as a trans woman upon looking at her. What does that make her? Is it different from the previous example? How and why? This intersex person also lies in a gray area. How she should be described with these terms is not clear.

And keep in mind, these are all relatively simple examples. All of the examples I listed self-identify as cisgender. But there are intersex people who are trans in any direction you can imagine.

If that last example identified as a trans woman, because she is now clocked as one, would you be able to say she’s wrong for that? What about if she identified as transmasculine, because of her experience with puberty? What if she’s multigender, bigender or genderfluid, and says she’s both transmasc and transfem because of her complicated experiences? Would that make her a TMA transmasculine person? But I thought that transmascs were all TME? That’s how it’s so often framed, anyway.

The reason why these questions are so difficult to answer is because these terms were not made with intersex people in mind. Very real intersex transfems were pushed to the wayside in favor of centering the perisex view of transgenderism. Intersex people are nothing but an inconvenient little afterthought, annoying perisex people with their demand for “inclusion” and “consideration”. (As per usual.)

You cannot simply make a new gender binary and say, “No, really, this time everyone fits into these two categories! Forcing people to confine themselves to these two rigid labels which are shown as opposites, and as never interacting, will definitely include everyone this time!!” No matter what the contents of the new binary is, it’s not going to work, because sex and gender alike are too complicated for that. There will always be people in the gray area.

This isn’t even getting into the fact that these terms, for all intents and purposes, seem to have been popularized by and associated with the Baeddelism movement around 2017, which was essentially “Radical Feminism 2: We’re Trans Women, So It’s Fine!” This movement is known for chronic villainization of trans men and non-binary people who aren’t transfem. (They act like this with cis people too, but noticeably less so than they do with non-transfem trans people. How curious.) Think along the lines of how regular radfems treat all men (and who they deem to be men) as inherently morally disgusting scum who deserve to be attacked.

Methinks that maybe these terms aren’t the neutral, fact-based descriptors of oppression that many people nowadays tout them to be, considering that.

So, yeah. “Transmisogyny exempt” and “transmisogyny affected” as terms: not even once. Listen to intersex people, stop trying to make sex and gender into binaries, and for the love of God, stop drinking the queer seperationist koolaid!

[huang-er-jiejie]

i. i just realised something about the kiss.

the way when aziraphale puts both of his hands on crowley's back, you can see them kinda shift so aziraphale isn't leaning. he held onto crowley for stability, and leaned in. pushed closer to him. he leaned forward. anyone ever says he didn't want the kiss im going to hunt you down because HE HELD CLOSE!!! HE KISSED BACK!!!!

EDIT: also im like WELL aware he kissed back i was even when i first watched it like its not a big revelation, its just that SOME people☠️ on TIKTOK☠️ KEEP SAYING HE WAS DISGUSTED BY THE KISS???? like i swear some people are watching a different show entirely