#heheheheHEHEHEHEHE

[emmyrosee]

“Daddy?”

Atsumu immediately leaps a foot in the air from the small voice of your son, standing on the side of his bed, small arms cradling a stuffed duck. You’re not quite sure what woke you up- your husbands leap of terror, or your son’s tiny, frightened voice.

He groans and smacks a hand over his face, “bud, it’s the middle of the night. It’s too late to try and scare daddy to death.”

“Sorry,” he pouts. You close your eyes and sit up with a grunt, and he offers you a small wave, “hi mumma.”

“Hey, Kousei,” you hum. You press your fingers into your eye sockets, “what’s going on, sweetheart?”

The three year old digs his foot in the carpet, before flicking big brown eyes up at his dad, “know how look f’ monsters, daddy?”

Atsumu nods exhausted, “yeah, I do. What about them?”

“Man in my closet says no sleep.”

Atsumu immediately tenses up, your own eyes flying open as you look down in terror at Kousei.

“….who said that?” Atsumu chokes.

“The man in my-“

“Yeah, okay,” he squeaks. “Good to know I heard you right.” He looks over at you, eyes pleading for support, but when you nod towards the door, he shakes his head in fear. “Just- okay. Come on in bud.” He lifts the sheets for Kousei to climb in, which the small boy does.

You scoff, “isn’t that something you should discuss with your wife first?”

“You can go talk to the man in his closet, I’m all set,” he mumbles, kissing his son’s head.

You sigh and scrub your eyes, “should I get hisako?”

“No. She’s braver than us, she’ll be fine.”

“Alright.”

[garrywantspasta]

And then, Agatha reached her prize at the end of the Witch's road... (Her sitcom wife and her magic [that's currently inside her sitcom wife].)

[runa-falls]

he smells like flowers

pairing: steven grant x reader

rating: explicit (18+)

warnings: there is some suggestive content at the bottom so -- edit: nvm it's straight smut down there mb -- est. relationship

a/n: -> this started as a 200 word idea then i couldn't stop whoops [1.4k]

-----

steven smells cute -- pretty, even.

he's always had a gentle sweet scent that further softens everything delicate about himself.

at first you thought he was rummaging in your perfume collection, spritzing some Daisy on his neck before cuddling up to you, but even after a week long mission, he still smells like that mellow mix of tender flower petals and syrupy nectar. ambrosia that glides thick on your tongue and begs you to swallow him down.

if you didn't know any better, you'd think he has a special sex pheromone or something.

it's a scent unique to him, one that you'll never find in any bath and body works or even a high-end designer store -- you've tried and they don't even come close. you swear if you could bottle it up, it would be sold out in a matter of seconds.

he used to get insecure about his naturally 'feminine' aroma because his brothers [alters] have more intensely masculine scents of spice and salt. the type of musk that's conventionally attractive to the opposite sex [or other men].

but you love it. in fact you crave it.

you often find yourself nuzzling into his chest and breathing him in, randomly climbing onto his lap or draping yourself over his shrouded figure just to get him to hold you close. he doesn't mind it, enjoying your closeness and gentle touch, almost proud of how your body yearns for him.

since steven, marc, and jake all share the same body, you assumed they'd be alike in terms of how they look, feel, and smell. it didn't take long for you to figure out that they're actually very different in various ways.

steven is soft, always standing in a way that makes him smaller than he actually is, like he's trying to take up as little space as possible. his eyebrows are either constantly high up on his forehead in wonderment and excitement or low in worry or confusion, brushing along the long lashes of his tired round eyes.

you smooth over the tense lines of his brows as he shifts in a fitful sleep. even when he's unconscious, he's worried, always on his toes, ready to strike at any moment. his expression softens after a while and he instinctively leans into your touch.

he always has tired eyes bags under his deep brown gaze, even when he gets in 12 hours of sleep. and it's just him. when marc and jake front, they look awake and ready to fight, but steven always looks like he could use a nap or a hug.

he has a habit of chewing on his bottom lip when he's nervous, excited, or generally overstimulated, sucking it raw until you tug it out from under his teeth and help him lick the wounds.

sometimes you think he does it on purpose -- wanting to feeling you grace his lips with yours -- other times you worry that if you weren't there he'd do some real damage to himself without even knowing it.

he wears loose clothes, preferring fabric to drape over him rather than cling to his strong build and often stocks his wardrobe with outfits that are one or two sizes too large [marc and jake complain about it, but they still wear the clothes].

the sleeves of his clothes are tugged and stretched out because he likes the feeling of having something to hold on to, it grounds him. it comforts him when you aren't around.

it's adorable to see his large hands engulfed in soft sweaters as he sips on his tea and flips through a book, glasses resting precariously on the bridge of his nose. he sits next to you on his worn couch holding your hand in his lap as he reads, always needing to feel a part of you whenever you're near. you lean against his arm, content to just breathe in the moment of being with him.

his hair fluffs up more than you thought was possible, sticking every which way when he wakes up or lets it naturally dry after a shower. he never puts any gels or creams to help tame his curls unlike his brothers who religiously use mousse or a hat to keep it down.

he loves it when you play with his hair, threading your fingers through the soft fluff before tugging delicately on the ends to keep him awake as he strat to drift from your touch. shivers run up his spine as you softly scratch his scalp and he can't help but snuggle further into your lap.

steven is the epitome of tender comfort, soft and sweet. but he's also addictively delicious in other ways. [cw: suggestive scene]

if you thought steven smells good, he tastes even better. his lips are plump and glossy with the flavor of ripe red cherries. his tongue drips with succulent honey that spreads and soaks feverishly into yours. you drink it in eagerly, tongues mingling and teeth gnashing as his body shutters and bucks under you.

it's even on his skin...

he whimpers when you lave your tongue against a soft spot of his neck, hungrily trying to get a taste of the sweet man under you. his hands that grip at your waist pull you in closer as he lets you nip love bites along his skin, loving how you mark him as yours.

you groan against his slick heated skin -- he tastes like a box of heart shaped chocolates: saccharine, rich, and indulgent. you've never had a sweet-tooth, but steven is a dessert you could eat any day.

it could be argued that the sounds he makes are just as alluring as his taste.

steven is quite predictable: he whines when he wants more, unable to properly voice his desires with how heavily he's saturated with need and lust. it's quite high pitched and desperate, a sound you love to draw out as you tease him with soft kisses and faint touches.

he whimpers when he's getting close or is struggling to comprehend the intense sensations his body is experiencing. this sound is usually accompanied with a tremble body and sparkling lust-blurred eyes. a state in which you could do anything you want to him.

he groans when he finally reaches the end. it deep and guttural, something you never expected from the gentle lightness of steven. this sound could push you off the edge without him even touching you. it's like the euphoric explosion inside of him can translate through the air into you, filling your body with second-hand ecstasy and liquified hunger.

[NSFW]

your sweet steven shudders as you dip down in front of him, hand in your hair to keep it out of your face. dark eyes watch as you clean him up, soft tongue flicking against the mess he made on his stomach.

he hopes you don't notice how he twitches in response to your kitten licks as you shift closer to his center, it's embarrassing how desperate he is, even when it's barely been five minutes after his orgasm.

you hum as you swallow down his essence, licking your lips in satisfaction before you sit back up. steven lovingly swipes a thumb over your moist mouth, cleaning you up a bit, but before he could pull away you capture his thumb in your mouth, suckling gently over him.

his eyes darken ever so slightly as he presses against your tongue, pushing against the silky muscle. he catches himself, shaking out of the trance you put him under and pulls away. you can't help but frown when he does.

your voice is a mere whisper, "you're so tasty, steven."

he looks puzzled and slightly bashful, "i am...?"

"mhm...here taste."

you lean in and press your lips over his before easily slipping your tongue into his mouth. he pours himself into the kiss, moaning lightly as his tastes himself mingled with your own flavor. he licks boldly into your mouth, basking in the consuming hunger that radiates off of you as you zealously pull him closer.

he leans back for a breath though he's still close enough that his lips brush against yours. steven is flushed and in a daze. his voice so quiet that he essentially sighs it against you, "i-i'm pretty sure that taste is all you, sweetheart."

[greatdecaygreatrenewal]

yall rmr when i said i should draw grunge tomura?

[punkinspice]

So my friend @shannonallaround and I are currently drafting an Espio/Team Chaotix story and it is so *chefs kiss* delicious and good and I can’t WAIT to share more with you

[redhead-batgal]

Type: One-Shot (First part- Drabble) {If you want things to make sense you probably should read it, the first part, 😁😁😁}

Pairing: Fem! Student! and Soulmate! Reader x Damian Wayne/Robin

AU: Soulmate! Reader

Content: Swearing, angst, teenage stupidity, aged up kiddos 16/17, technical talk about soulmates, lowkey frustrations, some much angst yall, some fluff, mythology, toxic parents, and soul crushing

Word Count: 7,233

(P.S: Okay so this is going to be continuing from the I Feel a Sin Coming On drabble, I've been getting a few comments on it asking for a part two and someone sent in a request for a Shy and Smart Student! Reader with Damian and let's just say the gears in my head started turning. Anyways this could go on if you guys want it to, but it could also end like this! It will break you. I hope you all enjoy! :D)

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

While, unfortunately, it's true the somewhat cruel existence of soul mates was around and kicking, love- true love was still there. Or at least it was believed to be there. It supposedly thrived even more for some reason. Some speculated that it was because there was a standing of everyone deserving love. Whether they were good or bad or in-between, they got someone who would love them for the rest of their life regardless of all the mistakes they made or continue to make. Others said it was because the universe deemed people good enough to have someone for the rest of their lives. Which seems a little close minded for a society in which everyone has a soulmate. But maybe that was because of the belief that if things didn’t work out with your soulmate- if you didn’t love them as you should or didn’t get the love you thought you deserved- it was because you weren’t good enough. Weren’t good enough to get the right kind of love. But in the end soulmates do exist. They exist and are for everyone. For each person you pass on the road, there is someone out there for them. Just as there's someone out there for you.

But the daunting notion that you have to be the right kind of good to get your perfect love chilled you to the bone. After all, if it wasn’t perfect what did that say about you? Because in the end weren’t they made for you? Maybe that’s why some still believed in true love, that it was real. Both because of and not because of soulmates. Rather because of the concept. Someone made just for you. Even if that person was flawed-if you are flawed, just as they were made for you, you were made for them. But sometimes, what is made for you can harm you a lot more than what’s not. 

It was why you believed that the reason true love might still exist was actually because some people fell for their soulmate before they realized they were fated to be. Before that dreaded bond-that agonizing pull kicked, of their own free will they fell in love. Because they didn't have to suffer through the pull of a bond they never wanted, these people were blissfully ignorant of what forced love was like. They did not know the horrors of those forced to stay with someone their heart loved but mind did not. And despite all your animosity towards soulmates, despite your fear and hatred, what made this all the worse-all the more ironic-was that you were technically one of those people. 

Before you even knew what a soulmate was to you-before you were old enough to recognize the pull, to feel, it’s dark and fervent demand for attention-you fell for him. For his laugh: in the way he tilted his chin back as if trying to suppress its joyous sound and his smile: in the way the corners of his would curve showing a slight dimple in his left cheek and revealing the softness his eyes could have. For his kindness: in the way he disregarded what others said and lived his life freely as himself despite the demand of society for him to be like the rest-to be normal. For his mortality: in the way he would never allow bullies to pick on others around him, even if he thought they needed to toughen up. But most importantly for the way he tried each and every single day to learn more and be better even if you’re the only one who noticed. For the way he seemed to be all what you dreamed, something that should have caused you suspicion but instead drew you in. 

That is until your 13th birthday and, much like many before you, you felt the tug of that dreaded bond.

You were six when you decided to loathe soulmates. Six when you swore on your very soul- your existence that you would never love your soulmate. You swore to live in misery of your own making rather than fates. No matter who they were, you would hate them.

But fate... well fate hated to be tested. So, fate did the worst thing it could. It made you fall for the one person you swore never to.

Your soulmate.

Your very own soulmate who seemed like the only light in the dark and suddenly you began questioning whether or not these feelings- these emotions you had thought were your own and genuine- were actually yours. Or if they were just fate pulling its strings and making you dance and dance and dance.

To say you were upset was an understatement and... well let's just say fate might be prideful, but you were twice as petty.

At age thirteen you shoved the emotions you had so dearly cherished so deep in your chest they seemed like nothing more than echoes of naive mind. You distanced yourself from him and only let yourself feel in your loneliest of moments.

Four years, it had nearly been four years since you had begun your battle against fate. And- and and fate was getting stronger... as you have been told. The older you get- the closer you are to your soulmate, the stronger the bond is.

Those moments... those lonely moments happened more often, and those stupid annoying emotions rose up with the beating of your traitorous heart.

Which is exactly how you ended up in the last place you ever wanted to be. Face to face with your soulmate... with them recognizing you and what you were to them.

"I'm your soulmate." Damian Fucking Wayne said his eyes locked on you as you felt your heart jump to your throat and all the color drain from your face.

"Fucking shit, " You whispered, unable to break his gaze.

Shaking-hand shaking and heart pounding at your rib cage demanding you acknowledge him-that you give in and tell him he’s right. That you are soulmates and let fate drive you. But there was something fate and your treasonous heart seemed to forget. You were one petty bitch. 

Weakly smiling you let out a nervous laugh and turned, avoiding eye contact. Eyes darting around they finally settled on your bare wrist as your other hand scrambled to gather your things against your trembling chest.  

"Oh- my,” Your voice cracked as you shoved your things into your bag, “would you look at the time! I need to get going." 

Fingers racing over the items in your bag you went to zip it close and make your escape when your eyes rested on your final item. The book you were reading earlier. Which just so happened (damn you fate) to be right in front of Damian. Eyes raising to him, gazes latching for just a moment you did the one thing you should not. You looked down, down and back at your book before making the stupidly impulsive decision to lunge for it. Your fingers brushed the cover, nails barely scraping lines into it when a hand-warm and firm clasped around your wrist. Pulling you back towards the table in a quick tug that caused your stomach to slam against the tables side. Wincing you stabbed your nails into your palm, not daring to look up. You had fallen for his trap, the oh so obvious trap you could have avoided had you just not looked at him. 

"I'm your soulmate," He said again, his voice clear and stanch as he gently pulled on your arm, clearly trying to get you to meet his eyes, "and you are mine."

Soulmate- God why did you have to care about him. Why- why-did it have to be him? Why-

why couldn’t fate just leave you alone?

Something about the tone of his voice made your heart shatter. It was almost desperate, but you couldn’t-you couldn’t allow yourself to be weak. After all, you would not let fate win. Petty- you were so violently petty and prideful- oh even fate knew this yet- it still tried... this- you wouldn't let this stand. You could-no would not allow fate to get away with even attempting this. Taking a breath in-a deep breath- you raised your chin. Steadying your mind with the thoughts of your parents, of how you needed to be around them. Calm, poised, emotionless. Ignoring the well of tears in your throat and the pressure behind your eyes you finally met his gaze. 

Green. All you could see was those beautiful green eyes, wide and desperate. Yearning-yearning for you to give a reply. But the one you were about to give would only hurt those eyes, regardless, it needed to be done. One pain- one moment or time of pain and sorrow was far better than a life of them. 

Slowly letting out the breaths you previously let in you tilted your head, feeling his grip on your wrist lightening. 

“I do not have a soulmate," You began instantly seeing the surprise on his face-the confusion, so you continued, “I won’t have one. Not you. Not anyone. You see, I don't believe in soulmates. So, I do believe you are mistaken.” 

His grip dropped but seeing the broken look on his face made your facade crumble in an instant as your heart screamed to stop. To comfort him. To take back your words and press yourself into his arms. But you were smarter than that, even if you weren’t strong enough to hide the tears anymore. Throat bobbing, you felt your mouth tremble as your eyes stung and something warm began spilling down your cheeks. 

Pulling yourself away from him, you smiled a bitter smile, not even daring to acknowledge the tears you were shedding. Head high, you turned. 

Voice cracking, you bid farewell, “Now, if you excuse me, I have to get going.”

Feet scrambling you nearly dashed out the door, leaving the book that got you into this mess behind. After all, it was now only going to hold harish and painful memories. 

As soon as your feet touched the gravel, you ran. Tears freely spilled down your cheeks and you sobbed and panted. Mind trying it’s best to soothe the heart that had just torn itself into pieces. But there was nothing it could do. There was nothing you could do but cry and run. Run away from him. From all the pain you had and were going to feel. It was hell, yes. But at least it was yours. At least you knew how and why it had happened, at least you knew what was to come. At least you were still you right?

By the time you had finally calmed your tears-though your heart was still howling, you had made it home. Wiping your tears you took a deep breath in and held it, hoping it would steady your mind and breathing enough to face what was about to come. You hesitated for a moment, then let the breath out wiped your face again and walked up to the door. It was then you heard the shouting. The rage filled voices cursing at each other, dishes and shoes flying, shattering and knocking things about. 

Hand trembling you pushed down the doorknob and walked in. The barrage of insults and dissonance of things being thrown slammed into you. Your feet shuffled across the floor as you saw the shadows in the kitchen, too caught up in their most recent argument to even acknowledge your existence-that is until they came into view. 

“God you never listen!” Your father roared

“Better than sitting on my ass doing nothing all day!” Your mother countered

Quivering you slowly moved towards the staircase as their fight pushed into the living room. Your father’s hands waved as your mother rolled her eyes at him, arms crossed. 

“Really that’s how you’re gonna be?”

“Yeah it is.”

“Fine then, I’ll just take this lazy ass of mine and leave!”

“GOOD!”

With that your father turned and stormed past you straight out the door, slamming it behind him. You flinched and turned to see your mother staring at you. 

“Ugh! I can’t believe him,” She hissed before she shook her head, scowling, “absentee father, sitting on his ass all day while I make the money and take care of the needless kid. God, pregnant at 18- now married to that loser! My life went down the drain. If only it weren't for you...”

Those words stabbed at your heart, sinking in their little daggers in the spots they knew best. You knew she didn’t mean for you to hear them, but you always did.  It wasn’t the first time you had heard things like this, but it did seem to hurt all the more due to what happened earlier this afternoon. Sniffing slightly, you lowered your head and your voice cracking as you had to fight off more tears whimpered,

“I’m sorry mom.”

As if a flip switched your mom’s brown furrowed and scowl dropped. She looked you over, concern in her eyes and she took a step forward. 

“Are you okay honey? You don’t sound too good.”

Raising your head you tightly smiled and nodded, “Of course, just stressed cuz of school. I’ve got some exams coming up and it’s causing my emotions to be all over the place.”

She nodded eyes raving over you, resentment heavy in them as she plopped onto the couch with sigh, “Okay, you better be doing good in school alright? Don't want you to end up like that louse of man your father is.”

You nodded again, “Of course! Actually I was about to go and study.”

“Good, you do that.” She replied as she picked up the remote and flipped on the T.V.

You paused, for just a moment watching her as the resentment began to slide from her eyes, her face softening. She was so pretty, yet harsh lines from constant scowls and frowns bore their way onto her cheeks. Line surrounded her eyes from the tears and sleepless nights. And it was all because of you. Turning, your hands tight on your bag, you raced up the stairs, dashing towards your room where you collapsed onto the ground the second the door was closed. Hand against your face you pressed your head against the door and bit your lip. You did not have the luxury of more tears.  

Turning you found yourself looking at your own reflection. The combination of your mother and father. The perfect combination. It made you wonder what they saw when they looked at you. Did they see a reflection of themselves? Or just an echo of the person they loathed to love. You knew for a fact they never saw you, just you. It was always tied with one or the other. You could tell because today your mother avoided your eyes, that was because you had your father’s eyes. So today, she must have seen him in you. At least until your hair covered your face-her hair- and she saw herself. Maybe that’s why she softened; you didn’t truly know. They loved you, yes. But only because they saw themselves in you. Because on the good days, they saw each other. Because in a way you were them. What hurt the most though, was not when they saw each other or themselves in you. But the fact that they would never see you. And if your parents, the people who were supposed to love you the most, the people who brought you into this world could never see you, who could? 

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

It had nearly been a week since you last saw and denied being soulmates with Damian Wayne. In said period you spent your free time dodging Damian and all his friends as well as digging your nose into every soulmate lore, history or origin you could find. While you didn’t want a soulmate, that didn’t mean Da- you soulmate should suffer because of it. So, you had made it your mission to discover if there was any way you could break the bond now. Research had told you that if one party ignored the bond for long enough it would fade for the other. But you didn’t know how long that would take and merely telling Damian you weren’t soulmates tore you up so badly that the mere sight of him sends you into tears. Therefore, you needed to find a way to break the bond. Both for yourself and for Damian. 

But as far as you could tell it was impossible. Every single myth, origin and lore of soulmates explained them as the other half of each other, inseparable even incomplete without the other. Part of you hated that thought. That you were incomplete without your soulmate. Because weren’t you a person, able to function live, laugh and love all on your own? Without a soulmate? Only Greek mythology even considers you as whole without your soulmate. Though it does say that they are meant to be together and once they meet they will not want to part. Which did not read well for your plans. In Chinese mythology there was the Red String or Red Thread of Fate 

A tangible string, perhaps it was something that could be broken. But from what you read it could not, at least you could not cut it or tear it with your hands. It cannot be broken. It cannot be broken. It can-

Taking a deep breath in, you rubbed your brow. It didn’t really make sense to you that the string or thread or whatever it was couldn’t be broken. It also didn’t make sense that a soulmate was to be bound to you for life. Logically speaking there had to be a loophole. Afterall no one feels their bond until they are thirteen. If you were truly bound for life, you would always feel it. Therefore, there must be a workaround. A way to break the bond or someone- or someone to break it- to remove it. 

Since it is not there from the beginning it cannot be like in the Greek, Jewish or Hindu myths. But it might be connected to that string of fate theory. And there was one person who you could think of that might be able to remove or break the bond. The very person who put it there. And if the Chinese myth is right it’s Yuè Xià Lăorén or Yuè Lăo. But as far as you could tell no one was meeting old men at night right before their thirteenth birthday. 

It felt like a lost cause. You doubted anyone actually ever seriously tried to break their soulmate bond. No one ever seemed to have your determination or rather stubbornness. Most people would have surely given up by now, but you desperately needed a way. Because despite how much you hated it, how much it made you hate yourself. You couldn’t help but love him. And it terrified you. 

Your parents started out in love and now they were-... it’d be difficult to say what they had was anything other than torture. Day in day out fighting. Yelling and screaming. Shouting. Such anger at someone they were supposed to love. It made you wonder, were they really in love? Were they really supposed to be each other's happy ever after? Each other's eternity? If so, what did that mean for you? Did that mean you were doomed to be stuck in the same cycle of love turning to hate? Did that mean that you were going to lose a love you always told you had? Did that mean that you were going to die unloved? It was a fear- your biggest if you were being honest. That the person who was supposed to love you forever, doesn’t really love you. And you could take the chance. Not with what you knew- what you’d seen. There was no way in hell you were ever going to let that happen.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was truly unfortunate that you just so happened to have a mother deeply involved in her job. One that resulted in her dragging you to a gala because she needed to show she had the perfect little family. What a joke. A cosmic joke as said gala was happening at none other than Wayne manor. And its host? You guessed it,  Bruce Wayne himself with his gaggle of children all in attendance. How did you know this? Well, your eye caught one of the many children. The one you were trying your hardest to avoid. 

Damian Mother Fucking Waye.

And it seems you caught his eye as well, because the second he looked in your direction his face lit up. That is until you turned away from him, the next you saw the color drained from his face and he practically stormed out of the room. Though any random bystander would have thought he calmly exited, you knew better. Which was valid considering you had basically spit in his face and said he wasn’t good enough. But it still hurts. Nowadays it seems that everything hurts. Though it was all probably due to the bond you were so determined to reject. 

So, to dull the pain you clung to the walls of the ballroom. Heavily nursing the glass of champagne you snagged from an unassuming waiter. It had been probably close to two hours since you arrived and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through it, however you most definitely did not want your parents to see. You were underaged and they wanted to keep their ‘perfect’ image intact. Which is partially the reason why when the people began to make their rounds around the ballroom, you decided to slip out. Though you abandon your drink, you thought wandering around the manor’s halls might help you relax even if it was only a little bit. 

Wandering down the darkened corridors you listened to the faint music that trailed after you as you got further and further away from the ballroom. Night encompassing each hallway you turned down it wasn’t long till the sounds of the strings playing was nothing more than a faint humming like the buzz of a fly. Darkness and silence swallowed the area-well near silence. The creaking and settling of the manor seemed to be the only sound. That is until you hear a clattering and an all too familiar voice cursing in another language. 

Maybe, it was due to the slight buzz those sips of champagne gave you-maybe it was the exhaustion from the days of fighting off your feelings-or maybe it was because the pull was just too strong; you walked towards the sound and pushed a door open to find a disheveled Damian Wayne sitting in on a couch, a bottle of whisky clutched in his hands, a crystal glass at his feet with half melted ice cubes surrounding it. 

He did not seem to notice your presence, so you slowly began to venture closer. Noticing his messy hair, unbuttoned shirt and missing tie. Why did he have to look so damn beautiful? Better hearing his mutterings which were half in English, you pause to listen. 

“Seems like Todd was correct,” He mumbled as a hiccup stalled his sentence, “this does improve everything… or perhaps not.” 

His body shifted as he hiccuped again, and had you not seen it yourself you would not have believed that the high pitched sound came from him. It almost made you laugh, but you were able to restrain yourself and move closer. This time, it seems Damian heard you as his head snapped in your direction. He blinked a few times almost as if he was trying to get water from his eyes. Head tilting he narrowed his gaze, voice slurring as he asked, “Y/N?”

Sighing you nodded and walked even closer until you stood in front of him. Smiling slightly you waved and took a deep breath in before replying, “Hi Damian.”

He blinked more, brow furrowing as he muttered something you could not catch. Sinking deeper into the couch he gave you a blank look. 

“So have you come to inform me of our ‘non-existent bond’? Because I assure you if you do not wish to discuss it with me I will leave it alone.”

You raised an eyebrow and crouched so you could be eye level with him. Meeting his eyes you found yourself once again admiring their beauty.

“Really? Then thank you. I appreciate that.” You paused concern stirring so strongly in your chest you couldn’t help but let the worry take hold, “ But I’m not here for that.” 

Damian sat up glaring at you and you did not move, swallowing as he got a bit closer. 

“Then what are you here for?”

“I’m worried about you.”

As if it was instinctual, he replied, “And who's fault is that.”

Though he winced afterwards despite you merely sighing at his comment. Resting your chin on your knees you gave him a sad smile and nodded. 

“You’re right… I owe you an explanation.”

Heart in your throat you met his eyes again and asked, “Would you let me give you one?”

Silence thrummed between the two of you for a lot longer than you would have liked. His gaze not leaving your face as you took a deep breath in and let it out. You should have done this from the start and at the very least if things go awry he probably won't remember any of this. 

His hand gesturing to the place next to him he said, “Sit.”

You snorted and rose to your feet. Then the seat next to him shifted a bit awkwardly before you turned to him. He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes as he took another swig from the bottle. It stung far more than you would ever admit seeing him like this. But- but it would fade. It will fade. He won’t be like this forever. He won’t. 

“So… I should probably tell you why I don’t believe in soulmates.”

He grunted in reply, and you weakly laughed, “I-hmm… this is rather hard to explain. You see my parents are soulmates and they-”

You stopped yourself, watching as he stared across the room. Realizing that telling him about this was letting him in. And you could not let him in. Biting your lip you swallowed, squeezing your eyes shut as you once again fought off tears. 

“I really don’t like their relationship. I hate it. And and to me it seems everyone with a soulmate is miserable. They aren’t happy. Shouting, arguing, fighting. I will not risk the chance of being like my parents. I refuse.”

He was looking at you now. Brow furrowed and the bottle slipped between his fingers. Your voice cracked and you winced, swallowing as you shrugged. 

“I- i am a coward. I refuse to take any chances because I don’t want to get hurt.”

The unspoken ever again hung on your lips as your parents' rage flashed through your mind. Fingers picking at one another you looked down. Unable to keep eye contact without crying. 

“I’m scared and- and worried and and I- I’m so sorry. You deserve better and i-”

His hand was over your mouth and you blinked in confusion looking up to see him pinching his nose, bottle still in hand. 

“Please silence your excuses.” Damian snapped, “I will not hear anyone talk about you that way.”

Something jolted in you and you froze, tears springing to your eyes, you nodded and he removed his hand. Fingers darting to wipe away tears you began to turn from him. His hand batted your fingers away and cupped one of your cheeks. The other still clutching the whiskey bottle half cupped the other. Damian pressed his forehead against yours and looked you in the eyes. 

“I care not that you are a coward. I care not that you are running away. I understand your unease, I understand your logic. But I disagree. I can do no better than you, my soulmate. My other half. I will be here for you and will ease your fears, I will drive your worries away and treat your scars. Emotional or otherwise. I am here for you. I do not know what I have to do for you to understand I am yours. Whole and solely yours. As you are mine. Please- I beg you. Tell me what I must do for you to allow me to love you to my fullest capacity.” 

Unable to look away, your heart taking control as that bitter bond turned soft and sweet you began to cry. Tears spilling down your face, you pressed your forehead more against his, words slipping from you before you could even think. 

“Be forever mine and let me be forever yours,” You whispered. 

Something softened in his eyes, a warmth in them you desperately wanted to see but hoped you never did. He began to lean in a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as his hands shifted, the bottle falling from his grasps as he muttered,

“Was that ever in doubt?”

You tilted your head and his lips pressed against yours. He tasted of bitterness, a darkness that burned so sharply it had you clinging to him. Hands bunched in the cloth of his shirt you found yourself leaning in. His arm wrapped around your waist and as he pulled you in tighter, body shifting as he couldn’t get you close enough. As if there wasn’t a way to hold you where he was near enough. It was as if he wanted to shift-sinking-melting completely and totally into you. 

Air, you had no air left, but who needed air? He was here. His touch gentle and constant, reassuring as he pressed against you, gripping you as if he was terrified the second he let you go, you would disappear. And he was right. 

You broke apart both gasping for air and his grip loosened. Foreheads pressed against each other he smiled, a smile that sent your already raging heart racing. His hand rested against your cheek, fingers playing with your hair. Squeezing his eyes shut he muttered,

“I love you.” 

Your heart skittered and-

Tug, there was a tug a mother fucking tug that made your whole-body ache. One that stole the air you had just barely regained. One that sent shivers up your spine and knocked some sense into you. 

You couldn’t breathe. Standing up suddenly, your head spun. Blinking a few times as tears sprang into your eyes you shook your head. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “I'm sorry, I’m sorry.” 

And with that, you bolted from the room. Faintly hearing Damian calling after you, you rush down the hall brushing past a butler whose name you think is Alfred. He gives you a soft smile and you nod, quickly wiping away the tears. He paused but you kept moving. You had to get out of here. You had to get out of here now. No matter what it took. 

Feet nearly tripping over the other you stumbled back into the ballroom. There would be hell to pay later, you knew it. But if you stayed any longer you could get hurt beyond repair. Allowing the feeling of everything that had just occurred loose, you promptly burst into tears as you stumbled towards your stunned parents. Your mother frantically moved to you as your father’s eyes widened and he began speaking to the people before them. 

“Y/N, Y/N honey we’re in front of a lot of people. Can this wait?” Your mother whispered as she got closer.

Sniffling you collapsed into your mother’s arms, feeling her embrace again for the first time in nearly a decade. Trembling as sobs escaped you, you were able to get out. 

“I want to go home. Please. Please. Let me go home.” 

At first, she didn’t reply, then she began moving you towards the door. 

“Alright. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

She did not even turn in your father’s direction. After all, they had done what they always do, taken separate cars. Unable to quell the tears, you let your mother guide you out the door before he came to pull you back into fate’s vicious plot.

_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Two days, you hadn’t left your room in two days. Not that your parents had noticed, not that anyone really did. You doubted anyone noticed your absences from class. You hoped no one would notice truthfully. You couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his face again. It was driving you crazy. So you locked yourself in your room and hoped-prayed-that these growing feelings would just die. Or maybe you could just die. That sounded like a solid solution as well. It was part of the reason why despite the late hour, despite living in Gotham you had unlocked and opened your window. 

There was a sound that awoke you, yanking you from the nightmares that never seemed to cease. And as you opened your eyes to the familiar shapes and silhouettes in your room you found one that did not belong there. 

"Who are you?" You whispered to the woman hiding in the shadows, not really caring if acknowledging her would lead her to strike. 

After all, who would lurk in the shadows of someone's room while they were sleeping unless you planned to kill them. It was a relief of sorts, that you were more than likely going to die soon. It would help you feel less guilt about Damian, about the situation that occurred a few nights before and the feelings that refused to listen to reason. 

Stepping into the moonlight the woman towered before you. Half her face tilted towards the light and you blinked twice almost recognizing it- but- but that couldn't be possible. There was no way you knew this woman. You hardly knew anyone, let alone an murder or assassin who would sneak into sleeping peoples rooms. 

"You don't have to worry about that.” She replied in a soft voice, her accent reminding you of something-something…something! 

You just couldn’t quite place your finger on what though. It nagged and nipped at your mind, tugging and swirling in faint recognition you could not connect. 

The woman took a step forward, her black hair swaying as she crossed her arms, her tone sharp and barbed, “I think who you are is a more important question.”

Her gaze did not leave you and you adjusted your blanket before glancing towards the open window almost blankly saying, 

"Nobody special I can assure you."

This caused the woman’s posture to relax a little. She hummed slightly as you crossed your legs and set your elbows on your knees. 

"Hmm, really?"

Nodding you rested your face in your hands as you looked at her shadowy figure. She seemed kind, in a way. She was at least talking to you before killing you. That was something was it not? 

"Just the byproduct of fate's meddling and destructive hands."

"Ah, your parents are soulmates?' Her stance relaxed even more and you noted how from what you could see her outfit was nothing like the things the Gotham vigilantes wore. 

"Unwilling but yes, soulmates." 

It was more of a snort than a reply, but it didn’t seem to phase the woman as she rested herself on your desk the moon light allowing you to see the curve of her jaw and shape of her nose. Familiar features that made your gut churn. 

"Oh, oh. I see. They did not choose-"

"To have me?” You interrupted with a sigh, shrugging you nodded, “I guess you could say that."

Silence followed and you saw the woman’s eyes narrow. She crossed her arms again, stance tightening. 

"... you do not seem the type to share your innermost troubles with a stranger, why are you talking to me?"

Pulling your face from your hands you gave her a shrug as a yawn slipped from your lips, "Well, for one I think you're here to kill me and two... I've needed to tell someone for a while. Why not a perfect stranger?"

"Your parent's fate troubles you that much?" Her voice seemed to begin carrying concern, which only troubled you because it made you think there would be a possibility she wouldn’t kill you. 

"They are living proof- hell I am living proof that soulmates shouldn't be forced together…” You paused crossing your arms with a scowl, “and because fate is cruel, I have a soulmate too. Despite how awful they are."

"Your soulmate is awful?"

Something in her tone said she did not believe what she was asking in the slightest. Which was true, yet it still caused that buzzing familiarity to ring just a bit louder. 

"n-no, he's not.”

Squeezing your eyes shut you sighed deeply, running your hands along your face, “ He's kind and- and all I could ask for but- but... how do I know he's all I want? How do I know any of this- any of my feelings are mine? How do I know that it isn't fate pulling my strings and wanting me to dance? How do I know he won’t leave? That the bond will only become apparent when we fight and won’t exist otherwise? When the love is gone and only the bond remains? How will I know that I won’t be abandoned again? That I won't be hurt again? That I will gain a love that will last? I won’t.  Not to mention even if I didn't like him... I would have to be with him."

"No,” The woman scoffed, “you wouldn't, dear."

"Yes, I would. My parents- they tried and now- now I live in the shambles of a home. They are together because of that damned bond even though they hate each other." You were crying now, of course you were, "fate does not like to be ignored and I don't like to be told what to do."

Angrily grabbing a tissue you blew your nose, faintly hearing the woman laugh. From what you could see, she had a look in her eyes that seemed soft- understanding. One you most certainly did not expect your killer to have. 

"Oh my, really?" She mumbled head turned towards the window. 

"Yes! I'd rather live in a hell I have control of, a hell I made rather than one fate forced upon me. If- if I ignore it enough... I heard it will fade for him, I- I will still feel it but- but because he tried, he will be spared. He'll have a chance- one I never had. And though- though I can't truly tell if these feelings are mine, it's all I want. I love him. I love him”

You stopped yourself trembling as you said it yet again, “I love him.”

Nodding you continued on, “and… I want him to be happy without me. Because- because I won't give way to fate, not even for him."

"Hmmm. I have a question for you.” 

“Yes?” You pulled the tissue box closer to you sure more tears would come. 

“Do you really want to die?”

“Excuse me?”

The woman shrugged, waving a hand, “It’s just, it hardly seems to me that you want to die. Rather it seems like you want to live.”

"What- I, I’m sorry I-." You were at a loss for words. 

She was smiling as she replied with a shrug, “You have told me of a cause you wish to live for, no? To fight against the soulmate bond. While I personally disagree with your choice, I hardly think dying will do anything other than let the bond win.”

“Wha-... I-,” You sputtered, mainly because what she said made sense. 

It made an insane amount of sense. So much so that it had your head spinning. Why exactly did you think dying was the best option? You may not have the best life, but it was yours right? 

“I’m-I’m sorry.” The whisper escaped not entirely directed at the woman but rather just as a declaration in general. 

The tears on your face felt silly and you blew your nose again as the woman sighed. Causing silence to spin about the room until she remarked,

"I believe I should be the one apologizing."

You laughed, wiping the tears from your face, "Why?"

"Because I'm not here to kill you."

Something in you skipped a beat and you shook your head. Of course she isn’t. Who would want you dead after all. You hadn’t done anything that would cause a reason to be killed.

"Oh darn." You snorted, rubbing the back of your hand across your face, "Here I am looking like a fool asking for something I don’t even want from someone who can’t even give it to me. Fate is cruel… Though life does seem crueler."

"Yes," She muttered looking over her shoulder at the window, "indeed it is."

A figure loomed where she looked, a familiar figure in green, yellow and red. The woman smiled at you again and she moved towards him patting him on the shoulder before climbing out the window. 

“It was nice to meet you Y/N.” 

Blinking in confusion you latched onto the vigilante who was now looming in between your room and the outside, "Robin? What are you doing here?"

He sighed, the woman disappearing as he rested on the window frame, "I am afraid it is quite difficult for me to explain at the moment."

"Wha-.... wait-wait."

In the silence of the night, with the slight breeze trailing in from the window where Robin was perched, you felt a tug. A heart wrenching tug you had felt just the other night. A tug that sent aches all over and made your throat tighten.

"...you're-oh."

Biting, you lip you fought off tears as he slowly entered your room. Breathing deeply, you began picking at your fingers before you finally found the courage to look him in the eyes.

He was right in front of you as tears spilled down your cheeks and through sharp stabs of pain you tightly smiled remarking,

"...hi Damian."

He was silent and you bit down harder, weakly you took in a breath. His voice was soft in reply,

"Y/N... are you- are you alright?"

You didn't know what to say. After all, he must have heard something... then again, he might not have but-

"How-" Your voice cracked as you avoided looking at him despite him being so close, but it was hard as you could feel the heat from his body, "how much... How much did you hear?"

His was quiet and you squeezed your eyes shut, heart dropping as you tasted blood. Pain dancing across your lips and air fighting to leave you. A tiny sob escaped you and you took a ragged breath in as you opened your eyes facing him. Rob-no Damian raised a hand and brushed it against your face before he leaned in. His lips almost pressed against your ear he said,

"I heard everything."

Tag List: @andromedaj2003 @thomasbeloved @instabull @zvtanna @daemonnix96 @neon-scenery @ssak-i @achromaticerebus @1lellykins @hyperfixiation-station @legendarylearner18

[whatmattersisyou]

Thinking about buff Xie Lian again

[haleswallows]

Happy Friday!

Fandom: DC x DP Pairing: Dead Tired (Danny/Tim) Rating: Teen High Fantasy AU, Arranged Marriage, and Dragons (oh my!) Chapter 13

TEASER:

“I dare say Phantom could not have found a better match,” Frostbite mused. A pretty flush rose on the prince’s cheeks. Danny focused on it, instead of his own fluttering heart. “If you wish for me to approve,” he directed at Danny, tone indulgently affectionate, “then you need not worry, Snowflake.”

He didn’t need to voice his thanks. It was a relief, not that Danny thought Frostbite wouldn’t approve. But the reassurance was welcome.

“You will stay a few days?” Frostbite asked as he shuffled his wings. They rasped against each other. “It is so rare a human comes to see me, and I do not remember ever meeting a prince from Gotham.”

“Mūti invited us to stay with her for a few days,” Danny said. “And I’ve been told by no less than three people to enjoy a little time from the Keep. Apparently, I’m stressed.”

“So I will get to see you both some more yet. A delightful surprise.” Frostbite rolled his eye back to the prince, who blinked at the sudden change in the ancient’s attention. “Little prince, I must implore you to look after this willful child. He has a great talent for getting himself into all manner of messes and trouble. I fear he has no survival instincts, despite all my worrying.”

“Stop it,” Danny groused. He was glad for the cold, perhaps it would hide his blush. “I was going to ask if you’d like to have the honor of doing our soulbond, but I don’t think I will now.”

“Ah.” Nudging Danny with his snout, Frostbite nearly bowled Danny onto his butt. “Child, I implore you to allow me. You have no talent in holding a spell.”

Gods, Frostbite just kept outing all his flaws. Soon, the prince would know all of Danny’s failings. How embarrassing.

“I just thought,” Danny said as he threw his arms around Frostbite’s nose. “You would like to help. It seemed appropriate, to have the great Ancient Frostbite cast the first soulbond between High Chief and Gotham Prince. That, and I have no talent for holding a spell.”

Frostbite snorted, blowing a clump of flurries all over Danny's front and up his nose. Danny stumbled away, rubbing his face. Like father, like son, he supposed. Sometimes he hoped Aquila would drop the habit, but Danny lost all illusions he would. Afterall, if Frostbite was still doing it in his timeless state, then it was a lost cause.

Danny rejoined the prince, sniffling a little.

“Would you like to evoke the soulbond now?” Frostbite tucked away his sly smile, circling back to the serious topic. “Or shall we wait for tomorrow?”

Now didn’t bother Danny. He shrugged, and gave deference to Prince Timothy to allow the prince to answer for them. “Oh.” The prince turned to him, chewing his lip as he searched Danny’s face. Danny absolutely didn’t let his eyes drop to the prince’s mouth. “I have no qualms with now.”

Looking between them, Frostbite smiled so softly, Danny felt the warmth of his affection. Some day, it would stop surprising him. And some day, he might even feel like he deserved it. For all his flaws and mistakes, Danny didn’t know what he did to deserve the dragon’s unconditional love.

Exist, he supposed. For Frostbite, it was that simple.

“Snowflake?” Frostbite rumbled. Danny pulled on a smile, letting the dour thoughts fall away.

This was easy. Well, maybe not easy, but familiar at least. Danny had gone through the motions five times now, and every bonding felt a bit different. Of course it did, each bond was different.

The prince’s nervousness was obvious. He stood stiffly, and his grip tightened on Danny’s hand.

Danny smiled encouragingly – Frostbite would take care of them, the ancient would never be able to bear it if he did harm to a human. Carefully, he guided the prince a few steps away and took both his hands so they stood face to face. It reminded him forcibly of the marriage rites in the Keep.

Maybe this time, Danny would be able to control himself and not kiss the prince.

The prince’s eyes fluttered a moment as he took a deep breath. “Ready?” Danny murmured, just for him. “Take all the time you need, Your Highness.”

He couldn’t help it – Danny watched the prince, even though he knew Frostbite would have words for him later. Both for getting married without telling him and for being so carelessly besotted. But who could blame him? Eyelashes a thick fan over cheeks tinted pink by the cold, lips plush from all the biting he had done, the prince was a vision. To keep himself in check, Danny rubbed his thumbs over the backs of Prince Timothy’s hands, hoping it served to soothe his nerves.

The prince looked up at Danny through his eyelashes, and nodded. “Ready.”

Frostbite breathed out a great plume of swirling snowflakes. And a new bond opened, pulling on Danny’s soul.

○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

The bond took. It slammed into Tim’s mind with a foreign weight, a headache forming right behind it as his brain struggled with the new input. Unknown, unlike anything he had ever experienced.

He was instantly aware of Phantom’s proximity - not just physically, the heat of his body, the sound of his breaths. But now internally. His mind was like a compass needle, and Phantom true North. A tugging in his mind, a pull that Tim tensed himself against to keep from leaning towards. Tim knew in his heart of hearts that blindfolded and turned around, he would be able to find his way to Phantom.

It was terrifying.

And nestled between the stinging pain of the headache, the pull of the bond in his frontal lobe, there was something else. A blur of emotions, a bouquet of flavors and colors in his mind, his hands quivering, his heart pounding. It took Tim a long breathless moment to disentangle it from his own feelings.

Joy-affection-warm that bled into guilt-sad-dread as he worked to pick them apart.

Was... was that Phantom?

Tim kept his eyes closed, chasing the emotions. Scared-affection-guilt felt sour and warm, like curdled milk. He couldn’t discern if the swoop in his stomach was the same as seeing Dick come back from patrol with only small scrapes, or the same as a missed step, expecting solid ground and finding nothing.

Like a hound, Tim pursued it. Relentless in trying to grasp it. His own emotions felt pale in comparison, his heart pounding with Phantom’s fear.

Fear?

And just as soon as he captured it, the bond was gone. Echoing in his mind, like the gates of Wayne Castle slamming closed. Tim blinked his eyes open.

Phantom stood a few paces apart, his face turned away. The armor he wore disguised any tension in body but Tim could see the way his hands clenched. It looked like he didn’t even breathe. The leather of his gloves creaked with the force he fisted them at his sides – the only outward expression Tim could see. Tim… didn’t understand.

[octoooo]

Various Vashwoods

‘98 Vash would absolutely bark, canonically he already HAS for a woman. She calls him Spot too lmao

[justanintrovertedweirdo]

My Headcanons for Vox 💙📺

(I am totally not obsessed with a flat-screen TV)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

○ First and foremost, this guy has ADHD. It's not severe or anything. He may or nay not take medication for it, but he definitely has it. He will yap for an uncomfortable amount of time if someone lets him, and you cannot tell me he is not constantly, and I mean CONSTANTLY thinking about stuff. He mumbles and does leg bounces, AND YOU CANNOT TELL ME OTHERWISE.

○ He treats his sharks like his children. He will go all day hating literally every single person he interacts with, but the second he sees his sharks he gets all soft and starts talking to them like you would talk to a dog or literally any kind of pet. I guarantee he treats them better than any of his employees or literally anyone else he knows. Also, he definitely goes swimming with them sometimes. Now that we know he has gills, that's pretty much been reinforced as a theory.

○ His 1950s mindset comes up every now and then. He's trying to be progressive, but he just cannot escape it. It doesn't help that he was most definitely a rich, American, white man when he was alive. That very much continues to shine through. Whenever he sees men doing usually "feminine" things, his 1950s mindset comes through, and he gets uncomfortable as he tries not to judge them. He's gotten a lot better with that since he met Val, however, for oncious reasons. He also has to make sure nothing possibly offensive whenever he sees a woman in revealing clothing or anything else along those lines, but he's also gotten better at that because of Velvette. He's gotten a lot better, but every now and then, his ideologies from the 1950s will slip out, leading to a lot of disappointed looks from Velvette and Val, which makes him immediately realize he said something wrong. (Also, just as an extra thing, Val and Velvette NEVER let Vox forget just how old he is. Compared to them at least.)

○ Vox. Wore. Glasses. Before. He. Died. This is something I will wholeheartedly believe until I see otherwise. I don't know why, it just makes so much sense. He may not wear glasses anymore either cause he just doesn't want to or cause his TV head makes his vision better somehow. I don't know, but either way, he wore glasses when he was alive.

○ As for the way he died, I personally think he got drunk one night and then was killed in an alleyway due to being alone, drunk, and very obviously rich. I really like the idea of a TV falling on his head (since that would explain the TV head), but I really don't know how that would incorporate into this death of his. :/

○ He worked at a news station when he was alive and would be one of the main faces on the news. TVs were just getting into all American homes during the 1950s, and it just seems so much like him to get involved with this quickly growing business. It would also give a lot of context for how he acts in the show. Acting all arrogant and looking like being in front of the cameras is just second nature to him at this point.

○ He was 31 when he died. I like to imagine he lived from 1925-1956. He's not near middle-aged, but I don't think he's that young either. I don't know. He's definitely not in his 20s. I know that.

○ His favorite drink is whiskey. I don't have a good explanation for that one, it just fits him.

○ He never had kids, and he would divorce his first and only wife before he died. Based on how he acts in the show, I just don't think he's commonly felt romantic feelings for anyone. And other than Valentino, I doubt he's had many strong sexual connections with anyone either. I'm not saying he's aroace or anything, the guy just either doesn't let himself feel anything "romantic" for anyone, or he's just not interested. I'm also fairly sure that this guy is terrified of commitment. There are a lot of reasons as to why this guy at 31, in the 1950s, would be divorced and have no kids of his own by the time he died.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Anyway, I'm gonna stop this here since this is kinda long, and I should do other stuff. I wanna share more of these, though! I think I'm gonna share what I think his family life was like when he was alive next. That'll be fun. >:]

[selineram3421]

Me: *has a new idea for a fic that is currently on-going*

[burloire]

Hey have I ever mentioned how much I enjoy @gefionne's writing? Not lately? nOT possible because here is her Ellana *A* had to draw her, she's so lovely and her fic, These Hands, If Not Gods is *chefkisschefkisschefkiss*

I wanted the colors to be *soft* because lately I feel like I've been really beating up my poor tablet LOL Hopefully she looks okay *A*

[nothingbizzare]

rock star teru <3

Here is more band au mp100 with some terumob

[spideyhexx]

tom for bull run

[waterlogged-detective]

I am vibrating with excitement for artfight this year i cant wait

[rna-world]

Objectmon? I have no idea what you're talking about these are guys from my object shows