#he's got great shapes but I hate drawing his legs with a passion

[ihatebrainstorm]

[Medicine]

"The Caduceus. Commonly mixed up with the Rod of Asclepius."

Guys I think it'd be really funny if Pharma and Ratchet had the same voice

[iggy-licious]

One Shot: Tête à Tête

OK... This is super long and super indulgent, but if you want smut, you got it. 😈 Iggy terrorizes a journalist and turns the tables for something much better for both of them. NSFW.

I just finished it, and I can't look at it anymore without going insane. 🤪 Please excuse any writing glitches.

Thank you for reading and going along with my Iggy shenanigans. ❤️❤️❤️

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“You see,” he chuckles softly, “this is why I fucking hate doing interviews.” He tosses his fedora onto a nearby chair, runs a hand through his jet-black, dyed hair, shakes his head in disdain, and fishes his Marlboros and lighter out of his pocket. He leers at me, cigarette hanging onto his pouty bottom lip for dear life, before he lights it. He takes a puff and exhales the smoke in my direction, his mouth gaping slightly in what I could imagine to be a slow, satisfied exhale in a more romantic setting.

But we’re at an impasse, facing off at opposite sides of an overstuffed hotel couch. I made the cardinal sin of asking if The Stooges might ever get back together. 

Iggy remains silent and continues to smoke while staring me down. His look is full of slow-simmering anger and curiosity, as if he’s given up on the interview and is studying me to find creative ways to get under my skin.

But little does he know, he’s already succeeded at that.

The man had proved to be a good-natured, but eccentric, raconteur, and I was captivated by his stories and energy earlier. His smoky liner and shadow couldn’t blunt the sparkle in his large eyes when he gushed about the experimental nature of his Zombie Birdhouse album. I had been nervous going into the interview, but he had won me over with his intelligence, passion, and mild flirtation. It was fair to say that I had been in danger of him short-circuiting my professionalism. Him and those eyes, the color of a clear Caribbean lagoon. 

But that was then. Now, it's his scornful vibe that holds me in thrall. It screams of the primal unpredictability that was his ace in his old band. This nicotine pause feels like a dam holding back a flood of turbulent emotions. In the current, painful silence, I’m acutely aware that he could roar to life in a second and drown me in a passionate diatribe of words. Or, he could decide he’s bored and kick me out at any time. These thoughts set my heart into overdrive for many reasons, both professional and personal.

He’s studying me with an emotionless poker face, but his eyes feel like they're boring into mine. Large, blue, graced with the pretty eyelashes that most people get from a mascara tube.

His eyes turn out to be his secret weapon. I find myself powerless, waiting for his next words. After our initial discussion I'm surprised he can be anything less than an open book. I silently pray that I’ll come up with something to say, something that draws him in again, something that gets this interview back on track. Something that brings back his lopsided grin and the happy fluttering of infatuated butterflies in my stomach, if I'm being honest with myself. 

“Do you smoke?” he asks, lightly pinching the cigarette between his fingers and holding it out to me. He raises an eyebrow and smirks. 

I feel like it’s some weird test, the final exam of our time together. Now or never. Do or die.

Lucky for me, I do smoke. “I’ll take it,” I say, realizing how exhausted I feel from the tense minutes that have just transpired. I hope for the best. I can’t afford to blow this interview.

His lips turn upward in a subtle smile as I smoke. 

I’ve passed the test. 

I suck on the cigarette hard, preferring the party of deadly chemicals in my lungs to the charged air that hung thick in the room a moment before. I close my eyes and exhale. When I open them again, I meet his gaze, which he abruptly drops to my full lips, painted with a red that complements my light brown skin. He inspects the smudge of my lipstick on his cigarette when I return it, before stubbing it out in an ashtray.

“You know,” he says, tracing a finger on the arm of the couch, “I think you’re a good interviewer, a good conversationalist. I’m just tired of the pop culture psychoanalysis bullshit that goes down in these interviews. Do you know what I mean? How about we just talk for a while? About anything.” 

“That sounds nice,” I venture. Part of me will look for any opening to steer back to the interview, but part of me certainly doesn’t mind getting to know Iggy better.

He hits the stop button on my tape recorder and then walks to the mini-fridge. “No recording, no journalist, no so-called ‘godfather of punk,’ just you and me and some beers,” he says while setting a six-pack on the coffee table.

I look longingly at my recorder, wondering what juicy confessions I might miss if we talk more informally. I wouldn't dare turn it on, though, while the connection we're rebuilding is so fragile. 

Before I can panic, he frees a cold can of Pabst Blue Ribbon from its tight ring of plastic and hands it to me. Then, after he nips into his can, he tells me the story of his first beer and the shenanigans he'd gotten into back in Michigan, before The Stooges. This segues into talk about his favorite German beers and stories of misbehavior in Europe with David Bowie.

Iggy makes me laugh with his cartoon voices and facial expressions. I watch the vaguely man-shaped earring in his right ear dance with the rubber contortions of his face.

With the second beer cans, we’ve moved closer together on the couch, and I’ve taken off my black pumps. I’m thankful that my skin color hides the flush in my cheeks from the fizzy intoxicant.

His jokes get louder and more blue. We're back in a good conversation groove again. I haven’t laughed this hard in ages. 

My professional conscience chided me for beer number two, but the wheaty nectar in the third can has drowned out that small voice. Iggy inches closer and tells me about growing up in a trailer. “If you can remember any of this shit, feel free to write about it,” he says. His laughter is a challenge and a taunt.

I will myself to remember, to sear the facts of his life into my brain. These anecdotes are gold, the kinds of things that can add meat to the pitiful skeleton of my story as it stands now.

I’m laughing, and I park my hand on his thigh. The black trousers can't hide the fact that his legs are well muscled from swimming and his onstage moves that defy the range of a normal human body.

Before I can stop myself, I’m slowly trailing my hand up and down his leg. 

“Mmm…” He purrs and moves closer, while wrapping an arm around me. He drains the last of his beer and takes mine before I can get a final sip. 

Our faces are close, and I see that the blue of his eyes has darkened. I’ve lost myself, drowning in those pretty cobalt pools until he smiles wickedly. 

His voice is a murmur. “This is more fun than an interview, isn’t it?”

"You got me there, Iggy," I say. My response comes easy and breathy, thanks to the beer and my simmering lust. 

He looks at me fondly. "Call me Jim. Just use Iggy for your story, OK?" 

"OK, Jim."

He cradles my face in both of his hands and brushes his lips against mine. Then I surrender to his roving tongue in the same way I hope to similarly give my body to him, now that professional pretense has been shattered by primal desire.

Since I'm off duty now, I take down the ponytail that was taming my curls and allow my hair to fall past my shoulders. 

He holds my gaze as a hungry smile spreads on his face and he twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. "She's come undone, huh?" He kisses me again, feasting on my mouth with his lips and his sure tongue. 

I’ve noticed the bulge in his pants has become bigger, and my mind flashes to all the reports I’ve heard of him whipping his notoriously large cock out during performances. The thought of his boldness, and the thought of exploring his magnificent body, both fan the flames that have caused my core to throb with insatiable hunger.

I pull him to me and unleash my passion with a sinful, lush kiss. My hands stroke his torso, his back, his hair. "Just as I thought…" He says in a hushed tone, "There's a beautiful, wild woman just below the surface. I'm glad to finally meet her." He cups my throat and transfers his electric passion to me through another kiss. 

When I pause to help him out of his black leather jacket, his breathing is shallow and his eyes are glazed with need. My body is feverish, anticipating our tryst. 

I remove his black t-shirt next, revealing his finely chiseled torso. Newspaper and magazine photos don’t do it justice. I explore his musculature with my hands and delight in the firm, tanned skin. 

Then he’s out of his red briefs and the pants in the blink of an eye. I gasp at how perfect he looks--the hard muscles and their sensuous, masculine curves, the broadness of his chest and shoulders, the long torso with marble-etched abs, the slimness of his waist, the swelling of his thighs and ass. It's the graceful, olympic body of a swimmer…or an agile, flexible rock god. 

Not to be outdone, his manhood is long, thick, and utterly enticing. I want to savor him as much as I want to be worshipped by him, consumed by his strong passion, filled exquisitely by his largesse.

He lowers me on the couch and in a velvet onslaught of kisses and gropes, he removes my clothes: denim jacket, tight black dress, underwear, and stockings.

His movements are slow and taken with great care as he kisses down my naked body. He is calm, indulgent, masterful. The out-of-control nature of Iggy gives way to a patient, capable lover who revels in the softness of my generous curves.

He straddles me and blazes a lusty trail down my body with his tongue. His hands firmly canvas my breasts and his thumbs then tease my nipples into rigid peaks. 

"So soft…" His voice trails as he bathes my nipples with the warmth of his mouth and tongue. 

I'm snaking my body against the weight of his, while my hands clutch his back. If I fuck up the interview and lose my job, I know our night together will still be totally worth it. 

He releases a nipple with a pop of his lips. "Be patient," he breathes out. "We'll get there."

"Let me guess, it'll be worth the wait?" I ask with an arch of my eyebrow. 

"Well, I don't like to brag…" 

We lock eyes before the kissing resumes. 

His body is warm against mine, and his low, guttural moans punctuate the silence from time to time. Our hands are so curious, so hungry. It's a joy to clutch his powerful back and feel the muscles there side and hitch with each caress he gives me. 

"Come with me?" He abruptly stands. He smiles with an expression that's both shy and seductive as he leads me to the bedroom. 

The light is on. His suitcase is open and its contents are disturbed, as though he was looking for the right outfit for our encounter. The floral bedspread is a bit wrinkled, and I assume he napped on top of it before I arrived. 

We kiss at the side of the bed, in a voracious dance of our lips that still doesn't feel like enough. My need is criminal. I blast the most obscene of intentions to him with my eyes, and he grunts in hungry understanding. 

He lowers me to the bed and straddles me. Being held captive by his muscular thighs and his hands framing my face feels natural, an old, unspoken agreement of longtime lovers. The way we delight in each other is instinctual. 

I lift my chin to kiss him. 

"Later," he says, placing a finger on my lips. "I'll be back."

He crawls down my body and spreads my legs. Then he coaxes a series of unholy moans out of me when he flattens his tongue to my entrance with a series of long ice cream licks, followed by his lips gently sucking on my clit. 

My breathing comes shallow. I can't formulate words to relay to him how good the meandering of his tongue feels, but my writhing and wailing cause him to chuckle gentle vibrations against my pussy, so I know he understands. 

He keeps a steady rhythm and sets my nerves aflame while my hips jerk with the timing of a metronome. I gasp at the tension building in my body, knowing the climax will be devastating. And when it comes, my body stutters into an exquisite live wire dance. 

I'm a sweaty, soaked mess when he informs me that another languid exploration awaits. "I want to make sure you're more than ready," murmurs. This time, it's not a tease, it's a show of care and concern. 

He kisses me with my scent before he resumes. 

I'm still high from the last orgasm, and I float in the ether as he takes his time. I imagine he must be aching to couple with me, but his actions don't betray his need. The defensive Iggy of the interview is gone, replaced by a tender romantic who keeps looking at me to monitor my satisfaction. 

The next climax untethers me from reality, but when he rests a hand on one of my shoulders and slowly guides himself inside of me, I am awakened to now, the universe that consists of the two of us aroused, embraced, and slowly coaxing each other into higher realms of sensation. At last we've found our way to an unbreakable give and take, guided by carnal desire. 

His baritone rumbles with whispered words that would've made me blush during the interview. I marvel at how a change of setting, and a change of attitude, makes all the difference. 

I clutch his back while our rolling motions lull me into a pleasurable dream state. 

His gaze is much softer than it was in the living room, and his eyes sparkle as he looks at me with fondness. I'm treated with the sight of his long eyelashes kissing his face every time he lowers his eyelids. It's nice, knowing that I'm seeing a side of him that few will ever see. 

"You're so fucking good Jim," I exhale, working my hips faster to receive more of his expert thrusts. He rewards me by going harder and deeper. My pussy flushes as each stroke takes me higher. 

"I'm almost there, too," he groans as his hips crash into mine. 

My breath is shallow, and my moans get caught in my throat as we fuck with abandon. The interview is the furthest thing from my mind; my job now is to give as good as I'm getting, and I'm giving it my all. I grab his ass as we pump recklessly. 

Before I know it, pleasure radiates out from my core at light speed, and Iggy howls at the strength of his climax. We've both been transformed, faces glistening with sweat and the satisfaction of well spent energy. 

He rolls onto his back, and I drape my body over his. 

"Incredible," he says while stroking my hair. 

He kisses my forehead and dons his eyeglasses, which were on his dresser, hiding to avoid betraying the soft nerd inside the fearless musician. "Now, back to business, doll. I'll let you finish the interview if I can ask you some questions first. For starters, where are you from?" 

My heart is still racing from our steamy actions, but it skips a beat when I realize I will get my story and not lose my job. 

I giggle and trace a finger on his chest before I start telling him the story of my life. 

[weeb-writor]

Ik it's not Aizawa's bday yet and this is a little early, but imagine Aizawa's s/o or crush (whichever is cuter to you) getting Aizawa a bunch of cat-themed things for his bday? Like a blanket with cat patterns on it, stuffed animals, a cat pillow, cat-themed house decor, cat-themed food, etc...

Hello! Here you go, I hope it’s what you want! Today’s fic is an early gift to everyone’s favorite teacher! I did go with crush and the end is like a little suggestive but not really. Reader is neutral, I was writing this while watching the election so if they’re are mistakes blame it on the polls. If everything goes right another birthday themed fic on the 8th

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Reader and Mic plan a very special day for Aizawas birthday.

Aizawa Shouta x Reader

Words: 1616

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You were preparing for Aizawa's birthday for months now. You were planning on finally confessing to him after years of pinning. You and Mic had prepared the perfect gifts and events to make him finally fall for you. You were beginning step one right now, you walked down the halls of UA with the bento you prepared. All of the things inside were cut into cute cat shapes, the rice ball was shaped into a cat. It was just cat, cat, and of course more cats. You even bought a cute little cupcake that was decorated like a cat. The final touch though were your cat ears, Mic made you wear them, but you couldn't lie they were a nice touch. As you pushed back the classroom door you put on your biggest smile.

“Happy Birthday Aizawa, nyah!!” You yelled with a giggle. Your voice brought Aizawa out of his dazed state. He flushed looking at you and then at Mic, then letting out a sigh.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Shouta and Thank you.” He said coming to take the food from you.

“But you won't call me y/n.” You said back as he mumbled out a ‘it's not the same’. You all took your seats as he unwrapped your bento. You bounced your legs as he opened to see your homemade kitty themed food. He let out a light chuckle before he started to eat.

“So, birthday planner what's on the itinerary today?” Mic asked, messing around with your cat ears.

“After you nerds get done here, cat cafe for sure, then off to work for you mister, and finally I’ll walk shouta home and feed the alley cats along the way.” You said taking out your pocket sized planner and reading from it.

“We don't need to do all of it.”

“Oh don't play tough now, sho! You know you like their cooking and them doting on you.” Mic said with his loud laughter. You froze as Aizawa only looked away.

“Don't be jealous cause you don't get the same treatment. Anyway my break is over, L/n, your food is the best as always. I'll see you both later.” He said stoically as he gave you back your bento container, empty.

“He's the same as always! The cat ears didn't work!” You said with a slight whine.

“Did you not see his blush! He is totally head over heals right now! Just keep on with the plan, also why didn't you make me a cute bento on my birthday.” Your blonde friend chuckled at you. You only gave him a playful shove.

“Next time instead of asking for a 200.00 dollar gift ask me to cook for you. I’m heading out to set up the cat cafe, make sure you get him there.” You said hitting him over the head before leaving. You arrived at the cat cafe promptly and now you were about done setting up.

“You are so sweet doing this for your boyfriend.” The worker said with a smile.

“Uh, um he's just a friend.” You said with your head down.

“Well sorry about that. But if i could capitalize on it, my brother is probably about your age! You two would look great together! He is so sweet and tentative, the only reason he is not with someone is because some people think he is too nice when he is in a relationship. Let me give you his number.” The worker rushed out as she grasped your hand. You were too busy trying to follow her words that you didn't notice your friends come in.

“They don't do the whole dating thing, miss.” You heard shouta say from behind you.

“Oh Aizawa! Happy birthday, nyah!” You said as you pulled the confetti cannon that rained cat themed confetti.

“I hate you both but thank you.” He said chuckling as he leaned over to pet the cat that came over to him. For some reason they always seemed to gravitate towards the stoic man. You all spent time with the cats, having quiet chatter here and there. Until the workers brought out the cat themed food.

“You two are so extra, I appreciate this if the smile on my face doesn't show it.” He said as he snuck the resident fat cat some food.

“Thats your smile? Sho?” You were overcome with laughter and had to pause. “I think you might need to work on it.” You finished still laughing. Your eyes were squinted as you laughed so you didn't see Aizawa’s shocked expression or reding cheeks.

“Oh my goodness! After eons and eons of being friends, you've finally called him by his name, a nickname at that.” Hizashi said, taking a picture of the two of you. Finally noticing your slip up you buried your face in your hands.

“Its fine, L/N, i've been trying to get you to do it for a while now anyhow.” He said with a big smile, for him anyway.

“We better get to the gift giving. I’ve got to go slave away in a few minutes.”

“Oh right! Give me the bag Mic-ey boy!” You said to him. He handed you the bag with a smile.

“To our dearest Aizawa, on his most special day! We gift him all of his favorite things plus a day of Hizashi being less obnoxious as requested. Happy Birthday aizawa, Nyah!” You said dramatically, handing him the bag. He mumbled a thank you opening it, with a small rush only you could notice. He pulled out a black cat themed blanket, black slippers, a gray cat mug, a cactus in a cat themed pot, a few bags of catnip, and cat themed sleeping bag with a small matching pillow.

“You guys know me too well, thank you both.” He said with a smile.

“There's also one more thing back at your house, but i'm glad you liked it all.” You said as you beamed at him.

“What's back at the house is of course my idea and present to you! I've gotta go but Sho, i hope you enjoy the rest of your birthday. Don't have too much fun without me of course!” He said as he got up and paid the bill. You and Aizawa were left alone.

“Let’s go feed the kitties on our way to your place.” You said as you got up.

“We don't have to if you don't want to, y’know?” He said as you guys left the building.

“All the years we've done this, do I ever look like I DON'T want to?” You said as you opened the canned food, feeding the cats as they came. Aizawa spooned it on plates, placing the plates in a line that lead to his house.

“Well thank you, I don't think it would be the same without you.” He said as you neared his house.

“You’ll always have me, aizawa.” You smiled at him as you both finally made it into his house. He immediately plopped down on his couch, his cat next to him.

“Well...i've got to do something real quick, you should open Hizashi’s gift! It's over there.” You said as you rushed away. Aizawa chuckled to himself as his cat ran after you. He leaned over to see a card with Hizashi’s writing on it and moved to open it. It was a few pieces of paper and a card which he decided to read first.

‘To my main man Sho,

You're not getting any younger and neither are they. I told Nezu your incredibly sick, which I think he knows I'm lying about it. Anyways, you need to lock them down now and i'm giving you a chance. Along with this card there is some cash, 2 tickets to that movie they wanted to see, and some tickets to the cat themed amusement park that's opening. Thank me later with a karaoke night! I've given you everything you need! Don't screw this up, dude.

Yamada Hizashi

Aizawa held his head back trying to stop the tears he felt bubbling up. He put the items back in the bag as he heard you coming. When you stepped into view aizawa almost forgot how to breathe. You were wearing a maid outfit with cat ears and tail, his cat in your arms in a similar get up, well you know for a cat.

“Mic, said you would like it at the very least it's funny but i hope you enjoyed your birthday, Aizawa, nyah.” You said softly not meeting his intense gaze, he walked toward you and took the cat from your hands placing her on the floor.

“y/n, I love you.” He said caressing your cheeks. You blink at him hearing what he is saying but not really taking it in.

“You don’t have to feel the same way but I love you too much to let another second slip away from us.” He said, his stare boring into your eyes. You didn’t say much but giggled at him.

“I think it’s pretty obvious I love you too Shouta. I’m wearing cat ears and a tail plus a maid outfit.” You said staring back at him with just as much passion.

“Well thank you for my birthday gifts. They were lovely. But since you dressed up for my birthday, I think I’m gonna undress you.” He said drawing closer to your face. Your lips inches away but before anything could happen he grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward his room.

“Wait Sho!! I want a date first an-” you stuttered as he continued to pull you chuckling.

[volleyball-dontknowher]

heyy, i love you stuff!! can i request for kei tsukishima!! where the reader is kinda of insecure of her big chest!! i always get it pointed it out, and people stare, 😓 it can be nsfw or sfw your choice!! please and thank you!

Thank you!! This was so interesting to write, my sisters have big boobs and I'm an a-cups.it is NSFW and I went a little crazy

Words 2.4 k

Warnings: heavy makeout, groping, insecurities

Requests are open

You’d known Tsukki forever, you, Tsukki, and Yamaguchi have all been friends since your first year of middle school. The three of you would go everywhere together and do everything together. It wasn’t uncommon to have unplanned sleepovers at Yamaguchi’s house and to hang out together all the time. The three of you went through everything together, you heard all of their voice cracks and they heard all of your period complaints, and none of you ever minded. The three of you would tell each other everything and you were the one person that Tsukki found himself unable to actually make fun of. He tried to think of witty things to say to you but couldn’t, he couldn’t make himself make fun of you so he would constantly call you stupid or loser as a way to compensate. You on the other hand aren’t as witty and would just boo Tsukki if he did anything stupid. 

It was your first week back to high school and let's just say you did some growing over the break. You went from having only a handful per boob to having two handfuls per boob. You had no idea what to do about this and it made you uncomfortable. You noticed that people would look at you longer now when you wore your old clothes, or you would get a lot of smirks from people in the street. At least you thought that you noticed these changes, you couldn’t be sure, you were just paranoid about it and tried to find ways to hide it. For your school uniform you got two sizes larger than you wear so that no one can really see your boobs or the shape of your body. No one would know, you told yourself over and over when putting on the shirt that made you feel like a walking tent, and on top of that you put on the uniform jacket to help make it less noticeable. 

You were wrong, the first day Tsukki saw you he noticed. The boy noticed every single thing about you, he studied you like you were an ancient sculpture. He could tell you exactly what you wore on certain days out with him and Yamaguchi because you were so interesting to him. He was completely clueless as to why he can’t seem to keep his eyes off you. Yamaguchi said the cursed crush word once and he couldn’t believe it, the great Tsukishima didn't have a crush. He didn’t watch out for you because he liked you, no way, he did it because that’s what friends do, right? He thinks about Yamaguchi’s words often and today seeing you back at school in a giant uniform he has no idea what to say to you, so he says nothing as you come over and sit by them. 

The day went by pretty quickly, it was all syllabuses and rules from your new teacher, and before you know it is time for lunch. The three of you decide to go eat outside (your favorite) at one of the picnic benches. You were walking to an open table when you notice people are looking at you. Tsukki notices too and steps in front of you to block you from those guys, claiming it was “so that he can get to the table first.” You sat down at the table and started eating, but it was a super hot day outside and you were sweating. You had no idea what to do, do you take off your jacket and show people your big shirt and boobs, or do you continue to sweat. You chose the latter. The gentleman Tsukki is (lmao) decided to whine and say that the three of you should go in early so you “don’t smell like a bunch of dirty dogs.” It worked perfectly and the three of you were back inside in no time. 

It was like this for the next few weeks, Tsukki would be protective of you when he saw boys looking at you and would send daggers at them before you would even notice, and he would always try and make sure you are comfortable even if that meant that he had to take the blame for things or make up excuses. He knew what you were doing, he also knew that he didn’t like it and that it wasn’t working. He thought that you were beautiful and couldn’t handle you trying to hide yourself from the world. 

It had been bugging him for almost a month now and he was now walking you home (you both already dropped off Yamaguchi) and he noticed that you put your bag over your shoulder, not across your body. This wouldn’t mean much but you would always make fun of him for doing it on his shoulder, “ it’s ugly Kei, don’t do it,” and after that he never did it over his shoulder again. 

“Why is your bag like that?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, this wasn’t like you at all.

“Oh I must have forgotten,” you try playing it off, but make no move to fix it.

“No. You don’t forget that.” His golden eyes are piercing daggers into yours now and you can’t help but look away. You don’t respond as you approach Tsukki’s house. He already said something and isn't about to drop the situation. 

“Hey, maybe wear a shirt that fits you tomorrow.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re drawing a lot of attention to yourself by wearing the wrong size clothes. I don’t know why you’re doing it,” he takes a step closer to you and puts his hand on your cheek, “but every single part of you is so beautiful and I hope that isn’t why because as long as I’m around no one is going to say a damn thing about what you wear.”

You don’t say anything, you can’t say anything. Before you can even process what just happened Tsuki’s lips are on yours kissing you. You don’t react fast enough and he is already down your front steps and off to his house. 

He kissed you, he really kissed you. 

You both are left blushing and embarrassed. You didn’t kiss him back and you’re embarrassed because you’ve had the biggest crush for Tsukki for almost a year now and he just kissed you and you didn’t do anything. He just put his heart on the line (and just kissed you on complete impulse) and is now panicked that you don’t feel the same way and that you are going to hate him forever.

The next morning you had no idea what to do. You put on your large shirt first then could only imagine Tsukki’s voice in your head telling you to change, so you did. This was going to be the first time this year you went to school dressed like you were before. Tsukki had morning practice this morning so he wasn’t going to walk you to school (not like he wasn’t so embarrassed that he would have). You get to school by yourself (bag across your body damn Tsukki, you follow his every word) and decide to wait for him outside the boys locker room. 

Yamaguchi is the first one who exits the locker room and immediately rushes over to you. 

“Hey, so I heard about yesterday,” he says, scratching the back of his head, “Tsukki is really upset about it all and I don’t know how to help him, or help you. If you want I can sit between the two of you in class today so you don’t have to sit by him.”

“Don’t worry about that Gucci (your lovely nickname for him), I’ll take care of it,” you smile at him reassuringly even though you are not so sure how you are going to pull this off. He believes you and decides to go to class early so he can eat breakfast. 

It felt like forever before Tsukki finally walked out of the locker room. He was cleaning his glasses on his shirt while he was leaving so he didn’t even notice you. You grabbed his arm and pulled him around the corner of the building before he could even notice you were there. You grabbed his glasses from his other hand and put them on his face before pulling him into a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate for a second and immediately starts kissing you back. You put your hands on the sides of his face as he licks your bottom lip asking for permission. You let him in and the two of you explore each other’s mouths. After a few minutes he pulls away and pushes up his glasses. 

“U-um if you couldn’t tell I like you a whole lot Kei, and I just didn’t process that you kissed me until it was too late because it felt like a dream and then you also called me out on my loose shirts. I know that those are ridiculous but I think that they help my boobs look smaller. I don’t like people looking at them and it makes me uncomfortable because no one else has big boobs and boys like to look at them and then you told me that no one would which was really sweet of you and I wore a stupid smaller shirt today because you said so and I can’t help but admit to you that I like you a lot and you were right.” You pant practically in one breath, without looking up at him.

“Damn Y/N, your boobs, really that's it?” Confused, you look up to see him smirking at you, “my house after school.” 

And with that he turns and starts walking towards the school. “Are you coming or what?” 

The rest of the day seemed normal, no one looked twice at you and you didn’t hear anything about your dress. LIttle did you know that half of it was in your head because you were so worried, but the other half was Tsukki giving anyone who even looked towards you a glare that could kill them. 

After school was out you both walked Yamaguchi home before making your way to his house. You were nervous even though you had been to his house several times. When you got there he gestured for you to go in first and you both went in and took your shoes off and went to Tsukki’s room.

When you entered his room he pushed you up against his door with his lips attacking on yours. He was passionate and handsy, his hands were roaming your entire body and you couldn’t help but let out a little moan. He smiles against your lips and pulls back, “Y/N I have had the biggest crush on you for almost a year now and I want you to be mine.” You can’t say anything so instead you nod your head. He pulls you up into his arms and you wrap your legs around him as you deepen the kiss. He moves the two of you to his bed and lays you down beneath him. You are both handsy and all over each other trying to make up for lost time. His hands move down your sides and then back up to your breasts, he squeezes one in each hand and you can’t help but try and push his hands away. 

“Why would I stop? They are perfect and gorgeous.” You can’t help but blush at this. “But I mean if you want me to stop then I will.” He takes his hands off of your boobs and starts to put them back by his side before you let out the smallest “no”. 

“What was that?” He’s smirking at you now.

“K-kei no please don’t stop,” you whine at him. He doesn't say anything before placing his hands back on your boobs, he is kneading in his hands before starting to play with the buttons on your shirt. You pull your shirt and bra off without even thinking about it. Kei takes a moment and sits back to admire how beautiful you look. You try and cover your boobs with your hands. 

“Why would you do that? I love them.” He says eyes on your breasts hungirly. You move your hands and he slowly goes back to touching them, he pinches your nipples between his fingers and you let out a high pitched moan. 

:”If you could see how fucking amazing you look right now you would never worry about anything ever again.” He then proceeds to kiss and nip down your neck, then down your collar bone and to the tops of your boobs. He looks up for permission and when you nod at him he is going to lose his mind. He pulls one nipple into his mouth and sucks on it while squeezing your other breast. You can’t help but moan his name. He moves from your nipple to the sides of your boobs, he is biting and kissing marks into one before he moves and gives the other the same treatment. When he is done he sits back and admires his work. Both of your breasts are completely covered in little red marks from him and he is smirking at you. 

“Fuck Y/N you look so fucking hot. Every time you look at yourself you are going to see me and what I have claimed as mine. From here on out I am going to be the only only person allowed to look at you boobs. I wasn’t kidding when I said that I was going to keep everyone from looking at you.You have no reason to be self conscious about something so gorgeous and if anyone says anything to you I will kill them. Every part of you is flawless and I will not let you continue to hide your beauty. ”

“Kei” you whisper happily. 

He places one more kiss on each of your boobs before pulling you into another kiss. 

[vampiresuns]

Aelius Anatole Radošević De Silva

Anatole has changed a bit as a character since i was around the first time, so he’s getting re introduced. His open to make friends.

art by @elizastarkart​

Name: Aelius Anatole Radoševic De Silva. He has two surnames because his mother is latina. He is a mixed Latine-Slav, with family that is all latine, vesuvian, and slavic. People he’s friend’s with call him Anatole (russian/greek pronunciation, he doesn’t acknowledge the French one). Only people he has a strictly professional relationship with, and his uncle call him Aelius.

‘Aelius’ means sun, while ‘Anatole’ means sunrise. He’s fully aware of this, he chose his name himself.

His nicknames are:

‘Nana’ is the most common nickname, and the one most people use.

His mother calls him Lilito, Nana, Nanito, Toly, Tolito, Tortolito.

His father calls him Lily or Lilu.

Toly, Tolytoly or Tolito are nicknames used by his maternal grandmother, his aunt, and his Vesuvian family.

He will not mind if you want to call him Toly, but you cannot call him Lily/Lilu if you’re not his father.

Asra came up with Nanatole, which he doesn’t like but lets Asra call him anyway. Asra also came up with Nana Banana and that is absolutely forbidden.

Family: on his father’s side both the Radošević, who are slavic (yugoslavic, specifically), and the Cassano, a prominent Vesuvian family who has had a hold of the Consulship for years.

On his mother side, the De Silva.

His father’s name is Vladislav, but everyone calls him Vlad, he’s an alchemist, a polymath, and works in what is most similar to biochemical engineering. He has one bother, named Valeriy, who you, however, might now as Valerius. Vlad’s biggest personality trait is being head over heels in love with his wife, and adoring his son more than he thought it was humanly possible to care about someone.

His mother’s name is Louisa De Silva (if you want to add her mother’s surname, it’s Lascal). The L-o-u spelling was a registry mistake she never changed. She moved half across the world while her native country suffer a military-civilian dictatorship to study Medicine. She swore never to go back as long as vestiges of said dictatorship remained in the country. She has two sisters: Paris, who lives in Vesuvia, and Alma, who remained with her parents out of her own choosing. Her medical experience include having been a volunteer war doctor. She didn’t change her surname when she got married.

The Radošević (pronounced Radozheveech) and the Cassano have been entangled families by friendship for generations upon generations, with some marriages between them. Notoriously: Vlad and Val’s father married a Cassano, Matilda, and his bother Mircea, Anatole’s great uncle, also married a Cassano: Florentino. Mircea’s brother and Matilda Cassano died when Vlad and Val were children still, so him and Florentino brought them up.

The Radošević are an overall eccentric family (think the european Addams family), whom are noted for: one, their self-sufficiency/self-preservation, which comes out in a very ‘eccentric people of the world unite’ manner. They appreciate people with character. Two, their leanings towards trades/professions, they do not conceive not doing anything (work hard to play hard). The Cassano, while sharing the quirk, they add the zest for life. It’s like they grabbed the Radošević and told them “you have forgotten how to live and we will remind you how.” Both of them are ridden with racially ambiguous bastard you cannot kill in any way that matters. They simply refuse to. Someone (either the courtiers or Lucio) compared them to roaches, they took it as a compliment.

This will tell you a lot about Anatole’s character.

On a last note, Anatole’s an only child. He has a good relationship with his parents, albeit marked by a sense of distance, solely because he was privately tutored from age 15 and on, which required him to travel a fair share. He was an argumentative teenager, but always cherished whenever he could see his parents. The older he gets, the closer they all become.

Favourite Food: Cake

Favourite drink: Coffee, in general.

Favourite Flower: Iris

Birthday: Nov 1st

Age: 29 (I calculate his age as if he had been born in 1991)

Zodiac:

Sun: Scorpio

Moon: Virgo

Rising: Libra

Mercury & Mars: Scorpio

Venus: Virgo

Patron arcana: Strength & Ace of Swords

Strength

Upright: inner strength, bravery, compassion, focus, Reversed: self doubt, weakness, insecurity      

Ace of Swords

Upright: breakthrough, clarity, sharp mind, Reversed: confusion, brutality, chaos

MBTI Type: INTJ-A

Gender: Transmasculine, but Nonbinary. Uses He/Him pronouns only

Orientation: Identifies as NBLM.

LIs: Julian, Muriel, @ilyamatic​‘s Andrico, @thelazaretmakesmesad​‘s Vishal.

“The sun-like strategist with a solution for everything, and a whole lot of hope in the future.”

More details under the cut!

Physical appearance:

art by @lesbianarcana​

5′4. As you can see in the sprite down below, while he’s slim but with muscle, out of doing a moderate to high level of physical activity. The man has a nice waist and inherited his mother’s hips, which he’s very proud of. He likes his legs and his butt the most about himself

Dark brown eyes, long eyelashes. His hair is naturally black, but he dyes it blond.

Has a mole over his right eyebrow, on the left side of the bridge of his nose, and on his left jaw. He has freckles.

An horizontal scar on his nose, which he got by getting hit with a wooden scaffold square in the face. His nose wasn’t broken out of sheer dumb luck. He has a smaller cut on his cheekbone, which was done by a fencing sabre which lacked the proper tip protection/button. It was done onto him by someone else.

The nose scar is how he met Julian before the plague, as he was the doctor which cured his face.

He has several tattoos:

Right arm: A rapier on his inner forearm. Over his elbow he has a black work band, and over it the words ‘THE SUN IS MY UNDOING’ in all caps, circling his arm.

Left arm: a snake wrapped around his forearm, near to the wrist. The Odyssey quote ‘let’s have a toast to the incompetence of our enemies’ under the inner crook of his elbow, and a floral half sleeve.

Chest and Torso: AMOR OMNIA VINCIT over where his heart is supposed to be. He has laurel leaves on the base of his waist.

Legs: ‘o serpent heart hid with a flowering face‘ in his upper, inner thigh, like really up his left inner thigh. A floral anklet on his right ankle.

Languages Spoken: Too many. He speaks nine languages.

Magic Specialities: His magic is connected to both light and languages (it is a play on words with ‘logos’) so he is both adept in photokinesis — he is able to create and manipulate sources of light — and language related magic — which includes incantation and language manipulation. He learns languages as a faster rate than most people, and while he cannot speak or literally understand a language unless he learns it, his magic allows him to intuitively grasp the meaning of words that are being spoken to him.

This capacity also makes him very good at recognising hidden intentions in people. This is not an ability that he broadcasts having, and when he later succeeds Valerius as the Consul, it is something which aids his diplomatic work but he keeps private.

His words tend to carry more weight sometimes because of his magic, something which he can’t always control — it depends on many factors — so he tries to choose his words carefully and with consideration.

His familiar is a Raccoon, named Antu.

Occupation: While he did study magic and is in touch with his magic, he studied politics, diplomacy and international relations. By trade, and out of will to help people, he is a political analyst and, later in life, a Statesman.

Personality/Trivia:

Willpower or Stubbornness? Depends how you look at it. Passionate, generally devoted, hopeful, independent and sometimes defiant. He is a people-oriented introvert. Competitive, but not aggressively so.

Smarter than he gives himself credit for. Overall charming, even debonair.

Curious by nature, hates having his decisions taken for him.

He is proper, sometimes even distinguished, but he is feral. A firm believer in being kind and compassionate with people, until you cross him one too many times, then nothing will make him taint his vindictive wrath.

Is he humble? For the most part. His humbleness comes from knowing his own limits and knowing he’s not infallible. He does have, however, a good deal of pride in himself and trust in what he can do, and he doesn’t like being underestimated.

He’s not particularly loud, though when the chatterbox is on, then it is on, specially if he’s nervous. He is often never still. 

He’s known he has ADHD since he was seventeen.

Likes dancing.

He fences, almost every Radošević fences/sword fights, and he will let you know at the slightest chance. Which can be either him simply being hyper-fixated in fencing, him flirting, or him letting you know that if the occasion rises, he’s armed.

Friend shaped, lover shaped if you’re daring enough.

He wrinkles his nose when he doesn’t like something.

Speaking of which: he doesn’t like abuse of power, the Court, injustice, supremacists of any kind, unkind, hurtful and selfish people in general; he doesn’t like red meat (he says it tastes like metal or dirt), narrow minded people, incompetence, specially when displayed by people in positions of power, and purposeful apathy.

A mastermind archetype, but he draws his power from connection. He does not conceive a life not lived with others.

A bit of a bastard, he enjoys a good laugh.

He plays the piano and the harp, he sings, he cannot draw, he’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol (which doesn’t really stop him), he likes the opera because he likes watching other people’s drama without being dragged into it, and his favourite season is winter. Also likes playing chess, reading, coffee, flowers, a well tailored outfit, learning, languages, the sea, mysteries, winter, a well laid argument, collecting quills, music, winning, knowing he loves and is loved in return.

When he was 7 he bribed his dad for more dessert, and he ate so much he vomited. His sweet tooth hasn’t gone anywhere, it is alive and well.

Perceptive little bastard, will knife cat you for the sake of it. He has a way more present sense of humour than what he comes across.

Would call himself a ‘trans masculine Mary Poppins’.

He is closest to his parents, his uncle, my other ocs Leonore, Medea and Sabine, his cousins Amparo Cassano and Milenko Radošević, Natiqa, Asra, Portia and Nadia.

If he liked women, he would be paired with Nadia. The possibility both terrifies and fascinates me.

@ilyamatic​, @viviae​, @gaybirdwrites​, @arcanaprentiss​ @apprenticeofcups​

[themadbennyhatter]

Eyyyy more tattooed boys I guess

---

Eijirou Kirishima, Izuku learns quickly, is just as tattooed as Bakugou -- his are just very, very different. Where the blonde's sleeves are bold colors mixed with delicate beauty, Kirishima's tattoos are stark, solid tribal lines that remind Izuku of henna, in a way. The ink itself is in shades of brown, which might be where his comparison is coming from, if he thinks about it. His right arm looks like solid rock, all the way down to the most minute cracks that spiderweb between the interlocking plates. It goes all the way up his shoulder and throat, and even across part of his face.

"Bakubro!" he shouts with a boisterous grin, startling Izuku immediately with just how friendly he is. Part of him was expecting another quiet, surly man like Katsuki himself. Their eyes are almost the same color, though Kirishima's hair is red and falls around his face in thick, soft-looking tufts.

If Katsuki reminds Izuku of a wolf, then this man is a puppy.

"Can it, shitty hair," the blonde grumbles, slinging his shoulder bag at the chair behind the front desk and disappearing into the back of the parlor. Unsure of what he's supposed to do, or if Katsuki is coming back, Izuku turns to Kirishima and smiles nervously.

"Hello. I'm Izuku Midoriya. It's nice to meet you."

"Hey, man, you too! Did Bakugou rope you into a tat? He didn't scare you, did he? He acts all surly, but he's really harmless!"

"Oh!" Izuku waves his hands emphatically. Privately, he wonders how anything about Katsuki can be considered harmless. "It's nothing like that at all! I just- I saw his tattoos on the train. He said you designed them? They're gorgeous!"

He's rambling, nerves making his words fly before his brain can catch up, but Kirishima's easy laughter helps settle him in a way he hadn't anticipated. His shoulders relax, and his next smile comes easier.

"Hey, thanks! He tatted me up in return. It's kind of our thing, ya know? I'm not done yet, though." He waves his left arm, which only has a few crack-like likes creeping down his bicep. "Wanna take a closer look?"

"Can I?" Izuku breathes, and just like that he finds himself leaning over the man's toned forearm, tracing the linework with light, fascinated fingertips. From a distance, it didn't look like much -- simple and sharp, but done with skill. Up close though, Izuku can see every tiny line and crack and shading. He can marvel over the way the natural light deepens the shadows that already mimic natural rock. It looks so realistic that he can't believe he's touching smooth, warm skin instead of jagged granite.

"I know tattoos have meanings," he mumbles, following the dark lines up Kirishima's arm to his bicep. He's blown away by how the linework changes the shape of his muscle without actually changing anything at all. "Can I ask why you chose this?"

Kirishima doesn't seem at all disturbed by his close inspection. If anything, he preens under Izuku's touch the same way Katsuki had preened beneath his admiring stare. "I've always been super drawn to the earth and rocks," the redhead explains. "You should see my house, man. I've got crystals and raw chunks of different rocks all over the place. Plus, my mom always said my fascination with the stuff was a sign of my unbreakable spirit. 'Cause the earth is such a solid foundation, y'know? It might not make sense to others, but it makes sense to me, and that's really all you need for a tattoo."

"Will it cover your whole body?" Stepping back, Izuku glances toward where he'd set his backpack, his fingers itching to dig out his sketchbook and bring the man's passion to life on paper.

"Nah, I'm gonna cover my legs in different designs. This'll probably just take up my arms and torso. What about you; you got any ink, 'Zuku?"

Startled by the easy nickname, Izuku laughs lightly and shakes his head. "No, not me. I've never really thought about it? Well, no, I guess I have. I just never found a time that felt fitting, if that makes sense?"

"Totally! It's gotta be somethin' you know you're ready for, and it's gotta be something you love, otherwise you'll hate it forever." There's an eager light in Kirishima's eyes, and Izuku can't help but remember Katsuki's words on the train. The redhead looks ready to push him into a chair and take a needle to his skin now.

"Oi, don't scare him away," Katsuki barks, appearing like some sort of silent, looming god and making both Izuku and Kirishima jump. He's wearing heavy-looking boots, but somehow, he hadn't made a single sound. There's a cheese stick hanging from the corner of his mouth, and he's changed into a tighter tank top. The collar dips low enough for Izuku to see where the man's explosive flowers and dark storm clouds collide across his collarbone.

"It's fine," Izuku says reassuringly, looking between them and his hidden sketchbook. His mind is thrumming with ideas, so many of them that his head is aching from the rush of inspiration. "If it's, uh, alright with both of you... May I draw for a bit? I just- I don't have anywhere else to be. If you'd rather not have me underfoot, I completely understand!"

"You draw?" Somehow, Kirishima's eyes seem even brighter now. "Dude, yes! Have at it! You gotta show me, though; I want to see!"

Grinning sheepishly, Izuku rubs the back of his head. "Uh, sure? I'm not really all that great, but I enjoy it a lot!"

"Tch." Katsuki leans over the desk, shoving Kirishima out of the way to check what looks like an open monthly planner. "The fuck, the three cancelled? God damn it, that's the fourth time! Bitch can take his money elsewhere after this. I ain't fixin' my damn schedule for him again."

"Guess the nerves are too much for some of 'em," Kirishima agrees. Izuku tunes out the rest of their conversation, picking one of the surprisingly comfortable leather chairs in the waiting room and curling up on it. He rests his sketch book on his knees, bites the tip of his tongue, and lets his muse drain out through the tips of his pencils.

[kyberphilosopher]

Chapter Five

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I’ve done drugs a few times in my life. Specifically spice.

 Spice is like a sub group of drugs that specialize in mind altering activities. Side effects change depending on which exact spice you ingest. The most potent (and expensive) is one called glitteryll. Glitteryll is the best thing I’ve ever taken.

 I was really nervous about taking it at first. I thought that my tiny body wouldn’t be able to handle it. I thought I was going to die in the leather seat of a dusty ship, slumped over in a pool of my own vomit. Clearly, I didn’t.

 Talik caressed my cheek, her sultry eyes sparkling. Her fingertips felt burning hot against my skin, trailing down my jaw somewhat sensually. “It’ll be okay,” she told me quietly. She was so close, I could feel her cool breath across my features. Talik was looking at me in a way that no one had ever looked at me before, and I hadn’t known what to do.

 “Close your eyes,” the Twi’Lek whispered with her pouty pink lips. I didn’t close them. “Come on,” she cooed. “Close them.”

 I closed them. The fear had made my heart begin to thump with anxiety. I could feel it ricocheting against my ribs like a hammer. I didn’t want to take it.

 But I felt something press against the bottom of my nose, right by my nostrils. It felt sharp- maybe it was Talik’s nail or a knife. I don’t know, I kept my eyes shut tight.

 “Take it,” the girl whispered. “Just sniff. I’ve got you.”

 I inhaled the fine powder. It burned for a while, making my nose twitch and my face cringe. My throat became dry and I felt itchy all over. It didn’t take long for my body to begin overheating, then run over like I was taking an ice bath. My veins felt like they were vibrating. My stomach felt empty. But then Talik said “Good girl. That’s a good girl,” and everything felt nicer.

 Her warm hands left me, and I leaned back against the cushioned leather. My eyes slipped open so I could look at the ceiling, and the lightbulb above me was transcending past the realm of colors. It was a rainbow of shades I’d never seen before. Everything seemed to be a different tone of lemon and alcohol, washing into lavenders dotted with magenta and passion red. I watched it fade in and out for a while, because the longer I stared, the more it looked like a painting I couldn’t quite place.

 My stomach started thrumming with complete and utter euphoria. I felt like I was in paradise, on a white sand beach overlooking crystal, aquamarine waters. The clouds were rolling in in any color but white, booming with fluff that looked more than edible. I could see the rings of Geonosis in the distance, and the moon of Iago. The wind was making me cry sparkles, and when I went to touch my air, it turned to smoke and ash.

 I can’t say why my paradise appeared to me as a beach, because it’s not even close to my dream at all. I’m more into the snowy mountains, myself.

 “Do you think he misses me?” I slurred out. My words made my mouth feel numb, my pupils dilating like crazy.

 “Who?” Talik said smugly, playing along.

 I bit my lip, because I suddenly felt like I was going to drool. “Anakin,” I mumbled incoherently, as if it were obvious.

 “Who’s Anakin, love?”

 My brain struggled to compute, like it was frozen with ice. The image of a redhead stabbed my memory like a little needle. He has pale skin, dotted with tan freckles. Pale green eyes pear up at me as a kaleidoscope swirls between pupils. Wait… who’s Anakin?

 “I don’t… I don’t know…”

 And then I died. The high was gone when I woke up. I never found out who Anakin was.

 I did spice a few more times after that.

 The Jedi takes a step forward, but I am quick to correct him. “That’s close enough,” I warn, lowly. “Stay there.”

 The gleam of hope in his eyes falters. I’ve said something only a deeply disturbed individual would say. I’m proud of myself for it.

          “I sense darkness in you,” The inquisitor whispers out from behind me like a snake. “A great darkness.”

 “But I sense light,” the Jedi argues. He steps forward, despite me telling him otherwise. “Come with me. Come into the light.”

 I don’t know if either of them can see it or not, but I’m kind of in the middle of something. I’m literally keeping all of us from immediate death.

 I curl my fingers, feeling the Force run from me to the great rocks overhead. I guide them to the great chasm to the left of the room and let go, finally feeling a full breath enter my lungs.

 “Come with me. Please,” The Jedi beckons again, this time holding his hand out.

 His next move was his last.

 The Jedi makes the mistake of refusing to heed my warning. His right foot comes closer to me, and I draw my saber and ignite it. In one move, I bring it over my head and lunge for him. He raises his blue saber to block, but I’m not aiming for what he thinks.

 My colored weapon passes straight through his wrist, not even giving him time to cry out in pain before I execute him when he falls to his knees. I slash at his back from behind, severing his connection to the world of the living, along with the connection of his legs to his torso. The Jedi falls to the floor, in two pieces, both still and limp.

 He wanted to help me. He wanted to make me into a person who obeys codes even at the cost of my own beliefs, even though he would never admit he had previously done the same. He was delusional. He was sick. He won’t torture anybody like he did me or the Eighth Brother again.

 Speaking of Eighth Brother, he is watching me. I look at him through my lashes, my face stoic and apathetic. “I sense much hate in you.”

 Yep, that’s about right. I don’t answer him.

 “You could learn the power of the force- the full power.”

 “I don’t care about power.”

 “LIAR!” he shouts, attempting to make me flinch. The Eighth Brother suddenly points at me very stiffly. “Loot the body.”

 My eyes glance down to the corpse of the former Jedi. Smoke peels from his robes from where my lightsaber cut into him, still sizzling a little in the shape of a burning, orange gash.

 “Go on,” the Inquisitor urges. No doubt, this is some kind of test or a manipulation tactic to sway me to the Dark side. There’s no need to sway me- I’m already on good terms with that side of the Force. As long as I don’t fall into the trap he’s not so cleverly planted for me, I’ll get out of this with the upper hand.

 I crouch to my knees, disabling my lightsaber but keeping it in my hand. The only thing I sense of value on the Jedi is his lightsaber, which is half bronze, half silver. It looks like two different people designed it. One half is simple, a little more natural while the other half looks ornate and detailed like the inside of a palace. I peel the Jedi’s fingers from the hilt and run my eyes over it, pushing back up to my feet.

 “Test it out,” the Inquisitor urges. “Does it feel balanced?”

 I press the switch on the emitter and the lightsaber comes to life in a tall, blue streak, but I still feel rather unimpressed. “It feels like a lightsaber.”

 “And what are you going to do with it?”

 Oh, I see. He wants a certain answer out of me. He wants me to say something so he can twist it to meet the qualifications for Empire material. He is a cocky one, that’s for sure. I guess that’s kind of smart, if it wasn’t so obvious and dumb.  

 I close off my new weapon and click it to the other side of my belt, putting the original back on the opposite side.

 “Stealing from dead men, are we?” he continues. Through the slat by his eyes, I can see two glittering orbs, as small and dark as beetles.

 “What else is there to do with them?” I tell him.  

 The Inquisitor takes a few rushed, hurried steps over to me. “Let your passion drive you. Let the Dark-”

 “Don’t come any closer or you’ll be next.”

 I can feel the nerve I’ve touched there. It seems the Eighth Brother no longer appreciates my lack of cooperation and touch with anger. His voice deepens and drops, and his left-hand slides to his lightsaber. The handle of his is a big circle, and if it’s dual bladed than I may be in for a challenge.

 “That’s too bad,” he says in a tone filled with vile poison. “I was hoping we could handle this civilized.” His red saber comes to life, only one blade out. His knees bend slightly in a minimal fighting stance, as if he wanted to look as if he weren’t trying.

  I remember one night, when Cal and I were fourteen, neither of us could sleep. I got up to look out our dirty window and watch the blinking lights flash in tune with the night shift workers. The redhead pulled up a chair next to me after I had been sitting a while, and even though it looked like he wanted to say something to me, he didn’t. I appreciated that about him. I appreciated the calm silence he easily brought, even when I was curious about what he would say.

 “Where are you from?” he asked after a while. I turned my attention to the redhead and met his light colored eyes. His fluffy hair was a bit of a mess, and his freckles had depleted in how noticeable they were from the first time I’d seen him. The cream-colored shirt he wore to bed was too big for him and covered up his hands in the sleeves, but made the long, pink scar from his ear to his jaw all the more noticeable.

 Cal had quickly grown in a stocky boy, with broad shoulders and a wide chest. Although I wasn’t older than him by much, I was already several inches shorter than him. He was nearing six foot by now.

 “You know,” I said, my eyes transfixed on one, red flashing light in the distance. “Places.”

 “Oh yeah?” the boy played along. “I think I’ve heard of it.”

 I looked over at him, and I was met with a kind smile. It made me feel warm inside, so I started to smile too.

 “Where were you before Bracca?” I decided to question, and immediately regretted it. Cal’s eyes shifted down to the floor and flickered with anxiety, and his chest started to rise and fall a little more intensely. He clenched and unclenched his jaw and opened and closed his mouth like he meant to say something, but couldn’t quite get the hang of it. I decided to comfort him.

 “I came from Coruscant,” I said quickly, giving him time to calm down and simply listen instead of think. It was my own, subtle way of letting him know he didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, but I don’t think he picked up on that. “Didn’t like it much. Too many people for me.”

 “So, you decided to come to a planet full of people, all crowded together while they work?”

 “Precisely,” I retorted.

 Cal let out half a scoff, half a chuckle, and I felt him relax. I can’t recall what we had talked about after that, or if we even talked at all. I know eventually we decided to go to sleep, but there was a foundation of- what? Trust, perhaps? A sense of comfort between us that never went any farther. That might’ve been the first time I felt happy or content in my entire life. But now I’ll never get that back.

 I wonder if they Eighth Brother felt that way too before he fell to the Dark Side. I wonder if he felt content and satisfied, and then suddenly had that feeling ripped from his grasp. The difference between us in that sense is that he couldn’t accept the loss and fought to get back what he once had by any means necessary, while I only mourned the loss but came to terms with what it was and why.

 “You are strong in the force,” he tries, one last time to beckon me to reconsider. “Why make such a weak decision?”

 I don’t answer him. Let him have his fun convincing himself he is upsetting me. If he goes on long enough, he might inflate his head so much he’ll either fly away or get so cocky in battle he leaves himself susceptible to attacks on my part.

 Killing the Jedi moments ago wasn’t a fight, it was an execution. This is different- this one has more of a will to live. I’m not exactly afraid for my life against the Eighth Brother, but I know I need to stay vigilant and quick moving.

 I stand still, my hands at my sides. Remember when I said that staying calm and cool in an argument will make the other person more angry and give you the upper hand? It’s the same here. Me not making any moves of aggression must be hurting the Inquisitor.

 It doesn’t take long for him to start towards me. He lunges with great speed, only a foot from my face when I raise my hand.

 Immediately, he freezes in the air. The Force, strong and cold as ice, feels solid and sharp. I can feel it binding what I want to the man’s body, giving me complete and utter control over him. I could want to make him hurt. I could kill him.

 I cast my hand to the side, and the Inquisitor flies back and to the ground. The Eighth Brother’s red saber goes off and clatters from his hand.

 My left hand reaches for the blue saber I’ve newly stolen and presses it on. It feels heavier than the other blade- the green one- and I already know I don’t like it too much. Still, it ignites in a sky colored streak. With my other hand, I wrap the air around the Inquisitor again, dragging him towards me so his knees scrape against the floor.

 It doesn’t take long for him to be on his knees, throat against my blade.

 This is the thing that makes me feel just as good as spice. Complete and utter control over someone else. I know how Talik feels now, how she was addicted to holding people like pretty little dolls and manipulating them into giving her what she wanted. She liked how it made her heart feel. It liked how it made her feel important.

 “Aren’t you going to kill me?” The Eighth Brother croaks. “Do it.”

 This isn’t his way of taking me to the Dark side, I can feel the genuine defeat and acceptance in his voice. He doesn’t want me to strike him down to become more powerful and ascend or whatever, he wants me to finish him- like an animal on its last leg. Would it be mercy to put him down then? I can feel the heavy weight from the Dark Side in the Inquisitors shoulders, as if he weren’t meant to bear it to begin with and is now facing exertion.

 I killed the Jedi because I could feel how unhinged he was. He wanted me to come and rebuild or hide with him just moments after almost killing himself and two other force users. He believed so radically in the Light Side of the Force, he lost sight of what the ‘Light Side’ meant. He was going to kill the next person who turned him down and consider himself good for acting out what he thought the Force wanted.

 But this Eighth Brother, this boy, is more honest than the ladder. He knows he’s been let down by the Light Side and the Jedi, and while the Dark Side isn’t the best option, he feels it is his only option. He knows how heavy and exhausting it is, but tells himself it will all be worth it. His reasons for believing it to be worth it are not mine to know.

 I slide the switch of my saber off, and the blue glow ceases to exist. I will not kill the Eighth Brother. He is not mine to kill, nor do I believe he deserves death.

 “Don’t follow me,” I tell him, watching his beetle eyes glimmer like tiny planets.

 Then, I turn away and grab my pack from where it slipped off my shoulder by the shelves, somewhat expecting his lightsaber to stab me in the back. I know he won’t though. Somehow, I just know it

 I can hear his thoughts rather dully, all of them jumbled together incoherently. I don’t bother to listen. I’m sure a few are cursing me and a few are wishing I leave unscathed, but never encounter him again. I make my way to the giant door with the Imperial symbol and slide it open with the wave of my hand.

 With both sabers on either sides of my hips, the Garreth’s Imperial jacket and a back full of stims, I walk through the door. Behind me, the Eighth Brother remains unmoving on his knees, panting less loudly and not daring to turn and watch me. I know I don’t want to encounter him again for sure, because now that I know I could kill him, I probably would. But I do hope, just a little bit, that he makes it out of there alive. The last image I see of him is him on his knees, clad in black.

 I touch the flashing control panel by the door, and it shuts closed, sealing off the original entrance I had to the cave. On Bracca, I learned how to rewire and mess with circuit boards inside panels like this so whatever it was hooked up to wouldn’t work anymore. It was a bit of a complicated process, but now that I have a weapon, I understand the fastest way to keep this door from opening with the panel again is to destroy it. I take out the blue lightsaber and bash the end of it against the panel once, twice- no more. It shuts off and shatters with a spider web pattern at the impact.

 With that, I leave the Imperial Facility, and luckily never encountering the Eighth Brother again.      

  I don’t run into any of the Eighth Brother’s lackeys on the way out, and soon enough I’m met with fresh air again. The rain has stopped but the wind still smells fresh, and the rays of light from the sun heat up the atmosphere considerably compared to the dank cave. After quite a while of hiking, I stand on the edge of a mountainside with a rocky path to my right. In front of me is a beautiful view of mountains and a large Zeffo statue I used to use as a landmark. In the distance, I can see a large landing pad built off the side of a mountain, stocked with tie-fighters. 

That’s where I’m going.

[cinnacorn]

ten years ago as of last week, I made up some characters that I wanted to write a story about. I started it, dropped it after a few chapters, and picked it up again and rewrote it for NaNoWriMo 2010. both of those stories sucked. but the characters stayed with me, and although they've changed in a huge amount of ways over the past decade, I'm still thinking up and daydreaming adventures and stories about them. I've never actually drawn all six of them before, so I figured I'd do so for their tenth anniversary. (side note: one of them is a Japanese guy and one of them is a catboy because I was a huge weeb when I created them and I just haven't had the heart to change them lmao.)

the story is that they're all misfits, and they travel around on this sentient spaceship named Novahaven and have adventures. it's part sci-fi and part fantasy, because in this world magic exists on other planets. the ship is very magical.

in front is Lidamay, from right to left in the middle is Zaetha, Fable, Kiyoshi, and Iris (Kiyoshi and Iris are from Earth), and in the back is Nel. Nel is an android who was actually redesigned six years ago by my buddy @championofdogs (see here)!!! I was in a slump while trying to redesign several of them and he wanted to draw some OCs so I asked him to come up with the design. I tweaked a few things and threw some clothes on him but I tried to stay true to Ivan's design because I love it a lot!

background is from NASA lol

under the cut is some more details about each of them if you're curious!!! and please feel free to ask me any questions because I would not mind talking more about my space children

front: Lidamay is an escaped slave, and the first to find the ship. it had crashed and was dormant on her home planet, and when she found it, it reactivated. she's quiet but decisive and determined, and she's also the de-facto captain, although they're more family than crew. being somewhat isolated in her past, she loves learning about other cultures and their stories. she has wings but can't fly, although it's her goal to figure out why and fix it.

back: NELZAR 11-750 (the numbers mean nothing lol I just pulled them out at random), almost exclusively known as Nel, is an android built by an organization that protects pre-warp planets. he was a beta for an emotion chip; unfortunately, while he's strong, he's also tender-hearted, easily frightened, and a bit narcissistic, which are not traits super great for interstellar law enforcement. he was going to be deactivated, his memories wiped, and further studied before trying again, but Lidamay convinced his creators to let him come with her in exchange for transmitting data on how his emotions develop.

middle, right to left: Zaetha's life was hard because she is a very empathetic but a member of a race bent on domination. it was even harder because she's one of the children of the tyrannical empress. it was even MORE difficult because she has slight clairvoyance, which is a rare trait considered taboo and usually means ritual sacrifice. Zaetha, considering all of these things, stole a shuttle and noped out as soon as she started seeing visions. she's very (possibly overly) friendly and kind, and also very good at diplomacy. also her hair is seaweed and I'm very proud of how it looks.

Fable was a child of aristocratic government folks, he escaped his homeland following a coup by another group of nobles who did not quite have the country’s best interests at heart. he's arrogant and somewhat childish, but not-so-deep down he's a pretty nice guy who hates injustice and is fiercely protective of his adoptive family. he plays the lyre and loves music. (the gold on his face is from when a magical item exploded on him.)

Kiyoshi is a human (?) who's a little different, in a lot of ways, for a bunch of reasons. he lost his parents in a car accident as a kid and ran away from his foster family, who didn't really understand him. he's passionate about science, especially astronomy and astrobiology. he's also the youngest on the ship and has spent the greatest percentage of his life there (not counting Nel who doesn't really have a childhood).

Iris is the last to join, and also human. her mother was a famous Greek ballerina who moved to North America. Iris's mother's life centred around ballet and she tried to shape Iris in her image, but lost interest after Iris lost her leg when she got hit by a car and had to get a prosthetic. Iris is sarcastic, level-headed, and a little bit of a pessimist, but exploring outer space has brought meaning back to her life and let her forge her own path.

the little creature on Iris's head is a pet who likes everyone on the ship but is especially fond of Iris. she named it Phillip.

[marsupials-of-mars]

Nightmares

“What if you die? You get in a wreck, and you just die. What’s death like? What if they don’t like your new video? What if they hate it? What if your channel dies? How big really IS the universe? Does it end? And if it doesn’t, in the long run literally nothing you do matters. In a billion years someone who looks just like you could have the exact same life and it would be just as pointless-“

“Virge I know I’m nervous but it’s night and I can’t do anything about it so could you quiet down a bit?”

“Hey, I’m doing my job.”

“Can you work a bit less hard?”

Virgil sighed. He was laying next to Thomas, on top of the sheets. It was summer and he refused to take off his hoodie so blankets were a no go.

“If you insist.” They stayed in silence a while. “What if nothing happens when we die?”

“Look I know you’re trying but I’m tired.”

“Fair enough. Night man.”

“Night.”

Virgil patted Thomas’ shoulder and retreated into his mind. He rose in the hall and made his way to his room. He threw off his hoodie and pulled off his jeans, falling onto his bed. His favorite part of the day, sleep. He rolled up in his sheets and sighed at the breeze from the fan playing with his bangs.

After a bit of laying in bed, humming to himself, and tossing and turning, he realized he wasn’t tired. At all. And he knew what that meant. He groaned and rolled over, willing himself to drift off, but no luck. He let out a long sigh and rolled out of bed. He slid his feet into his black slippers and threw open the door. Usually he’d never leave his room without his hoodie much less without pants, but if there was one person in the entire world who’s opinion of him he didn’t give a rats ass about, it was this little shit. He trudged down the hall toward a black and sickening hot pink door. He tried to yank it open, but the knob wouldn’t turn. He smirked. Might as well have a little fun if he had to deal with the night shift. He put on a gross snooty accent and leaned dramatically on the door. He did a great Roman impression.

“Rem, open up! Dream time! Let’s party!” He heard an excited shout from somewhere inside.

“Give me some warning you bitch, I just finished working out I’m a mess!” The lighthearted name calling made Virgil gag.

Too cutesy, too social. He heard the knob jiggle and stood up from his Roman pose. The door flew open.

“You have no idea how-nnGAAH!” Remy fell backward and dropped his iced coffee. “ANXIETY! Where’s Roman?!”

Virgil snorted. He blinked down at the coffee covered Remy, tank top, hot pink sweat bands and all. “He couldn’t make it. I’ve got the night shift.” Remy gulped. “Believe me buddy I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. A jobs a job.”

“F-fine. Come in. But don’t touch anything.”

Virgil brushed past Remy who jumped back like he was poisoned. He plopped on the couch and stretched out his skinny, sickly pale arms and legs. Remy opened his mouth like he was about to protest, but decided against it.

Virgil sighed. Remy had hated him as long as he could remember. Not just like the others had hated him, the twerp acted like he was an actual monster. He was scared of him. He couldn’t tell why, but if he had to choose one of the sides, or whatever sleep was, to be afraid of him, it would be Remy. He never had a desire to be friends with him. Their personalities did NOT line up. But he did like terrifying him. If he had to put up with screaming he’d make it for a good reason. He dropped his new-ish friendliness he used with the sides and reverted to good ol’ scream-at-the-sight-of-him Virgil.

“S-so...” Remy tried to regain his composure. “Should we get to it?”

“Nah... we’ve got all night.”

“I don’t want you in my room.” Even with the confident words, his voice tapered off into a squeak halfway through the sentence.

“Rude. You’ve got such a fun place, a soft couch... a wall mounted flatscreen?” He looked at the tv. “You like horror movies right?”

Remy shook his head. Virgil chuckled.

“Aw, poor little Remington.”

“I...I mean if you want-“

“Great!” Virgil grabbed the remote and pulled up The Shining. “Im more into physiological horror, less blood and guts. If there’s too many jumpscares...well... I go a little...” His eyes went black and he hissed, clawing at the air. Remy shrieked and jumped back, tripping over the coffee table. Virgil chuckled. “So yeah, I don’t think that’d be too great an idea. This ones a classic. Cmon, sit.”

Remy conjured a frappe and sat on the couch, keeping a good few feet from Virgil. “Mkay. But I’ll be doing my nails.” He seemed to be getting a bit more comfortable.

“Mhm. Sure.” Virgil hit play. As he watched the movie, Remy started to relax a bit more. He painted his nails a deep red and used a toothpick to add tiny white hearts on each thumb. He adorned them with a few black sequins. His movements were so smooth and precise. Virgil hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped watching the movie. Remy looked up.

“Oh... like them?”

Virgil’s eyes darted up to meet Remy’s. “No. But you’re good at that.”

A slight smile pulled at the corners of Remy’s lips. “Yeah, it took a while to master. Ro made me this book of different designs he’d come up with, we do each other’s all the time.”

“Huh...” Virgil thought a moment. He paused the movie. It wouldn’t hurt... “do you have black?”

He saw Remy’s eyes brighten. “Udoy, I have pretty much any color you can think of.” He seemed proud. It was almost cute.

“Do you think you could do mine...?”

Remy seemed confused a minute but slowly smiled. “You’re kidding.” Suspicion crept onto his face. “Is this a trick...?”

“No, not at all. I’ve actually thought about doing it for a while but it seemed a little... out there. For me.”

Remy blew a raspberry. “You wear eye shadow, I don’t think a mani would be too out there.”

Virgil flushed. “What are you trying to say about my makeup?”

Remy’s smile faltered. “Oh, no that’s not what I meant, I’m saying you’re braver than you think you are. Though your eyeshadow it’s kind of...messy.”

Virgil bristled and brought a hand to his face protectively. “I like it!”

Remy put his hands up. “I do to, I like it, I’m just saying it could use a professional touch!”

Virgil blinked. “You want to do my makeup?”

“Um, yes, I have so many ideas! Well, Ro Ro helped design them, but I’ve wanted to try them out for so long!” Remy conjured a binder titled ‘Nails and Makeup for Rem’. He set it on the coffee table and thumbed through it with his coffee free hand. Virgil watched over his shoulder. The pages were full of Romans drawings, first all kinds of nail designs, then the sides faces, colored and shaded with makeup to fit their personalities. Remy stopped at Virgil’s section. “There’s like, literally a billion of you, you’ve got all sorts of potential!” He grinned. His eyes sparkled with passion. Virgil blushed.

“I always thought you kind of... hated me?”

“Oh, I do, you terrify me physically and emotionally and are overall a wet blanket, but I’m obsessed with your character!”

“My character?” He decided to ignore the previous bits.

“Dark, brooding, scared, troubled, badass, that kind of look is so fun to do! I LIVE for that shit!”

Virgil thought about it. He nodded, slightly red in the face. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Remy pulled out a bottle of black nail polish and set Virgil’s hand on his leg. He looked at the dark side’s nails and furrowed his brows.

“Oh... you’re... you’re a biter aren’t you?”

Virgil looked down. He’d forgotten about that.

“Oh yeah... is that really bad?”

“No... no it just means we get to try something even cooler!” He pulled out a few oddly shaped plastic sheets, a brush, a container of powder, and a glass of water. “This’ll take a while but it’ll be worth it! I won’t need the black paint because I’ve got a black acrylic, I’ll just gloss and decorate it.”

“Acrylics? Fake nails?” Virgil raised a brow.

“Trust me you’ll love them, I’ll give you some manageable stiletto nails, they’ll look like claws, you’ll LOVE them trust me hon.”

“Fine, Fine...” Virgil watched as he sculpted and UV dried and filed and glossed and adorned them with purple rhinestones. Virgil resumed the movie and sipped an iced black coffee Remy had made for him. It took all in all a couple hours.

“Done!” Remy revealed his handiwork. The nails were each about two inches and filed to a point. They were glossed with minimalist design: The thumbs were tipped with violet, And each cuticle was dotted with a tiny purple jewel. Virgil stared at them. He smiled. “Nice...”

“He likes them!” Remy clapped his fingertips. Virgil shrugged.

“Guess so. Makeup?”

“Fuck yeah!” He took off his sunglasses revealing simple but perfect eyeliner framing dark pink eyes. Virgil stared. He chuckled. “I know, I’m gorgeous.” He clipped his glasses on his shirt and pulled out a bottle of makeup remover and a makeup bag. “Keep your eyes closed.” Virgil closed his eyes. He could still feel Remy’s hesitance in the cotton ball on his skin, which was fine. He wasn’t there to make friends. He kept his eyelids still as he felt eyeliner and mascara being applied, then eyeshadow. It took a few minutes. Remy fanned his face, tossing his bangs around in the breeze.

“Aaaand open!” Virgil opened his eyes to a mirror in his face. Remy grinned from behind it. “Like it?” Virgil stared at himself. His lashes were unbelievably thick and long with thick black mascara. He didn’t even know they were that long in the first place. His eyeliner was winged and precise. The best part was the eye shadow, it was smoky, Black to silver to violet. He blinked and stared in awe.

“Like it?” Remy repeated himself.

“Mhm...yeah. Thanks man...” He felt awesome. Gorgeous. “Want to make some nightmares?”

Remy’s smile faltered. “Yeah.”

“I’ll keep it mild.” Virgil rubbed his thumbnail. Remy lightened a bit.

He tailed Virgil as he walked to a door and opened it into darkness. They walked in and Virgil shut the door. “Okay Remington, give it to me.”

Remy pulled out a few folders. “Hmmm... he recently discovered what a goblin shark is.” Virgil nodded and pulled the shark from the folder, enlarging it to the size of a school bus. He conjured a dream Thomas and encapsulated him in a tiny submarine. He filled their surroundings with murky ocean. Remy shivered.

“And um... he’s been having back pains-“

Virgil twisted dream Thomas’ spine into a crooked mess.

“Give me another. Maybe some company.”

Remy gulped. “Um...” he thumbed through folders. “His friend Terrence is moving away.”

Virgil closed his eyes a moment and took a breath. “I’m more than aware...” he plucked Terrence from the folder and shoved him into the sub with Thomas. “He gets eaten first.”

“Are you sure-“

“I’m sure. My job is fear.” Virgil darkened the ocean a bit more and added two pure black giant squid. He blinded the submarine with schools of dead fish. He quickly wrote a script. “Perfect.” He locked the dream into place and hit play. With a moment of thought, he slapped his hand over Remy’s terrified eyes before the bite came. He ushered him out of the room and locked the door.

“What was that?!”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see the shark take a chunk out of Terrence.”

Remy gulped. “Well... thanks.”

“No problem.” He began to head to the door.

“Don’t you want to stay for the showing?” Remy motioned to the tv.

“Nah, I wrote the script. And I’m tired.” He grabbed the doorknob. He paused a moment. “Thanks. For the makeup. And the nails.”

“No prob Virge. Does this make us... friends?”

Virgil gagged. “No, never, and don’t call me Virge.”

Remy shrugged. “Sounds good. But if you do ever want to swing by for a makeover, I’d be up to it.”

Virgil smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He walked out and shut the door behind him.

He made his way to his room and laid down, but before he got to sleep he rose in Thomas’s bed. He looked over to see him panting and sweaty.

“Nightmare?” Virgil smiled slightly in the dark. Thomas spoke through breaths.

“Yeah...”

“Sorry.”

Thomas sighed. “It’s fine...” He hugged Virgils side. In ten minutes or so of steady breathing and happy thoughts, he drifted off. Virgil smiled. That bitch was doing his job pretty well.

[iamwhelmed]

Homesick: Chapter 1

I wasn’t originally gonna post this here, but eh. I post everything else here, may as well post this too This one is only going to be 3 chapters, nothing that demand my attention the way WOHT does. This is a writing exercise pretty much, just a fun one!

Summary: Raven finds herself carrying Beast Boy's child and struggles with the fear of losing him and the impending responsibility of being a mother; Starfire finds Robin in a precarious position with another woman. The two leave the tower to live on their own for awhile, just to figure things out. Beast Boy and Robin may be losing their minds, and Cyborg tries to keep everyone together.

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction.net

The nausea was twisting on her, like a fist in her stomach that rumbled and hissed and seethed every time she moved- not that she was doing a whole lot of that from her seat on the bathroom floor. She wasn't sure if this bout of nausea was the sheer force of terror washing over her spine in a shroud of blinding panic, or if it was a symptom…

She was, after all, pregnant. The stick in her hand, pink and cheery with a positive sign despite her ever-frantic mind stirring, said as such. She couldn't find it in her to muster up a glare at the + and the way it mocked her, not when her body was trembling and it was taking every ounce of control she had to not bust open every light fixture in the entire tower. Cyborg would flip majorly, lose his circuits, and attention was the last thing she wanted to call to herself right now.

She dropped the stick limply into the can beside the toilet, raising one hand to rub soothing circles into her temple as the other braced her body against the cold rims of the porcelain throne, keeping her steady in case her body began heaving uncontrollably.

She'd known, if she was honest; she'd known the first morning several weeks ago when she'd shot up out of her warm bed after a late night of reading to go upchuck. She'd kept herself calm, mediated on it, went down a list of reasons why she wouldn't-- couldn't-- be with child.

Or maybe it was just denial.

She groaned, lips curling into a grimace as she dragged her nails across the toilet's edge. How far along was she? She wasn't sure. Somebody else may have been able to pinpoint the exact… intimate moment… that placed a budding life inside of her. She, unfortunately, could not. Beast Boy, for all his bark over the ladies, turned out to actually have some bite to back it up.

A lot of bite, actually, and he bit often. Which was why she was here now, clutching onto what little was left of the herbal tea she'd tried to calm herself to sleep with earlier that morning. It was still hardly 5 am, early enough the sun was still hours away from making its grand entrance, which meant she had hours to figure out what exactly she was going to do before Robin inevitably woke up and demanded to know why exactly she looked distinctly paler than usual.

"Think, Raven, think!" Talking to herself helped calm her nerves, if only by a fraction, but her stomach churned with every syllable in protest. All right, facts:

1. She was pregnant, pregnant with Beast Boy's child; specifics were important, she could hear Robin's encouraging voice reminding her.

2. Beast Boy, the guy who still tried to convince others to call him "Beast Man", the guy who still regularly pulled pranks on his fellow titans, the guy who was still full of hope and enthusiasm and youthful passion… he was not ready to be a father.

3. Quite frankly, she wasn't sure she was ready to be a mother.

She took three deep breaths, trying to settle the urge to throw up the rest of her herbal tea, and perhaps preemptively empty her stomach of anything else she may decide to stuff it with the rest of the day.

4. There was no hiding this from the rest of the titans, especially not Robin and Beast Boy. Robin was the protegee of one of the most legendary detectives to walk the earth, and a leader who was defined by his dedication to his team and his friends-- his family. And Beast Boy?

Oh, Beast Boy knew her too well. He knew every nook and cranny of her soul, but perhaps more importantly, he knew her body. The first few times they'd… spent the night together… he'd spent hours afterward watching her sleep, taking in her shape, her tone, her skin, all of which would be affected by the impending life burrowed deep inside of her. She'd loved his attentiveness, loved waking up in the morning to his body woven protectively around hers like a second blanket. He'd always been gentle with her, understanding, and she'd acted in kind as they got to know each other on a more physical level, show each other just how much they loved having that special permission to touch each other, press kisses in places nobody else could, see and touch places nobody else could.

She could hide it for a month, maybe, but the moment she started showing, he'd know something was off, and that was if his impeccable sense of smell didn't give her away beforehand. Raven cursed, wondering what he would say, or maybe how wide and petrified his eyes would get before he inevitably either freaked out, or swallowed his fears and did "the right thing", only for the pressure to be too much for him to bare.

But what other choice did she have? She couldn't very well hole herself up in her room and wait for their child to come tumbling out of her in the middle of her bedroom floor, not that she would get as far as three weeks before Starfire and Cyborg and Beast Boy set up alternating camps outside her bedroom, waiting for a chance to talk to her because something was clearly very wrong.

No, she had to hide somewhere else, just until she figured all of this out. She'd leave a note, let her friends know she was fine, that she would eventually come home to them. But her home was starting to feel like a nightmare she'd accidentally conjured for herself. She didn't have to hide the entire pregnancy, right? No, she would go away for a little while and return with a clearer mind. That way, she could face her team. Face Beast Boy…

Her legs trembled under her full weight as she stood up. With a hiss, she braced herself against the bathroom counter. "Azarath… Metrion… Zin-"

There was a knock at the door, light, but present. Her body seized up, and behind her she could hear what distinctly sounded like the shower curtain ripping from the wall, edges squeaking against the tile of the shower walls as it clamored loudly to the floor, making her wince every bit of the way. Great job not drawing attention to yourself, Raven. She swallowed, hard. "Y-Yes?" She hated the way her throat choked her words into weak stuttering.

"Friend Raven," Starfire, then. Great. Then again, not the worst possible person, she mused. "I heard the throwing up, and I wanted to be sure that you were-"

"I'm okay, Starfire." She took small puffs of air through her nose, keeping her body and her voice even. "Probably just ate something a little past the expiration date is all…"

"But you are unwell, yes?"

Extremely. "I'll be fine, Starfire--" Her stomach lurched, and before she could curse the inopportune moment, she was heaving into the toilet again. The last of her herbal tea lurched from her mouth like a stream into the toilet's still warm embrace, and yet the little infant yet to grow so much as eyes was forcing her to further expunge her stomach. Bile mixed with water filled the toilet soon after, left her throat burning as she wiped haphazardly at her mouth with the back of her wrist. Not even a month old and her little one had a knack for inconveniencing her at the worst moments. She glared sardonically down at her stomach, still flat for the time being, and soothed very little by the hand that'd taken to rubbing circles into it.

The bathroom door opened, though she definitely remembered locking it. She turned her head to the side, just a fraction, just enough to see Starfire literally doing the most silent job she'd ever done of literally tearing a door off its hinges. The metal creased under the force of her hands, but she very delicately pulled the door to the side and off the wall, slowly so as to not make a ruckus. She placed it on the wall beside the door's threshold.

Her stomach lurched again, and she hurriedly burrowed her head into the toilet in preparation for the toxic sensation of heaving whatever else she had left to vomit. Come on, give me a break! If this was in any way an indication of what this little one's sleeping habits would be like, she was going to need help. A lot of it. She grinded her teeth as another wave of nausea hit her, and she heaved over the toilet, feeling her chest strain with every feeble attempt she made at throwing up. Warm fingers rested at her back, rubbing up and down in slow, settling paces. Her stomach immediately seemed to relax, the queasiness that'd enveloped her since four this morning melting away. She stayed hunched over the toilet, though, just in case. Starfire never ceased in her ministrations, pausing only to move a lock of hair out of her face, which she was only realizing now was paved with a thick coat of sweat. She'd seen the box on the counter, she was sure of it. There was no use hiding.

"Raven…"

"He can't know, Star."

"I do not understand. You wish to hide such a joyous occasion from Friend Beast Boy?"

"It won't be so joyous in nine months when he's got no clue how to be a father."

"I do believe Beast Boy has been good with children in the past?"

Raven pulled away from the toilet, and Starfire was on her in a second, gentle hands helping her to rest against the bathroom counter. She gave Starfire the best smile she could muster in her state, not much considering forcing a smile was difficult even when her insides weren't struggling to accommodate a second body. Starfire smile back though, getting the message regardless. There was no need to thank her, she was merely doing what a friend ought to do. "No, Star, he's good at entertaining kids. Raising them is…" Different. A responsibility-- not just to their child, but to her.

Maybe that was the issue.

Starfire frowned, then moved away from the toilet to sit next to her on the tile floor, up against the counter. She pressed her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, as though she was the one with a small bump to hide. "What are you going to do?"

Raven sighed, closing her eyes, hoping that the quiet she found now would give her room to think, maybe come up with a different solution, but nothing came. "I have to leave, Star."

"But--!"

"Not forever, and not for long." She glanced to her side to see the look of panic on Starfire's face fade to apprehension. "Just long enough to think. Decide what I'm doing to do."

Starfire's fingers twisted around each other, the way they did when she was stumbling over her thoughts. Raven could feel the trepidation coming off her in waves. She raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to tell her exactly what was on her mind. The tense line that had been on Starfire's face dissolved to a frown as she glanced from the floor to Raven's face. "And what if… you do not decide to come back?"

Part of her heart, squeezed and dry from all the worrying she'd done earlier, thawed at the love she felt in Starfire, like the very edges of a warm fire on a cold winter night. Of course Starfire was going to fear her departure, caring was what Starfire did best. "Starfire, I will come back. I have to eventually, even if that means I have to be away for a few years-"

"Years! But will Friend Beast Boy not be upset to miss such a period of time in his child's life?"

Raven's heart clenched again. "I.. I don't know. It's certainly not in my plan to be away that long, but if I give him a few more years to--" To what? Mature? Did she really want that? True, he was obnoxious, and sometimes he could be disgusting (Stankball, check and point), but his boyishness kept him warm, kept him bright and welcoming and, Azar help her, charming. Her worst fear was that he would lose that charm, lose his smile. She loved him, loved him more than her powers let her indulge in sometimes. To ask that he change because of a child he didn't even know about…

No, she didn't want him to change. That wasn't the issue.

"Raven?"

"I-I can't." She hated the way her voice broke. "I can't ask him to take on this responsibility, Star. As it is sometimes I think I'm too much. A child would just mean…" Death for the relationship. Turmoil for her.

There was a warm hand on her shoulder, and it squeezed gently, affirmingly. "I think it would be best if you spoke to Robin first. He is our leader for a reason, yes?"

Raven closed her eyes again, smiled to herself. Of course, Robin would be able to handle this, help her think things through. He was a rock in that way, understood her in a way nobody else could (aside from him but she couldn't talk to him about this, not yet). He would be there for her, just as Starfire was here for her now. Why had she been so scared of him knowing before? She smiled at Starfire, and it was weak, she was weak, but it was enough. She nodded.

The walk to Robin's room was slow, tedious, but Starfire's presence alone seemed to quell the urge her stomach had to make a mess of her intestines. She placed one pale, trembling hand where the baby sat-- would sit-- and took a deep breath. Starfire placed her fist on his door and knocked a few times, gently. The hour was still early, a quarter to six, and the sun was still not due to rise for another hour at least. Robin wouldn't be up for some time usually, but this was important. "Robin, I am sorry to disturb your sleep, but Friend Raven and I need to speak to you. It is of utmost importance!" There was no response, not even a shift in sound on the other side of the door. Raven glanced to Starfire, who was walking a thin line between frowning and pouting.

"Starfire, it can wait for another hour." She turned around to leave, but Starfire gripped the length of her hood and yanked her right back, causing Raven to sharply take in the air she'd been denied in that one moment.

"No it cannot." She typed in a number on the keypad to Robin's room, face set in a thin line of determination. Raven found herself squirming, ready to hightail it back to her room. The sliding door to Robin's room opened, and Starfire seemed to freeze. There was a sudden change in the atmosphere, and Raven could feel it the way one could smell a fruit turning. The air became thick with emotion, emotion Raven rarely felt in the tower, and only felt it in strangling strength once. When she did feel it on the regular, it was in such a small dose that it was as easy to look over as it was to roll her eyes, spawned usually from a round between Beast Boy and Cyborg where one swore up and down the other cheated. But this? This clouded her mind, took her heart and clawed at the already-worn muscle. Starfire stood stock-still at the door, eyes wide with an emotion Raven took a moment to recognize.

Betrayal.

She said nothing, just approached Star's side and glanced into the room.

Robin laid asleep, peaceful, one of the rare moments he ever let himself rest, become unaware and at ease for a moment's time. But Raven could sense, amid the terror that was slowly easing into Starfire, the new level of relief that seemed to consume Robin as he slept. She had a feeling it had something to do with the woman fast asleep beside him, wrapped around him in a tangle of blankets and-- surprisingly drapeless-- limbs. Both were dressed, of course, Robin never took off his mask and his uniform rarely came off, but the woman was in a state of considerably less dress, clad only in what appeared to be a thin pair of underwear and what must have been one of Robin's old training shirts. Both were fast asleep, dead to the world aside from each other, moving only to get closer together at the gust of wind his open door allowed.

Raven would have been in a state of shock herself, had she not been so emotionally drained from the last two hours. She turned to look at Starfire, who had begun quivering, the wheels of her mind processing the site before her with such a painful progression that Raven could see her heart breaking with every second that passed. Quickly, she grabbed Starfire and pulled her out of the doorway, leaving the door to Robin's room, and Robin's questionable state, to close. "Starfire…"

"No. He would never…"

Raven sighed, knowing very well what Starfire was feeling, and she didn't even need to use the powers granted to an empath. It was obvious what had transpired, if not because of the lack of pants on the woman in his arms, but because of the peace she'd picked up on, peace that, in her experience, only transpired after somebody got their rocks off. Starfire was a trusting soul, but with this came a naivety that rarely reared its ugly head. She would process the truth in time, given some space, and that is why she was talking before she even knew what she was about to say. "You know, I could probably use some company while I'm away."

Starfire turned her startled eyes, full of tears and disbelief, on her. Raven sighed and massaged her stomach with her hand again, feeling her stomach churn under the new emotional weight that'd suddenly commanded the halls. "I'm not sure if it's the baby or my powers, but I think dealing with this alone has made things a million times worse. I'm leaving, Star." But I want you to come with me. It wasn't a lie; the aching dullness of her stomach seemed to fade once she had a confidant. And the stress of dealing with pregnancy alone had subsided once Starfire's warm hand had shifted up and down her back, like a veil lifted from her head. Company was exactly what she needed. Starfire blinked a few times, owlishly staring off into space, tears that had welled cascading in trails down her cheeks to her chin. It took her a few moments, but she nodded. Raven sighed and turned away, high-tailing it in the direction of her room. "Go pack. We only have an hour before Prince Charming wakes up."

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

[Skam Italia] Fic: Follow the red thread

So, I hope there’s gonna be plenty of fics that will do justice to what Niccolò must have planned for today, but I felt like contributing as well with this silly thing. Credits to @crucios (go read their awesome Valentine Day’s fic, if you haven’t already) for inspiring one particular scene in this story! 

------------------------------------------------------------------- The 14th of February doesn’t mean anything to him. Never has. It’s stupid to choose one particular day of the year to celebrate love, when maybe you neglect your significant other for the rest of the year, isn’t it? He kind of hates it, even more so when his mother’s smile turns sour as soon as she realizes that she’s gonna spend her first St. Valentine’s Day alone. Having Niccolò hasn’t changed that, so he shouldn’t have been disappointed when no red rose turns up neither on nor under his desk, unlike some of his classmates.  Shouldn’t frown at the text saying that his boyfriend will be busy studying until late. They had discussed this, they had come to an agreement that it would be better to get everything done during the week so that they could fully enjoy their Saturdays and Sundays together. Even if it meant seeing each other only at school from Monday to Friday. ‘It’s a Thursday like any other. Get a grip, Martino.’ He tells himself, frowning when he gets a notification about a new follower on Instagram. Is it yet another girl who wants to be his ‘fag hag’? Or some marketing account that has a special offer for this SO NOT SPECIAL THURSDAY? ‘Follow_the_red_thread’ started following you He smiles as he clicks on the avatar - a red thread that leads to a yarn heart - not even questioning how Niccolò got hold of a smartphone to set this up. What does he have in store for him, this time? Silly videos with obscure references to ‘The Last Man On Earth’ ? Clues on where to find him? Well... There’s only one photo, for now, and it’s a copy of Stefano Benni’s ‘Ballate’. The caption says ‘I’m open book to you, now <3.’ and the hashtags instruct him to look into his bag. ‘When did he put it in here?’ How can he have failed to notice that, once again? He goes straight to page 36, where he comes across another string of red thread that holds together two tickets for the Bioparco. So Niccolò is there, right? There’s a new photo on the account, now, though. A bike, locked on the gate of what looks like his own apartment building. The caption says ‘We’ll go there together, soon. Today I’m taking you for a ride somewhere else.’ He dashes down the stairs, hoping to see Niccolò sitting on that bike, but there’s only a red scarf wrapped around the handlebars. And yet another red thread taped to the back of the seat, with a map leading to Montemartini Museum. The itinerary is written in red as well, of course. Okay, visiting a former power plant does not really qualify for a romantic date but... It might be fun, walking around ancient marble and bronze sculptures, surrounded by imposing electric machinery. Not nearly as fun as having a picnic, laying down on a cozy blanket and making out until the sun goes down, maybe, but they can save that for another day. It takes him less than ten minutes to get there, and there’s a ticket under his name waiting for him at the desk, but his boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. Follow_the_red_thread, in the meantime, has uploaded another pic to its gallery. ‘Looks like this pensive lady has a gift for you.’  A red flipbook has been left by her feet, and it’s a wonder that it still there when Martino finally locates the statue of Muse Polyhymnia. He curses under his breath, as he sees a stick man riding a bike and another one showing up from around the corner as soon as he is gone. There’s no heat in his words, though, and he can’t fight the fond smile that find its way on his lips as the story unfolds under his eyes. The stick man’s got something in his hand - could be a brush but, since he then starts drawing on the ground, it’s probably chalk.  On the last page, however, the stick man leaves without revealing what he has drawn. There’s a short red yarn string - glued in the shape of a heart - and a quote underneath, instead. ‘The heart always finds its way home.’  It says. Indeed it does; Martino knows where to go,and yet he double checks on Instagram for the latest clue. Just to be sure. A close up on a piece of red chalk. No caption. No hashtags. Looks like he will have to cycle back to find out what that is about.

By the time he gets back, the drawing of their hands is all smudged and the red string that was supposed to connect their pinkies is gone - probably someone picked it up and threw it away, because they can’t let others have nice things, can they? - but thankfully Niccolò has just sent him a picture of how it looked straight after he finished working on it. He must be spying on him from the window, to upload the photo with such flawless timing but, when he looks up, there’s no one there. ‘The red string of fate can get tangled, can get so thin and torn that you can barely see it anymore, but it can never break.’  He wrote, as a caption. As soon as Martino is done reading that, he notices that there are now six photos in Follow_the_red_thread’s gallery. ‘Hurry up, the show is about to start.’ Niccolò tells him. Hashtags ‘#nowlistenandshiver and #thisoneisforyou.’

Martino runs up to his flat so fast that he can barely breathe, when he gets to his front door. He has to lean on it, while he frantically looks for his keys, and that’s when he sees it. A red notebook, wrapped with a red string. He picks it up, cuts the string with the sharpest key he’s got and... What’s this? ‘You are not alone, you hear me?’ ‘Never alone.’ ‘A ballad for my love’ ‘I suck at titles, I give up.’ The first page of the score is a mess, scribblings and faint erasure marks everywhere. Giovanni would probably be able to hum the tune, if he saw this; he always had the highest marks in Music and retained some of that knowledge to learn how to the play the guitar, but Martino is at loss.  He doesn’t know what to expect. Can’t even imagine how that will sound. As he opens the door, he spots a note dangling from the lamp beside it. ‘This is your ticket. Now tie the string to your little finger, and follow it. It will lead you the most exclusive venue.’ Which, of course, turns out to be his own bedroom. Niccolò is sitting there, with a loose red string tied to his little finger as well and a keyboard on his lap. “Now listen and shiver, Marti. This one is for you.”  It’s a soft, yearning, piece. He feels it in his bones, singing how blessed Niccolò believes to be for having him in his life. How grateful he is for Martino’s patience, his support, his love. Not only he’s got goosebumps, but he got teary eyed too. Great. “Well, that wasn’t too bad.” Marti sniffles, joining him on the bed. He snatches the keyboard from his hands, tossing it on the floor, so that he can put his legs around Nico’s waist and drag him into a passionate kiss. “Not too bad, huh? So you you did like it...” Niccolò grins, wiggling, when they part. “Just let me show you how much.”

************************************

A/N: And then, after Martino showed Nico how much he liked all his little gifts - which I preferred to leave to your imagination because the smut would have deserved another fic all together - they cooked a dinner for Martino’s mom together and spent the evening chilling on the sofa with her, watching rom-coms. Thanks again to Aela for letting me use their hc about Nico composing a piece for Marti as a present <3! I imagine Ni’s piece to sound similar to Einaudi’s Time Lapse .

[chokeonmydickgrayson]

Headcanon #13

How the Batfam would react on your birthday

Dick:

You hate your birthday immensely. It’s just another ordinary day of the year, so much so that most people tended to forget it was your birthday all together, everyone except Dick.

He’d make the entire day about what you want, what you needs, and what you desire. He’d start your birthday morning off by allowing you to sleep in, he leaving the bed so not to disturb you. God knows you could sleep for days if left alone. On his way out of the room he’d brush your hair from your forehead and press his lips lightly to your temple before leaving. Your body would be appreciative as you flounder yourself around on the bed enjoying the newly opened territory for your arms and legs to spread out creating a starfish effect.

He’d spend the morning cooking a fresh stack of fluffy and light chocolate chip pancakes, topped with your favorite type of syrup and a dollop of whipped cream, one singular birthday candle of your favorite color place dead center. The plate didn’t look the nicest, nor did it look appetizing but he did do his best and after all it was always the thought that counts.

Once done cooking you breakfast there would be a mess of dishes in the sink, along with a sticky mess of eggs flour and syrup on the counters, which he claims he’ll clean late. (Most likely you’d end up cleaning most of it. Dick would probably give you a not so helpful hand however. He’d probably be more interest in slapping your rear end with a twisted towel and playfully nibbling your cheeks, but that was a later issue.) He’d bring a tray into bedroom, it holding the pancakes as well as a glass of orange juice and a birthday card. “Babe....babe....baby!....Y/N!” Youre eyes would flash open at the sound of your name, your body snapping straight up as you clutch at your chest in panic. “What? What’s wrong?...” you’d pant short of breath from the terror you’d just endored. He’d smile and sneak his lips right up against yours, spreading as much love and passion as he could through the kiss, your lips making a quiet pop as he pulled away and placed the tray on your lap. “happy birthday baby, I’ve semi successfully made you breakfast in bed. I’m sorry they look a little sloppy” he’d nervously laugh rubbing his neck. “I uh, I was trying to shape them like little hearts but clearly that didn’t work, so they’re uh more like little butts....” you’d probably snort and laugh at the comparison you definitely seeing what he means. Your non dominant hand would reach for his hand as you ate away at the pancakes every so often holding the fork up for him to share. They honestly really were delicious despite their looks. You smile and gently tap the bedding next to you motioning for him to sit. He willingly oblige and set himself down next to you.

After breakfast was done, he would gather your favorite movies and games and hook everything up in the bedroom. You two would spend all day laughing and cuddling (though after you defeated him in Mario Kart by throwing that turtle shell at him, your relationship was slightly wounded, but not enough to stop the festivities.)

During the movies things between you and Dick would heat up, his fingers dancing at the mouth of your pants before sliding down them, making for one very large distraction. You probably wouldn’t even focus on the movie from that point on. The rest of the day would consist of you two participating in a series of on again off again sexual activities. It would be perfect, the exact birthday you’d want. To spend time with someone who loves you. You’d appreciate all the little efforts Dick went through to make this day special for you.

Jason:

You would dread opening your eyes. Every year when your birthday rolled around you did your absolute best to ignore it, you wouldn’t even bring it up to anyone. In fact you avoided most people because you didn’t wanna hear the phony well wishes and the fake insincere “happy birthdays!”. You’d try to take some advantages of your special day however, maybe by trying to catch some extra Z’s or by attempting to stay in bed all day, nothing too over the top.

So when Jason wakes you up early by wrapping those thick muscular arms around your waist while those strong rough palms of his traveling up your torso to caress and hug the curves of your chest, your slightly unamused. You would just want some rest. You’d give out a soft groan, to which he’d lean himself into your ear while his hand traveled down the insides of your arms to land itself into your palms, his fingers treading around your own as he whispered “sorry baby I didn’t mean to wake you....I just wanted to be the first one wish MY girl a happy birthday.”

Your heart would stop in your chest your hand squeezing his tightly, almost annoyed that he knew. How did he fucking know it was your birthday? You’d never told him “who told you? I wanna know so i can rip their tongue out through their nostrils” you’d growl out to which he’d be highly confused. His hand would release from yours his arms opening so he could easily reposition your bodies so you would face him. Those deadly blue eyes of his would lock on with yours and scan every inch of them. “I found the information by myself thank you very much. Come on Y/N, you think I woulda let some woman I don’t know for shit into my bed? I know the sayings keep your friends close enemies closer but for fucks sake babe I’m not trying to get myself offed. A lot of people in this town want me dead, I had to make sure you weren’t one of em’. I did some snooping and I found out your birthday....I didn’t think you’d have a god damn fucking fit about it.” You’d sigh and collapse your body into his, your nose rubbing softly against his jawline you inhaling his scent before placing soft kisses along his neck. “I....don’t really like to celebrate my birthday alright? Ive got some jacked up memories locked away nice and tight in this loon bin up here, and I’m not quite ready to set them free.” Your arms would move to seek comfort around his torso, giving him a gentle squeeze.

Truthfully Jason would understand, he couldn’t disagree about that whole high priority list of shitty birthdays and top level disappointment they brought. He’d wrap his arms securely around you, his legs spreading apart to consume your body between them, he pressing kisses to your temple. “Well, I guess there goes my big plan for today out the windows” Youd feel almost guilty for throwing such a fit. It was clear Jay had something planned for the two of you....”What cockamamie shit fest did you have in store for today Jay” you’d sighe reluctantly. You should at least hear him out if your gonna shoot the man down. He clicked his tongue against his teeth sucking down a breath in aggravation “well i WAS gonna take you down to Eddies where we met and I WAS buy you a few birthday beers, and maybe recreate the night we met...but hey ya don’t wann celebrate your birthday fine by me” he huffed out his voice starting to draw softer as he finished his sentences. He’d gotten himself caught up in reliving that night. Best day of his life....you tried to hustle him for money and when he attempted to take it back you nearly broke his god damn nose. It was the hottest fucking thing ever. He ended up buying you a drink, and after a few of them you ended up back at his place, naked with him in bed. Ever since then he’s been hooked on you in every way. Just everything about you, your attitude, your determination, your guts, and especially that right hook of yours turned his knees weak and capture his heart. “We’ll just sit here and you can fucking pout one out for all I care. Excuse my ass for trying to be a good boyfriend”

Riddled with guilt you’d let your finger tips ghost over the sides of his neck, your hands moving to his rest on his cheeks as you pulled him closely stealing a soft kiss from him. That all sounded like the best birthday you could ever wished for. You press yourself into the kiss turning the intensity up, humming as you feel the sensation of his hands grip onto your waist. He’d lock your hips together, causing you to break the kiss with a disappointed sigh, fingers gently rubbing against his stubble “I guess where going to the bar for my birthday.....but if you start singing, I’m gonna slap your lips right off your face and I’m leaving you there”

Tim:

Truthfully you’d almost wanna avoid Tim, you knew he’d most likely figured out your birthday by this point in your relationship. How couldn’t he have? He was the smartest man you’d ever met and one hell of a great detective. Figuring out your birthday for him must of been child’s play. You’d sigh and strech yourself out shuffling your way to the kitchen where’d you’d find a plate of scrambled eggs (Tims speciality. Honestly it was the only thing he knew how to make. Everything else ended in a gelatinous molten mess that requires an emergency team to extinguish). He’d smile and look up at you “hey babe, I made us some breakfast...i call it le scrambled eggo and le orange juice!” He grin attempting (and failing) some weird cross between a French and Italian accent, complete with equally failing hand gestures. You’d give a snort and gently nudge his side with a giggle, though this wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary. He made breakfast for you two virtually every morning, (well every morning that you didn’t mind eating eggs) had he not figured out your birthday?

You continue to go through your daily routines together, the entire ordeal seeming very.....ordinary? There was no sense of suprise, nothing that struck you as special....just an ordinary day? You can’t help but feel a little saddened by it, though genuinely what did you expect your birthday was always a defeated reflection of just how well things always turned out for you.

You’d grumble to yourself while your body pressed into his on the couch, you two watching a bit of television together. He’d sling his arms around the back of the couch, one arm moving to slide around your shoulder. His hands would begin to gently message and rub the exposed flesh of your upper arm as his lips would move in to press against yours. Honestly a little hurt by his inability to figure out your birthday, (petty yes, but god damn it was your birthday and regardless of if you liked it or not he should have at least figured out it was your birthday and wished well beings today.) Your shoulders scrunch and you turn your head away from Tim. Instantly his chest aches as he looks at you with those broken puppy eyes, he having nothing but confusion written across those strong handsome facial features. “Hey what was that about? Did I do something wrong?...” You’d shake your head and push his arm off of your shoulder. A pout would press its way firmly across to lips sagging the corners of your mouth down. “Tim do know what to day is?” He’d look at you with a raised brow, most likely thinking you were having some crazy mood swing. “Moooonday?..”

You’d roll your eyes and gather yourself from the couch, storming off to the bedroom slamming the door shut behind you. All you wanted was to just curl up and cry at this point, though you were unsure as to why you cared so much about this whole not figuring out your birthday deal. It’s not like you liked your birthday. You’d let your back slump against the door with a single upset sigh. Tim would immediately chase after you, hands moving to twist the door knob and shove the door open. “y/n can you just talk to me instead of storming away please? I’ll take full responsibility for whatever it is I’ve done, I’m an asshole, I’m a dirt bag I’m some other third thing girls scream when they’re made at their boyfriends-“ to which you’d cut him off by screaming “dick!” He’d huff and cross his arms “did Dick do something to upset you? I’ll kill him, I’m pretty sure Bruce likes me more anyway. I’m sure I could get Batman to stall police commissioner Gordon and that’ll take the heat off of me for a while and give me time to get us outta Gotham-“ You’d groan and swing the door open, your eyes glossed with a layer of tears “Dick didn’t do anything wrong! I’m calling you a dick because you didn’t....you didn’t wish me a happy birthday. I know I didn’t tell you but, I just...I don’t know I figured-“

He’d cut you off lips pressing against yours to silence your hysterics starting. “I did know....I knew today was your birthday, but I acted like I didn’t know.” You almost feel the anger boiling with in you as you shove him away, he sensing your anger. With wide eyes he’d hold his hands up quickly trying to explain “I didn’t say anything to you because I also know you don’t like your birthday babe! I didn’t want to make a big deal of it...” His hands would move to yours he locking your grips together as he pulled you closer “I didn’t honesty mean to hurt your feelings, you know I’d never do that intentionally....I’m sorry I fucked up. I shoulda said something at least. I was just going to keep things light and casual today, make it like every other day. Let me make this up to you? I know today was a giant swing and a miss, but what if we salvage the rest of tonight...” His lips would move to suction against your neck, palms releasing yours to ghost gently around to your back side “and in the morning well redo the entire day, I’m talking breakfast in bed, maybe something birthday-ish like a muffin, then I’ll take you out into town for dinner and a movie. Afterwords we can head down town to your favorite store and I’ll let you pick out whatever you want....”

You smile at the idea, lips parting to let a soft gasp pass your lips as his hands press into your rear, fingers gently digging into the meat and lifting your cheek. Your body would move instinctively into his palms your lips hovering above his own now you whispering out a single “please...” before allowing your body to fold into his touch. He’d hum and lift you into his arms wrapping your legs around his waist easily carrying you to the bedroom. You can damn sure bet that he made true on that promise. He lavished your body until you begged him for mercy, and when morning came did the best to recreate the perfect day he should have done in the first place. God why were women so complicated, next year he was just gonna ask you what you wanted.

Bruce:

He’d wake you up nice and early, his lips moving to take your earlobe between them. He’d gently suck at the flesh, hands moving to run tenderly across your body’s natural curvature he whispering into your ear with that deep gruffy morning voice of his “hmm happy birthday darling...I’ve got a lot planned for today. We gotta get a move on though it’s time to get up. I want to take your for brunch and afterwords we need to make a stop at Wayne Tower. I’ve gotta pick up something from my office.” Groggily you’d roll yourself over to face him, your hands blindly searching to hold his face, thumbs brushing the quickly growing morning stubble that scuffed his cheeks. “Hm...it’s my birthday Mr. Wayne, don’t you think I should decide what we do?” you all but pur, lower body moving to press against his. Your toes would gently brush against his shins as you move to slip your leg between his. He’d let out a soft hum, hands falling to your thigh, hooking it up closer on his hip. Those big palms of his would rub gently at the underside of your thigh he softly patting the area. “Ordinarily I’d let you have your way, but we need to get a move on things. I promised Lucious I wouldn’t be by the office to late, he has somewhere to be tonight” This response would warrant an aggravated sigh as you threw your head back with a pout. He’d give a chuckle gently pressing kisses to the exposed part of your neck just under your chin. “You can have your way all you want tonight Y/N. Trust me, if our schedule wasn’t so air tight today, I would stay here in this bed with you all day”

Reluctantly you’d manage an agreement to go along with the daily schedule. Now you were grumpy because you had to get dressed for brunch and because you have to stop at Wayne tower. (You knew “going to Wayne Tower to see Lucious” meant he had to play Batman for a while. Sometimes you hated that stupid cowl.) Brunch with Bruce Wayne meant this was most likely not a place where jeans and your typical choice in shirt were acceptable. No for this place a beautiful black floral maxi dress would do. It’d drape your body, a slit clean up the side just about to mid thigh. The sleeves would be short, just capping the tops of your shoulders. Your wrist would be decorated with silver bracelets including the stunning white gold charm bracelet Bruce got you for your anniversary last year. You cherished it, not because of its monetary value, but because of the way he locked it onto your wrist and kissed the top of your hand whispering “I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you to the ends of this world and back Y/N.” You sigh at the memory.

You’d play along and accompany Bruce to brunch. Admittedly you weren’t too upset seeing as to how delicious everything was and hey, who could be against alcohol in the morning? You two managed to kill off a few hours of your day at brunch the time being 3 in the afternoon. The car pulled up to Wayne Towers, he moving to open your door. “I promise we’ll be quick, then we can go home. I think Al’s making your favorite for dinner tonight” he’d laugh. You two would make it to his office, you surprised. To your surprise he wasn’t stretching the truth when he said it would be a quick trip to Wayne tower. Lucious would smile and give you hug, extending a very happy birthday from the Fox family. You’d smile and accept. It’s taken about an hour for the entire meeting between the two, Bruce smiling back at you as he extended a hand out for you. “Come on we’ve gotta get home, Alfreds asking where we are” he hummed.

You two would arrive home after about another hour, for some reason Bruce had decided to take the longer route home than normal, though you didn’t think much of it. You were mesmerized by the hold of his hand on yours and the way his thumbs gently grazed your knuckles. By the time you two would pull up to the Manor it’s be around 5. All you wanted to do was go upstairs change out of this god forsaken dress and rip Bruce out of that tantalizingly tight pink button up he wore (he matching the flowers on your dress) and make your way with him just as you intended to this morning. When you open the door you begin to pull your hair out of a pony tail, your fingers releasing the elastic hair tie sending it flying across the room as your body flinched in shock at the massive change in volume as everyone in the house screamed “SUPRISE!” You look around heart racing out of your chest, Damian holding a camera to your face “I don’t know father, I think she looks more terrified than surprised.” He’d say half heartedly throwing the camera at Dick. The boys would smile and one by one come over and press a kiss to your cheek and give you a hug “happy birthday Y/N” of course Dick being the brown nose he is would smile and hit you with the “You don’t look a day over 20” to which Tim would interject with “ah, 21. Hey a girls gotta be able to drink at least.” At first you’d be a little furious at the party but at second glance you thought it was sweet. Bruce’s boys, Al, Lucious and his family. All your friends and loved ones in one spot. You’d give a smile and lean in close to Bruce softly kissing at his cheek “you didn’t have to go through all this trouble baby, I would have been fine with a romantic night in bed together” to which he’d smile and coil an arm around your waist and chuckle “don’t worry after cake and once Lucious and the boys all leave I’m yours, you can for lack of better terms ride me until one of us breaks” he whisper with a wink.

[legendsofsmut-blog]

Leonard Snart x Fem!Reader Smut

A/N: The fluff at the end is really bad because i can’t write that but i tried my best so yeah. ENJOY! GIF IS NOT MINE.

REQUESTED/ NOT REQUESTED

You were sitting in the Waverider's kitchen, absentmindedly chewing a red apple, your eyes glued to the book in front of you. When you hear the doors of the kitchen open with a mechanical whir settling throughout the room. You looked up to find it was your boyfriend Leonard, a smiled graced your lips when you saw him but it was short lived because he did not look happy.

A deep scowl had settled on his face, making creases appear throughout his face and his eyes wavered with anger. "What's wrong, Leonard?" You asked, concerned for him, setting down the apple and the book. With a deep sigh, you heard his incredulous drawl seething with anger begin to speak. "Our little 'friend', Raymond, decided it was best to interfere with Gideon's system and now we are stuck with no cooling system which means," he spoke. "My cold gun will not be able to charged, which means no cold gun!" He quipped rather harshly at the end, making you let out yelp, but luckily he was so irritated he didn't hear.

"I'm sure Ray meant no harm." You said as you attempted to calm him down. A poor attempt on your behalf because he looked so hot when he was angry, did you really want him to stop? "Yes, Y/N, I'm sure that dimwit meant no harm!" He said mocking you, turning his head away. Now you had a good chance to get a proper look at him. His jaw was clenched, his eyes, disgustingly grey with hateful lashes rimmed around them.

Suddenly, he looked back at you with a determined smirk on his face. "I just need a way to...get my anger out." He said in a hushed and lusful manner, his deep and rough voice shooting sparks down to your lower regions. Swallowing thickly, you found your voice and spoke up, "Well..um how do y-you suppose we do that, Leonard?" using his name in hopes of getting a better understanding.

Leonard began by trailing a large hand down you chin, lifting up slightly. As he did that action, you looked up at his eyes hazed over with lust. You were swept away with that though as he connected his hot mouth to your neck his hot tongue emanating heat onto your neck. Dropping his mouth down an inch he started rapidly pressing hot, open mouthed kisses and you let out a needy moan of attention.

"Leonard, please," You whined, putting your hand on top of his wrist. He drew his hand away quickly at that action, "Good girls wait, Will you be a good girl?" He asked in a tone that made you sense he wasn't joking around. You nodded your head swiftly. Pausing for a moment he lifted his eyes up to the left, 'the thinking face' you thought. "Go to the room, strip and lay up on all fours and wait for me." He demanded of you.

He waved his hand across your hair and pushed it behind his shoulder, signalling you to go. As you were walking down the halls, excitement laced your soul and your lower regions became even more wet and ready. Doing as he said, you stripped off all your clothes and lay on all fours. You felt embarrassed. Anyone could open these doors and see you baring yourself naked for Leonard. You placed your elbows on the bed, laying your head atop of them.

Like déjà vu, you felt that mechanical whir reverberate around the room as Leonard stepped through. He wasn't wearing his jacket anymore, must have took off it in the kitchen you thought. You bent your head down in shame again.

He traisped over to you very slowly, your sexual frustration growing by the minute. Finally, he laid a cool hand on your lower back, rubbing it soothingly down to your aching core. You could hear various clothing items hit the floor, you didn't know what though because you wouldn't dare look up.

"You've been a good girl...you deserve an award, but," he started his airily tone drifting right through you. "I will only continue if, you stay quiet for me. Okay?" He finished, you weren't looking but you could tell he probably had a smirk on his beautiful face. Nodding, needing to find some release, you agreed.

He started by running a finger through your wetness, spreading up to your clit which almost made you let out a whimper, but you refrained. Suddenly, he pushed two of his large digits into you and you let out a small gasp. He started moving them but then he paused, "Was that a noise I heard, Y/N" He asked you. "No." You lied.

He decided to let it pass, a weight dropped off your aching shoulders.

He resumed his actions and pushed his fingers in and out of you very teasingly. Suddenly, he started rapidly pushing his fingers out which made you let out a loud cry. He stopped and you pulled a whine from your throat. "What did I tell you, darling. Hmm?" He questioned you. You swallowed thickly and found your voice, "Not t-to mo-ve" You whispered.

He roughly flipped you over so you were on your front, your head smashed down on the pillow. "I said you had to be quiet and you disobeyed me so now you have to be punished." He spoke, confidence running through his deep voice. You mind wondered how he was to punish you. Would he spank you? Or something else? The possibilities were endless when it came to Leonard. Excitement shocked through you joints.

You were right. A sharp sting followed on your ass as Leonard slapped you there. A sharp yelp left your mouth but was quickly replaced with a soothing hand rubbing over the redness. You relaxed but felt cautious, if he slapped you agai-. The thought lost because he took another blow to your ass. A moan left your mouth, another red patch appearing. Your wetness was incomparable is was starting to trail down your thighs.

He did two more until tears we sparking in your eyes. He finally, stopped and rubbed his hand around the surrounding red are once more. You breathed out, restlessness   enveloped your body aswell as frustration needing an outlet to release your pleasure. "Well done, Y/N. I think you need a reward" he declared, voice dripping with seduction.

Before you knew it you were on your back and Leonard was pushing his cock near your entrance, once more spreading the wetness. You moaned as he moved it up to your clit and pressed down harshly. Your eyes fluttered shut and an intense moan left your mouth as he roughly pushed all the way in. You felt so full and your mouth formed an 'o' shape at the searing pleasure.

He was brutal pushing in and out nearly snapping you in half to fuck you. One of your legs was pushed over his shoulder, the other lying Limply to the side. You felt a coil settle in your lower stomach, needing that release from that oh so sweet satisfaction. "Oh, yes! Leonard!" You cried out as he continued to fuck you.

He pushed in an excruciatingly painful way hitting you in that right spot and you arched you back, tears forming in your eyes. He kept at that motion and repeated the action making it harder to suppress the impending fulfillment you needed liberate.

He decided to pursue, grinding on your g-spot as he'd bent down to suck on your neck, also leaving hot and open mouthed kisses on your breasts. You then felt his thumb begin to draw circles in your clit making you feel even more exceptional as he pounded you.

The sound of the bed creaking and your head hitting the head board roughly made you open your eyes and look reverently at him. With everything he was doing to you, passionate moans left your mouth as the coil in your stomach broke and you screamed his name, "Leonard! Oh I'm cumming! Don't stop!" You screamed, it reverberating off the walls.

Stars crossed your vision, it then fading to white as pure bliss ran through your veins feeling nothing but content. You wanted to be trapped in this moment forever, just you and him. No-one else with you, the world lost around you. You moaned as you felt his hot seed encompass your walls. A sigh of contentedeness leaving your lips as you open your eyes to find him looking at you, a feverent gaze in his eyes.

He kissed your neck once more then rolled over to the right of you and breathed heavily. "That was great." He announced in a cocky way. You agreed and he turned to you, "I'm sorry, I just needed you." He uttered honestly, a rare occurrence for him, so you definitely took it to heart. "Leonard that's okay, you needed it and I provided." You replied, with an utmost gaze of love glazed over in your eyes. You noticed his eyes had a similar look. "I... I love you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." He whispered, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards. "I love you too," You repeated after him. "I'm sorry I got angry." He sighed. "That's okay Leonard, really. You're allowed to have emotions." You said, putting a hand on his bicep. "I love you. So much." He repeated once more. "We need sleep Len." You said tiredly, still smiling.

He chuckled and pulled you close, the warmth of his body emitted from him seethed into you, a low thump resolving in your chest. He smiled down at you as you drifted off to sleep. He was being completely honest when he said those things, he wanted to be trapped in this moment and never wanted it to end. He wanted you forever.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, requests are open.

[aurimeanswind]

VIDEO GAMES—Sunday Chats (10-29-17)

There are a lot of video games, and I haven’t done questions in a minute, so those too. Let’s get to it!

ExtraLife 2017

I wanted to throw a PSA in here that Irrational Passions, my “conglomerate” is throwing together our big special ExtraLife show for 2017 on November 11th, starting at 12pm Eastern Time, and we’ll be playing video games and live streaming them for 24 hours from then. It’ll be live over on twitch.tv/IrrationalPassions and myself and Roger Pokorny threw together a little announcement video, since a TON of guests will be there with us! You should check it out!

That’s really it for stuff I wanted to get out of the way, not games and questions!

What’s on Tap

Two things, that are not games, that I want to mention.

Stranger Things Season 2 is out now on Netflix and I have watched all nine episodes of it. It’s very excellent, and you should take the time to watch the series. It’s fun, and funny, and tense, and has a lot of great relationships between characters.

And actually, above all the amazing things to come out this week in the media world, my favorite, hands down is the new cover album from Ninja Sex Party, featuring Tupperware Remix Party (TWRP). It’s called Under the Covers Vol 2 and it’s legitimately incredible. Easily my album of the year, and I’m listening to it right now while writing this. Dan Avidan’s voice is perfect.

That is all on that front.

The Evil Within 2

So I finished The Evil Within 2! It’s great, very fun, very well made, very polished, and has some excellent mechanics.

I think the weakest aspect of the game really is the story, and specifically in that the performances of the characters. There is just not any one really well done character save for the two major villains of the game.

I actually rolled right into New Game Plus right after finishing it too, and that’s been fun since you just get so much extra points and parts to upgrade your guns and abilities, so you turn into a powerhouse pretty quickly. 

It reminds me a lot of Dead Space 2 weirdly enough, just not quite as excellent. Regardless, it’s still a really excellent game and worth a look, especially if you at all liked the first.

Super Mario Odyssey

Joy.

This game is just purely joyous, and unabashedly so. It just takes delight in its own mechanics and creativity.

It’s just a massive breath of fresh air, in a similar way to how Zelda was, but in a totally different way as well. 

Nintendo has laid out some stellar stuff this year, and Mario is no exception. While Mario has never held the same special place as Nintendo’s other properties for me, this one channels all the best parts of Mario and his lineage and brings that glee to light. It’s excellent, and I’m sure you didn’t need me to tell you that.

Questions!

Look for my Tweet with the hashtag #SundayChats that I shoot out Sunday afternoons. Respond with your question, and I’ll answer it here on Sunday Chats!

Okay, but I mean is this—

Um... Okay. Yeah dude. You do you. Glad you got a Switch and the Mario and stuff...

But really, a lot of playing Mario for me has been falling back in love with the Nintendo Switch as a platform. I’m curious what you think of it Logan! Glad you seem to be enjoying yourself!

No. For sure not. I also didn’t really love their E3 showing, so who knows. I think Sony is gonna have some cool stuff to show, but I think the “Second half of E3″, if that is gonna be anywhere outside of E3, is going to be at PSX, especially after The Last of Us 2 drop last year. With Uncharted fully done now, we know Naughty Dog is likely all hands on deck with Last of Us Part 2. I cannot wait, with that in mind, even though it’s likely still 2019. But I think PSX will see the reveal of Sucker Punch’s next game, so I don’t know what that leaves for Paris Games week.

This is a great question! It’s hard to pin down, and I’m honored to say some of my favorite things I’ve read this year have been on IrrationalPassions.com. But outside of that, I wanna give a shoutout to Jason Schreier’s unveil of what went on with EA and Visceral, from this very week.

It’ll be in the Checklist section, but it’s kind of the first of these big exposés I’ve sat down and read all the way through in one sitting, and it was phenomenal. It really opened my eyes to the different kinds of struggles that studios can run into that I had no perception of at all. It’s a fantastic read, and an even better story.

I mean, yes. And no.

Taking into account that I know you, and I know you don’t really like 3D games and games of that ilk, of course, yeah I get it. Taking those big ones out, games like SteamWorld Dig 2, Stardew Valley, HiveSwap, Shantae, and more can’t carry a year like the heavy hitters in the 3D space. But I think you have to take that step back and look at the wider "games” as a whole. 

To use me as an example, I don’t like Wolfenstein nor do I plan on playing the new one, or Battlefront 2, or Call of Duty World War 2, those are the big games that don’t click with me, but that doesn't mean those games can’t be incredible, and just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean they’re not great or incredible, but my appreciation of them will be different. But that’s my critic’s perspective.

I think that’s okay, but I’d encourage you to keep trying those games you typically don’t like and search for something in them that you can find and enjoy. I’ll try the betas for Battlefront 2 and CoDWW2 and try and try and look for something I like even if I can’t find it, because I’d rather waste my time looking for the good then take the easy road of assuming the bad.

But eh. That’s just me being a goody two shoes as always.

Yeah, it does! I would love to see that extend out to Bandai Namco! Getting games like Dark Souls, and the upcoming Code Vein on Switch would be excellent. But more over, I think they’d be shrewd, and quiet, like the Bethesda team up. Bandai Namco isn’t the biggest publisher, not even top three, but it covers another niche of games that Nintendo can draw to its platform. Those kinds of players maybe are to chopped on what system they play on, just how enjoyable that experience is. Going the obscure route has worked so well for them, and I think this could work to.

Plus I really want a Dark Souls remaster/re-release with some new features/better frame rate, and it being on Switch may be even better.

Princess Peach, Princess Zelda, and Samus Aran. 

We’d have tea and crumpets, and discuss cute color combinations and space ships, because I think all four of us would have some broad, sweeping opinions on all of the above.

Another good one, a bit more serious, is Nathan Drake, Marcus Fenix, and... Well, Samus Aran again.

Can I just have a date dinner with Samus Aran?

It’s been crazy weird dude. I wish the world wasn’t in as rough shape as it was :/

Uhg.

Fuck.

This is a great question Miranda, but god fuck all of this.

Okay.

A wolf.

And hear me out, because the wolf would probably kill me a lot slower.

But the same shit with Octopi that is with spiders, which I hate. Octopi got too many legs, and I just don’t wanna fuck with it. And it’d be all slimy. And I know both would ultimately kill me, because Octopi do NOT fuck around, but I can like, imagine the Wolf is a cute fucking doggo and be slightly less sad about it.

Also like, then I’d get to see a wolf, which I’ve always wanted to see, and I never want to see the sea-spider for as long as I live.

He is a v. v. handsome boy Cameron and you should be proud.

I’d say at least two customs, and one robo.

Because I know me.

I’m not selfish.

Save some Robot for the other kids.

I think it’s definitely up there. I love it for sure. I love that it’s doing something different on Netflix, and blending this weird nostalgia and referential material into a really cohesive and well made original thing with its own ideas and things to say.

And these latest season has a ton of Ghostbusters so I’m a fan.

This is so rad! For folks curious, here is the referenced article:

https://www.polygon.com/2017/10/28/16563612/destiny-2-deaf-clan-leviaithan-raid-calus

I just love this shit. I hadn’t seen it, but it shows the tenacity and ingenuity of players from all walks of life. What I’d really like to see, and it’d be hard to set up, but having all six players on six screens in the same room so the Shadow Realm folks  didn’t need to say anything, and the ones outside could just look and know. It’d be super rad, and we may be able to do this at ExtraLife, but we’ll see.

I love making new and original solutions to problems, and just like I said with the whole jargon-discussion when we played the raid, this is this team making their own jargon for the raid.

The Checklist

The Collapse of Visceral’s Ambitious Star Wars Game - Jason Schreier - Kotaku - https://kotaku.com/the-collapse-of-viscerals-ambitious-star-wars-game-1819916152

This is the first one of these I’ve actually really read, at least since Klepek’s last one I would have read. And it was fascinating. I have so many thoughts and feelings on this piece, and I know Schreier has a book out about them, and did one for Mass Effect earlier this year, but this is the first one I’ve ever really sat down and read. And it’s phenomenal. And eye opening.

Orc Slavery Made me Quit Shadow of War - Matthew Gault - Motherboard - https://motherboard.vice.com/en_us/article/bjve9q/middle-earth-shadow-of-war-orc-slavery-lord-of-the-rings

This is so, so, sooooo good. I haven’t really read anything on Motherboard before, but being a close sibling to Waypoint, which has skyrocketed to my favorite video game site on the internet this week, I will tune in more after this. Shoutout to OK Beast Podcast episode 65 for bringing this up and reading an excerpt from this. It really hooked me.

Inside the Sexual Misconduct Allegations Rocking NEOGaf - Patrick Klepek - Waypoint - https://waypoint.vice.com/en_us/article/qv384d/inside-the-sexual-misconduct-allegations-rocking-neogafs-last-48-hoursd

This is a weird story for sure. And I wish i could talk to Patrick about it. It’s invasive, but it’s also incredibly well reported, and I think clears up a lot of the misconceptions in the situation. There are no biases in Patrick’s writing. It’s really excellent, and help me get a grasp of what went on on Gaf. And I appreciate it.

Whew, good to get in the swing of things again. I’ll say, we are two weeks out from ExtraLife, and I am going to assume there will not be a Sunday Chats that day. Sorry in advance, but I will try to get my “Alex-Asks-A-Question” style Sunday Chats done like normal next week.

But it’s been a fucking crazy month, and I am so happy to see all the hard work I put in this month come to fruition, and the next big thing is that ExtraLife extravaganza. I hope to see you all watching.

But until then

keep it real.

[jeffatk1ns]

Montgomery x Reader

Request- "Monty and Alex fight but the reader steps in." (I changed up the whole car hit thing, it just made more sense to me.) Getting to school early was a blessing for you. It gave you the opportunity to get in a hot cup of coffee, and time to collect your thoughts away from people. Usually people started to filter in at around the same time as each other, noisy and distracting, and pulling you back down to reality. Today, someone was really bothering you. Or rather, it sounded like a group- a rather large group. Heck, maybe it was a mob? Unable to continue on in your little bubble, you decided to go out and check what all the ruckus was about. As you started out of the large double doors, the visual was majorly blocked by crowds of people surrounding and jeering at whatever was going on. You used you elbows and the occasional sharp fingernail to push your way to the front of the crowds, earning a few "Oi!"'s from the clump. Pushing past the last people, you could make out a figure on the floor, bloodied and angry. A figure which turned out to be Alex Standall. Towering above him was Montgomery De La Cruz, barely a scratch on him except from his crimson fists. The sight made you mad. More than mad. It made you fucking furious. Although you'd never had the displeasure of knowing either boy very well, it was obvious that Monty was far larger and far more powerful than Alex, and that this fight was just plain unfair. Monty was a jock, Alex was in band. You and Alex had Maths together, and sometimes he helped you out, so you thought he seemed a nice enough guy. Monty however, was in your Chemistry, and you'd been partners a few times. You'd always found him attractive, and if you were completely honest with yourself, had a little crush on him, but knew when it came down to it he was a lads lad. On the odd occasion, the gentle, caring Monty would show his face, but not too long before the facade was forced back up. Before you even knew what you were doing, your feet were carrying you into the middle of the fight. You were shaking slightly from anger, you hated violence more than anything, and these boys were going to know about it. "MONTY!" You shouted as you stepped between him and Alex. He faltered, pulling his fist back from its previous punching position. "Y/N? What is it?" His face had softened ever so slightly. You looked pointedly at Alex, perched up on his elbows and breathing heavily, and then back to Montgomery. "What the hell do you think?" You laughed slightly. "He nearly ran me over!" He was angry, but there was no where near as much heat in his tone as previously. You looked back at Alex. "It's true." He coughed. "Well obviously that was dumb. Doesn't mean you gotta beat him to a pulp." You accused, crossing your arms. You weren't shy, per-se, but it was uncommon that your school peers would see this side of you. You squinted your eyes- neither of you breaking eye contact from the other. "I got angry." He was blunt, but no longer mad. His fists had un-balled. "You think I just punch up some guy when I get mad?" You chuckled again. "If so I'd be punching you up right now De La Cruz." The crowd began to dissipate, to make way for Mr Porter. Shit. This wasn't going to be good. "De La Cruz. Standall. What are you doing?" He boomed. "And L/N, this is very unlike you." "I was stopping them, sir." You explained. "If I recall hearing correctly, you were just threatening to hit Montgomery." He crossed his arms. You sighed. Why did you even bother. "No sir-" "All of you to my office please." Great. This day was just getting worse. ------------ Porter gave the three of you detention, but was sure to keep Monty and Alex separated- just in case. Alex was put by himself, while you got stuck with Monty. "I know it's stupid, but I feel like I should explain myself." Monty started. You exhaled. "Honestly, don't worry, I'm sorry I got so pissy. I shouldn't have got involved." You revealed. "I'm glad you did, Y/N. If you hadn't been there, i don't know how far I would've taken it." He avoided eye contact, contrastingly to the previous day. "Mr Porter still would have turned up, I didn't do anything, really." "You did, Y/N. Mr Porter wouldn't have helped me calm down. You did, for some reason." Monty seemed smaller then, less intimidating. "I'm glad, I guess..." you trailed off, not quite sure how to react. Monty turned his seat so that he was facing you, and his knees were nearly touching your seat. He hummed to himself quietly. "You're really something." He seemed as though he was searching for something in your eyes, studying you, purveying you. You blushed, feeling as though he was undressing you. Not in a sexual way, but pulling away all the layers of your personality. You saw through him. "Monty, I'm not just your next conquest." You rolled your eyes, facing forward to the chalkboard. He seemed taken aback, and scooted his chair closer to yours. "No, Y/N! I wasn't- I mean-" something switched on him and his tone became low and angered again, "You really think I'm that type of guy, huh?" "I know you are! You, Justin, Bryce, Zach, your whole damn group is the same. I see you around De La Cruz, I know what you're like." You took a breather, but not leaving long enough for Monty to butt in. You turned toward him, your knees were touching. "If you're not like that then what the hell happened with Stephanie Parker? She broke her own heart?" You laughed bitterly. "No you're getting this all wrong. Maybe...I'm not the best guy. I've made a hell of a load of mistakes. But I'm genuine. I'm honest. I tell people what they're getting into - Stephanie was fully aware of what was happening, she just didn't realised how much it would affect her." He was less angry, more pleading. "I don't know why it matters to you, anyway. What I think of you. You can get any girl to believe your sweet nothings, why are you bothering with me." Your face was close to his. He chuckled, revealing an unfathomable smile. It was one of the most beautiful things you'd ever seen. Not to mention adorable. It could light up a whole football stadium. "You're really quite clueless, aren't you L/N?" He drew a light circle on your knee. Your eyebrows remained furrowed. "The truth is. I've always thought you were very intriguing. Pretty. Smart. And you always helped me out in chemistry." He was drawing a variety of shapes, now. "I didn't realise you paid that much attention." You scoffed, but the sass from your voice had somewhat left. He bit his lip. He leaned in slowly. He smiled, before softly placing his lips on your own. You had no intention of pushing him away. You'd decided- if this be all you get of Montgomery De La Cruz, then let it be. The kiss was slow, and passionate. You tangled your fingers up into his hair and he chuckled slightly at the sensation. His hands began cupping your face, before moving to your legs and pulling your chair towards him, so that your legs were around him, and finally placing his hands on your waist. He tasted like sweet kiwi, an unexpected flavour. After exploring each other for what felt like hours, you spilt. "So," Monty breathed. "Let me take you out tonight?" He grinned, his hands still around your waist. You scoffed. "How about tomorrow? I've got to make you wait at least a little." You giggled, smoothing your thumb pad over his cheek. "I'd expect nothing less of you, Y/N L/N."

[ellana-ravenwood]

please write more bruce wayne !!! 😩🙌🏽

And here some more Bruce Wayne ;) : 

You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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Beach Bod’  - Bruce Wayne x Reader

You hated sand. You just couldn’t stand it. It got everywhere, it iritated your skin…it was just awful. So, obviously, when your family FINALLY could get all together, you decided a day at the beach was a good idea. Alfred made a nice pic-nic, and you all left for a secret spot you knew, where, even though it was a wonderful summer day, you knew there wouldn’t be anyone. You had a nice family lunch made of Al’s great sandwiches and salads. You bitched about sand getting in your food, and your sons and husband just kept mocking you for your grumpiness. You were the one who always smiled usually, and also, you suggested you should go to the beach so…But still, fuck sand.

At the present moment, your boys, Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian, were trying to drown their father. How cute. Of course, they were not really trying to drown him, they were just having fun…you hoped. You had to give Bruce credits though, he was alone againts four teenage boys very much in shape, and still managed to keep his head out of the water. It was nice to see all of them relaxed, laughing, splashing each others and not actually trying to kill each other or brooding.

The boys finally came up with a strategy the four of them together to be able to duck their father’s head in the water. Dick held onto one of Bruce’s leg, while Jason was holding the other. Tim used Damian as a battering ram, and threw him as hard as he could in his father’s chest.

You winced a bit, not liking when they played too rough. Bruce gasped, the air knocked out of his lungs, and fell backward into the water. Tim held Damian above his head like a trophy, and your youngest boy exploded in laughter, which rarely happened. You wished it happened because of something else though, you couldn’t help but think he was laughing because he thought hitting his father in the guts was extremely funny…

Bruce surfaced, half laughing half in pain.

-I think I’m done for now boys…

They whined, wanting their dad to stay and play, but he was adamant on the fact he needed some rest. They got over it quickly, as Tim climbed on Jason’s shoulders, and Damian on Dick’s, preparing for a fierce battle.

Bruce walked towards you, and you couldn’t stop from staring at him. You had been together for years, but man his body was ridiculous. The all six packs thing, broad chiseled chest, sexy back muscle rolling as he was stretching, muscled thighs…Perfect beach body. The man was working out. A lot. You loved to sit on his back and read while he was doing push ups.

He laid on the towel besides you his arms coming to his face to shield his eyes from the sun.

You placed a hand on his abdomen, gently rubbing it as if to soothe the hit he took moments ago.

The corner of his mouth went up in a smile, but he didn’t move, breathing softly. You almost thought he had fallen asleep, even with the rauckus your children were making a few feet away, but when you took your hand off of his belly, he caught it and dragged you down to him.

Sand flew everywhere, and even with the lips of your husband on yours, tongue trying to slip in, you were not happy. He noticed, and pulled away, raising himself on his elbows.

-Sand ?

-Yes, sand. Fucking sand.

He laughed.

-I think I’ve never met someone hating sand as much as you…

-Anakin Skywalker is agreeing with me.

-What ?

-In Star Wars episode two, he…

-I’m sorry I don’t speak to people who acknowledge the existence of modern Star Wars films.

He said as he laid back down, your hand in his. You couldn’t stop the smile creeping on your face. You both hated episode 1 to 3, and it was a running joke between the two of you that those films didn’t even exist. Ignoring as best as you could the sand sticking to your legs, you rested your head on his chest, drawing abstract patterns on it with light fingers.

-Episode seven isn’t that bad.

-They killed…

-Yeah yeah I know who they killed, don’t open the wound back baby.

He chuckled, and tangle one hand in your hair. The water was already drying from his body, and you mourned the lost of the freshness of it. He noticed your small sigh, and, putting his free arm under his head, raised his head to look at you.

-What is it darling ?

-I’m a bit too hot.

-You’re very hot.

He winked at you, and pinched your ass, and you hit him weakly on the chest.

-Seriously though, if you’re too hot, just get in the water. It’s nice and fresh.

-No, because then…

-…The sand is going to stick to me and I hate sand, which is why I suggested coming to the beach with my love and my kids and…

-I don’t sound like that mister Wayne !

You exclaimed as you sat up, even if you had to admit though, you kinda sounded like that.  

He raised on his elbow once again and gave you his signature smug look.

-I’m going to kick you in the face Wayne.

-You wouldn’t reach it.

-You’re lying down.

-You’re really short.

This time, you punched him a bit harder in the chest, and though it didn’t hurt him, he acted like it did just to please you. You instantly felt guilty though, and after making sure you didn’t hit any of the bruises he got during his latest night patrol, you reached to stroke his cheek and mouthed the word : « sorry ». He gave you another smug look, and you knew that even if you’d hit him full force, he wouldn’t feel a thing. The man was a brick wall compared to you. And oh my God his smug face annoyed you everytime. You were about to smack him lightly when he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him once again, so fast that you fell over him and « accidentally » straddled him. You smile in the kiss as you felt his hand slowly roaming down your body.

-OH NO EW THAT’S SO GROSS GET A DAMN ROOM !!

Damian was just looking for a tuna sandwiche when he witnessed his parents starting to eat each other’s face…Or just, French kissing passionately, same thing for him really…His sandwiche dangling from his mouth, he made gagging sound as the two of you laughed lightly. But being the over-dramatic child he was, he went too far, and in a theatrical gesture, he threw just the tiniest amount of sand towards you, which landed in your hair.

Everyne froze. Dick, Jason and Tim half out of the water slowly went back in it, as if trying to get away from a wild animal.

Damian just stood there, sandwiche in mouth, slowly realizing what he had done.

And Bruce was ready to catch you and stop you from murdering your youngest son. You really REALLY hated sand. But against all expectations, you started to laugh loudly, of this cute laugh your husband loved so much, and that was too rare for his liking. Soon, laughter took over all of you, and you stood to try and get rid of the sand on you.

Bruce sat up and tried his best to stop the fit of laughter that took over him. He swore that no one but you was able to make him laugh like that, your laugh being so communicative. You gestured for him to get up, and soon his tall and large frame was towering over you, eyeing you with curiosity.

-Come in the water with me ? And help me take my revenge on Damian…

The boy heard you, and quickly abandoned his sandwiche, running back to his laughing brothers, hiding behind Dick and Jason. But it was no use, Bruce got rid of both the teenagers in a swipe of his arms, and you got a hold of your youngest, with the help of Tim, you dragged him under the water in another fit of laughter.

-Traitor !

Damian yelled at Tim, but he couldn’t quite act as mad as he wanted, because as much as he liked to deny it, moments like this, with all of you, were his favorites.

You gathered him up in your arms and squeezed him tenderly as he tried to wriggle out of your embrace. You gestured to the other boys for a group hug, and soon, Damian was screaming bloody murder as you all squeezed him in the middle of you.

With a gentle smile full of love, you let go of them, and went back to your husband who was a bit away, letting you and your sons having your moment. Bruce opened his arms for his own hug, and you gladly accepted. You didn’t had a lot of times like this, just with them, enjoying them without thinking about anything but each other’s company. You kissed Bruce’s chest, and he tangled once again a hand in your hair, as the other gently went down on the small of your back.

The boys were too busy fighting to comment your sapiness, and you just looked at them lovingly as you enjoyed Bruce’s embrace…until you felt his hand slid slowly in your panty. You eyed your sons quickly, they weren’t looking at you, and anyway, you were deep in the water enough for them not to even see anything.

-What are you doing Bruce ?

-Getting rid of the sand that got everywhere ?

You smiled mischievously, and shook your head, repressing a moan as he touched a particularly sensitive part. You took his hand out of your swimming suit.

-I’ll let you do that when it’s just the two of us honey. Now, carry me back on the grass, I really fucking hate sand, there’s no way I’m walking in it wet. It’ll stick…

Bruce smiled, and you climbed on his back. As you reached the grass, your head resting on his scarred shoulder, you couldn’t stop your heart from beating fast with happiness, and you already dreaded the end of the day, when you’ll have to get home and your boys will go back to their dark world. You suddenly remembered why you suggested the beach even though you hated sand…it was exactly for that, because it was sunny and bright at the beach, a nice change of pace…

You kissed Bruce’s shoulder, and you could see his broad smile from the corner of your mouth, forgetting about your somber thought. For the moment, you were just going to enjoy your boys, and hope to have thousands of other days like this one.