#I shouldn’t pick up reading comics

[sinnercore]

wanna read comics but every review of the dc app I read says it’s so bad ;-; this is so sadly honestly

[starkeyisthelastname]

When stepdad rafe hears reader talking about how she wants to loose her virginity

He had over heard you on the phone, giggling away with one of your girlfriends. As delicate and innocent as you were, your voice still carried and that’s when he had found out about you wanting to lose your virginity. The thought of some random boy’s limp dick inside you, made him seethe in anger. It had to be him who popped your perfect little cherry.

You were sitting on your pretty pink bed, surrounded by an enormous amount of fluffy pillows and stuffed animals. Glittery pen in hand, you wrote something down in your journal, while humming to whatever pop song played. Rafe knocked on the already open door, watching those big eyes light up at the sight of him. You slammed the journal closed, shoving it aside.

“Hi, Rafey!” You said, swinging your bare legs off the bed.

It was comical to him that you were still a virgin, especially the way you ran around the house. Shorts that barely covered your rather thick ass, and flimsy tank-tops that your perky tits nearly fell out of. He was curious now to what you were hiding in that diary of yours, making him walk further into the girly room.

“Whatcha doing?” He asked, casually as he made his way over to the bed. “Writing down all your dirty little secrets.” He grinned. He could tell you were nervous by the way you quickly avoided his gaze, looking down at the fury white rug.

“No.. I don’t have any dirty secrets.” You told him, voice small as you swung your legs back and forth.

“Yeah? So you wouldn’t mind me reading your diary. We are family after all and shouldn’t hide secrets.” He said as a matter of factly, reaching down to pick up the journal. You tried to grab it from him, but failed due to his height.

Opening the last page you written in, Rafe read the neat writing, his confirmation of what he had heard earlier coming true. “Today, I talked to my best friend about wanting to lose my virginity. I want to have sex so so bad…” He didn’t even need to continue on, seeing your cheeks turning pink.

“Please don’t tell my mom.” You pleaded to him, knowing that she wanted to keep you pure despite the fact that you were 19.

Rafe chuckled, throwing the diary back onto the bed. “Relax, kid. What’s got you so nervous?” He asked. “You need dick that bad, huh?”

The way you looked up at him, eyes so innocent and lips so kissable, nodding your head, had him growing hard in his pants. It took everything in him not to shove you down on your knees and fuck your little virgin throat. He'd save that for another time though, right now he was determined to ruin your tight cunt.

“See, when you lose your virginity, you want it to be with someone special. Someone you can trust. Not one of your little boyfriends.” He told you.

You looked at him confused, with a little curiosity behind those eyes. “Someone like you Rafey?” Your tone of questioning as you bit your lower lip out of habit. His ocean eyes gleamed in excitement, the heat running straight to his cock.

His eyes nearly rolled back at the sight in front of him. His pure little beauty of a step- daughter, completely naked before him. You were still reluctant that this was wrong, even after his fingers had loosened you up a bit and tongue had been on your sweet folds. Now with his cock in hand, lining it up with your plump pussy he watched your face twitch as he pushed in.

“No.. it hurts.” You mumbled, pushing at his now bare chest as the stretch to your untouched hole was burning.

“You are fine, kid. Never had 9 inches up your princess cunt, I know it.” Rafe’s voice cracked as he tried not to ram himself inside the tightest cunt he ever had the pleasure of being in. His thumb found your clit, rubbing it slow circles to distract you from the pain. Poor thing.

Your whimpers turned into the prettiest moans sooner than later as he began speeding up. Eyes heavy, and abs flexing as he thrusted into you. He was Rafe Cameron and he got everything he wanted, including taking his step-daughter’s virginity.

[e-vay]

Hey E-Vay ! Before I say anything, LOVE your work.

Okay, so I know that you're in the process of showing us how Sonic and Amy's wedding and proposal is planned out (no pressure). BuT, just curious, how did Knucks and Rouge get married? Or even how did he get to propose?

Thanks for seeing this!

Thank you so very much! 🥰 I’m so happy you like my work! 

I will not be doing a full comic or even a full fic of how their wedding goes down just because I have too many other projects I want to do (I’m only one person! 🥵). But I will give you a breakdown of how the Knuxouge wedding goes in my AU! And if anyone wants to do fanart or a fic based off it, I’d love to see/read it!

During the events of Boom!Baby, Knuckles and Rouge finally get engaged. I don’t have the exact proposal in mind, but I like to think that the two of them have been aggressively/playfully putting it off for awhile, with Knuckles constantly joking “As if I’d ever want to be married to HER” and Rouge jabbing back with “Please, you’d need to offer me the Master Emerald on a ring for me to even consider it!” But with Sonic and Amy taking this next major step in their lives, Knuckles is inspired and does end up popping the question (with a CONSIDERABLE ring full of gems that he scavenged himself!).

Knowing Rouge is an absolute diva, she’d have the most extravagant, over-the-top, dazzling wedding you could imagine. And it would definitely be a “no-kids-allowed” event. Have you seen the movie “Crazy Rich Asians”? Picture that. The wedding would be a spectacle that would last for DAYS! But, the wedding date would be expedited super fast (I headcanon that Rouge is actually very insecure and puts out a bold front to hide that about herself. She’d want to rush the wedding because she’s secretly afraid Knuckles will want to back out. She shouldn’t worry about that, he loves her very much and really wants to marry her!).

In my AU, Shadow is off-world during Boom!Baby, so though Rouge would have obviously asked him to be her “Man of Honor,” she wouldn’t be able to find a way to reach him and get him back in time for the wedding. Because of this, Omega gets pushed to the role of “Man (Mech?) of Honor” and Rouge asks Amy to be a bridesmaid instead. Note, Amy is nearing the end of her pregnancy at this time haha. I always write Rouge and Amy to have a very tense “friendship;” that’s just my personal preference. So Rouge asking Amy to be her bridesmaid was because Amy is her closest female friend, but also because she thinks it will make herself look extra fabulous when standing next to a very pregnant lady haha. She even picks out an awful yellow bridesmaid dress for Amy to wear (because Amy is still very beautiful, pregnant or not). Though Amy does agree to be a bridesmaid to support her friend, she’s actually quite upset and very self-conscious and it initially puts a damper on her enjoyment of the wedding festivities (Her feet hurt like hell, she feels like a bowling ball, she thinks she looks horrendous in this color!). Don’t worry though, Sonic cheers her up and reminds her just how radiant she is 🥰

[Sonic seeing Amy in her bridesmaid dress] S: “Wow!” A: “This yellow dress is awful. She did this on purpose.” S: “Well if she was trying to make you look bad, she failed miserably. You look like the sunshine!” A: “I look VERY pregnant!” S: “Sure, pregnant with MY baby. There ain’t a thing more beautiful than that 😉” [Rabid kissing ensues hehehe]

I picture Rouge having many outfit changes for every event that happens during their week-long wedding extravaganza, but for her actual wedding dress I imagine something super sleek, super sexy, and made up entirely of diamonds! My drawing doesn’t even do it justice. Just picture that as she’s walking, every single facet of every single diamond is sparkling! All the men would have to wear 3-piece black tuxedos complete with trousers (Sonic hates this), except Omega obviously. But he’d still wear a dapper bowtie and Sunflower & Iris boutonniere like the rest of the wedding party. (I chose Irises because Rouge seems to like the color purple and they’re a very elegant flower, and I chose sunflowers because they remind me of Knuckles for some reason. Maybe because they’re big and tall. Idk, I can see Knuckles really liking sunflowers and yellow pairs beautifully with purple). Sonic and Tails are Knuckles’ groomsmen, but Team Chaotix are also among honored guests so Vector and Espio (and maybe even Mighty) would attend all the groom-related events (like the bachelor party) leading up to the wedding.

Right before the ceremony, Rouge and Amy have a touching heart-to-heart moment and Rouge does thank her for stepping in and helping out, and she apologizes for making Amy feel bad. She admits that she has insecurities that she doesn’t like people to know about, so that’s why she goes over-the-top and sometimes puts others down in the process. Also (at least in my AU), Rouge doesn’t have very many close friends outside of Shadow and Omega, so Amy really is her next best friend. They make up, the ceremony is perfect and romantic, and everyone gets to have an absolute blast at the reception!

Lastly, because Rouge is so over-the-top… after Shadow returns back to their planet 20+ years later, I can AB-SO-LUTELY see her throwing a vow renewal that’s even more extravagant than their first wedding as an excuse to have him as her Man of Honor and also as an excuse to throw another huge bash. Though this one would be even crazier and BIGGER, I think the vow renewal would actually be way more fun because everyone (including kids) can come this time, everyone’s families are bigger (even CC would be there!), and Knuckles and Rouge’s adopted kids (Ruff and Tumble) would get to be part of the ceremony, so it’d be very heartfelt even with goofy antics.

Sorry I’m not going to make this one into a full-fledged comic, but I hope you enjoyed this condensed version anyway! And I hope nobody takes the way I write Rouge as me not liking her character. I just like to add a little spice into why she comes off so proud all the time. I adore Knuckles and Rouge as a couple. Their rivalry and catty attitudes are just a hoot!

[revelboo]

I have been throughly enjoying your writing, your work scratches an inch I didn't think I had. Absolutely love Armada Starscream, can't wait to see more of TFP Knockout and Starcream. But what got mw the most delighted was seeing Skids, he honestly doesn't get a lot of love and he is my favourite in the MTMTE comics. Thank you so much for creating all these works!

Thank you guys for reading my silly stories

Even If It Kills Me Pt 10

Armada Starscream x Reader

• “Share a meal with us.” Because if he doesn’t ask you won’t, you’ll just linger on the outskirts like you think you don’t belong. Offering you his hand, some of his tension eases when you climb into his palm so he can lower you to the floor where he’s sitting with the mini-cons. As relaxed as you are around the mini-cons, you still act uncertain around him. Hesitant. When you slide out of his hand to sit on the floor, he’s tempted to pick you up and place you on his leg, but resists. While you don’t protest being handled, he’s not sure you actually enjoy it. It must drive home how small you are compared to him. How helpless.

• “Thank you.” Reaching to accept the package of cookies, you realize you’re going to have to explain that wherever he’s thieving food from, he’s going to have to steal real food sooner or later if you’re staying a while. Because what he keeps bringing you is bottled water and junk food. He’s trying, though. Even if you’re almost positive he doesn’t really understand much about humans. “You have to patrol today?”

• Wings fidgeting as you open the package and remove one of the little brown and black speckled discs, he’s almost positive you need more than that to eat. “Of course.” Maybe the food he stole from the kids is unsatisfactory? Neither of you have talked about the nightmare or him singing to you. You joining in. Something about it had felt strangely intimate. Like it’s something that shouldn’t be discussed. There had been an aching loneliness in your voice that had echoed in his own spark, though. That makes him wonder if you’re lonely when he leaves with the mini-cons. You must be. “I could take you for a flight sometime?”

• Blinking at the offer, you look up at him to find Starscream pointedly looking everywhere but at you. Embarrassed? He’d been embarrassed the night before when he’d sang to you, his gruff voice pulling you out of the nightmare. Distracting you. “I’d love that,” you say, wanting to ask him what the song had meant. To translate the words for you, but unsure if it’d be asking too much. You’re already indebted to him far more than you can ever repay. Unintentionally saving you from a life you hated, but were too scared to give up on your own. A life that was going to end up killing you.

• “Good,” he murmurs, wings flicking. Why is it so hard to talk to you? So stilted? When you smile up at him, his spark warms and he loses his train of thought. Just wants to bask in that smile, find all the little things he can do to keep you smiling. Because his servos itch to touch you when you look at him like that. To touch the back of your hand or your hair and that’s not meant for him. Knows that, but still longs for it. Doesn’t want to ever see you look like you had the day he’d found you, defeated and broken.

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[trikaranos]

TRIKARANOS CHAPTER I: S·T·T·L

TRIKARANOS is a comic about Crassus until it isn't. Intended for an adult audience.

⭐ Trikaranos will always be free to read. In the near future, you’ll have the option to support this comic & my ability to spend time making it (I Am Extremely Fucking Broke And Have Bills To Pay etc etc) through Patreon! currently, I have a tip jar!

⭐ There is no set update schedule (chapters vary in length and will be posted as I finish working on them)

⭐ alternative places to read it (coming soon!)

CREDITS all additional art used are in the public domain, and the specific images used are open access, etc

🍊the first collage panel is combination of: Plate 113: Greeks Battling the Trojans (from Ovid's Metamorphoses), Antonio Tempesta / The Trojans pulling the wooden horse into the city, Giulio Bonasone (after Francesco Primaticcio) / Terracotta hydria displaying Achilles waiting to ambush Triolos and Polyxena 🍊the second collage panel is: The Lictors bringing Brutus the bodies of his Sons, Jacques Louis David / the paint over of Brutus executing is own sons is my own work based on the composition of this relief of Brutus and condemning his sons to death. 🍊I also used my own art: a panel from the Prologue, and my own illustration of Brutus with the bodies of his sons

📖 PREVIOUS CHAPTER | START HERE | ToC (under construction!)

UNDER THE CUT creator’s commentary, ancient citations, whatever else seems relevant. ideally, this is optional! you shouldn’t need the citations for it to make sense as it unfolds since it’s a comic and a story first and foremost, but it’s here if you’re curious about something or want to see where the inspiration is coming from!

I'm so fucking normal about Crassus and his family (<<< this is a lie)

Marcus Crassus was the son of a man who had been censor and had enjoyed a triumph; but he was reared in a small house with two brothers. His brothers were married while their parents were still alive, and all shared the same table, which seems to have been the chief reason why Crassus was temperate and moderate in his manner of life. When one of his brothers died, Crassus took the widow to wife, and had his children by her, and in these relations also he lived as well-ordered a life as any Roman.

Plutarch, Crassus

like, it actively fucks me up that this is something that's survived about him for over 2,000 years. they all ate together at the same table. Jesus Christ.

so! Crassus' dad! Publius Licinius Crassus (consul 97) fought on the side of Cn. Octavius (consul 87) in the Bellum Octavianum, and it didn't go great for him.

Crassus: A Political Biography, B.A. Marshall

also. currently, if you look Publius Licinius Crassus up on wikipedia for an overview, his page lists his son (and also my main character for this comic) with the cognomen Dives, which is in-fucking-correct.

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

and to circle back to houses and meals shared with family, some citations that made me feel some kind of way when I read them

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

finally, there is discourse or whatever on the placement of the sons of Publius Licinius Crassus. Crassus is the baby brother here simply because I'm writing this story and I get to pick the themes, but also because no one has provided a solid enough argument for him being the second eldest son that I'm willing to buy into with enthusiasm, and I'm more inclined towards G. Sampson's conclusion on the matter.

Defeat of Rome: Crassus, Carrhae, and the Invasion of the East, Gareth C. Sampson

and while I'm just kind of talking about stuff that I read that I enjoyed, this article by Martin Stone lives in my head rent free

A Year of One's Own: Dating the Praetorship of Marcus Crassus, Martin Stone

[kmt123whatsthetea]

The Big Book of Desires

George Weasley x reader x Fred Weasley

Requested by: @gdogcat1

Request gist: “The twins find their wife’s dirty fantasy book and surprise her”

A/N: Thanks for the request! Sorry it's taken so long to write. Because no kinks were specified, I decided to pick some at random. I also focused on the marriage aspect and went for a ‘Reader feels the mundaneness of marriage and twins surprise her’ fic.

T/W: Fred being a bad influence on George and his sweet mind, Snooping, Daddy kink, Master kink, Blindfolding, Bondage, Edging, Unprotected sex

Married life with the twins was how you'd always expected it to be. Sure, it was an amazing time in your lives, but the day was starting to go the same as the day before.

Wake up, work in the shop, make dinner, sleep, then wake up and repeat the day again.

The twins could tell that something was up with you. You weren’t as affectionate as before, you weren't as cuddly in bed, you didn’t kiss them before work. Something was wrong, and they vowed to find out. The twins came back to the flat after a long shift, one that you had off, and noticed something new. A new book that your eyes were glued to. Sure, you liked to read and owned most of the books on the bookshelf, but this was new.

The title read “The Fire of Love and Romance” in fancy writing. The woman on the cover was in nothing more than underwear with a man standing over her in a shirt and grey waistcoat. The twins exchanged a look of confusion. Compared to the other books you owned, this was an anomaly. When you noticed the twins, you quickly set the book down and got up to greet them and ask about their day.

A few days had passed and you were still reading that book, or better yet, you were still reading the same chapter. It was Fred who came up with the idea first.

“Tonight when she falls asleep, we’ll take a look and see what she’s reading. It's just a book, what are you so worried about, George?”

The ever practical George scoffed at his brother's idea.

“It's our wife’s property, we shouldnt be snooping. It just feels wrong. Can’t we just ask her about it?”

George knew the answer already because he knew you. You’d brush it off, make some excuse on the spot. That was one thing that Fred loved about you, your ability to lie so easily (which worked in their favour back when teachers would ask you who gave Filch puking pastilles). George sighed softly and relented.

The plan went ahead, and the twins waited till you fell asleep before taking a peek in your precious book. They didn't know what to expect, but they didn't expect this.

“Michael looked down at his new submissive, admiring her soft breaths. He trailed his hand down her supple skin and over her lace covered breasts. He watched as she shuddered and let out soft moans”

“Be a good girl for Daddy”

The twins looked up from the page simultaneously before looking back down, the action almost comical. They were shocked to say the least, but horny as hell.

As if fate whispered in your ear, you stirred. When you saw the book in the hands of your husbands, you sat up quickly and tried snatching it back. Fred held it out of reach to keep reading while George moved beside you. George kept his voice soft.

“I'm sorry, love. We shouldn’t have gone through your book. We’ve just been so worried about you”

Fred was less soft.

“Do you like this kind of stuff, pretty girl?”

Both you and George looked at Fred, confused at the new nickname. George caught on to his brother's little idea and turned back to you.

“You want us to take care of you, baby?”

“Yes Georgie, please”

Fred didn't seem as pleased with your answer as his brother did.

“That's not his name. Address him properly, baby”

Your cheeks blushed a dark shade and you gulped nervously.

“Yes Daddy”

George smirked at your response, his cock twitching in his boxers at the word. You always had a way of making mundane words sound so heavenly. Fred put the book back on the nightstand and stalked towards you, his signature smirk looking predatory.

“I need a title too, love. Can't let Georgie have all the fun”

“Yes Master”

Boy twins seemed pleased with their new titles, almost like they had just been knighted by a fair princess.

Fred walked over to the drawer and to retrieve two ties. He brought them over to you and secured one over your eyes, making you vulnerable to their next move. The other tie bound your wrists together, which Fred then attached to the bed frame.

Both men stood over you, admiring you. You heard George whisper to Fred and footsteps before feeling hands on your thighs, pushing your legs apart. The mattress dipped one the other side of you. Your nightie was pushed up, leaving your underwear and the slowly growing wet patch visible.

“Look how wet she is, needy girl”

A hand pulled your underwear to the side and ran something along your wet slit. When you felt something cold against your clit, you knew what it was. A small metal bullet vibe that the twins bought you.

When the vibrations started, your hips bucked involuntarily. No matter how much you squirmed, a pair of hands held your hips down and your legs open. The vibrator was held steady on your clit, giving you no escape.

“You can take it, pretty baby. Are you gonna be a good girl for us?”

Although you and the twins had been a trio for years and you could tell them apart in an instant, the blindfold mixed with your pleasure filled mind made them sound identical to you.

“Yes Master, Yes Daddy”

The twins were pleased with your words and the vibrator was pressed more firmly against your clit. Your moans filled the room, the blindfold seemingly heightening your senses. When your moans got louder, Fred turned to George.

“Should we let her cum, Georgie?”

“She’s been a good girl, but is more fun to watch her squirm”

Fred pulls the vibrator away, both men revelling in your whines. George couldn't wait any longer and made his move, kneeling between your legs. He pulled his cock from his boxers and lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed in until he was balls deep. Fred kept a hold of the vibrator, ready to keep teasing you with it.

George started moving his hips, thrusting his cock deep inside of you each time. He moved his hand to your face, cradling your cheek.

“I think you deserve a reward for being such a good girl”

With a nod to Fred, the vibrator was back on your clit. You threw your head back, your orgasm approaching quicker since your last one was ripped away.

“Cum, pretty girl”

That permission from one of the twins had you letting out a cry of relief, your orgasm pulling you under. Your walls convulsing around Georges cock caused his band to snap, his orgasm catching him by surprise. His cum filled you up, leaking out when he pulled his cock out.

Fred worked to untie you and remove the makeshift blindfold. He stroked the hair from your face, his touch soft.

“Such a kinky little wifey”

[corroded-hellfire]

Jitters - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with my darling @munson-blurbs

Summary: It's the first day of school for the Munson children--ever for Eliza, but their dad is being the biggest baby of them all.

Note: With all the back-to-school excitement going on I thought, "What would Eddie be like when Eliza first starts school?" So, voila. As always, I am so thankful for all of you who read and have the loveliest things to say 💕

Words: 3.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

If someone were to take bets on which Munson is the most miserable on the first day of school, they might pick Ryan. Sixteen years old, starting his junior year, and seemingly irritated by every move someone makes. 

They might pick fourteen-year-old Luke, the Tasmanian Devil himself, constantly lamenting about how boring his teachers are. 

Or they might pick Eliza, no longer getting to be the big fish in the daycare’s small pond, but now a full-fledged preschooler—one who is not happy about getting up early. 

Any of these would be fine guesses. But they would also be dead wrong. 

“My babies are all grown up!” Eddie bemoans, watching Eliza slide a comically oversized Little Mermaid backpack over her tiny shoulders. He stares at his sons as they shove their feet into their new sneakers, conveniently ignoring the repeated warnings not to break their shoes. 

Ryan catches his dad looking at them and rolls his eyes. “Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” he quips, groaning when Eddie dashes into the bedroom to grab his camera. “Crap, I didn’t mean literally.”

“Swear jar!” Luke chirps, all-too excited to catch his big brother slipping up. 

“‘Crap’ isn’t a swear word, dumbass.”

“Another dollar in the swear jar!” Luke roars, nearly colliding with the wall as he darts away from Ryan before the elder boy can get his hands on him. 

You give the two boys a biting glare from across the room. If you can't keep them from using bad language all the time, they at least need to adhere to the rule when their little sister is in the room. Luckily, Eliza is currently admiring her new black Mary Jane shoes and was paying no mind to what was happening around her. 

Before Ryan and Luke can start bickering again, you herd them over to the side of the living room where the lighting is the best for pictures. 

“Come on, come on,” you say as you practically push them across the space. “Dad’s getting the camera, let’s get this show on the road.” 

Ryan groans and drops his head back in irritation. “Can’t you just take some of Eliza? You have enough of us.”

“We never have enough of you,” you tell him, moving towards him on instinct to press a kiss to the top of his head—only to come face to face with the reminder that he’s taller than you now. “Eliza, come on over here, baby girl.”

Eliza looks up from where she’s now inspecting the pink overall dress she’s wearing. Her two curly little pigtails bounce with every motion. She hikes up her green sparkly princess backpack as she skips towards you. She becomes derailed, however, when Eddie walks back into the room. Eliza diverts her attention and makes a not-quite-a-surprise attack on his legs.

“Rawr! Gotchu Daddy!”

“Oh no!” Eddie feigns, clasping the camera to his chest. “I guess I can’t take you to preschool then, huh? Such a shame.”

“Nice try,” you tell him. “She’s still going.” 

Eddie’s brows furrow together in another one of the little pouts he’s been giving you for the past few days. He thinks his baby girl is growing up too fast—does he think you don’t feel the same way? You just don’t show your emotions as expressively as your husband does. 

“She’s only three,” Eddie says about your daughter. “Shouldn’t we wait until she’s at least four?”

“She’ll be four next month, Eddie,” you remind him. “This is when she’s supposed to start preschool.” 

The sullen father has nothing to say in response to that, so he just looks down at the camera and fiddles with it, making sure there’s enough film and that it’s on the right settings. You take the opportunity to walk over towards Ryan.

“Was he this bad when Luke started school?” you ask in a hushed voice. 

Ryan considers it for a moment before shrugging. “In my childhood mind, no. But I also used to believe it when Dad told me I’d look like Popeye if I ate my spinach, so who knows?”

“I can only imagine how he was with you.” With a small smirk, you grab Ryan’s arms and give him a small shake from side to side. “His first born,” you coo in a sickeningly sweet tone. Ryan shoos you away from him, but you can see the smile on his face that he’s trying his damndest to hide. 

In the meantime, Luke grabs a Kleenex box from the kitchen counter, lowering onto bended knee and presenting it to Eddie. 

“A gift for thou, Sir Sobs-a-Lot,” he says, adopting an exaggerated British accent. 

Eddie thumps him on the back of the head, but takes a tissue regardless. 

“Wayne always said I’d be screwed if my kids were as weird as me,” he muses. 

“Dad,” Luke fake-whines, “don’t say that about Eliza!”

Eliza furrows her little eyebrows and makes a run for her brother, charging towards him like a provoked rhinoceros. 

Luke is quicker, though, and holds her prisoner against his chest with a menacing cackle.  

“Mean brother,” Eliza mumbles, face smushed against him. 

He grins triumphantly. “That’s why you love me so much.” He presses a big smacking kiss to her cheek and lets her go, gasping in feigned offense when she wipes it away and wanders back to Eddie.

“Time for school! Let’s gooooooo, Daddy!” She takes his hand and tugs him towards the door, equal parts eager and exasperated. 

Eddie obliges, but you can tell that this isn’t easy for him. “Why is she so eager to leave?” he asks you under his breath. “Ryan and Luke were practically wrapped around my ankles begging me to let them stay home.”

“I think she’s just excited to meet new friends and learn new things!” you say with a smile, trying to hold back your own tears. “Isn’t that right, Liza Bean?”

Eliza nods vigorously. “Luke says I get Play-Doh!”

“Remember,” Luke crouches down to tell her, “it’s important that you taste the Play-Doh before you use it.”

The comment earns him another thump to the head from Eddie. 

“Please don’t eat Play-Doh,” you beg your daughter. Or listen to anything Luke says, you silently add. 

“Yeah, just stick to your lunch,” Ryan offers, always the voice of reason. 

“Lots of fruits and veggies,” Luke jumps in. “Remember why?”

“SCURVY!” Eliza proudly shouts, beaming from ear to ear. 

Eddie exhales and rubs the bridge of his nose, at a total loss for words. “Can you crazy children just take the pictures so we can go?” he finally manages, patience sufficiently worn thin. 

“Sir, yes, sir!” the boys salute in unison. 

“Yes, sir!” Eliza chimes in, happy to emulate her big brothers. 

You take the camera from Eddie when you see his jaw clench. You’d been afraid of your daughter having a meltdown today, but you obviously should have been worrying about her dad. 

“Okay,” you say, nodding for them to arrange themselves in front of the wall for a picture, “all three of you, first.” 

Begrudgingly on the part of the teenagers, and happily on the part of the little girl exiting toddlerhood, they come together and manage to stand still while you grab a few shots of them.

“Now just Ryan, then Luke, then Liza,” you instruct. Ryan rolls his eyes as his two younger siblings step away from him.

“This is never going to end,” he mumbles. 

Figuring it’s just easier to ignore him, you get your pictures of Ryan before moving on to solo Luke and then Eliza. “Now get in there, Dad,” you tell Eddie, gesturing him over to join the kids.

The moment Eddie is within reaching distance of her, Eliza raises her tiny arms to her father and insists that he holds her in the picture. Eddie, unable to deny her anything as always, complies. 

“Just me and Daddy!” Eliza says.

“Eliza’s will be done,” you say before snapping one of just the pair of them.

“All right, all right,” Luke says, motioning for you to give him the camera. “You get in there, too. We’ve got a monumental day here. Another Munson in the school system.”

As you pose next to your daughter and husband, you see Ryan out of the corner of your eye. He leans in behind you and holds up two fingers as bunny ears behind Eliza’s head. His little sister didn’t see him, but she was going to get a kick out of that once you got the pictures developed. Luke also noticed the photobomber, so he takes another nicer picture. 

“We ready to go now?” Luke asks. “Big day for me too, ya know. Starting high school and all. No one’s all fussy over me and I bet it’s because I don’t have pigtails. Damn.”

Eddie claps Luke on the shoulder as you take the camera from your son. “Didn’t wanna make ya nervous, kid,” Eddie says. “Also, dollar in the swear jar.”

Luke scoffs and presses a hand to his chest. “Have I ever been nervous a day in my life?” 

“Well,” Ryan starts with a smug smile, “that depends if you count the time that you got paired up with Missy Collins for that science project.”

Luke’s face turns pink and his nostrils flare. You’re almost taken aback because you think this is the most flustered you’ve ever seen the usually cool and mischievous boy. Luke goes from standing perfectly still to lunging toward his older brother in milliseconds. 

Ryan just lets out a whooping laugh and dodges him by heading outside. Luke is hot on his tail.

Eliza looks up at you and shakes her head, little brown pigtails swaying with the motion. 

“Boys,” she says, an air of sophistication older than her three years in her tone. 

“Boys,” you agree, offering her your hand. Her little fingers slide into your own and you head out the front door behind the two teenagers. Eddie grabs his keys and follows his family out. 

The keys jingle in your husband’s hand, a nervous tic as he walks over to the car and unlocks it. The three kids pile into the back and Eliza and Luke bicker over buckling her car seat as you slip into the passenger’s side.

“Everyone have everything?” Eddie asks as soon as the arguing stops. “Backpacks? Lunches? Or lunch money?”

A chorus of “yes” comes from the backseat so Eddie starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, instantly wishing he could turn around and take everyone back home.

You, Eddie, and Eliza somehow arrive at the preschool on time, but not before your daughter had thoroughly embarrassed her brothers on the high school drop-off line. She’d begged Eddie to roll down her window so she could yell to them as they joined their friends. 

“Bye, Ryan! Bye, Lukie!” she’d shouted. “I love you!” 

You and Eddie thought it was hilarious. Luke and Ryan? Not so much. 

But now, your husband is a total wreck as Eliza marches full steam ahead towards the school’s doors. Truthfully, you’re almost as bad as he is, but you’re trying to keep it together—for Eliza’s sake and for Eddie’s. 

“You ready, Eliza?” You crouch down and place your hands on her shoulders. 

“Yep!” She nods, baby teeth on full display when she grins excitedly.  

Eddie narrows his eyes in disbelief. “Are you sure?” he asks, making you roll your eyes. 

“Yep!” Eliza repeats; thankfully, she’s oblivious to his inner turmoil. 

“You’re going to have a great time and make lots of new friends,” you tell her. 

“And I’ll be right here, ready to pick you up when it’s over,” Eddie adds as he crouches down next to you.

It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes again or elbow Eddie in the ribs.  

Eliza nods her head, little pigtails bouncing with the movement. She hikes her backpack up higher and gives you both another wide smile. 

“Ready to go in?” you ask. 

“Uh huh.”

You take her hand and she leads you into her new classroom, Eddie following along behind you. He’s quite literally dragging his feet, a human version of Eeyore the donkey. 

A teacher, not too much younger than you, comes up to greet you all. “Hi, everyone!” she chirps in a tone that signals over-caffeination. “Welcome to preschool! I’m Miss Riley, your teacher.”

For the first time this morning, Eliza seems hesitant. She looks up at you for approval and you nod your head at her. 

“I’m Eliza Marie Munson,” she announces, and you bite back a laugh at her formality. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Eliza,” Miss Riley says. “You’ve got both Mommy and Daddy with you here today, huh?”

“Yep! Was just gonna be Daddy but then Mommy said she didn’t think he’d really take me here.” 

You squeeze your lips together as your daughter calls out your husband’s behavior; Eddie closes his eyes, a small smile appearing on his face. Both of you know (partially due to your experiences with Luke and Ryan when they were younger) that anything that went on in your house that Eliza knew about would be fair game to be shared with her whole class. 

“Well, I’m very glad you’re here,” Miss Riley replies, holding a hand out for a high-five that your daughter eagerly returns. “Would you like me to show you where your cubby is?”

“Okay!” Eliza turns around and waves to you and Eddie.  “Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy!”

“No hugs?” Eddie asks, a pout forming on his plush lips.

Eliza rolls her eyes as if this is the most unreasonable request she’s ever heard, but obliges. 

You give her a tight squeeze, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’re gonna have an amazing day, baby girl,” you remind her. 

“I know, Mommy.”

Eddie’s hug can only be described as bone-crushing, with Eliza letting out a dramatic grunt as he holds her. 

“Eliza Munson, you are the smartest, bravest little girl I know,” he says, voice catching in his throat. “I want you to go out there and kick some a—butt,” he hurriedly amends, but not before earning a glare from you. 

“Most importantly, be nice,” you emphasize, hoping your advice trumps Eddie’s little half-time pep talk. 

“I will!” Eliza happily declares before following Miss Riley over to the cubbies.

Eddie looks back and forth from her to you. “That’s it?” he asks. “That’s all we get?”

“What did you want?” you ask as you slip your hand into your husband’s. “Want her to cry and beg you to take her back home?”

“Well, no.” At your disbelieving eyebrow raise Eddie shrugs and amends his statement. “Not entirely.”

“We got hugs and goodbyes,” you point out. “Ryan barely acknowledged us, and Luke gave you a Wet Willy. I think we should cut our losses.”

“I know,” Eddie says, letting out a defeated sigh.

You gently tug him in the direction of the door to exit. “She’ll be fine,” you reassure him with a whisper. “And she’ll be so excited to tell you all about it later.”

Eddie nods, and just as the two of you are about to walk out the door, something rams into Eddie’s legs. He looks down to see Eliza grinning up at him, little arms wrapped around his knees.  

“What’s up, Sweet Pea?” he asks, suddenly worried that something’s wrong. Was someone mean to her? Did she forget her lunch at home?

She jumps like a little jumping bean until she’s right in front of the two of you. 

“I love you!”

Your heart swells and the pressure of tears is heavy behind your eyes. There’s no way you can look at Eddie because clocking his emotion will absolutely send you over the edge. 

Eddie’s already tearing up though and has a bright smile on his face. “We love you too, Liza Bean,” he tells her. “So much.”

She giggles and you scoop her up in your arms. “We love you more than anything.”

You and Eddie press kisses to her cheeks at the same time, and Eddie blows a raspberry with his, making her giggle. 

Once you set her down, Eliza blows you both a kiss before skipping over to a table where a few kids are drawing, already settling in. 

Eddie wipes at his eyes as the two of you step out of the classroom and into the hall. “That’s what I wanted,” he admits with a tearful chuckle. 

You wrap your arms around one of Eddie’s and lay your head on his shoulder. “You okay?” you ask him.

“No.” He sighs when you press a reassuring kiss against his shoulder. “I’m just trying to keep it together for your sake,” he says.

At his words, you pull away to look at him, eyebrows raised. “This was you holding it together?” you ask. 

“Oh, this could’ve been way worse, babe.”

You chuckle as he slips his hand into yours, knowing that he’s likely telling the truth. 

The two of you take one last look inside the classroom and see Eliza talking and laughing with a little girl and boy at her table. 

“Come on,” you say, patting the back of Eddie’s hand with your free one. 

With a reluctant sigh, Eddie starts to walk with you towards the exit. 

“And I know Miss Riley is younger than me but don’t get any ideas.” You smirk and nudge his shoulder with your own, trying to joke around and cheer him up a bit.

Eddie puts his hands up in defense. “Hey, she’s a teacher. I only go for babysitters.”

The late summer morning is hot as you make the journey back to your car. Still the gentleman as always, Eddie opens your door for you. 

“Man,” he shakes his head as you slip into the passenger’s seat. “I can’t believe my baby is in preschool.” 

He closes your door and walks around to his side, giving you time to open your purse and pull out a small object, hiding it beneath your hands in your lap. He starts the car, though you’re fairly certain your heartbeat is louder than the engine. 

“Well,” you start before clearing your throat. Eddie looks over at you and there’s suddenly a million butterflies not only in your stomach, but throughout your whole body. “She’s not going to be the baby for long…”

You hand Eddie the test, watching as his expression shifts from sadness to confusion to awe as he stares at the two pink lines. 

“You’re pregnant?” The excitement in his voice rivals that of a kid on Christmas morning.

“I’m pregnant,” you confirm, grinning with your own excitement. The emotions that you've been trying to corral all day finally come out, relief and giddiness flowing through you as you tell your husband what you've been dying to amongst all the other chaos of the day.  

Eddie lunges across the center console to wrap you up in his arms, letting the positive test drop into his lap. “Holy shit, princess.”

“I know,” you say with a giggle.

Eddie’s still in shock, grinning from ear to ear and rubs his hands over his face. “We’re gonna have another baby,” he says, just to hear it aloud. 

“And just think,” you say, “you get to do this first day of preschool thing again.”

His nose wrinkles at that prospect. “Maybe I’ll just homeschool this one.”

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part Four)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Content warnings: Fic begins with a panic attack

Word count: 2.3k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Fucking Losers

You were having a fit. A moment. An episode. Whatever it’s called. It didn’t matter as your body shook in the dark.

Of course, you were thinking about Michael. How could you not? He was one of the few people who saw you in this state before, apart from your mother. He quickly learned how to help, often asking you from the foot of your bed if certain parts were accurate as he read from the academic journals he pulled from the library. You would be at the head, hunched over homework or your book as you give him a simple yes or no.

But Michael’s not here. You haven’t seen him since the end of finals. Then you both went home for winter break and didn’t check in on one another for two weeks; the longest either of you have gone without speaking since you met. It was unheard of, terrifying. Despite how things were left, you did not want things to stay that way. You weren’t the one who needed to mend this with an apology, but leaving the wound open isn’t helping anymore. Perhaps calling time of death is the only answer.

Rising slowly from the floor, you took your time and your breaths. To avoid exacerbating the situation, you made an effort not to gasp for air. You press your back against a blank wall while steadying your knees as they shake. You mentally map out the pathway from Fleming to Haygood. It’s nighttime, but there’s plenty of lights on the paths, surely. The ones you can see from your window are.

You made up your mind. You picked up your coat and scarf from your chair. While following the same light from your peephole, you observe the dust looping around itself in the stream before vanishing back into the dark. You don’t even think to look out of it before opening the door.

And Michael was there. He stood in the yellow-lit hallway in his trench coat, barely hiding the d20 graphic tee he bought at the last Comic-Con. His glasses were fogged, and he was out of breath. “Hey,” he says like his lungs aren’t burning.

“Michael.” You held your door. You dare not sniffle.

“Figured you’d be here.”

Your face turned to stone. “Did you?”

“No-no, not like that,” he coughs on his own words. “I only meant—that I—I was hoping you were here.”

That hits you, but you don’t want to show it. “You’ve been running,” you say.

“I have.”

“You never run.”

“Painfully true.”

You look him up and down. His runners (irony) are soaked as well as his khakis from the calves down. Not only did he run, but he ran through the snow. Your eyes dart to his, which are slowly being revealed as his glasses adjust to the indoor temperature. It gets harder to look at him; slanted brows and Cheshire Cat lips turned downward. They’re parted slightly to let in more air. Unlike you, he doesn’t look away. Because he doesn’t know what you were about to do, but you know why he’s here. Michael never runs. So why else would he be here? In the most delightful way possible, he surprised you. Not a high bar to meet after last time, but you might as well get to the point. You clear your throat. “Michael, I—”

“I’m sorry.”

You meet his eyes, still fogged, but you don’t speak a word. Not because you want him to grovel (entirely), but because you don’t know what to say.

“What I said was wrong. But you knew that already. I shouldn’t have said it. And I shouldn’t have taken this long to say it.”

You lean on your door, blotting your snot on your sleeve. “Why did you?”

Michael shrugged, then his eyes turned away from you, trailing to the wooden floor beneath your feet. “Stubbornness. Geniuses don’t like being told they’re wrong. Even when they are absolutely wrong. And… uh…”

Your brows quirk.

“I’m afraid of saying it aloud. Because it sounds so bad, but I don’t mean it to be because it’s not—oh my God, you’ve been crying!” His glasses finally defogged. He comes closer and you don’t stop him when his hands take a gentle hold of your arms, the only thing adjacent to a hug at this moment. It’s all the rift between you will allow, even in the midst of mending. “What happened?”

It was your turn for your eyes, dry and irritated, to fall toward the floor as you finally cave and sniffle to spare your sleeves. “Panic attack.” There it is. That’s what it was. The description came to you when you needed it. “I’m fine now.”

“You should sit down.” His breath is a mix of beer and mint gum. “They always take the energy out of you.”

“Yeah.” You step back, still holding the door. It has a habit of leaning forward and closing on its own. You wait for Michael to step in. He eventually inches forward until he’s under the doorway, keeping eye contact with you and his hands in his pockets. Then he’s in.

You take off your coat and scarf, then Michael’s, setting them all on the arm of your big chair. With your silent permission, you both take refuge in your designated spots on your bed after slipping off your shoes. You take a pillow each to hold, then you turn on your bedside lamp. Instead of an old yellow light, the room glows with a soft orange instead. Michael nestles up to the wall next to your astronomy posters, his skinny legs stretched out straight in front of him and away from you. The lines of his eyes are redder than usual. You noticed them in the hallway, but you still didn’t say a word about it.

“What’d you want to say?” You eventually asked.

“Promise you won’t get upset?”

“Yes.”

“Even if it comes out bad?”

“As long as you explain yourself. I promise.”

Michael sighed. His head bumped against the wall as yours did with the headboard. Your post-attack exhaustion is already taking over. “Oliver ditched me. At the pub.”

“He did?” It explained the beer.

Michael nodded. “For Felix Catton and his vultures.”

“Oh, Michael.” It sounds bad. A typical primary school reaction of retreating to the closest person to avoid being alone, and possibly even a target. It sounds absolutely selfish. But you kept yourself composed because you couldn’t help but feel for him still. He knows that pain too. You’ve joked in the past about how hopeless you both are at making friends, but it doesn’t hurt less when you’re proven right. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“I went to grab us some pints. When I came back, he was at their table. Barely spared me a glance.”

“Guess he wasn’t meant to be your friend.” You say it like you turned into your mother. She always said it when you found yourself in the same grief time and time again.

Michael shrugged. “He was boring. He barely spoke at all. And that’s why I came straight here. Because I knew you would never do that to me.”

You sniffled again. It thickened in your nose. “You’re a prick sometimes, Charles. Even when you’re an absolute arse to me, I like you too much to do that to you.”

“Even when you call me Charles?”

“Of course.” You pull your lips into a half smile because you don’t have the energy for much more. “So why’d it take you so long to realize that?”

“We’re hopeless at making friends. You left so quickly. I thought I fucked it all up from the start.”

You pursed your lips as his words settle in. The exhaustion only creeps in as you sink into your bed. “We’re both terrible at making friends, aren’t we?” You try to lighten the mood with a chuckle, even though it’s terribly depressing.

“But it’s easy with you.” He holds the pillow close to his chest, looking you in the eyes as he says, “I don’t want to lose that.”

You push your leg out to nudge him on the nose. He thins out his lips as he takes it, even though you took off your socks. Once you’re successful, your leg drops to his side. “Well, you won’t lose it.”

And the silence in the room stretches as you watch the wound heal between you in the lamp’s soft glow. The vulnerability in Michael’s eyes mirrors yours.

“You know,” your voice breaks the silence as you sit back up and put your pillow back in place. “What Oliver did to you was awful, but we can still take advantage of the night. Let’s go to the pub.”

Michael raises an eyebrow. “It’s Saturday night. It was so crowded down there.”

You shrug. “You said you wouldn’t let anything happen to me, right?”

The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I did say that.”

“So, let’s go.” You stand up, turn on your bare heels, and extend your hand to him. “Maybe it’ll be good for us. Better than being around those fucking losers.” It’s uncharacteristic as the last words fall out of your mouth, but it certainly felt appropriate.

“You sure you’re not tired?”

“I’ll let you know when I’m tired.”

“I’ll take it then.” And Michael takes your hand When he lands on his feet, though, it’s closer than expected. He’s so close to falling into you, which would make you both collapse on the hard floor. But he balances himself by taking a hold of your hip with his other hand.

It would be normal to step back and let go of his hand to give him space. It certainly would make sense. But you can’t explain the sudden surge of boldness that hits you. And without thinking something through for the first time in your life, you push yourself up on your toes and kiss him. It was quick, and spontaneous, much like the whole decision.

You open your eyes to see Michael’s face illuminated by the lamp, part of its shade reflected in his glasses. The weight of what you just did started stacking on your shoulders, brick by brick. But before you can pull away and apologize, Michael’s lips meet yours again. His kiss is different—frantic and eager, filled with the desperate need to connect again (or proof he’s never kissed someone. You’ve never talked about it). It’s sloppy as both his hands move to your waist and grip at the fabric of your sweater. Your hands meet his chest as you try pushing him away. Your lips are drenched by the time you finally separate.

“Michael, slow down.” You wipe your mouth.

“Sorry,” he whispers. Beer still lingers in his breath.

“It’s okay. Just… do it like this.” You urge him to loosen his hold on your sweater as your hands find their way to his face. You show him how to kiss with tenderness.

And he responds accordingly, his kisses becoming softer and more deliberate. His hands rest on your waist now. No force in them. The urgency fades, and his skin is warm as your hands lace around his neck. He pulls back this time, though, and the look in his eyes shows you how dazed he is. “Maybe we should stay in,” he suggests softly.

“Well, I—”

“Not anything like that. I’m not ready for… that. I just know you’ll be exhausted soon.”

You couldn’t lie. You were already there. “But you said you—”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. But that’s a simple thing to prove in a pub at any time. We’ll go soon.” He pecks you on the lips. “But for now, you should rest.”

You don’t argue further. Instead, you pull away from Michael completely and make way for your wardrobe. Luckily, this isn’t the first time Michael’s spent the night in your dorm, so you pull out some of the spare pajamas he’s left behind during late movie nights. You both turn away as you change, but meet again in an attempt to make room in your single bed. Michael wraps an arm around your waist as you both get comfortable and squeezes in close, keeping you from the edge. He props himself up on his elbow.

“Are you going to fall asleep?” You ask him.

Michael leans over to put his glasses on the end table. “Shouldn’t be too hard. And it’s already more comfortable than your couch. If I can’t, your bookcase is easy to reach. I can always grab a memoir.”

Your knuckles brush against his sweatshirt, a weak attempt at a smack as you giggle. Michael takes that hand and turns it in his hold like he is examining it. He kisses your fingers and cradles them against his chest. He knows you feel his still rapid heartbeat.

“This is all… a lot for me.”

“Me too.”

“What made you do it?”

“Did you wish I didn’t?”

“God no. I’d been wanting to for a while.”

“So did I.” You trace the Oxford logo on his chest. “So I did it. Just in a brief moment where I stopped overthinking.”

The air blown out of Michael’s nose is cool against your face. “You actually stopped thinking?” His lips find your forehead as he still keeps hold of your hand—an assurance that he is joking. “Had to say it.”

“It’s difficult. But it’s easier with you.”

The smartass grin leaves his face at that. Instead, he lets his head meet your pillow as his eyes refuse to stray from yours. He brushes your hair back, his short nails just scratching your scalp. It’s soothing, and it encourages you to close your eyes in bliss as your mind is blank.

Taglist: @anukulee

[skovoxblitzer]

In the little bit of the comics I’ve read and some of the animated series? I’m a diehard Scott/logan/jean fan. I am of the opinion that almost every love triangle should just be solved by a throuple.

However.

In the movies??

Both Logan and Scott deserve better than Jean

She leads Logan on and actively flirts back with him, despite the fact that she has NO intention of breaking up with Scott?? (“Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan. They don’t take him home.”) Like yeah Logan shouldn’t have been flirting with a taken woman, but she wasn’t doing much to genuinely discourage it. Bobby even points out that there’s something between them in X2, so it’s clearly not one-sided, yet she still stays with Scott. Like girl pick one, you cant be monogamously in love with your long-term boyfriend while also flirting with a guy he hates. That’s just X2, don’t even get me started on what she does in last stand.

In conclusion, I am a X men original trilogy Certified Jean Grey Hater thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝!!

order 82 | one-shot | Jade | Gender Neutral

❀ NOTE: Initially it was going to be headcanons but this works fine too.

You were in your own world. You happily kicked your feet and quietly giggled as you read your little book. No one else was around to judge you for it! You never liked to admit it but those awfully corny romance shojou mangas are just too good. Call it a guilty pleasure.

You stared intensely at every line and every word on every page. Their relationship is perfect. The book must’ve casted a spell on you because you can’t stop reading.

“I’m sorry, did you hit your head, love?” Aoi asked with deep concern.

“You… what are you doing?!” Dia shook her head in annoyance. Dia tried to slip away only for Aoi to block her with his arm.

“Before that, I need to ask why you want to see him so badly. You won’t even look me in the eye and you’re running away… to see him?” He has tears in his eyes as he said that.

Without you realizing, a shadow loomed over you. The new presence was dangerous yet you kept on reading each page. It wasn’t until you felt a large hand on your shoulder. You froze, you didn’t even scream or move, you just froze in fear of who it was behind you.

“What’s this ya got here?” It was Floyd— the worst person ever! Out of all people that caught you reading corny romance manga— it was him?!

“Floyd, so why are you here out of all places?” You went to the most empty spot you could find which was the forest near the botanical gardens. No one ever goes there even for educational purposes.

Floyd brushed off the question and pointed to the book in your hand. “You came here to read comics? I thought you’d read history books or 18th century novels or something.” He smiled politely.

You shyly close it and slide it under your leg. You tried to think of something to distract from the fact you were caught red handed.

“You’re an eel right? You don’t belong in a forest.” You scoffed while crossing your arms. With that attitude, Floyd knew he caught you doing something that was supposed to be a secret.

“You’re so rude… Don’t discriminate against me because I’m from the ocean. I just wanted to play…” He sniffled and frowned. He kneeled down in front of you to make proper eye contact with you.

You shook your head, “Okay but what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be helping out at Mostro?”

“My whole life doesn’t revolve around that place. It was too boring and empty so I went searching elsewhere.”

You half heartedly smiled at him as he grinned back at you. But he began asking questions again. You sighed, grabbing your bag and standing up quickly. You gave a small careless excuse and apology before leaving with haste.

I guess I’ll just have to read another time.

Floyd stood up to chase after you but looked down underneath where you were sitting. You must’ve been rushing to get away if you forgot your book. Not thinking much of it, he let you go but picked up your book for a quick read.

—

Floyd sat down on his bed, taking off his school blazer. Jade walked in and smiled at his brother. “You finally came back.”

Floyd shrugged, “I wasn’t gone for that long.” It seemed he was still bored, maybe even more bored than before he left. Jade took off his hat and placed it on his desk, though he noticed he may have placed it on top of something else.

He picked up the colorful manga and looked at the front then back. “Is this yours?” Floyd looked over and shook his head.

“Nope, that’s Shrimpy’s. I found them reading that book but they ran away. That book is nothing like I’ve ever seen!”

“Did you steal this from them?”

“Actually no, when they ran away they left it there. I was gonna give it back to them tomorrow.”

Jade turned to the backside of the book and read the summary out loud. “Dia is an over achieving honor student, top of her class her first year of high school. But she pushes away anyone who attempts to get too close, making her a loner. Her life takes a turn when her old childhood best friend, who had moved away nine years ago, moves back into town. Aoi attempts to reach out and reconnect with Dia only for her to refuse. And the pursuit continues.”

Floyd laughs and lays down on his back, staring over at Jade. “I never would’ve guess MC would’ve read this sort of literature…”

“That’s what I’m sayin! They were really into it too.” He laughed.

Jade flipped back to the front, with an intrigued look. “Floyd, do you mind if I give this a read?”

“I don’t care. Actually, how about you give it back to them tomorrow?” He flipped on his side. Jade gave his brother a stare, though he was staring in the other direction, he could sense his twin’s displeasure. “You’re the one who touched it last!”

—

You had been a mess all day. Everyone could tell just by the way you stared at the floor with a melancholy expression that you were not okay. Despite nearly everyone asking, “What happened?” “Are you alright?” “Cheer up!”

You could feel no better.

After all, you were left on a major cliffhanger. Then again maybe it was your fault since you lost the book. You swear you had put it back in your bag!

You went back to the tree after realizing it was gone, but it wasn’t there.

Maybe Floyd took it… You thought with a scowl on your face.

“Damn, what did the floor do to you?” Ace laughed, but he didn’t have a smile.

“You’ve been glaring at the ground for almost the entire lunch.” Deuce said in concern.

Epel pressed a cold drink against your cheek.

“Ah, thank you.” You thanked out of obligation. You took it into your hands but didn’t move to open it.

“Ya better be. Now, are ya finally ready to tell us why yer all glum like a plum.”

The three of them sat besides you. You raised your head and glanced at the three of them. Though you only smiled at Epel’s words. “Glum like a plum? What does that even mean..?” You looked at your drink and he had even gotten you something plum flavored.

Epel held back his words only because he knew you were upset.

There’s no way you could tell them why you were so depressed. “I’m really sad because I was reading this really good manga but I was left on a cliffhanger because I stupidly lost the book and cannot find it”— They’d most likely get mad for worrying them that much over something so minor.

Deuce took the drink from your hands and opened it up for you, handing it back. “Drink something. Maybe it’ll make you feel better?”

You thanked him and took a sip, still wondering if Floyd stole it. That thought was killing you. At that point it was all you could think about. The cliffhanger wasn’t your biggest concern. FLOYD HAS THE BOOK? What if he destroys it? Or maybe he read it and now your image as a sophisticated, mature student is ruined in his eyes?! Or what if he tells other people and your reputation is ruined?

Before you knew it, you had found yourself stomping into Mostro Lounge. Though it was surprisingly empty. There was only one person as far as you saw. You got closer and it turned out to be Jade Leech. Not quite the one you needed to see.

Nonetheless you approached him with a slightly nervous smile. “Hello Jade, do you happen to know where Floyd is?”

He gave you an unreadable stare, “Why are you here? Today is a maintenance day for Mostro Lounge.”

“Is that so…? Well pardon the intrusion but I must know where Floyd is.”

As expected of the Vice Housewarden of Octavinelle, he accommodated your needs. In fact he offered to escort you there.

God bless him! He walked beside you, having a small conversation, just idle chit chat.

“How come you need to see Floyd so badly?”

“It’s just… something’s between us and I think he took something he wasn’t supposed to. Which is why I must go see him!”

You sped up and walked ahead of him. Which was the moment Jade chose to strike. His hand grabbed your wrist and swung you backwards into the wall. It was all very fast, you nearly hit your head.

You blinked as Jade stared down at you. You wanted to ask him what he’s doing but the words just wouldn’t come out.

“I’m sorry. Did you hit your head, love?”

What? Did he just… You must’ve misheard him. But that look on his face. He never looked at you that way before…

“No I didn’t…” You said under your breath. You realized how close he was when he got closer.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you, speak up.” He took his hand that was holding to wrist and moved it to you chin.

“I didn’t hit my head thankfully! Will you take me to Floyd now please?!” You began to slip to the side slowly, trying to get away.

Your heart jumped out of your chest, your eyes widened and you looked to the side to where Jade slammed his hand. You felt the wall shake. You looked back at him slowly but only one word inside your head.

Kaebedon!!

“Before that, I need to ask why you want to see Floyd so badly. You won’t even look me in the eye and you��re running away… to see him?” Jade has that same smile and hint of mischief in his voice. as always.

“I believe he has something that belongs to me so I was going to ask him if it’s whereabouts…!” Your voice strained trying to keep composure.

“Oh my, did he trouble you? I deeply apologize on his behalf. But I think I have what you’re looking for.”

You softened your gaze and mouth opening to explain himself. But soon he reached into his coat with his other hand that was not against the wall.

“Deep into the Heart by Nana F. Hopefully this is what you’ve been searching for.”

You stared blankly at the book, your hands reached out and snatched it from his grasp, which he let you do. You really didn’t have any words for him, mostly out of confusion and intimidation.

“Floyd told me that you left it behind when you ran away from him. He brought it back with him to our dorm after reading it through himself. The premise piqued my interest so I also read it. Hopefully it all makes sense now.”

You understood what he was doing when he did all of that. He was just teasing you. He smiled as he stepped away from you. “Also, Floyd stormed out 30 minutes ago. I’m sure he’s found somebody to amuse himself with by now.”

Now you were just embarrassed, you held the book up to your face to avoid eye contact. You were concerned about Jade and Floyd knowing your taste in literature. The unpredictable nature of the two intimidated you. Surely they wouldn’t tell anyone…

“Thank you Jade. I’m going to head back now.” You turned around and lowered the book.

“Allow me to escort you—“ he cut himself off as you sprinted away.

“No thank you!”

“No running in the lounge!”

[gazsluckyhat]

Sarah's House

One - Russian Spies

Masterlist

This kind of started as a ear worm to be honest. Just a simple idea that decided to take root. Any advice is welcomed!

Price knew he shouldn't take the mission. The outcome seemed obvious, or so he thought. Until he wasn't anymore.

or

Like calls to like. Or something of the sort.

Price knew he shouldn’t agree. It sounded like a no brainer. Soldier taken after a mission gone wrong and  no contact for almost two years now? Sounded cut and dry to him. It would put his team in danger and there was no promise they'd find them. They had most likely been killed within the first month. No doubt they'd tourtured them. But still he listened, read the file of intel they'd dug up. Blue eyes scanning for any sign they'd missed.

"I know it sound straight forward, Captain. But the dad is a old family friend and even if its just her body, we'd like her home." Price's eyes snapped to the mans face. He had worked with Price years ago but now worked behind a desk.

"Her?" He wasn't informed it was a woman. The man nodded.

"Yes, I must have forgotten to mention it. Sarah Jakobs. She's twenty-seven. Climbed the ranks when she joined the marines. Takes after her mama. She was always a damn good shot. Sarah was supposed to be the sniper on the mission. Apparently the intel they got was bad and they knew where she was at." He looked away before he spoke again. "When her captain finally got to her position all they found was blood and signs of a struggle. They're wanting to mark her as KIA." Price started at him for a moment.

"I need to speak to her parents." Lewis, the man, shook his head.

"I can get her father, but her mother passed some years ago. He's very adamant that she's still alive. Says he can feel it." He'd heard that before, and more than once the body was always found. Lewis dialed the number and within two rings a man picked up. "I've got the Captain I was telling you about. No, he wants to talk to you first. John Price." And the sleek smartphone was being passed to him.

Ghost was leaning against the wall when Soap strutted into the room. A gleam in her cerulean eyes. He spotted Ghost and walked his way. Gaz followed minuets later.

"Hey LT, looking good." Ghost was not expecting the slap on his ass that followed. So the responding backhand that he delivered to Soap was almost comical. Gaz chocked out a laugh as Soap bounced against the lockers. Ghost standing straighter. "Fuck."

"Oi' Johnny!" The can Ghost was nursing bonked the bloke in the head before gracing Gaz's feet. "Keep 'ur hands to 'urself." Soap stifled a laugh as he rubbed his cheek. Gaz just chuckled and shook his head, the lucky hat he always worse throwing a shadow across his face.

"Didn't 'ave to hit so hard, LT." The wounded puppy look clear on Soaps face. Ghost almost felt bad for hitting him. Almost. But he caught the tiny upturn of his lips before rolling his eyes.

"Take it to HR." Then he was walking away, leaving Gaz smirking and Soap pouting.

  The air in the room was thick. The boys picked up on it the second they stepped in. Price stood at the left side of the rounded table, papers and pictures spread out around him. Gaz read the body language immediately and adjusted his posture, knowing the incoming information was gonna be extra bad.

"What is it Captain?" Johnny eyed the older man as he pushed a picture forward. Johnny caught sight of it and scrunched his brows. "Who's she?" Price's face was solemn.

"Sargent Sarah Jakobs. Twenty-six. Certified sniper on a classified mission in Russia. Except the intel they got was bad, they got the location of the sniper and bombarded her. Took her team almost two hours to realize it was a set up and check on her. All they found was her gun, her comms, and blood. There was clear sign of a struggle and even a body not far from the hideout. But no sign of her after ten feet. Just gone. That was almost two years ago." Ghost eyed him and the picture.

"An old friend has asked me to try and locate her, even if its just remains." Gaz looked up. "He says the family will pay even if we find nothing."

"Has there been any recent updates?" Gaz watched as Price slid another paper across the table.

"Some inside information says there's been talk of a American prisoner up in a northern base." Price pointed to the area on a map.

"Could be anybody." Ghost added eyes glued to the picture of the smiling soldier.

"The insider says its her, mentioned a scar on her leg, some accident she got in as a teenager." The room was quiet. Everyone thinking over the idea.

"'S'not proven though?" Soap hoped they would have a stronger lead. This was mostly nothing. A ghost trail.

"No. Nothing solid." Price knew what they were all thinking. She was most likely dead.

"What's really gotten to you?" Ghost spoke up, finally looking up from the picture. There had to be something he was missing. Price sighed and took a seat.

"I spoke to her father. I know I shouldn't 'ave." He looked around. "He's convinced she's alive. Swears he can feel her. He honestly believes that. And I do too." The boys all snapped to look at him. "I know how it sounds but you should hear the way he talks about her. He just wants his daughter back."

"When do we leave?" Gaz trusted his captain and if he believed then so did he.

 The snow was thick and fluffy as they trudged through it. The location of the base still twenty minutes out. The white of their suits blended right in, the group standing close together to keep in sight. It was cold, the wind still cutting through the insulated fabric. Johnny never got used to the cold and was clenching to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Aye' Johnny! Do you see that up ahead?" He focused his eyes and the area Gaz was pointing at. The night vision goggles outlining the block. Up ahead not even fifty feet was a small cut out in the snow. Looked to be a cave almost.

"Yeah, could be a entrance?" He wasn't sure. "What do you say Captain?"

"This is the area where the base is supposed to be located, let's check it out." And so there they where huddled together in the alcove where a door was hidden away. Ghost and Johnny guarding the others. Kyle was focused on the sensor, surprisingly it was old and simple. The technology clearly hadn't been updated. With a few taps and some elbow grease he bypassed it and the door slid open.

"Well that was simple." Johnny mumbled as he headed down first. His superpower was clearing rooms. "Clear." He waiting for Ghost to bring up the rear before he took his gun off the stairwell. It took them fifteen more minutes to even locate the main entrance into the base, another sensor Gaz cracked, another room Soap cleared. The building seemed deserted, most of the rooms empty and left messy. Two floors down they located the hub. The building was deserted, except for the lab. The entrance was glass doors where two people could be seen mixing chemicals together. There were two guards at the door and at least two more inside. Their odd weren't the best but they'd dealt with worse.

"Soap, Ghost take out those two. Gaz you're on me." And with that two nearly silent shots rang out and the corresponding bodies hit the floor. Price and Gaz already breaking through the glass. Two more shots and one of the guards was down, the other catching price on the jaw. Before he could land another hit Gaz had him on his knees with a bullet in the back of his head. Ghost and Soap had the two scientist tied up and on their knees as well.

"The girl. Where is she?" Price was shoving the picture in their faces. Gaz could see the recognition in the eyes. The oldest man grunted. His English patchy.

"Whore. American Whore." A quick slap from Ghost had him on the ground. Price setting his knee on his chest.

"American soldier. Who you've kidnapped." His eyes burned. "Where is she?"

"Cells. Two doors to the left." The younger of the two sobbed out. His frame shaking as a wet spot gathered underneath him.

"Fucking prick, soiled himself." Soap scoffed. Price stood up.

"Does it take a badge Gaz?" Gaz rushed over his eyes scanning the sensor and seeing if he could bypass it. "Dimwit has a badge on him" Gaz nodded.

"Toss it 'ere." He caught it easily and slid it across the panel, the grey door sliding open into a hallway. His gun up and Price behind him he snuck down the hall. Following the light and the faint smell of cigars.

"How many you thinking?" Soap mumbled to Ghost behind him.

"Dunno, at least two from the sounds." Ghost quipped back. The end coming nearer. Gaz peeked around the corner, his eyes catching the cells and three guards hanging around a middle one. They were mumbling in Russian.

"Three total. All around the middle cell. Doesn’t seem to have any weapons." Priced nodded.

"Johnny stay back and try to get into that cell. Ghost yo go left, Gaz right. I'll take the middle." And then they were off. Gaz was right, none of the guards had weapons except a baton. Ghost took one over the head after his gun was knocked out of his hand, choosing instead to tackle the man. Throwing his elbow into the mans nose it took said baton and pressed into in the mans neck until he heard a tell tale snap.

  Gaz aimed at the mans head, his bullet hitting home but not before Price's kicked him in the back. Hitting the ground he rolled as the middle man wrapped his hands around the mans throat. Prices shot twice, blood spraying over Gaz's face as the man slumped forward onto him.

"Oi' can someone get him off. He smells." Ghost kicked the body away, Gaz grunting as he took Price's outstretched hand. Johnny was fidgeting with the door.

"No guns? Why?" Ghost looked to price. Gaz's question ringing.

"Whatever is in here must not pose a threat." Johnny said as he straightened up.

"Or they're playing with there food." Ghost spoke. The other cells were opened each in various degrees of horror. "Think there's a mechanism over there." Price followed him to the board. Most of the controls were in Russian but they assumed the only one lit up red was the closed cell.

"Are you ready? We don't know what's in here." Johnny nodded.

"Oh, I 'an handle it Captain." Price smirked and hit the control. The door slid open and with it a vomit inducing smell. The room was dark the hallway the only light. Johnny stumbled back as the smell hit him. "Smells like shite."

"Because it is shit." And Gaz was right. There was a bucket full of human excrement on the righthand side. What had to be vomit seemed to cover the floor in patches along with dried blood. Ghost clicked on his flashlight and shined it into the space and even his stumbled back. A figure, no bigger than a large child was curled into a ball in the corner. Matted hair gave way to sunken dull eyes. The mouth was pulled back in a snarl as a growl emitted through the concrete room. It was naked. Body rail thin and covered in grime. They could see fresh wounds and even some large scars. They all stood frozen as the figure tried to crawl farther into the corner.

The scar is on her right thigh. About the size of a bottle." Price stepped forward then froze as the figure hissed and sunk back. Their back flat agaisnt the wall. It was a woman, only the nether regions proving it as there was no fat on the body.

"She's covered in grime, can't see anything." Gaz spoke low, as not to provoke her.

"Have a feeling she's not gonna comply." Ghost said as Johnny started to step forward.

"Hi, names Soap. Can you.." He was cut off by the woman throwing herself at him in a fury of gnashing teeth.

Hi! Thank you for reading. It means alot! I honestly think this garbage and hate it but im going out on a limb and posting it. A little scared to see what you guys think. 😬 If you have any advice or any comment feel free to send them to me! My box is always open! - Bunny

Credit to @superawesomelurkaccount for the cute bunny divider

[kaontic]

*Long Post*

*Checks Decepticon emails* Oh, here we go. (¬_¬") 💻

*Reads* You forgot my builtday?! What kind of human slave are you if you can’t even remember this important date? (¬_¬)

*Types back* One that wanted to celebrate their mom’s 55th birthday? 🤨

Yeah. What a shame, right? That she’s gotta share the day she entered this universe with the likes of you. # ⸨◺_◿⸩ #

(Cool fact I guess but still, why? 😭)

Tho I guess I should thank you for remindin’ me, cuz here’s my late builtday present: i’m gonna expose ya once and for all. >:D *Sends*

*Closes* Aaaaaaaaaaaand, I got less than 24 hours left to live, so… :/

You know how everyone always argues about his OG alt mode, that I surprisingly got obsessed with (by reason of insanity bein’ a concept that allows for SO MUCH creativity in a franchise that encourages it via lore + toys), and wanna copy paste everywhere?

Reflector: Yeah. No scrap. Don't say anythi— 📷

Me: *Tosses into chute* Right. Ok— 👏 

Million-shanix question: Why does Megatron, of all TF characters, in his alt mode have to literally put his fate into another’s servos/hands?

Well, that’s the thing.

He doesn’t. (•᷄- •᷅ ;)

It's the same case with Shockwave (who interestingly, I never see anyone criticize despite them both bein' laser guns, but whatever, this ain't about him tonight 🙂‍↔️).

Furthermore, if Megatron can fly in his robot mode, then flying/levitating as a gun shouldn't sound as implausible, right? (ᵕŏᴗŏ)

(I mean it sure does sound funny, but also terrifying, since he can freeze midair, aim with near-perfect accuracy and fire at will)

Oh yeah, and Soundwave's still capable of flight too as a microcassette recorder.

Megatron: Soundwave! WTH!? Come back!

(Ok, at least with him it's just funny. Maybe he can blast [insert appropriate music here] while he's at it)

So knowin' this, why does Megatron still pull this damn stunt, if he's quite capable of doin' it all on his own?

People also wonder why Starscream can't just "accidentally" drop Megs, and then stomp him out like a bug that's not as innocent.

Well, good fraggin’ luck Star, cuz as soon you let him go, he’s gonna go, and if you didn’t wanna let him go, and he wants to go?

He will go.

If you manage to grab hold of his stock, that’s detachable (and the same goes for his silencer), so he's just gonna end up whoopin’ your aft for that with his stock.

But fine, let's say that Megs is on the ground unconscious, and you somehow sneak up on him with heated thrusters via your afterburners.

Still not gonna work, my guy… I think.

(Like look at his face plate here, he knows there’s no point in tossin’ Megs under all those fallin' rocks 😂)

He's a metal cockroach (which is an insult to cockroaches, and for that I apologize), but then again, with the way he takes on damage inconsistently in G1, I don't even fraggin' know guys. (-_-)ゞ

(This bitch survived an explosion powerful enough to move Cybertron, yet panicked over “antimatter” energon)

(He also didn’t give a frag over the same concern in “War of the Dinobots”—)

Um...maybe cuz his alt mode is a denser state to be in, he's more durable and can withstand harder impacts?

My brain: Wait, so shouldn’t he be heavier after all or—?

My heart: Shuddup, it’s science fiction. Enjoy it. We don’t need to get lectured on physics.

Brain: But this is my way of enjoying it—

Heart: SHUSH!

I mean he transformed into his alt mode to save himself when he fell off a cliff in the Marvel comics…and still sustained brain damage. :/

Yeah, we ain't half-battlin' scrap with that info, Duke, and that's why we pick our battles. Wisely.

*Proceeds to list gun mode advantages in no particular order*

Ok, this? This is the creative/fun alt mode s**t I wanna see more of, Hasbro!

You wanna know the reasons/ways in which the alt mode Teletraan I bestowed upon him can be strategic/useful/just plain fun, dammit? (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ 📷❗️

1.

He shouldn’t need to worry about wastin’ the valuable energy he’s savin’ for a fight with Op, since his Seekers can easily fly him to wherever they gotta go in their cockpits (along with the rest of the High Command who also have small alt modes excluding Star, what a coincidence)

Yeah, with the way he tires out during crucial moments in this war (with it bein’ an energy crisis, and oh, the human allies providin’ energy to the Autobots), if he just stayed in his alt mode as much as possible, and continued orderin' everyone around that way, “only the idiots would question” him, as he can put it

In short, the less he can do in order to conserve energy, the more of a chance he’ll have to win for once lol

That indeed means someone else with high-quality optical sensors, who’s committed to the cause, aimin’ and pullin’ the trigger for him

2.

When you’re in a battle, and it’s chaotic as hell, what are your optics gonna draw to? The weapon? Or the enemy that’s holdin’ the weapon?

Oh, most Cybertronian laser weapons come in neutral colors?

Well scrap, good luck spottin’ him

I think it gets even worse when he mass shifts to scale with a human’s hand, as the smaller he gets, the harder it’ll become to locate/hit him as a target. Then you gotta worry about human civilians, and oh boy—

3.

Apparently, all the energy that’s in his barrel ends up bein’ more concentrated, precise and deadly than in his scope (the fusion cannon), which is also detachable

Yeah, a barrel def ain’t fraggin’ detachable lmao

4.

If Starscream starts actin’ up, once again, Megs can just go into a Seeker’s cockpit and conduct business in there

Nova Storm would be a damn good choice too, since if they can survive the chromosphere, it could mean that (in order to get to that layer) they can survive the much hotter corona of the Sun

We're talkin' millions of degrees Fahrenheit/over 200,000 degrees Celsius here, so maybe take advantage of that sometime 😑

Yeah, Star couldn’t any give less of a scrap about other Seekers (or anyone) the same way Megs couldn’t, but neither of ‘em wanna make it that obvious, ya know?

5.

Eh, I guess his alt mode is a good way for him to sharpen his stealth skills

(Obviously it’s not his style, but it’s like swimmin’. Even if you aren’t a fan of pools/the ocean, you should still know how to swim if given the chance, just in case)

Like seein’ a camera, or a microcassette recorder (in the 80s) is normal, even neat, but if there’s one thing you never wanna see, it’s a gun. So humans conceal them

I think that’s a good enough motivator for Megs (who loves a challenge, don cha know?) to finally suck it up and start takin’ that s*** seriously

Cuz idk, if human militaries start armin’ themselves with Cybertronian tech (*sighs* as if nukes weren’t enough), he’s gonna need to know how to hide from humanity’s wrath, just sayin’

Can’t hide a tank as easily no matter how much ya camouflage ‘em (still love that alt mode tho, so triple changer Megs all the fraggin' way y'all)

Oh in that situation, every Decepticon with a large alt mode would be screwed, huh? 😂

6.

He can try and lure a human without an amplified voice in order to… best case scenario have Reflector steal all their MLP merch

Or he can choose to indulge in the art of scarin' the absolute s**t outta people (can't easily sneak up on a human as a giant robot, can ya?)

7.

If Megs is for whatever reason merely incapacitated during a battle, someone can flip him over the same way Prime did in "The Insecticon Syndrome" to transform him—and either hightail it outta there (once again, smaller target to hit), or use him, well, as a goddamn weapon

Trust me, he won't mind

This also works for when he gets drunk and passes out

Cuz gettin' severely injured instead, means that flippin' him over might be too risky, hence why Soundwave carried him in robot mode in the movie (if Megs can't move his limbs, that's a bad sign)

8.

Enemies: So, the rumors are true: your leader really is smaller than a minicon. (Lol he must be weak—) *Continue makin’ a bunch of assumptions*

Skywarp: *Looks around* I give it 20 astroseconds. *Tosses Megs + teleports away*

Enemies: What—? *Get mercilessly demolished cuz they let their guard down/got distracted smh*

Skywarp: *Teleports back* Mmm, 20…3.

*Gets lightly hit in the arm* Ow—

Megatron: You count too fast.

/ Y'all, if Skywarp was a better fighter/gunslinger combined with his teleportation... he would cook fr

9.

Nervous turned super confused new recruit: *Stops bowing* Wait, he’s the gun? The leader of the Decepticons?

Skywarp: *Holding Megs* Mm-hmm. Here, take him.

New recruit: *Stares* That’s Megatron?

Skywarp: Yep, in the metal. Take him. Just don’t shoot yet, got it?

New recruit: Yet? Is that allowed? Can he—? Are you sure, or is this some kind of trick?

Skywarp: Yep, yep and soon, yep—I-I mean no—I mean—

Just say “test” next time. *Stuffs him into their arms + adjusts* There.

New recruit: ( ´･_･`)

Skywarp: Feel different?

New recruit: *Looking down* I don’t understand.

Skywarp: See, that’s the best part: you don’t need to understand anything, just that if you do as he says, and you have good aim, you’ll stay in one piece. Isn’t that great? :D

He needs us just as much as we need him. Simple as that.

New recruit: *Thoughtful + in awe* Yeah… (人´∀`)

I-I’m sorry sir, this is just such a huge honor—

Megatron: Oh no, the honor's all yours.

New recruit: Really? (Oh right—) Sir?

Megatron: Why, of course. You should be commended for making such a wise decision.

Many do not, and for that our planet bears the brunt of their weakness.

New recruit: How many?

Megatron: Don’t worry, they will repent in time, for the fate of Cybertron is in your very servos.

Skywarp: *Ruining it* Well not just your servos, but the many servos of…um…“like-minded individuals”. :D

Megatron: Skywarp.

Skywarp: You’re gonna be fine.

I should go, I’ll just go, you know, with…things to do, and… Peace. *Teleports*

Megatron: We can get things done too, yes?

New recruit: Yessir.

Megatron: *Slips away from their hands + transforms* Good, we'll start now.

New recruit: *Gets led away* O_O

/ Aw, what a nice, smart and humble leader who just wants to save his home planet from all the stupid robots 🥺

Hey, when you get to know him, you’ll realize that he’s actually so down-to-earth, and he'll even literally give himself to you because he cares that much and doesn't want you to be so helpless

He fights and works so hard for everyone and our home, that it's only fair for us to do the same, right? How can he possibly be a bad guy?

Yeah, he can get angry and touchy sometimes, and make costly mistakes sometimes, but he's just stressed, everyone gets stressed

They just don't get it and refuse to even try, and everyone is suffering as a result :(

They're the problem, not us, and they keep getting in our way

Our way is the only way that matters. Their ways are scrap

They. Are. Scrap. And should be treated as such

They should suffer, just as much as they’ve made us suffer

And that, my friends, is how your spark/soul becomes his to handle 😄

(Frag yeah, peace through tyranny! ( •̀ ᴗ •́ )و)

10. Like this. ‘Nuff said

No seriously, ‘nuff said—this post’s long enough as it is. 😅

I know I’ll come up with more gun mode s***, but for now, I’m just gonna arm myself with an eraser and await the death stick.

PS: You know what? Tank mode's funnier.

[fifis-cosmos]

Peaches and Musk

Minho x Jisung

Plot: No real plot… Minho smells Jisung’s heat during a concert and then they fuck.

Warnings: A/B/O, BxB, male on male, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, swearing, semi-public sex, nicknames (Hyung, daddy, baby, mutt, omega, alpha, jagi, slut), idol AU, Jisung rambles a lot, jerking off, almost sort of subspace, mention of heat, anal fingering, thigh grinding/riding (I think that’s everything?)

Author’s note: This is a satire post, sort of? It’s something my friends and I wrote a while ago as a joke. Inspired by my peach scented chapstick because it smells soooo good… Usually I won’t do BxB but I got bored and writing something with a more unusual topic is fun. Also! I think I may have a memory of reading something like this before? I don’t remember what it was, but if I got a bit close to somebody else’s idea, I’m not claiming it as mine. And one last thing… I had no idea how to end this… so apologies for the shitty finish.

Also, this is unedited, and not proofread.

Minho knows he must be mistaken.

That light, peachy smell can’t be his boyfriend, standing a few steps away, who is bobbing his head to the rhythm of the music while he walks around the stage, waving.

It has to be something else. A body product, maybe Jeongin’s sweet smelling shampoo, but that’s not really realistic, is it?

When he inhales more deeply, he catches the giveaway. That telltale hint of spice behind the sweet scent, almost like nutmeg.

He turns to Jisung, sharp features accentuated by the concert lights, scanning the body of the man before him. He’s playing with his microphone, picking at the tacky jewels that surround the circumference of it.

Minho’s eyes narrow into a cat-like expression, the sweat on his forehead trickling down his temple in a glittery streak. He takes another whiff of the air.

It’s him.

His fingers find the little gadget in his ear and pops it out, covering the mic with the palm of his hand while he approaches his boyfriend.

He has to be discreet. There are too many fans. Prying eyes that are too eager and attentive. Endless cameras to catch a slip-up.

He taps Jisung’s thigh gently, and leans in to talk in his ear.

“…Jisung. I can smell you,”

Jisung offers nothing but a skeptical glance.

“That’s stupid, Hyung,” The boy says, eyes getting wider, almost comically. “I shouldn’t be in heat yet,”

He waves his hand, dismissing Minho, and turns to give a charming, gummy smile to the crowds. Minho grabs his wrist and speaks again.

“I’m serious, Jagi,”

Jisung looks at him sideways and rolls his brown eyes. His expression is almost pouty. He holds up his hand.

Minho wastes no time pressing the sharp tip of his nose to the soft flesh on the inside of his wrist, where his scent gland is.

Immediately his nose fills with the fruity, sweet smell of peaches. It’s delectable, makes Jisung’s soft, mochi cheeks look edible. It makes everything about him look edible.

Minho has to smack his boyfriend’s wrist away before he does something stupid in front of all these people.

“It’s you,”

Jisung’s pretty boba eyes get all big and wide, and he covers his wrist, as if it will help anything at all.

In a moment of reaction and panic, he holds his microphone up to his mouth and speaks.

“STAY! STAY, I’m so sorry… but I really, really have to go pee,”

He turns off the mic and runs backstage, laughs from the crowd filling the auditorium.

Minho just hopes Jisung can get it sorted quickly.

Jisung stumbles into the dressing room, and Minho follows right after, locking the door. They both smell like sweat, covered in it from preforming, and the heat of the stage. The adrenaline lingers, as well.

As soon as the door is shut, Minho latches his lips onto Han’s, clawing into his hips and licking at his mouth recklessly.

“Can’t even wait until we get home,” He growls, biting down on the boy’s pouty lips. “So impatient, Jagi. Not even that patch can satiate you, can it?”

At the thought of the little sticker, Minho’s hands start searching his boyfriend’s body, as if he will be able to find it through his clothes. His hands land mindlessly on Jisung’s ass, kneading it while he kisses even deeper.

“I put it on my back…,” He mutters in a whiny tone, pulling away to cross his arms in front of his body so he can peel off the shirt obscuring his access.

Minho’s eyes scan his body, cute little tummy exposed by the rising hem. His thin waist, the shadow of hair growing up to his belly-button. He tries to pull the shirt off, but it catches on his chin, and his nose, popping off of his head and leaving his fluffy brown hair a mess.

His stretches his arms back and tries to reach the little paw-shaped patch between his shoulder blades, the exact thing that is preventing his body from releasing pheromones. His chest flexes, and Minho can’t help but stare at the rounded, honey-toned expanses of skin.

After watching him struggle for a bit too long, Minho grabs him by the hips and spins him around so his ass is facing him.

“Pathetic. Let me get it, Jagi,”

His fingers grip the edge of the little tab, and he tears it away from the skin, fine hairs getting caught in the sticky residue meant to last a whole day. As soon as it’s off, he leans over Jisung’s shoulder and grabs him by the waist, pulling him closer, mouthing hungrily at the scent glad that rests above the dip of his collarbone.

“Wanna smell you,”

He grumbles against the hot, flushed section of chest, lips wet and darkened from rough kisses earlier. The patch is still stuck to the pads of his fingers, and he tries to shake it off.

His runs his teeth over Jisung’s glad. That tasty, peachy smell returns, starting to flood the room. It makes his mouth water, his eyes roll back. It’s filling his senses. He moans and nips at the skin, trying to stimulate more of that delicious satisfaction.

The patch unsticks from Minho’s finger, and flitters to the ground, forgotten as soon as it left his body. He’s already moved on to better things by now, like sucking a nice mark into his boyfriend’s flesh.

“A-ah… Hyung… mm,” Jisung whimpers, eyes squeezed shut, grinding his ass against the crotch of Minho’s leather pants. “N-no marks… you know we’ll get in trouble,”

At the comment, Minho laves his tongue over the spot, and detaches with a pop. A string of saliva connects his lower lip to the reddened spot.

“You know I don’t care about that…”

He growls, licking over the skin and inhaling the sweet scent. Jisung is starting to catch onto a familiar musk, almost resembling a pine tree, wafting from his boyfriend. He lets a particularly slow drag roll against Minho’s hard dick.

Minho ruts back instinctually, making both of their sweaty bodies jolt. All he can think of is the way Jisung smells, the way he feels and sounds.

He wants to be inside of him. The thought of claiming his boyfriend during yet another heat makes his cock twitch.

He needs release.

His clipped nails dig into the plush skin of Jisung’s torso, and he ruts a few more times. All he wants to hear is those cute sounds his baby always makes for him.

Quick thrusts turning into grinding sooner rather than later, and Jisung is already feeling a bit foggy. He whines and pushes back, trying to get any kind of friction on his hole possible. His boxers are already soaked with slick, he just needs something inside.

“H-hyung- please~ please…,”

He whimpers without thought. Minho nuzzles his nose against the now-wet gland.

“My jagi wants something in his greedy hole? Fuck yes…” His voice pushes out when Jisung moans and rolls his hips once more, gravelly and deeper than usual. “So fucking good… Your Hyung knows you so fucking good, doesn’t he?”

His hips buck, causing some of the friction Jisung needed. Just when the younger boy thinks he’s getting what he wants, Minho let’s go of him, crescent shaped marks on his skin from his boyfriend’s blunt nails.

“Hyung?”

“Shut your mouth,”

Jisung gets shoved onto the sleek leather bench at the back of the room, where he starts to climb onto it eagerly, ready to present his ass.

Instead, he feels a study arm wrap around his waist and pull him up onto his knees. His back is to Minho, and he’s facing the wall.

“Minho, what are you-“

“I told you to shut you mouth. Stop talking before I decide to leave you here. You wouldn’t like that, would you?”

Minho asks, palming his erection steadily.

Jisung would hate that. His leaking cock, more than that, his hot, slicked up asshole that clenches around nothing, need attention. There’s so much arousal drooling out of him, that there’s a wet patch on his the rump of his pants.

Minho delivers a swift smack to that exact spot, the tips of his fingers grazing his boyfriends balls at the lowly aimed attack.

“I asked you a question,”

“Ah! Y-yes! Sorry Hyung… no… I wouldn’t like it… I’ll be good,”

He wiggles his hips, which Minho finds indescribably cute, in an irritating way.

“Don’t move,” He commands with authority.

Before Jisung registers the lowly spoken words, he feels a toned, leather-clad thigh slip between his own. It nudges them apart, and drags against his dick a little.

The only reaction he can muster is a moan, and the action of grinding down on the expanse of muscle. He’s stopped almost immediately.

“I said stay still,” Minho breathes out. He gives Han a little push, forcing him to lean on the back of the couch with his palms. “You’re lucky I feel generous tonight..,” Minho cages his body in, and puts a palm beside Han’s left.

His lips attach to the dewy, tanned skin again.

“I’m gonna jerk you off, baby… Jagi..,”

He groans and ruts his hips upwards again.

“Oh- fuck yes- please?”

Jisung’s words are slurred, tongue thick with desire. His mind is foggy with lust, and the waves of heat washing over him. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Minho’s wandering hand finds the bulge in his pants.

At just the first touch, he lets out a loud moan, and bucks his hip fowards.

Minho growls, something almost mistakable as a laugh. “Oh, you like that, don’t you, Jagi? Want me to touch your poor leaky little dick?”

“Yeah-! Hyung- Daddy- please… wan’ it…,”

“You’re filthy,” The whisper comes harsh against the shell of his flushed ear. Of course, it only gets him off more. Minho begins to unbutton the clasp of his jeans.

Even such slight friction has Jisung whining and canting his hips, trying to chase the feeling. Minho shucks the blue jeans down, and takes the soaked boxers along with them.

Before his focus even comes close to returning to Jisung’s dick, his eyes land on a certain spot. He runs a digit over the wetness leaking out of his boyfriends asshole, smirking at the amount of slick that gushes at such a small touch.

“Look at you… so desperate, Jagi. Tell me you want it,” He demands, slowly rubbing his rim with his thumb.

Jisung jolts and moans loudly. His hole throbs, and he pushes back, trying to rub his legs together.

“I wan’ it! Oh god, alpha, please- I want it so bad- touch me-”

Minho hooks his thumb into Jisung’s hole. The amount of slick makes it an easy task.

“I said tell me you want it, not beg. Slut,” He quips, wiggling his thumb softly. Jisung bucks his hips backwards, and tries to grind back. Minho grabs his hips.

“Dumb mutt” He snarls, other hand leaving the couch to mark a ring with his thumb and finger around the base of Jisung’s cock. He gives a quick stroke with the tiny ring, and settles back at the base. When the omega below him moans, he finds himself smiling. “That’s all you are, isn’t it? A dumb mutt? Stupid little omega begging for something in its slutty hole,”

Minho slaps Jisung’s dick, making it sway, and the younger moans and pushes back again.

“I bet you want my knot, don’t you?” He gives another slow stroke along the length of his boyfriend. Jisung nods frantically, bucking forwards. “Too bad. You get my thumb, and my hand to fuck into. That’s it. Now spit on it,”

Jisung pants and tilts his head down, trying to drool down onto his dick while Minho holds it up for him. Minho slips his hand up and palms over the pink tip, spreading the spit around while it leaks down his shaft, settling in his dark pubic hair.

“Ah! Ohmygod-,” Jisung try’s to buck forwards again, his balls dragging delectably over the leather covering Minho’s thigh. The alpha pulls his thumb out and slaps his ass.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay fucking still?” He growls. His body pushes against the back of Jisung’s, and he crowds him flush against the back of the couch, body shadowing over him. He starts to stroke his omega’s cock steadily. “You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

“S’ good… too good,” Jisung whines, trying his hardest not to move so he can please his alpha.

“Too good,” Minho mocks in a high tone, repeating the boy’s breathy tone. He stops stroking and takes to running his fingers lightly up the underside of his cock. “I bet it is, isn’t it? Too good? You’re such a stupid little thing. Begging for my hands,”

He swaps to rubbing his fingers over Jisung’s slit. His cock jumps.

Minho latches his mouth onto his neck again, sucking gently before nipping at his skin. “Bounce on my thigh,” He demands, breath hot on the sweaty field of skin, shaking his leg that is wedged between Jisung’s as if to show him what exactly what to use.

It’s like a spell has been put over the younger as soon as those words grace his pinkened ears. He starts frantically grinding against the meaty appendage that rests below him, dragging his balls over the rough material. It hurts, but that just makes it better for him. At this point he’s been reduced to breathless moans.

Minho spits in his hand and lifts Jisung’s hips to smear it on the black leather pants, just to make the slide a bit easier. It wasn’t really all that needed, considering the mass amounts of slick pouring from the younger’s hole, dripping down his balls and making an embarrassing puddle.

“There it is… good omega,” He growls, bouncing his leg a little. He strips Jisung’s dick, the wet sounds downright sinful. With this much attention, the boy can’t last much longer.

“I-inside. Want something inside, please,” He begs in a shaky voice, grinding down just a bit harder.

“Inside? This isn’t enough for you?” He tightens his grip around his dick.

“Mm- please! Please, hyung,” His legs are shaking now, and his stomach is twitching with every breath. Minho ruts his hips against Jisung’s ass, and reaches forwards to rub his lip with his thumb. He’s delighted to find drool covering it.

“Oh… poor thing… what makes you deserve it?” His hand reaches down and collects slick, teasing the younger’s rim.

“Ah! I’ll be good! I’ll be so good, please, just put it in- please,”

Minho brings his thumb to his lips and smears slick over it.

“You’ll be good? I guess that’s a pretty good reason,” He teases and reaches down. The way his finger slides in with such ease. Even better, how the second one follows, and they curve up into his prostate, is exactly what he needed to send him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm.

He doesn’t notice how he shakes. Hot white ropes of cum shoot onto the back of the couch. He can’t hear anything, all he can sense is the feeling of his orgasm, the explosion in his gut and the tingling of his body.

When he finally opens his eyes, the fullness of his boyfriend’s fingers are gone, as well as the warmth of his thigh between his legs. But his boxers are handed to him.

“You’re giving me head on the ride to the hotel. If you do good enough, maybe I’ll knot you when we get back into our room,” Minho cocks his head to the cum splattered on the couch. “Clean that up, Jagi,”

He turns to leave, but before he does, he leans over Jisung’s shoulder and plants a gentle kiss on his sweaty cheek.

“You did well. I’ll go get some fresh clothes for you. I love you, Sungie”

“I love you too, Minho,”

[holyblanchett]

honestly, what even would her redemption arc be ? she stops killing ? stops lying ? stops being an asshole ?

she goes oh, i have killed thousands (uncountable) of witches (and others) with little to no remorse (leaning towards none), that’s bad and i shouldn’t do it anymore…

and then all is well because she picks up her “mentor role” as if she hasn’t willingly been sharing knowledge her whole life (which let’s face it usually bites her in the ass)

like why can’t people handle someone being “evil” - you don’t need someone to become “good” - we don’t have to follow conventional storyline rules

also this whole lesbian thing… like if they can’t even realize that… how can any other analysis be correct

This!! let her be a villain. Her being a "mentor." Is not going to suddenly make her a different person. She regrets nothing and dgaf. Even her sacrifice was in her words a calculated risk. People do not understand her at all. They read comics and think they know everything. Comic book Agatha is nothing like mcu Agatha (although her younger version is close she's a menace fr.)

Erasing her lesbian identity is also erasing all the hard work Jac and her team put into those damn meetings with disney execs to get this approved in the first place. The sooner people understand that the better off we all will be. They keep bringing up that one interview that Kathryn did and what people don't understand is that marvel rarely ever confirms their characters sexuality in their shows and movies. Same goes for Deadpool, Valkyrie, Captain Marvel,etc. They are still very conservative and will probably never flat out say anything. This is why we have media literacy and if Daniel didn't confirm the bracelet i would give them that but he did so people that are still questioning her sexuality are weird. Agatha has never shown interest in a man, never will i stand by that.

[binglepringle]

So I got accused of racism and basically called an idiot for trying to point out a flaw in someone’s argument. Not cool.

If anyone cares to read this thing, can they tell me what they think? I need other opinions <3

First off, like an utter buffoon, in my anger I blocked them before I could screenshot my replies, so you’ll have to take my word for it. If you know my account at least, you’ll know I’m not and have never been racist, or idealized the baby sister Cass trope (in fact, I detest it).

I see this meme talking about the usual: people™️ wanting Cass to fall into negative stereotypes bc it’s cute or whatever, and the op gallantly pulling up a panel in which Cass displays the opposite.

The flaw with this one was two things: the panel they chose was Helena Bertinelli in the Batgirl costume, speaking in full sentences, and it was captioned “… and she can talk perfectly well.”

Of course I don’t think Cass is some little helpless baby because “aww she can’t talk she can’t read” that’s disgusting. What I do think is that going all the way to the opposite end, saying “no Cass is perfectly fine she can talk fine she’s not impaired in any way” is ableist. Is that wrong?

Cassandra is a disabled woman, and I think that saying things like “she can talk perfectly fine” is just a bit canonically incorrect. It’s straight up denying that she has a disability, if you ask me right now. BUT.

In newer issues, where Cassandra is older, and has worked on her disability more, she’s shown to communicate in full sentences and such. It would be different, to me, if they had a picked a panel from any comic with her that came out in the last 5 years where she CAN talk well, and it’s not Helena Bertinelli in her costume.

So, I’m arguing with this person. My initial reply was just me saying that the panel was Helena, and Cass didn’t exist until later and didn’t talk until even later, with citations. I was being petty. Definitely ended up being a mistake. I apologize.

The op then replies, and I paraphrase because this happened a few minutes ago, that they have writers privilege so they’re right and I’m wrong, that my citations were incorrect because—oh my gosh—the Helena panel wasn’t a comic titled No Man’s Land, even though I said “No Man’s Land V2”, not the specific comic, and that I’m not as old as the comic, because that’s relevant/s.

They were grabbing every straw in the bale. And here’s where I messed up: I replied. I was snarky. I told them they were grabbing straws, and I thought their argument was flawed, even though some of it was correct.

A MAJOR POINT THOUGH: in my last reply before this lovely message up top, I concluded that I thought their argument was FLAWED even though their point that people shouldn’t infantilize Cassandra was CORRECT.

Apparently they didn’t read it before responding to it, they were just so excited to point and yell “I’m big you’re little” that they didn’t see my response in which I very clearly stated that I did not like or support that trope.

Ok, I’m tired. In conclusion, I recognize now that trying to argue with anyone online is beyond stupid and will only get you called names and shouted at behind blue light. I apologize for being petty, and not just letting a (minor, in the grand scheme of things) note of ableism go and continuing on with my night. From here on out, I’ll know to never post any critical comments. It’s better for everyone to just remain calm and scroll past what you don’t like. Call this a learning experience.

My goal here is not to get any sympathy, it’s just that I’m pretty much always unsure if I did or said the right thing (in this case regarding the content of the argument, not the fact that the argument was had), especially online, so I want to get some other perspectives to tell me if I was horrendously wrong or not. This persons comment rattled me, and I know I messed up, so I want to know what someone else thinks of the situation. I also don’t want to be known as a bad person in case op had the same idea, so this is my side of the story.

Anyway, thank you if you reply. Have a good day/night.

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 22

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

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“Forgive the mess,” Jason murmured as he carried Jazz into the room. “They did leave everything just like I left it, huh.”

Jazz lifted her head from its hiding place in the crook of Jason’s neck. She didn’t expect to be carried in his arms, and even if she should find it funny given how she got injured in the first place, she couldn’t deny it made her heart flutter a bit.

Jason’s childhood room was… what you’d expect from a teenager. It wasn’t messy, but clutter was everywhere — books, comics, more books and what she assumed was a handheld gaming device. Her eyes roamed over the Wonder Woman posters and pictures on the wall, spying a signature in a big one placed safely far from the window and sunlight.

Jason had always been a nerd.

She giggled.

“Cute.” She said, rubbing her cheek against his when he blushed.

“‘m not cute.” He contested halfheartedly. He huffed softly and walked closer to the bed, letting her down on the mattress. “Cass left some clothes for you.” he reached for the neatly folded pajamas and handed them to her. “Do you need help, or…?”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “I have a twisted ankle, I’m not unable to dress myself.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, I’ll change in the bathroom.” He walked towards the drawers, opened one and cursed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was fifteen years old when I last stepped into this room,” he pulled something from the drawer to show her, “and I was a small child.”

Jazz tried really hard to contain her laughter, but the tiny rock band t-shirt over his broad chest was just hilarious. She threw back her head and gave a hearty laugh, not worrying about if he saw her fangs for once.

He chuckled with her, turning back to check the rest of the drawers, rummaging around for a bit.

“Nothing?” She asked softly.

“Nope. And I’m not going to go back out and ask for clothes if I don’t really—” He stopped in his tracks, his cheeks blooming a bit of a blush.

Jazz picked up what he didn’t say. “Do you usually sleep naked?”

She watched his shoulders tense and how he consciously relaxed them before answering. “Yeah. Or just with some boxers or shorts on.” He pointedly wasn’t looking at her.

Okay.

Jazz hummed, controlling her thoughts and what to say. Was this one of those situations she had to be careful to navigate? She didn’t want to send the wrong signals and make the situation more uncomfortable than it needed to be — she knew he was not happy with their sleeping arrangements and Bruce’s pushiness was not welcomed.

“I don’t mind if you want to sleep in your underwear.” First step: vocalize. Don’t leave things unsaid, since not-saying things usually lead to misunderstandings, as she had come to learn.

Jason turned with a confused frown, finally looking at her in the eyes. “Okay?”

“Yeah. It’s okay.” Second: appear calm and collected, safe to be around. “It doesn’t bother me.”

She fiddled with the soft fabrics of the provided pajamas, distracting her hands as she waited for his reaction. What was he thinking? Did he consider this as her making some kind of move? They were going to share a bed for the first time, and she was trying very hard not to feel too self conscious about that fact.

“If you say so…” He finally nodded and walked closer to the desk on the other wall, picking up his stuff from his pockets — keys, wallet and phone — and placing it next to a book pile.

Jazz took this as her cue and picked up the pajamas, quickly hopping towards the ensuite bathroom before Jason caught her and told her she shouldn’t walk on her injured foot. When he finally realized she had made a run for it, she had already closed the door.

Jason dramatically sighed, making her giggle.

She made quick work of the clothes and put on Cass' pajamas, admiring how they flowed over her skin. She suspected some kind of silk blend, but didn’t recognize the brand; not that she expected to recognize it, since she always bought clothes on sale and never worried about stuff like if they were in season or their fabric blends.

She splashed her face with cold water, noticing that the soap brand name was French and with fancy letters. She knew the Waynes were filthy rich, but she guessed that it kind of took a second place in her mind the whole evening. She was more focused on making a good first impression.

Jazz finished getting ready for bed and walked back into the room, her folded clothes in one hand, and hopped towards the same desk Jason left his things. On top of the book pile was Mansfield Park.

“Interesting literature for a fifteen year old.” She picked it up, opening it in a random page, admiring the same sticky notes and annotations she had seen in the books he kept at the apartment, confirming he had always been such a nerd.

“Austen is hilarious,” Jazz could hear the shrug in his voice, “what can I say.”

She put the book back down and turned, finding her boyfriend watching her with those intense blue eyes. He was sitting on the bed, but hadn’t gotten under the covers, opting to rest against the headboard to comfortably watch her every move.

Was he trying to make her self conscious on purpose?

“What?” She confronted him.

“Nothing.” He quickly said. Too quickly.

When he didn’t add anything else, she shrugged and hopped towards the free side of the bed. If he didn’t want to comment on it, she wasn’t going to push the topic. If this was about being self conscious about sharing a bed, or about his nakedness, he didn’t have anything to prove or worry about.

Also, she was very sleepy. Whatever it was, it could wait until morning.

Of course, the bed was gigantic and very comfortable, a wild contrast to her shitty single back at the apartment. Maybe she should invest in a good bed, like she did with her couch.

She turned on her side, careful to not upset her injured ankle, and smiled at Jason, the “good night” on the tip of her tongue.

“Do you…”

“Hm?” She encouraged when he stopped.

Jason cleared his throat and tried again: “Do you not… find me attractive?”

Oh.

Hm.

It was time for that conversation? Well, not the time she would have picked, given that they were sharing a bed in his childhood room; but it is true that one does not pick where conversations happened.

Jazz shuffled around so she was sitting against the headboard too, and picked the hand that was closer to her. She played with his fingers for a moment, admiring how rough his palms were — vaguely remembering when she thought he was an athlete — thinking how she was going to approach this.

“Do you know what an asexual person is?” She tested the waters.

She saw him nod in the corner of her eye. “Yeah. Some of the working girls at the Alley once explained to me.” Jazz nodded. This would make it simpler. “Are you that? Ace?”

Jazz hummed, tilting her head. “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Never actually cared about labeling things. I just know that there are things others care about that I don’t.”

“So you never…?”

“Being ace and having sex are not mutually exclusive.” She finally looked up at him. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but his intense blue eyes made her blush and look away. “But no. I haven’t slept with anybody before.”

“Not interested?”

His voice was soft. And didn’t let her guess what he thought about it.

Jazz wasn’t going to lie, she had never considered that her lack of experience in sex, or lack of interest whatsoever, could become an issue in their relationship. She wasn’t looking for a relationship in the first place, so she didn’t plan for the scenario that her partner thought her disinterest in sex would be a dealbreaker.

Would it be for Jason?

“I don’t know,” she admitted out loud. “I’ve never— I was always too busy, and investing time in something I don’t actually need always felt like a waste of effort.”

He snorted. “Nerd.”

“But it’s true!” She giggled, letting her shoulders relax. She resumed playing with his hand. “It’s not that I wouldn’t have sex, ever; but more like I don’t… care? Sexual attraction was never in my priority list when looking for a partner.”

He hummed, considering her words.

“But I guess if you are interested I wouldn’t mind it? If it’s with you it’s fine.” She shrugged. She knew there were names and labels for the nuances of how she regarded sexuality, but she didn’t research a lot. Once she understood what she felt was normal and had a term, it was enough for her.

He gently dislodged his hand from her to move his arm around her shoulders, trapping her into a half hug, and squishing her face against his naked chest. She placed a hand on the skin, admiring how warm he was, and vaguely tracing a few of the scars she found there. Mostly healed cuts and barely visible scratches, but she spied a gunshot wound closer to his shoulder.

“That’s enough for me.” He finally said, his voice rumbling in her ear. “And if that changes let me know.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest, making her cheeks burn and her eyes water. Any worry she managed to amass since the conversation started had completely vanished, washed away by those simple words. Fearing rejection over something so simple felt silly after what they have already been through, but the confirmation that he cared hit her like a freight train.

“For the record,” Jazz said, her voice a bit choked from emotion, “I do find you very attractive.”

He squeezed her a little, his soft chuckles vibrating under his skin. “Of course, I’m such a catch.”

“A complete snack.” She smiled up at him.

“A straight up hottie.”

Both giggled, faces close. Jazz was leaning more onto Jason, relishing on his warmth — seriously, this man was a furnace — shuffling a little bit so she could reach his lips.

They kissed softly, not really in a hurry to take things anywhere else.

“I’ve been wanting to do that the whole afternoon.” He said when they parted.

Jazz smiled, readjusting herself so she could kiss him more comfortably, grabbing his hair with her free hand. “Me too.” She said against his lips. “You look so cute when you are annoyed.”

“I’m not cute.” He bit her lower lip. “And you should warn me the next time you go all Dracula on me.”

Jazz groaned and moved away, back to her place under the covers, flustered. “I already said I’m sorry!”

He followed, also getting under the blankets so he could pull her body closer to his chest, successfully trapping her in his arms.

“Just saying, if you need to bite someone I’m game but I need to be mentally prepared.”

He was ready for her fight to get out of his arms, so he trapped her lips when she turned to retaliate. Jazz made angry noises against his lips, but eventually caved and kissed him back, relaxing a little.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

And she really didn’t, she thought, deciding to drop the topic and let herself be distracted by what he could do with his mouth.

***

Saturday morning in Wayne manor was peaceful. Jason was having shapeless dreams he wouldn’t remember when he woke up, comfortable in the warmth provided by the body in his arms.

And then that peace and quiet was completely shattered.

“What the hell?”

Jason opened his eyes, already cursing himself for sleeping so deeply he didn’t detect the presence in the room.

“I haul my ass as fast as I can because of a worrying and cryptic message,” the voice continued, getting angrier and louder as he spoke, “to find you like— Like— ugh!”

“Danny?” Jazz sat up on the bed, rushing to get out of the covers.

“And he’s naked. Great.”

Jason tried to make his brain work, but it felt like it had been replaced with cotton. He reached for the night table, but of course he didn’t have his knife. Because this wasn’t his apartment. Right. They were at the Manor.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was when I couldn’t find you?” Jason turned to look at the new person, finding Jazz's brother standing there. He was shorter than he expected, and also scrawnier. “I thought— Jazz, do you know where you are exactly?”

“Danny—” She stood up, yelped, and immediately fell back to the bed.

“What happened?” He pointed at her very obviously bandaged foot.

“I fell.”

Danny looked unimpressed. He raised one eyebrow. “And it hasn’t healed?”

“It’s a long story.” Jazz sighed, turned towards Jason. “He is—”

“You know what? I’m not awake enough for this.” The brother interrupted, raising his arms to make a statement. “See you downstairs.”

With that, Danny stomped towards the bedroom door, walked outside and stomped down the hallways without caring about closing the door behind him.

A few tense seconds passed.

“Charming.”

Jazz huffed. “He’s not usually that cranky.” She stretched her arms over her head, sighing. “I guess it’s time to face the music.”

Jason nodded and told her to wait on the bed as he got dressed again.

Weird. Last night he felt like his skin was going to burst when he got undressed, waiting for Jazz to come out of the bathroom. Maybe it was the conversation they had, or maybe it was how easy things became when Jazz was with him; but right then he couldn’t see how sharing a bed with her managed to make him so nervous. It felt silly and childish to care about something like that, especially when he had been intimate with people before.

Jazz felt different. Like he had more to lose. He already had decided he would do and would be whatever she needed and if that meant not ever sleeping together he was ready to accept it.

He knew the conversation wasn’t over regarding the topic, and he had a million more questions, but they could wait for when they weren’t about to walk down for breakfast in his childhood home.

Once he was ready, he picked Jazz up in his arms like the previous night, enjoying her red cheeks and sneaking kisses just because he could.

She mostly stayed put, but right before he made the turn towards the kitchen, she grabbed his head and pulled him down for a deeper kiss, her tongue teasing his lips briefly before she let him go.

“Whatever happens,” she whispered, “please remember I'm the same person.”

Huh. Ominous.

The kitchen was the same as it always was — Alfred's personal haven, where he only allowed the worthy to enter or even assist with cooking.

Right then, the old man watched, entranced, as Danny made wide gestures and huffed and paced around the enormous kitchen, one of Tim's gigantic coffee cups in hand.

“ — and I told him he could shove it where the sun doesn’t shine!” Danny took a sip of the coffee. He looked stressed and not really aware of his surroundings. He probably just picked a cup and got absorbed into his monologue. “But guess what, there’s no sun in the Realms! So he just looked at me like I was an idiot!”

Alfred hummed, a smile teasing his lips.

“I know right?” Danny grumbled, looking at his cup. “Hey do you have a refill, Mr… oh crap I forgot to ask for your name.”

“Alfred Pennyworth, mister.”

“Alfred.” The young man nodded enthusiastically. “Very british. I’ll remember that.”

Someone snorted, coming in from behind Jazz and Jason frozen at the door. This made Danny turn towards his new audience, grimacing when he saw his sister in Jason’s arms.

“You!” He shouted, pointing a finger at his sister.

“Me.” She answered, letting Jason place her on one of the stools at the big kitchen island.

Danny stomped towards the other side of the island.

“You!” He growled. “Don’t you ever do this to me again!” He slammed the empty coffee cup on the marble surface. Miraculously the porcelain didn’t even crack. “I thought another crazy billionaire had kidnapped you to make you fight me to the death, and I find you canoodling with this— this— this guy!!”

Jason didn’t even take offense. The display was entertaining enough. Also, what was that about “another” crazy billionaire kidnapping Jazz? To fight to the death?

“Hello Danny.” Jazz said calmly. “As I was trying to tell you before, this is Jason,” she made a gesture towards him, but didn’t tear her eyes from her brother, “and he’s my boyfriend.”

The younger man’s face went through the five stages of grief in a matter of seconds. His eyes flashed green for a moment, before he closed them and swallowed. When he opened them again, he was glaring at Jason instead.

“Jazz.”

“Yeah?” She answered, giving her thanks to Alfred when he placed a fresh cup in front of her.

Jason accepted his own cup, vaguely registering Dick taking a seat next to him. Or Bruce choosing to become as invisible as he could and shuffle around the kitchen toward where Alfred observed the showdown from a safe distance.

“Jasmine.”

“Daniel.” She sipped her cup, grimacing a bit. She wasn’t a huge fan of coffee. “Hey, did you bring my medicine?”

Still glaring, he reached inside his chest, casually pulling out a little white box. There was something made of glass inside clinking when he slid it across the island for Jazz to catch. When she opened it, six fresh vials of Lazarus Waters glowed inside.

“Six?” She noticed. “They look really good.”

“Had a good batch this time.” He nodded, his glare losing intensity under the praise. But immediately glared at Jason again as if remembering he was supposed to be mad. “And don’t change the topic.”

“What topic?” Jazz ignored her brother while she picked one of the vials, uncorked it and poured the contents in her cup.

Jason crossed stares with Bruce, speechless as both watched Jazz drink the whole thing in one go. She made a face.

“It’s better with tea.”

“Oh don’t you start.”

“Start what?” She winced. Her eyes started glowing a bright green. She looked in pain for a moment, but as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“Jazz.”

“Danny.” She checked her cup was empty, turning it upside down over her waiting open mouth. A few drops fell on her tongue.

The younger brother slammed his hands on the marble. “Stop ignoring me!” He complained. “And explain yourself. What’s with Mr Muscles over there? What the hell have you been doing?”

Jazz softly placed the cup on the island. She folded her hands, and finally looked at her brother. “I told you. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Jazzy, Jazzy, we talked about this,” Danny grabbed his hair in despair. “You have terrible taste in men.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is this going to be like Johnny? Is that it? A bad boy with a motorcycle and leather jacket makes eyes at you and that’s all it takes?” Danny glanced at Jason. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He wasn’t sure he was supposed to speak, but did anyway. Danny was hilarious.

Dick choked on his coffee.

“He’s not like Johnny.” Jazz defended herself. “Jason is—”

“Or maybe like the other one?” Danny interrupted. “What’s-his-name— David! Yeah. Is this a repeat of that one?”

It was Jazz’s time to slam her hands on the marble. “He is not like him!”

Danny bristled, a soft hissing sound blooming in his throat. “Are you sure? Because that one— what was the report? Dislocated shoulder and a shattered hand?”

“I told you I didn’t need your help!” Jazz bristled as well, exposing her fangs in an angry hiss. “And he is not the same!”

“That’s what you said the last time!!” Somehow Danny became taller. Was he floating? His pitch black hair moved like hit by an invisible breeze, too. “No offense.”

Jason didn’t know if he should laugh or intervene. “None taken.” He assured again, controlling his smile.

“And you the one to talk?!” Jazz’s hands tensed. “Should we talk about your horrible taste in women? Huh?”

“Don’t you—!”

“Paulina!”

“It was in highschool!” Danny growled. “What are you—”

“Valerie!” She growled back. The sound wasn’t animalistic, but still not quite human. Jason had never heard something like that, even less coming from the chest of his sweet girlfriend.

“What about her!”

“She tried to kill you!”

“But she never succeeded!” Danny bared his fangs. “And we are cool now!”

What was even happening?

“Sam!”

“Hey!”

“She killed you!” Jazz’s hair started to float, too, right the moment her eyes glowed green again. “Twice!”

That was apparently going too far. Danny’s growl escalated to a full on roar, his body now floating closer to the ceiling. They could see his tapered ears and sharp fangs on full display.

Jazz glared at him from her seat, her hair rising and falling on beat with her heavy breathing; fangs bared and clawed hands raised, ready to fight her own brother. She opened her arms and exposed her chest, making Jason wonder what was about to happen.

In a blink of an eye, all hostility was gone from Danny as he floated towards his sister faster than the human eye could follow — one moment he was on the other side of the island and close to the tall ceiling, and the next he was hugging his sister like his life depended on it.

“I missed you.” His voice was choked and muffled, but the emotion in it was obvious.

“I know.” Jazz circled her arms around Danny like it was the most natural thing in the world. She pressed him tight against her body, her head on top of his, rubbing her cheek against his hair. “I missed you too.”

Everyone held their breaths, waiting to see what Danny would say, but the young man was out cold. Soft snores resonated in the otherwise silent kitchen.

Jazz cleared her throat. Her smile was radiant and warm, like they usually were, as she turned to look at Jason. “Can I put him in your room? He will probably nap for a few more hours.”

Dazzled, Jason just nodded and watched as she hopped down the stool on her — previously — injured ankle and quickly made her exit from the kitchen while easily carrying her brother.

Bruce cleared his throat when they stopped hearing her soft steps. “So…”

“Yeah.” Jason licked his lips and decided to take a sip of his own cup of coffee. It was lukewarm. “That’s, uh... That’s her brother.”

He looked down to where Jazz slammed her hands, finding a crack on the marble. It wasn’t enough to compromise the structure, but it wasn’t small either.

Choosing not to bring attention to that fact, he just sipped his coffee and ignored the barrage of questions from the others. It wasn’t like he knew the answers anyway.

---

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