#I can’t stop drawing them they’re so much fun

[gloomwitchwrites]

I absolutely love your stories they’re so amazing! Can I please request the task force and pranking them by telling them a guy did your Brazilian wax

Thank you! I can't take all the credit. I might be the writer, but the Imagines Series couldn't be what it is without all the amazing ideas people have submitted. I'm honestly blown away by the amount of creativity and ideas sent my way. My inbox is full of wonderful requests, and while it's going to take me a bit to get to them all, I'm eager to complete them!

The amount of prank requests I've been getting has been so fun. Not just this one, but telling mom to shut up, and the premium air prank, etc. All of these make me giggle and have been a blast to work on. Thank you so much for sending this in!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, established relationship, pranks, non-descriptive nudity

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John briefly licks the pad of his thumb before counting out the appropriate amount of pound notes.

“This enough?” he asks, presenting it to you.

It’s more than enough. “Plenty. Thank you, John.”

He leans forward a bit, and you eagerly greet him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Drawing back, you give him your best smile. But beneath the grin is a trick.

You want to mess with him a bit.

“I have a new waxer,” you shrug, adding the cash to your wallet. “Cheryl put in her notice.”

Cheryl did not put in her notice. That woman probably won’t retire until she dies.

John inclines his head, already turning away. “That’s too bad. You liked her.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing your purse. “They’ve put me with someone new. A Mark? Mike? No—Marcus? I think.”

John freezes. He slowly turns back, cheeks bright red. “What?”

“It starts with an ‘m’,” you muse.

“Your new waxer is a man?”

“Yes,” you shrug. “And?” John’s face resembles a beet. “Everything good?”

“Where does Cherly work now?”

“John—”

He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts tapping away at it. "I want to know if she accepts walk-ins."

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle's hand slowly runs over your newly waxed skin. "Look at you. So soft and smooth." His touch makes you shiver.

"You paid for it," you murmur.

"I did," smiles Kyle, head dipping.

His tongue makes contact, and you release a moan. It’s slightly distracting, but not enough to detract from you poking at him.

“Had a new waxer,” you sigh as Kyle goes in for another taste.

“Did you?” he asks absently, more interested in your new smoothness.

“A man, actually. Undergoing training. There were two of them in the room.”

Kyle's head snaps up. "What?"

"Why'd you stop?" you whimper.

"There were two men that waxed you?"

“No, Kyle. Just one.”

A series of emotions pass over Kyle's face. His mouth opens. Closes. And then his hand forms a fist, fingers flexing and relaxing as he mulls over something.

"Everything okay?" you ask, suddenly worried.

“Can’t be that hard.” Kyle pushes away from the couch and reaches for his phone. “Or expensive.”

“What can’t? Kyle. What are you talking about?”

You lean forward and see him adding a waxing kit to his online shopping cart.

“No,” you say firmly. “You’re not putting hot wax anywhere near my vagina.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Oh, what's this?"

Johnny's hands are on your thighs and then beneath your skirt in a moment.

"Johnny!"

"Is this for me? You don't have to. You know I like a good adventure through the woods."

"Johnny!" you say again, slapping his arm playfully as his fingers lightly squeeze, making your squirm in his grasp.

"Was this on my dime?" he asks.

"Maybe."

"Oh, aye. Am I gonna find an unknown charge?"

"With a tip. A large tip. My waxer deserved it. He did a good job."

"Oh, they—he?"

"Yes. That a problem?"

Johnny's hands don't retreat but he's staring at you—hard. You arch an eyebrow and he finally speaks. "Your waxer is a man?"

No.

"Yes."

Johnny nods and then he leans in, lowering his voice. “You’re taking the piss.”

“I’m—”

“I saw your location. I checked it out. They don’t have a single male employee in that place.”

Your face grows hot.

Johnny’s hands squeeze a bit harder, and then he lands a brief smack against the curve of your ass. “Lying to me, love?” Johnny tsks. He palms the curve of your ass where it stings. “Suppose I should punish you.”

“Maybe you should.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

You reject the call and clutch your phone to your chest. You've messed up. Royally. Pranking Simon is always a terrible idea.

The texts were just a tease. Just a way to push Simon’s buttons.

I have a new waxer.

I thought it would be one of the other ladies.

But no!

It was a guy!

Your phone buzzes again and you nearly throw it across the room. It’s Simon. You decline the call. Everything is quiet for a few brief seconds before a text message from him comes through.

Answer your phone.

You click out a reply.

I'm in the car!

His reply comes instantly.

You're at home. I know your location.

Another incoming call. This one you answer.

"Simon,” you say flatly.

"What location did you go to?" he asks, voice rough with tension.

"Why?" you counter.

"What's his name?" he snaps.

"I know what you're doing, Simon.”

You always forget just how deep his possessive streak goes.

Silence. Then, "I just want to talk."

"Simon.”

He growls your name in warning.

"You don't need to go there. Just...come home. You can see the results for yourself."

He sighs. "I'll be there in ten. Be ready for me."

taglist:

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@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @greeniegreengreen @certainlygay

[27-royal-teas]

the mystery, the maniac, the murder,,, i present to you royal-tea! 💜🌊

[cuteniaarts]

Wine stains on porcelain

(Alternatively: @katkastrofa and I have created 5 OCs in 3 days and I suffer from chronic “I wanna draw the little guysssssss” disease)

[exopelagic]

honk shoo.

[dreamyprinx]

after the next few drafts are posted any other art posts may become more sporadic for the foreseeable future as I honestly hold little love for art or my ocs lately and don’t know if/when that’ll change. thanks for understanding

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected! Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam

Part Seven

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️

A/N: I’m not sure if I’m satisfied with this. But, I doubt I’ll ever be satisfied with this. I want Reader to come off as more Bruce like with the emotional suppression and planning. And, this was my actual first and third attempt at dialogue. I’m gonna need some practice. But, I tried.

A/N: Up next we get some yandere!Bats vs. yandere!Smalltown action. (Holy frick is that gonna be hard to write.) I’m also going to start work on the Dick Obsession now. Gotta fight the temptation to write the Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader story while this is still in the works.

Warning: Yandere Themes.

As the coming months passed by, Reader could feel Gotham starting to wear on them. Or, they at the least Wayne manor starting to wear on them. They haven’t been given permission to leave the manor since the kidnapping. Not even to drive their truck for some unhealthy, but soul healing fast food. Of course, that doesn’t stop the other residents of the house from leaving whenever they wish. 

They see the Bat Burger wrappers in the trash the morning after another soundless night in the manor. God, how they’d love to try it one day. 

But, as time moves on something draws closer. An important date. Reader’s legal eighteenth birthday. They’re excited, by all means. But, there’s something significantly more important coming sooner. 

Reader’s Younger Brother’s Birthday was just a week before Reader’s. There had been many fond memories made while growing up with the week between the two different dates being filled with fun and excitement. (And love.) 

With such an important date coming up, and with Momma and Daddy no longer being here, Reader had plans to make it a fun week. 

They just have to convince Bruce to let them go back to Smalltown. Just for the week. They’re all too busy to spend time with Reader anyway, besides this is important to them. They’ve stayed in the manor like asked. They’re grades are good. They do their chores. They don’t ask for much. It should be perfectly reasonable to request to let them visit back home. 

But, just in case, Reader approaches Dick next time he's in the manor and is smothering them in affection before he goes to disappear into the library. 

“Can you help me convince Bruce to let me go, please, Dick?”

It’s a simple request. And, it makes Dick’s heart melt a bit. Reader’s the only one in the family to easily give into his affection and to have them finally ask him for help in such a sweet polite voice was heart melting.

Wholeheartedly, he agrees and he is rewarded. With Reader bouncing into his arms with an impressive amount of enthusiasm that he hasn’t had a chance to see previously. Probably due to always being so busy. Maybe he should make more time for Reader if they shower him with such genuine gratitude and affection like this. 

The thought lingers in his head as he makes his way towards the Batcave. A spring in his step despite the glares he receives as he makes his way down the stairs. 

The manor cameras had caught the entire thing, leaving the occupants in the cave to get a front row seat to Reader being sweet on Dick. 

He can’t stop the tiny smug smile from forming on his lips as Barbara gives him a disapproving ~~jealous~~ look. Or, the look of straight bitterness on Damian’s face. The mild satisfaction from Duke’s face being as blank as Cassandra’s. Stephanie’s forlorn expression. The way that Jason looks like he wants to shoot him with the gun he’s cleaning that makes him want to laugh with glee.. 

Tim doesn’t even look at him. Too annoyed with Dick as he sits at the Batcomputer furiously clicking and typing away on something. 

Bruce had been out at the moment for League Business. But, the entire family now has a competition forming. Whoever could convince Bruce for Reader would win. The prize being the winner possibly getting showered in Reader’s affection. And, the hope of visiting Reader’s hometown with them. The very idea of it makes some of them shudder with some particular emotions. 

The bombardment of pleading and puppy-dog eyes began almost as soon as Bruce stepped back into the cave. It was nearly comical how everyone petitioned Reader’s case. 

Hell, Bruce was nearly convinced they should all make the trip when Tim threw his bid in.

Pulling up all the research on Smalltown and how apparently harmless it was. He even managed to remotely bug Childhood Friend’s Brother’s phone just to double check. 

That’s when things spiral. 

Right at that very moment, a call comes through to the phone. It seems harmless at first. The guy talking to his boss. The two had immediately talked about Reader returning to town. As if the two knew without a doubt that they were coming back.

That sparked suspicions, but it's not what ignited the fire.

The fire came when the two started talking about Reader's time in Gotham. The whole kidnapping incident. Childhood Crush admitted that Reader tried to down play the incident to Nana. After which his boss ask a horrifying question.

"Do you and Grand Daddy need some help killing this guy? It might be a bit harder than the last one y'all killed."

The last one.

Immediately the phrase makes questions arise. But, once again things get worse.

"Nah, we'll let him live. He's from Gotham. He'll probably never come out this way. And, if he does them we'll drag him out where we drowned the last sorry son of a bitch. He was just in it for the money."

"That's right. The other guy just wanted to kill Reader to keep 'em for himself. Still..."

It was difficult to give the rest of the conversation their full attention after that.

It was like the blood had crystalized in their veins. Both cold fury and hot rage filling them till it seemed to shred their minds apart.

There was no way in heaven or hell or high water that they were possibly going to let Reader go back to that vile little town filled with monsters. As if Gotham wasn't filled with abominations of it's own designs.

Without a moment to delay Bruce Batman jumps into action, barking orders for Tim, Barbara, and Cassandra to start digging up everything imaginable on Smalltown. Every resident, every social media post or mention, every single person that has ever lived there, visited, and gone missing. "Find me the name of the bastard that nearly took my child to the grave. I want the memory of them wiped of the face of the earth as their bones rot in it."

The other's are ordered to cover his patrol and redouble their efforts to capture the remaining Gotham Rouges by any and all means necessary The Court of Owls is low priority until more is uncovered about Smalltown and what the hell happened.

Reader's usual pacing around the unoccupied halls of the manor conversing on the phone is interrupted by Bruce Batman stalking towards with a violence simmering under the surface of an obsidian mask. Easy to shatter and sharp to the touch. Before a words is even spoken the phone the lifeline is ripped from their hands and shattered under a pair of designer loafers.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You could only stagger back as you watched his foot trample over the well used phone. You hadn't even chance to hang up the conversation you were having, when Bruce had come barreling down the extravagant hall way you roamed so often you 'd already practically memorized the brush strokes on each painting and the pattern of the wood grain on the walls. Not even the chance to put a hold on the plans you were making before it all came to an abrupt halt without your blessing.

For a moment your just baffled. Looking at the shattered phone screen with pieces of glass and plastic on the ground before looking up at the shattered facade your father Bruce wore.

His face was deathly still. Not even a twitch. It gave him an inhuman like visage that set off the same warning bells that Jason Red Hood had made you hear.

So that's where he got it from.

You can't help put think, trying to form the words to question his actions and confront him. It isn't long before he gives you the excuse explanation for his unwarranted action himself.

"You're not going." Is all he says. His voice was cold enough to burn.

It doesn't take a genius to know what he's talking about.

"If this is about me getting Dick to help convince you-"

"Dick agrees. Everyone agrees. You are not going." The interruption is rude, but the words sting. They thought that everyone else would be on board with it. Even the members of the family that didn't care for their presence should have been on board with it.

"I'm not asking for a vote. I was asking for your permission and yours alone." Another attempt.

"I am saying no. I am your father and you will listen to me about this." The totality found in his icy voice makes them finally feel that helpless. Like nothing they say will improve this situation. That continuing to smile will not solve a damn thing.

"What did I do?" The resentment that has locked up tightly inside beings to swirl. Ire churning into gales. The long withheld temper becoming a tempest. "What the hell did I do to make you treat me like this?"

"This has nothing to do with you. This is my decision on the matter. You need-" The sound of a notification going off interrupts his words, but they don't stop the ringing in you're ears. Even after Bruce abruptly dismisses himself, muttering about getting you a new phone, before moving towards the library. Again.

For once, you don't bother cleaning up the shattered pieces on the floor. Leaving them on the ornate carpet in the lavish and deserted hall. You have planning to do. Restraint is gone. Holding back is over. It's time to take things into your own hands. They want to ignore you, fine. You'll leave and you'll fucking live without them.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Consequently, incoming weather reports start showing some unusual patterns on the news that week. Meteorologist say there's a massive possibility of a potential hurricane brewing off the coast. Everyone is on edge. (Gotham is already a disaster as is. No one wants another one on top of it.)

Reader's not to worried. They grew up with Hurricane parties. Besides the manor has it's own power grid says Alfred. Gotham's power grid is a bit more vulnerable, but luckily the Hospitals and Arkham are on different power grids. Everything should be alright. (Everything should also go according to plan.)

The next time Dick comes by, Reader is a bit short with him. Giving him a disgruntled look that breaks his heart a little and makes it melt. Try as he might he gets nothing other than their annoyance. Even when he finally admits it was Tim's fault they had been denied the chance to go home. It does make them pout even more, how cute. Even when he gifts them a newer phone. Their not stupid, the damn thing is probably bugged to high heaven. And, it's missing all their old contacts since Bruce slammed the SD card under his big bat toe.

Their clearly in a foul mood and everyone is being subjugated to the silent treatment. As their birthday, and their younger brother's birthday, draws closer and closer, a dark cloud seems to hang over them and Gotham.

In a moment born from guilt and ignorance, Bruce buys them a car as an early birthday present. A grandiose little luxury model. With all the bells and whistles. It's even in their favorite color. Not that anyone in the family asked what it was. (Tim might have had something to do with it. After all he did get them banned from traveling. Not that he feels guilty. No way in hell was he letting you go. Especially without him or the others.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

"It seems kinda wasteful." You can't help saying it. To tired of putting on that pleasant people pleaser mask for once.

"I know it's a bit extravagant, but since everyone has their own car I thought you should have your own too." Bruce had such an eager smile on his face. Like the whole incident with the crushing your hopes and your phone never happened.

To bad you haven't forgotten nor forgiven.

"Still a waste. I'm not going to get to drive it anywhere." Vinegar coating your tongue as you look at the sleek design.

You can here everyone around you stop cooing and praising the gift. There's no need to further elaborate your point. He gets it. The family gets it. The very earth you stand on gets it. You're not leaving this house. There's no need for the tank of gas to be filled. Or the damn thing to be charged since its some fucking electric hybrid, and probably filled to the brim with all sorts of nasty little tracking bugs.

You could have left it at that. But why not sink that needle deeper into his chest. Not a knife. Never a knife. You want your words to sting and stick. No taking the cut and letting it heal overtime. Let it be tattooed on the skin.

"Besides I already have Daddy's old truck. I don't need this." Don't those words hit like a strike to the soul. Bruce grows visibly still at them. That practiced mask going up and hiding the tells from all of them. Except Cassandra. There's no hiding things from her. They're all laid bare in front of her and she can tell everyone has somethings to say. While you have something to scream.

"You could at the very least be grateful for Father's gift" He had been so well behaved to far. Keeping quite and watching with attentive green eyes. He could tell this wasn't going to go in the family's favor. He didn't necessarily blamed you for being disgruntled. But, would it kill you to give them a smile. They missed those. Hell, he missed those.

Something in you crackled, but you managed to hold you're tongue. The side-eye you gave him, however spoke enough volumes for you instead.

Astonishingly, it was Duke that set off the electric charge.

"I mean, it is a really nice car. You sure you don't want to take it for a spin?" You can here his attempt at trying to defuse the static in the are, but as fond of him as you are compared to the others, it just sets you off.

"Oh, and where to exactly?" You can't help but snort. "Down the driveway and back?"

"You're acting like a brat." Jason throwing in his two cents. Of course he would say that. And, he's rewarded with a voltaic look from you eyes and a snarl from your lips.

"I. Don't. Care." The words echo in the massive car garage. Bouncing of the walls and the other sleek fancy model cars in it. Your apathy and anger is reward with quiet.

It doesn't last long.

"Let's all just calm down." Dick steps between them, trying to play reconciler. All it serves to do is make you feel more isolated. The way he steps between you cuts you off from the rest of the group and makes it seem like he's singling you out.

"I am calm!" The words coming from your clenched jaw.

"They're the one acting like a spoiled little-"

"Jason, enough." Bruce finally steps in. That stoic look still on his face. Internally, he knows he miscalculated. He made a mistake, and it's humbling to know he can still make them at his age and with all his experience. Still, he wears the mask. He's too busy recalculating and coming up with another plan. Perhaps he was putting to much focus on the wrong thing. That didn't stop him from glaring at that classless truck in his garage.

"Of fucking course Daddy's princess gets away with acting like a brat." Jason doesn't stop though, looking directly at you. Always looking at you. Everyone is always looking at you. But never speaking these days.

"Fuck you." You whisper. Caution and hesitance thrown into the stirring winds.

"Uh-oh, looks like the princess finally snapped." That sickly green look appearing in his eyes. God, does he love this. He knew they had some fucking bite in them. Some spice. Something that made them even more delicious. That just enhanced their sweetness tenfold.

"Jason. Knock it off." Barbara murmurs after Cassandra places a hand on her shoulder. Signaling the direction this could easily head in.

"No, I don't think I will." He sneers, making an attempt to step around Dick and get in your face. It's Tim and Stephanie that try to stop him this time. Both muttering to him and trying to get him to calm down.

You can clearly see it. Their family dynamic. Clear as day. It's right in front of you for you to watch unfold while you stand on the outside looking in. Only getting stray remnants of it when they deem you worth it. You're always worth it though, silly little sugarplum. They’re just terrible at showing it, you poor poor thing. That'll change soon, don't worry. Actually, you should worry.

There's no need to stick around any longer. No fucking need at all. Your feet echoing as you leave the room filled with strangers family and cars. You're leaving. You're going home. And you're going home tonight.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

That night, the news is blaring over Gotham. A sudden hurricane off the coast is set to hit by nightfall. People are being asked to evacuate, already there is panic in the streets.

As much as they don't want to leave things unresolved, the family has no choice, but to respond. Making sure evacuations go smoothly. Keeping the mobs at bay in the stores. Checking that the Arkham inmates are both secure and safe.

It gets worse when the reports further come in. There was lightning spotted off the coast. A lightning storm predicted to hit before the hurricane. That would double the difficulties everyone in Gotham was dealing with.

Most everyone, but Reader.

With the family busy they had plenty of time to pack a few belongings and necessities for a long drive. Glowing eyes taking inventory as the electricity crackled under their skin and the distant skies. Brewing excitement in their chest as the skies filled with dark clouds. Some might think it ominous. But, for Reader it was freedom.

In Gotham that ominous feeling continued. It was as if Gotham itself knew what chaos was about to unfold. Chaos that it would have reveled in if not for the impending feeling of loss found not only in the empty streets, but in Wayne Manor.

As the wind started to wail, nightfall seemed to come earlier with how dark the clouds made the sky. Rain poured in sheets. Most of the Bats took cover, but when the lightning began to strike is when things really when to hell.

By luck or something else, the Gotham power grid was hit. Shutting down over half the city in the first moments of the storm. The downpour hadn't even soaked the concrete when it struck.

The darkness washed over the city and the family knew it was going to be a long long night.

Barbara, in Oracle mode in the Batcave, was focused on keeping everyone updated on new alerts and any looting. She didn't have a chance to glance at the manor cameras and see Reader walking through the halls with a bag on their shoulders before. Multiple strikes of lightning reverberated through the manor. They could be heard echoing all the way down in the cave.

And, they caused the power to go out.

It was only out for twenty minuets. Twenty long minuets of Barbara and Alfred trying to fix the power and get everyone back in contact with each other.

A lot can happen in twenty minutes. Like a garage door opening and closing manually. Like someone driving down the long driveway out of the security gate without being noticed. Like someone could escape without notice in those twenty minutes.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

@starsdotalk @sleepyghoster @maicenitas @box-of-kinderjoy @yandereheros @skwunkler @cl0esblogg @delias-stuff @rosecentury @lilyalone @addie-r-u-ok @space1crow @imaginarydreams @dhanyasri @rosalietodd013 @rissareader @rando2509 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @interobanginyourmom @heyitsaloy @myanyan-me @animegoddess15 @resident-cryptid @schaarfyx

[moonlightsolo]

can you write neteyam and human reader you’re exploring in the forest and ends up losing you and when he finds you after searching for a long time you’re actually having so much fun gathering things and running around and it’s all cute and protective! ^.^

i looove nete n human reader it’s my weakness … i hope u like this!!!

“nete! c’mon!” you call out to your boyfriend as you run amongst the trees. you giggle as you leap over a fallen log in one fluid motion, somehow landing on your feet over the other side.

“hey!” your boyfriends accented voice cackles from behind you, but your feet refuse to relent. obviously, if he really wanted to catch up to you, he would. his long legs give him the advantage. your head dodges branches, and vines, and your legs hop over rocks as you sprint through the foliage.

something bright catches your eyes next to your swift feet, stopping you in your tracks. you’re finally able to take a deep breath as you slowly backtrack. right at the base of a tree trunk, three bright pink flowers sit buried in the dirt, rustling slightly in the wind.

a fwäkìwll; a mantis orchid.

the huffing and puffing boy catches up to you, his usual unruly braids are secured behind his head. with two that must’ve escaped that frame his face perfectly, “you’re nuts, you know that?” he laughs breathlessly.

“look!” you bend down to examine the flora, admiring the softness of the petals, “oh my, it’s so beautiful.”

neteyam can’t help but giggle at how you gawk over a simple little plant. something he’ll never understand, but he will always appreciate your fascination.

your hands reach into the small bag slung across your body to pull out a notebook, flipping to an empty page to sketch a rough draft of the flowers.

his large four-fingered hand rests on the top of your head to softly rustle your hair, pressing his fingers into your skin to slightly massage your scalp. your head angles up to look at him, smiling wide at your boy before stuffing your head back into your book.

your pencil scratches satisfyingly against the lined paper; instinctively bringing your lip between your teeth as you focus.

“i’ll be right back, okay? stay here, my love.” neteyam pats your head as you nod, but truly his words went in one ear and out the other. it was something about him leaving, but your attention is taken up by the flower.

once you have a few key points labeled on your little picture, you finally close the book. your eyes dart around to seek out the blue skin of your na’vi boyfriend, but something else catches your eye.

behind a wide tree trunk in the distance, you see the edge of a plant. the loreyu; also known as the helicoradian!! you excitedly spring to your feet, and creep toward the giant plant. ducking under thick vines and swatting at buzzing bugs.

on the way there, you stumble upon a small stream that has glittering rocks and gems under the water. obviously, you can’t help but snag a few and store them in your bag— but you can’t let yourself get too off track, so you continue forward.

the salmon-colored spiraled plant is almost twenty feet high, which is ginormous compared to your tiny human body. as you grow closer, you realize the one loreyu is surrounded by clusters of smaller and even bigger ones.

“oh my god.” you breathe out in shock as you carefully weave between the helicoradia; already having the knowledge that if they’re merely brushed against, they’ll retract into the ground.

you mindfully sink to your knees, folding your legs underneath your body as you lean back on your heels. you unlatch the notebook from being pressed against your chest, flipping through the used pages to find the one you’re looking for.

you’ve already observed this plant elsewhere in the forest, so theres a few notes and drawings written down already. you decide to perfect the previous drawing you have in the middle of your page, even sketching a close-up of the edge of the leaf.

you tuck your pencil into the crease of the book before closing it and sliding it back into the safety of your bag. you glance up into the sky, but you can barely make out the blue color from the plants that tower over you.

it’s so serene and peaceful; you’re hidden amongst these intimidating plants that are five times the size of you. it seems like nothing could ever hurt you, as if you’re shielded from the unforgiving environment of pandora.

you carefully lay down against the grassy soil. once your back hits the warm ground, you suck in a deep breath— mentally wishing you could breathe their air to be able to smell the fresh dirt.

although the oxygen mask is your key to survive, it’s also so suffocating. one of the biggest problems it gives you is that you’re unable to kiss neteyam whenever you want. only able to get inside the privacy of your room in the scientists shack, but even he needs his own mask.

wait, neteyam. where is neteyam?!

you abruptly sit up in your spot, suddenly feeling as if you’re claustrophobic from the menancing plants that surround you in every which way. oh god, you’re gonna throw up. your feet scramble to stand as you panic, causing your shoulder to brush against the tendrils of the plant.

with a pop, it sucks itself into the ground. the movement creates a chain reaction that triggers the entire field to recoil into the dirt. you watch as each plant disappears, waiting until the area clears entirely. everything around you looks the same, and absolutely nothing looks familiar.

something firm grasps your upper body from behind, strongly spinning you around to face them.

your frozen expression is met with wide, worried eyes that belong to neteyam, “what are you doing?!? where were you?” he lectures as arms tug you tightly into his chest. he briefly embraces you before pulling away just as fast to stare back down at you.

“i told you to stay where you were! why did you walk away?” his voice cracks from his raw emotion, his honey-colored eyes dart frantically over your face.

“i’m—i’m sorry, i- i didn’t realize i walked so far away… i was just taking notes and… drawing.” your voice stumbles over itself.

his shoulders drop slightly from your anxious voice, his eyes watch how your quickened breath slightly fogs the glass of your mask.

coldness washes over his body when he realizes just how harsh he sounds and the points of his ears droop from his realization, “you scared me. i thought i lost you.” his sharp voice has softened and his tight grip loosens on your shoulders.

you take a step forward to stand in between his feet to wrap yourself around his body, smooshing yourself into the warm skin just above his navel. “i’m sorry i won’t do it again.” you whimper out, your apology slightly muffled.

his hand soothingly cradles the back of your head as he holds you against him, “don’t be sorry.” he tsks, “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have left you.”

your head angles up to gaze at him, giving him a soft downturned smile, “well, i should’ve listened to what you were saying.”

“s’okay. you’re with me now, that’s all that matters.” his fingers toy with the elastic band of your oxygen mask, itching to rip it off and kiss you; but he knows that he can’t.

“oh! i uh- i found some crystals! i think you can use them for your clothing and your hair beads, ‘n stuff.. do you wanna see?” your hand wiggles your bag persuadingly with an excited grin.

neteyam stares down at you in awe and nods his head, “‘course i wanna see, ma yawntu. show me.” he nudges his nose in the air for you to continue.

your hands rummage through the weaved sack on your hip, pushing past your notebook to the little bag at the bottom filled with the rocks. you pluck it out to dump the contents into your palm, admiring how the multi-colored crystals sparkle under the sunlight.

“those are perfect. i must make you some jewelry out of them.” his eyes brighten from the idea, “what would you like? a necklace or somethin’ else?” one of his fingertips roll the rocks in your palm to examine them, careful not to push them off into the grass.

“really? you‘re gonna make me something?” your voice sounds surprised, which is shocking to him. of course, he is going to make you something; you’re his mate, his muntxate.

when he first courted you, he gifted you a handmade bracelet — which you’re currently still wearing and have no plans to take it off, and the weaved bag that never leaves your side.

“yes, for you, silly. who else would i make jewelry for?” neteyam rolls his eyes at you playfully, a sneaky smirk crawling it’s way onto his lips.

your eyes flit over his face, still surprised, even after all this time, that you’ve bagged yourself a tall, gorgeous, blue alien. something comes over your body, a sudden rush of adrenaline as you suck in a deep breath of your oxygen to hold your breath.

confusion twists over neteyams features as your hand grips the lower part of your mask to push it over the top of your head, “what are you-?” his question is cut off by your hands reaching up to grip the edge of his waist adornment to tug him down to you.

he happily obliges with a pearly grin, ducking his head down to your height to urgently pull you into a kiss. you smile when his lips move against yours and his hand presses into the small of your back to lean your body slightly backwards.

even though kissing him is a rare occasion in itself, it still feels like the first time— every. single. time.

his tail curls around his back to wrap around your upper thigh to hold your body in place, as if his hands aren’t strong enough to do so by themselves.

neteyam reluctantly pulls back, staring down to admire your beauty without something separating him from you. his hand sits heavy on your neck with his fingers curled up under your jaw. his thumb swipes down the bridge of your nose, and over your plump lips before pulling the mask back over your face.

your human features are so soft, and delicate; he can’t help but touch you without your mask whenever he gets the chance.

once the mask is firmly fitted over your face you suck in, a definitely needed, sharp breath. your chest expands as your lungs inhale the air, giving neteyam a small sad smile. “i love you.” you whisper once you’re finally able to talk.

neteyam’s face lights up from those three words, his lanky arms wrap around your tiny frame to lift you into the air to his height. it’s nothing new to express your love to each other, but whenever he hears those words it feels surreal to him.

the sudden change in height makes you squeal, and wrap your arms around his neck for support, “i love you.” he replies and presses his forehead to the glass, which you instantly lean forward into.

“let’s head back to camp. we can get some food, and just hide in your room and do nothing for the rest of the day?” he offers as he lowers you back down to the ground.

when your feet hit the softness of the grass, your hand reaches out to grab his. neteyam’s fingers practically engulf yours, so you decide to hold onto him the best you can.

“sounds like the best idea you’ve had all day.” your voice hums with a content grin.

neteyam gives you a little nod, before looking around to see which way he should go. he begins to walk to lead you back to his ikran, mindful to go slow since his legs are much longer than yours.

but not without his tail wrapping protectively around your leg. this time, he’ll make sure you won’t stray away from his side, not even a little bit...

-

stop this is so cute i’m in love w this 😭

[sutorus]

OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification 

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist. 

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response. 

he had told you to dress up today. 

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs. 

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time. 

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him. 

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough. 

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him? 

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now. 

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely. 

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most. 

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands. 

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong. 

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that. 

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people. 

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four. 

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it. 

the heat inside you spreads further. 

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there. 

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds. 

your shut your eyes tightly. 

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are. 

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses. 

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win. 

a one in eight change. 

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day. 

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.  

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort. 

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger. 

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you. 

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least. 

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over. 

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy. 

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are. 

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. 

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know. 

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. 

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt. 

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all. 

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere. 

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy. 

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit. 

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers. 

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock. 

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race. 

but his fingers don’t leave you. 

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles. 

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you. 

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of. 

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse. 

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him. 

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for. 

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more. 

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well. 

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder. 

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another. 

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place. 

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you. 

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you. 

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease. 

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair. 

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch. 

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place. 

how fitting. 

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.” 

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense. 

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face. 

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it. 

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all. 

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger. 

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement. 

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout. 

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks. 

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

[bones4thecats]

When Their S/O Meets Their Sibling(s)

Type of Writing: Random Idea Name: When Their S/O Meets Their Sibling(s) Characters: Trey Clover, Jack Howl, Jamil Viper, and Rook Hunt Idea-Giver: Random Ideas

A/N: I named Rook's siblings after the pieces of a chess-game as a headcanon! (btw they’re french names)

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🧁 Trey loves his family so much, and he really wanted you to love them just as much as he did, as they’re basically his whole world

🧁 So, when he received a message from his mother stating that they would be dropping by for a couple days for a small break from the family business, much to both his joy and nervousness

🧁 He was nervous that maybe his family wouldn’t like you or you wouldn’t like his family. And if it was the latter, he really didn’t want to break your heart…

🧁 You stood beside him outside of Heartslabyul as he put his phone away, he had read a message from his father saying they had just arrived and were coming to his dorm

🧁 Gripping his hand tightly, your smile made him sigh and kiss the hand holding his with such care and devotion. You really were perfect. How could they not like you?

🧁 As he spoke to his parents as you played with his younger siblings, his sister smiling as you gave her a small rose-spun flower crown as his brother messed around with a little set of toy vehicles you had gotten for Grim to mess with while Yuu busied himself

" I must admit, Trey. I’m surprised how amazing your S/O is handling those two. " " I agree with your mother. They seem so… content with them around. Unlike their last babysitter. I’ve never seen someone so happy to leave. "

🧁 Trey stared at you with his parents and smiled gently, he even had to admit, it was surprising how good you were holding them together. Normally the person watching them would be on the couch rethinking their life-choices, but not you…

🧁 And before his family left after the two days of vacation with their son, hearing his siblings ramble about how amazing you were as they held tiny gifts you had made them, he knew you were the one

🧁 He can’t wait to see your reaction after graduation day

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🐺 He really wanted you to meet his family. To a beastman of his kind, family is everything. They raised you and gave you a chance at life for crying out loud!

🐺 His family and his are very close, and that is shown multiple times throughout your relationship. The way he would smile gently when looking at the photos on his camera roll that contained his grandparents, parents, and younger siblings made your heart swoon

🐺 Because of how close he was with you and how close he was with his family, he was very happy when the ‘Family Day’ was announced to happen

🐺 He immediately had sent an email to his parents with the note that he wanted them to meet you, who was his new S/O, and hopefully his only one

🐺 When they had arrived, their tails all wagged as they hugged, you just smiled as your family walked away to speak to another one of your close friend’s parents, who were visiting him for the next few days to help with P.E. classes while Vargas was away

🐺 His siblings had gotten bored and pulled you away from their older family members, asking you if you had anything fun to do, much to your enjoyment

" Y/N! Lookie what I made! It’s a drawing of you, grandma, grandpa, papa, mama, and big brother! " " Oh, that looks so cute, sweetie. "

🐺 Jack smiled as you gently held the drawings that his younger sister and brother made of you and his family, and once his mother and grandmother caught a glace, they couldn’t stop complimenting how good you looked alongside their son, much to his embarrassment

" You know, your son did a good job picking an S/O. " " I know. Honestly, I figured he’d go for a meat-head. Oh, how wrong was I? "

🐺 His tail wagged slightly as he overheard his grandfather and father speaking to one another, they really liked you? Now he knew for certain that you were a keeper

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🐍 Jamil did not want to deal with his sister coming to Night Raven College, since she was known to be quite hard for him to handle, especially with Kalim there

🐍 When his sister did shoot him a text saying that she was just a couple minutes from school grounds and was planning on coming over after the day was over to see her brother, he groaned and asked her not too

🐍 Unfortunately, she was very stubborn, much like her brother. Not that he admits it

🐍 She did send him a small message saying that she wanted to meet his supposed S/O as well, but he had gotten busy keeping Kalim from jumping from his balcony and onto his magic carpet, so he had no chance to actually read the message

" Y/N! It’s so good to finally meet you. Let me just say my brother doesn’t stop talking about you over summer, it’s gotten annoying. "

🐍 Jamil watched with wide eyes and flushed cheeks as his sister and Kalim began discussing how much Jamil talked about you after your first year’s summer, revealing just how much he admired you back then until current day

" Okay! Let’s not keep this going, it seems that Jamil is flustered~ " " Shut up… "

🐍 Najma smiled and pat her brother’s shoulder with a laugh as she grabbed your hand and dragged you around Scarabia as Jamil followed you, her, and Kalim

🐍 He watched as you would smile and try keeping the two energetic people calmer than usual, thank goodness you had just as much patience as him when it comes to this kind of thing

" My older brother always raves about your eyes, saying they looked like the night and day’s sky, comparing the sun to the sparkles your eyes contain. He’s so cheesy! " " Right? I heard him talk about their selflessness with so much happiness that I thought he was another person! " " Alrighty then! Let’s calm ourselves, I don’t want Jamil erupting like a volcano… " " Aw! They care so much about you, brother! How sweet. "

🐍 The blush on his cheeks erupted at how calm you acted with him, you cared about him that much? Normally whoever discusses with his sister just agree that he’s an oddball

🐍 You really are an amazing person, huh?

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🏹 Rook adores his siblings, both older and younger, very much

🏹 They are fairly similar to him when it comes to personalities, but they are quite different in their own unique ways, his oldest sibling, Leroy (King), for example loves to take photos instead of watch for a while like Rook

🏹 When he received a letter from one of his oldest younger sibling, Chevalier (Knight), saying that they were going to come by and visit him, he smiled and told you immediately, asking if you would care to meet his family

🏹 You just smiled and nodded at his enthusiasm, you knew he cared for his siblings and you very much, so you understood why he wanted you guys to meet badly

🏹 Hugging you from behind as he pressed his hat on your head to protect you from the sun’s strong rays, Rook’s signature smile seemingly was twice as large as he awaited the arrival of his multiple family members

" Rook! "

🏹 Turning around from the bench, Rook laughed with a booming sound as his three younger siblings, Chevalier, Évêque (Bishop), and Pionne (Pawn), jumped into his arms as his older ones, Leroy and Reine (Queen), stood and chuckled

🏹 Reine looked at you and pushed her hair behind her ear as he embraced you. This didn't surprise you, you predicted that all of the Hunt siblings were very affectionate and bold with their actions

" It is a delight to meet you, Y/N! Our brother sends us letters about you constantly! I must admit, it’s sweet to read how kind you are with our unique brother. "

🏹 Hearing that made your heart swoon as Rook nodded and smiled sweetly at his younger siblings, patting their heads as they showed him photos of things they had either caught or had made during the past few days

🏹 He is unique like they say, but he’s your kind of unique, and you wouldn’t change him for the world… despite Grim’s many protests while Yuu holds him back…

🏹 That cat was gonna be the death of you…

[soon-palestine]

Israel, the world’s most innocent country, fell victim to a horrific attack from Iran with zero reported casualties on the same day Israel killed dozens of civilians in Gaza.

Israel had been minding its own business, quietly bombing hospitals, schools, universities, mosques, and an embassy, when the Iranian regime launched their outrageous attack for no apparent reason. Thankfully, the US and UK scrambled jets to defend Israeli airspace because it’s wrong to bomb countries in the Middle East, unless your name is Israel, in which case you can do all the bombing you want.

Every British and American ship in the region is now in grave danger and the risk of terror attacks on our soil has surely increased, but you will be relieved to know our countries have not benefitted in any way from our intervention. Personally, I can’t think of a better way for Israel to spend our tax money.

Our leaders have condemned Iran in the strongest possible terms, which is confusing because I thought we were supposed to remain ambiguous and say we’re investigating the matter when such an attack occurs. Perhaps this is one of those rules that only applies to Israel though.

When informed of the attack, a calm and rational Suella Braverman screamed: “WAR! I WANT WAR!” and when she’d stopped hyperventilating, she added: “This must be the end of western backsliding on Israel,” because she thinks we have not been sufficiently supportive of their genocide. Anyone who is not on the same side of the argument as Suella Braverman must ask serious questions about themselves.

Iran’s unprovoked attack involved giving Israel adequate warning and launching 30-year-old missiles, 99% of which were intercepted, and then saying the matter is closed unless Israel escalates further. The fact Iran would consider retaliating to further escalation from Israel shows just extreme these lunatics are.

Among Iran’s targets was the Israeli air base from which the missiles that struck its embassy were launched, killing 13 on April 1. As of yet, we have no indication as to why Iran carried out the attack, but we’re going to tell you it’s because they want to start World War III. Psychos.

Conspiracy theorists have suggested it’s actually Benjamin Netanyahu who wants escalation, but it’s unclear why the man who faces political oblivion, and possibly jail, would be incentivised to draw his allies into the fight and cause everyone to forget his many war crimes.

Israel, the country that definitely does not want war, has vowed an “unprecedented” response against Iran which will probably kill many more than zero people. If Iran expresses disapproval at Israel’s next mass murder, it’s because they’re trying to destabilise the region. At this point, we’ll have no choice but to help Israel do to Iran what we’ve spent six months helping them do to Gaza - launch precision strikes that destroy 70% of the buildings in the country and leave survivors living in tents.

Worryingly, we’ve just discovered at the most convenient moment that Iran has enough uranium to build 12 nuclear bombs. If it were true that Iran had so much weapon-grade uranium, it would be incredibly stupid to attack them, but we’re going to insist we must attack them because we’re weapon-grade idiots - and we think you are too.

Please just switch your brain off and accept what you’re being told, you simpletons! What matters is rich people can afford nuclear bunkers if this all goes horribly wrong. In the meantime, you can look forward to lots of exciting stories in the media about bringing back conscription and describing how you are likely to die in humanity's final war. Are you looking forward to radiation sickness and nuclear winter? Because they sound like brilliant fun! x

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this outstanding piece of journalism as much as I did, you can support my work here:

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @tinypaint

My name is Michelle Fus. I’m a Jewish, non-binary artist. I graduated from the School of Visual Arts for Computer Art and Animation in 2011. I’ve interned at Pixar and worked for a few years at Dreamworks Animation. Over the past ten years, I’ve self-published two books and have run three successful Kickstarters. I now work with Skybound (The Walking Dead, Invincible) in developing my webcomic, Ava’s Demon, as a physical book series for stores. I like hiking, cultivating plants, caring for my cats, and hanging out with my beautiful husband. You can read my webcomic at avasdemon.com.

Check out our interview with Michelle below!

How did you get your start in art, and more specifically, with Ava's Demon?

I’ve always been into art since I was very young. I started to gravitate towards it in first grade, where we were required to keep a daily journal. I found myself drawing in it more than actually keeping entries. From there, I got more and more interested in honing my skills as an artist. I started making my own comics for fun. I signed up for classes outside of school and put together a portfolio for the School of Visual Arts, where I majored in Computer Art and Animation. After getting my first job in the field, I realized that it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. After working my day job, I would come home and work towards building a career in comics for myself by creating and uploading my webcomic, Ava’s Demon.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as an artist?

Looking things up to learn more before I make art or write. For instance, how many livable planets are in a Galaxy? What does a black hole actually look like, and can it give off light? How long would it actually take to travel through space if you had the fastest ship possible? I look up all of these things and then ignore most of them for the sake of writing a fun story and making fun art.

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It depends on the feeling I want to convey. Sometimes I’ll work for a whole week on a drawing and then delete it because I just don’t feel good about it. Other times I’ll make something in a day that I absolutely love from beginning to end. Some drawings I never delete nor finish, and instead, the files just kind of sit in a folder. The time it takes varies a lot.

Over the years as an artist, what were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

I really love good stories. So movies and books with captivating stories usually motivate and inspire me; stories that stay with you permanently, with twists and turns that you can’t stop thinking about. I also love finding characters whose struggles I can deeply relate to. I try to hold onto those feelings and emulate them through my art.

What is the hardest part of your process?

Actually finishing a drawing. The anxiety of it piles on me sometimes. I’ll work for a while on a drawing and constantly ask myself, “Is this drawing really finished? What terrible things about it am I not seeing?”. My desire to avoid making something terrible can sometimes put me in a mental prison where I keep chipping away at a drawing until I no longer know what I am looking at.

What is one interaction you had from a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

In general, I like letting young artists in middle school, and high school know that I wasn’t very good at art at their age (I really wasn’t, I didn’t have the same resources they have now, and I didn’t have any perspective on what it takes to have a career in art, it’s a different world). Kids have come to me at conventions with their work for critique and advice, and I have to tell them that they’re already miles ahead of what I could make at their age. I have to tell them that it’s okay if they can’t make what all the professionals make online, to know that they have SO much time ahead of them to work at what they love. If you love making art, do it often, study art throughout history, and over time you’ll be able to create everything your heart desires.

What is something other people find hard to draw that you find enjoyable?

I have no idea. Sometimes it feels like drawing anything is suffering, even if you like what you’re making.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@loish has been consistently inspiring me since my days in high school. Every new painting has so much grace and power and is so excellent to look at. Her skill in shape and form seems limitless, and I hope to someday achieve even a small fraction of her understanding of art. Seeing her new work on my timeline also makes my dopamine spike, so I’m always looking forward to updates from her.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Michelle! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @tinypaint and follow their webcomic, Ava’s Demon, over at avasdemon.com.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Okay, any of ur yautja OC reacting to low spice tolerance GN reader eating spicy food, and they’re just a mess after the first bite, tongue on fire, lips numb and their chugging anything that’s liquid, but still continuing eating the spicy food, it just sounds funny asf. 😹

Low Tolerance

Pairing: Uihoy (male Yautja) x Vic'tao (male Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1823

Summary: Between the three of you, only Vic'tao loves and even craves hot foods. When he has to chance to take the two of you to an upscale restaurant, he snatches it up. He's only able to get take out but he doesn't complain. You didn't realize how much heat Vic'tao could handle.

Author Note: I don't know if you know me in real life because this is me. Mild is too hot for me. I cannot handle spicy food once-oh-ever. I'll start to flop over and die.

Masterlist

Ao3

Both of your feet were thrown over the armrest of the copilot chair. A tablet sat in your hands, occupying your mind until Vic’tao returned to the ship. Uihoy was in the captain’s chair and going through all of the checks of the ship. You peeked over your device to stare at the handsome, bulky form of Uihoy. He was leaned forward, typing away at the console in front of him.

In the light of the ship, his purple scales reflected the light. You couldn’t help the soft smile to spread across your features, head tilting slightly to the side. How did you get so lucky with not one but two amazing mates? They had stumbled into your life unexpectedly. Here you were now, the third addition to their small group. The best mates you could ever ask for.

“Why is little ooman giving Uihoy that look?” the purple Yautja spoke up without taking his bright eyes off of the console. Whoops, caught red handed.

Heat bloomed to life under your cheeks but you didn’t look away from him. “Can’t your mate not admire the catch I’ve caught?” you drawled with a cheeky smirk. Uihoy huffed with his upper two mandibles quirking up. Ah, you got him.

A hum tumbled out of his throat. “Yes, little mate can. But if looking continues, might as well come over here. Uihoy feels a bit… lonely.” You rolled your eyes and closed the case on your tablet.

“Vic’s been gone for less than five minutes. You’re already lonely?” you teased him, a sparkle in your eye. It was a hard draw between the two of them on who’s the most needy. Each have their differences. Both need their own requirements met every day. That’s not a complaint. You loved them. You would do a lot for them.

Uihoy took his eyes off of the screen in front of him to turn his direction at you. A small pout molding his features. You sighed dramatically before slipping off the chair. The tablet was left on the seat. You meandered over to the hunk and stopped in front of him. A short purr left his throat. He leaned back and invited you to his lap.

Just like before, you sat in the same position. The best position to relax in. Uihoy carded his thick fingers through your hair and let his hand sit against your scalp. You leaned against it and let your eyes drift shut. Comfortable.

“Vicky better hurry his yellow ass up because I’m starting to starve!” you groaned and reopened your eyes in a dramatic flip of your head. “What’s even this place called again?” All you remember as Vic raved on about the restaurant was the fact it was best place for food. He said he was lucky to be able to get take out from them. Though, it would’ve been better to sit down. Not that he knew but it was an educated guess.

His claws carefully ran down your scalp. You instantly were mesh in his hold. “The best translation to English is ‘Mama’s Fish Bowl’,” Uihoy answered your question. You couldn’t help the snort and peered up at him with a raised brow. “Don’t judge the name before trying the food. Little ooman may regret it.”

Not that you were making fun of the name, but it’s such a… cliché. You believed the translation was off. Some languages just didn’t work with English over even any other language on earth.

Both Vic and Uihoy were well adverse in a lot of languages. But, even they will fall back onto their translator for a smooth transition. Maybe, this was one of those times the language just doesn’t work.

“What kind of food do they serve?” At first, you didn’t think anything wrong with that but realized different pallets and culture. Of course, the food was safe for you. This isn’t going to be like asking if it was like Italian or Mexican. This was an alien cuisine. That didn’t stop you from being curious. What type of food was it like?

He continued to softly scratch at your scalp, making you putty in his hands. “That’s for little hunter to find out when Vic’tao comes back.” You sighed and rolled your eyes again. Damn him. Your eyes drifted shut as you turn your head towards Uihoy and looked up at him. “But trust when said this is damn good food.” Another smile broke across your features.

You lifted a hand to cup his jaw. “I do. A lot. I trust both of you with my life.” He tilted his head to nuzzle against your palm. A short chuff came from the giant.

“What are the two love doves doing without me?” A familiar voice filtered into the space. You twisted around in Uihoy’s lap to see Vic’tao strolling into the cockpit. Both of hands full with bags. Your eyes widened at the sight. The two of them ate a lot but that much food should feed the two of you for a few days. Perfect, leftovers!

A groan escaped you. “Finally, you’re back! We’ve been waiting years,” you taunted him with a grin showing off your teeth. The yellow Yautja scowled at you and strolled further into the room.

Both of the bags were set down on the chair you once sat in. Then, the male spun on his heel and was strutting away. “Uie, you want Cn’tlip?” Your face scrunched up at the name of their beer. It was disgusting. Uihoy chirped his answer. Vic was gone again, heading to the kitchen for said drinks. You only had what was safe for a human. Water and some sort of carbonated drink that tasted like Pepsi. Once in a while, they’ll be able to pick up what tasted like Sierra Mist. That stuff was a special occasion though since it cost so much and was rare.

As soon as Vic was gone, he was already back. The beer like drink soared through the air. Uihoy snapped his hand out and snatched it cleanly through the air. Your soda was also thrown across the room. You barely had enough time to reach out and clumsily catch it. “Vic’tao! Careful,” you scolded and glared at the laughing Yautja.

The male made his way back over to the chair. Take out boxes were set out. Some of it left inside of the bags. This felt like a classic moment back at home. You would be alone in your apartment, having take out after a grueling day at work.

Two boxes were set down in your lap. You quirked a brow before Uihoy set the beer in a cupholder and grabbed the top one. “That for little hunter.” A purple finger pointed at the white box left in your lap. You opened the box, eyes scanning over the contents.

Steam first met your nostrils before your eyes began to water. You held back a cough. “Ehm… is this spicy?” you questioned and looked over Vic to turn your head away from the flavors trying to kill you.

Said Yautja peered over his shoulder. “Yes, mild though.” He opened a box and took a lung full of the scent. Then, he paused. “Wait… C’jit. You’re ooman.” You raised a brow and snorted. After all this time, it still slips his mind. Never in a dangerous, harm situation though. Never.

“It’ll be fine. I think. I’ll just give it a try. How about that?” you attempted to resolve the situation. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. Yet, here you are, with a low tolerance. You instantly knew you were going to regret this entirely. But, the two of them went out of their way to get food, specially food for you that’s human safe.

Vic’tao gave you a skeptical look. Uihoy’s hand tightened in your hair. “You don’t have to eat it if you know it’ll hurt you.” You gave the Yautja a look.

“I’ve got this. Promise.” He looked a little longer at you before relenting and returning to his own buffet in front of him. You looked down at your food and took a deep breath in. Yes, you were going to feel pain. A lot of pain in less than five minutes.

You picked up the utensil and dug into the noodle like dish. The noodles were main red and orange colors, much different then what you’re used to back home. Despite the heat, the smell of it was delicious. No wonder this place was a hit if you couldn’t tell by the scent. Then, you carefully scooped the noodles off of the fork.

At first, flavors bursted on your tongue. You groaned and leaned against Uihoy. God, this was the best food you’ve had in a long time.

Then, your lips began to go numb. The rest of your mouth bursted into flame. Your jaw dropped as you tried to cool it down by breathing heavily.

“You good?” Vic’tao laughed while watching this unfold in front of him. “I told you, you don-“ you interrupted him by raising a hand.

“All finah. Ah eak. Goo… good,” you choked out and started to chug down the closest drink to your hand. But… that only made it worse. You winced before downing some more noodles. There were some hardy choices you are regretting at the moment. Despite the heat though, the flavors were amazing.

Drool started to drip from the corner of your numb lips. You slurped it back up and tried to finish off your drink only to find out it was gone. You find the second closest drink and started to down it as well. The taste fought off the heat for only a moment.

It only got worse. You quickly packed up the box, threw in back into Uihoy’s lap as you sprinted to the kitchen. “Muy mouf is on firer!” you screamed and about smacked into the cockpit door when it didn’t open. You slipped past and gone you were.

By the time you returned, the fire was mostly subdued. You slowly walked back into the cockpit, a slice of bread in your hand. Both of your mates were holding back their laughter and watched you. You held up the piece. “I found bread,” you mumbled through still numb lips.

Uihoy nodded and hummed. “How’s the mouth?” Your eyes narrowed on his purple scales. You bit off another chunk of the bread. It helped fight off the heat.

“Fine.” You climbed back into Uihoy’s lap without another word and slow chomped down on the noodles again. Your bread helping along the way.

[writingficsanddaydreams]

His Eyes

Mihawk x gn!reader

Summary: you may dislike eye contact, but that doesn’t make his eyes any less mesmerizing

Content: some fluff, a little romance. They’re on a mission. Reader is autistic.

A/N: this is a shorter piece, just a snippet of an idea really, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So now I’m making you all think about it too! Like all my stories, Mihawk is based on a mix of his live action personality, and the little bit I know from watching some of the anime and reading the manga quite literally years ago.

—————————————

Dracule Mihawk. A great warlord of sea. A man so powerful that his very presence makes others stop and step back wherever he goes, who can freeze a person in place with just his intense, piercing gaze.

You love his gaze.

You love the color of his eyes, the way that lantern light plays across the striking yellow, bringing out those hints of gold. You love the shape of them, the way his eyebrows furrow, that little line that forms above his nose when he’s so focused. You love how he can seem to command a room with his gaze alone.

His eyes are mesmerizing.

“How is it you can stare at me, yet request I avoid the same?”

His words send a shiver through you, one that strengthens as he turns that gaze briefly your way. His arm is is draped carefully across the back of the tavern booth, his fingers just brushing your shoulder.

You shrug and smile—just a little smile, the one you practiced because you know it secretly makes him pleased, even if smiling doesn’t come naturally to you.

“It’s not like I command you,” you tease, even as you draw your knees closer to your chest to better balance your sketchbook and lean slightly into him. You like sitting like this, both because it lets you naturally look away when he does decide to stare at you, and because you love the feeling of his nearness as you lean slightly into his side.

“Hmm.” He turns his gaze away. You quickly peak up at him and are pleased to see the slightest twitch to his own lips, a hint of his own smile.

He’ll never show it, not here in this tavern where every other person subtly watches him. But it’s there, and you’ve enjoyed drawing it out of him since you started working together as temporary partners. Especially since you started to be something more…

You turn back to your own work, drawing your fountain pen across the thick sketchbook paper.

A line here. A small adjustment there. You let yourself fall into the art, even as you listen to the conversations murmuring around you.

The din of voices can be overwhelming at times, painful even when so many noises echo together, but useful. You’ve learned ways to manage it, found tools to let you block out the sound when it’s too much and learned how to sort through the sounds when you do have the energy for it.  Now you sit and listen, letting your art pull you slightly away from it all, even as snippets of conversation come and go.

“…can’t believe that seller cheated me! I…”

“…Mihawk here…?”

“…will drink you under the table…”

“…think Garp sent him? Does he know we…”

You still your pen, glancing only slightly up from the page. That conversation was from not too far away. The targets.

“You noticed them too,” comments Mihawk, in that eternally bored, yet oh so confident tone.

“What now?” you ask, turning your gaze back to your sketchbook. “Capture them here or flush them out?”

If you were working alone, you would probably wait for them to leave on their own, then follow them and complete the mission once away from all the noise and bustle of the tavern. But it’s fun to work Mihawk’s way as well, to see just what it is that makes him so simultaneously feared and respected. You find it fascinating how he toys with his targets at times, as if a job is simply a game to him. 

“It has been quiet lately. A chase might be entertaining.”

You grin, even as you carefully try to capture a slight shimmer of light in your sketch. 

This is the part you find so fascinating.

The way he can inspire or horrify people with just a glance. The way he moves so carefully and intentionally through his work, even as he sometimes treats it as a way to relieve the boredom of being truly the best. The way he knows how good he is, knows his power and wears it like a cloak.

You know the moment he turns his gaze from a casual analysis of the room to a hunter spotting its prey. 

It’s in the slight gasps as that muted conversation staggers to a halt. The sharp sense of fear that drifts through the tavern. The way Mihawk’s intense gaze cuts straight through the crowded tables and towards the targets, even as everyone else breathes in relief that it’s not aimed at them.

You’ve done this just enough times now to know that soon your targets will try to leave, try to flee.

Then it will be time to act.

For now though, you enjoy leaning into your warlord, carefully drawing your pen across a sketchbook page as you capture the dangerous beauty of his vivid eyes.

[lesbiansforastarion]

Exposed Back

Astarion x gnTav

Summary: A short but sweet moment where Astarion feels comfortable and safe with Tav.

“I know you don’t like your back- for obvious reasons- but it truly can’t be stated enough how beautiful you are.” The way Tav said it was borderline dreamy to his ears. The two were laying together on their bedroll with his back to them for a change as he read. They laid behind him slowly stroking the small of his back, just below his scars, admiring the elegant dip and curve of his spine. At this point it wasn’t just Tav’s tent anymore with how present Astarion always was in it, even when they weren’t there. He always tried staying in his own but he couldn’t rest when he craved the comfort of theirs.Their tent always surrounded him in a blanket of their scent that his own just lacked. Their things were just simply better than his own because of it.

He made a small hum of acknowledgement at their comment. Normally people focusing on that specific aspect of him made him uneased but they even made his back feel precious. “You can touch it, you know.”

Acting on impulse Tav gave his tush a little pinch over his trousers. They had known what he ment but they couldn’t help themself. He was too fun to tease and they felt the need to lighten the mood.

Astarion couldn’t fight the giggle he let out and playfully smacked whatever of them he could reach behind him with his book. “Not that you fool.” His wide grin could be heard in his voice. How they could turn a sleepy soft moment into such a warm humorous time he’d never know, but he hoped they’d never stop. It always made these vulnerable moments so much more comfortable. Really just having them there made being vulnerable so much more natural to him. “I meant the scar. You can get your pinches in later.”

He heard the remaining chuckles bubble from them as they calmed into the intimate moment. What he wouldn’t do to always be the reason for that sound. The soft draw of fingers slowly worked their way up from his lower back to up his spine. They’re hands gently traced the line down the center of his back. Focusing on the curve. While he was braced at first, he slowly relaxed under their repetitive motion. Their warmth melting into the cold flesh. Tav only explored further after they felt his body fully untense itself. Moving on from the delicate dip of his spine to the muscles covering his shoulder blades. Smoothing the skin with their gentle hands, massaging their warmth into his muscles. The scars were barely a thought for either of them as Astarion melted under their sickeningly sweet touch.

Tav could stay here forever watching their guarded lover grow soft in their arms. And Astarion could stay here forever, letting himself enjoy the cathartic comfort of being in his favorite person’s space, with his favorite person wrapped around him.

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: Too Well

< track 5 || track 7 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader, Barcelona Femeni x Reader, Arsenal Women x Reader

》 words count: ~5k

》 you weren't there in my dreams, I could finally sleep / I felt good, but it sucks, I don't hate you as much

You hear the whistle before you feel the pain in your lower back.

It’s been going on like this since the very start of the game, your former teammates are on you like it’s personal, not giving you space to move or time to play.

But you know them, you played with them. It’s not personal.

At least you hope so.

You’re pretty sure they’re playing this rough because they’re scared of you. Of the way you’re keeping up with them, of the way you’re not going down easily.

It’s exciting, it’s exactly what you wanted.

This one foul feels a little bit unnecessary though.

It’s a tactical foul, you manage to find a weak spot on the side of Barcelona’s midfield and you go for it even if the ball sent to you is a bit too fast. Mapi’s body crushes into yours firmly, not enough to cause any real harm but definitely strong enough to hint you to take a breath on the ground.

“Perdón, tenía que hacerlo” (Sorry, I had to), a tattooed hand comes into your vision and the second thing you spot is the smirk on the defender’s face.

You accept her help, smirking too.

“You didn’t have to, that ball was way too long”

“Oye, sabes que no es por eso” (Yeah, you know it wasn’t about the game), María’s grin turns into a sincere smile as she moves back into her position, adding “Estamos a mano ahora” (We can call it even now).

The referee is making sure everything is settled, trying to keep control of the players, but you dismiss her and let Katie take the ball for a kick into the Barça’s box.

It’s an exciting game, it’s good football. That’s what you wanted for your first game back in Barcelona, your first game at Camp Nou as a rival. The crowd is wild and the atmosphere is all you could wish for from a Champions League match as important as the first leg of a quarter-final.

“You good?”, Leah asks while joining the fun into the box.

You are all waiting for Katie to stop discussing whatever she’s discussing with the referee just to give your teammates time to find their positions.

“Get that ball in and I’ll be amazing”

Arsenal does not manage to get the ball into the back of the net and you still have ten minutes before halftime to level the score.

It’s not fair game on paper, the odds are against you and some headlines must already be written. Barcelona’s movements on the pitch are faster and cleaner, sometimes the crowd is so loud you can’t even hear your own thoughts. They scored five minutes into and they’ve been setting the pace since.

But you’re standing up to the current Champions League’s winner.

Arsenal’s defence line is keeping up, the ball is rolling and you’re finding your forwards. You can score, you just have to play the right pass for your teammates.

On the other hand, Keira is personally marking you and another Barca’s player is always around to intercept your pass and prevent your movement. It’s frustrating, they know how you like to play, but it’s also flattering.

They have a mark on you, you just need to remember it’s acknowledgement you can cause trouble and not spite.

~

A couple of players booked for both sides is how the game gets into halftime.

You take your time to reach the tunnel, speaking animatedly with Victoria and Lia, gesturing around with your hands to explain some other tactics you can try. The atmosphere is unreal, you can’t deny all the overwhelming emotions of being back.

The fact you don’t want to risk ending up in Alexia’s line of sight has nothing to do with it.

Leah really jinxed it back then, the Champions League’s draw put your new club against your former one sooner than what you hoped for. However, you got here, you’re once again among the best in the game and it’s all you wanted.

Having to play against your ex girlfriend is just a small detail.

You’re still following her, you’re still updated about her life – her professional one, obviously. If you find yourself watching her game’s highlights or listening to her interviews, you tell yourself it’s just what you do to study your competition.

The truth is you want to make sure she’s doing good. On the pitch at least.

Alexia’s knee is bothering her again and you were so close to calling her when you read about her having to do checkups and potentially miss some important games. Like this one. No one has to know you texted Ingrid instead, just to make sure it’s not actually worse than the media is making it to be.

“Head in the game, trotter”

The Gunners have gathered around in the locker room, waiting for your captains to deliver some motivational speech to get back out there with a renewed spirit.

“Why are you all looking at me?”

“Give some shit, you idiot!”, Katie is upset and already carded, she better finds some inner peace before the second half.

“Kim, you amazing captain, say something”

“She’s right, you have the insight”

The Scottish skipper is looking at you with a calm smile and your manager is trusting her captains enough to let them deal with this by themself. The entire staff is looking at you like you have the answers to all the universe’s most important questions.

“I already spilled everything, you know I want to win this as much as every one of you”

“That was theoretical, now you had time on the pitch with them as a rival”

You had to think for a moment, taking your time to fix your socks and lacing your boots three times. Stupid superstitions you don’t believe in, but you are not going to risk it today of all days. The team needs to calm their running minds and you need to gather your thoughts.

When it seems like you have nothing worth saying, you take their faces in. You want to win as much as they want to, that’s true, but you also have a lot more to prove.

“They’re frustrated”

“They’re just pissed you broke up with the Catalan divinity”, a quip that worthed Katie a punch from Alessia.

“First of all, she’s la Reina”

Some of the girls laugh, others are just glad you can joke about it, but they’re all waiting for your useful words. There’s a game to win.

“They didn’t expect us to keep up with them, they thought more goals could have easily followed the first one. They’re keeping a high pace waiting for us to trudge backwards, and that’s not what we’re going to do”

“No way, Sherlock!”

Now it’s Caitlin who smacks the Irish’ head, she’s having it worse than you.

“We keep doing what we’re doing”, Kim steps in.

The preparation for this game was intense, the Arsenal team studied Barça for weeks and you know what to expect from them – thanks to your insight, but also thanks to the amount of effort the entire staff and team put into the training sessions.

“I know them, I’m gonna keep annoying the shit out of them and get us some good opportunities”

“You want to play bait?”, Leah is sceptical about your plan.

“Yes”

“No”

“Can work, they have reasons to want to foul her a bit more”, you’re not sure which side Laia’s on.

“Putting her in unnecessary danger, what a great idea to add a name to our injury report!”

“Let’s do it”, your manager interrupts the banter, looking at his watch, “Pass the ball to her whenever she’s free and let her go for the runs when she can”

You know the Barça’s girls, you know how they like to play.

That’s how you find a line of pass for your teammates, or you manage to slip around the Blaugrana’s kits, or even attempt a shot from just outside the box. You can tell they’re annoyed. And you know you can use their annoyance and arrogance against them.

“Let’s put a mark on her”, Leah definitely doesn’t like your plan.

“She already has, let turn it to our advantage”

“I’m here and I’m fine with it”

~

The second half starts and it gets more physical rather quickly, with both sides looking for a goal. Your teammates move better on the field when the opponents are busy double marking you or making sure you can’t keep or pass the ball.

You take the pressure well, hit after hit.

Until warm-up players distract you, Alexia is running on the sideline and you don’t see Ona’s tackle coming.

It’s a clean tackle, perfectly timed, but you missed a bit. You should have jumped her over or moved your foot away. Instead, your boot is planted on the side of the ball and you crush on the defender’s body before hitting the ground. Hard.

You don’t even hear the whistle this time.

“¡Ay! You okay?”

“Stay away!”

“Leah, calm down”, Alessia has to drag the blonde away from the little circle formed around you.

Your body is curled up on one side, face hidden behind your arms. You can feel the fresh grass of the pitch tickling your neck and the rushed movements close to you.

It takes you a couple of moments to understand the medical team is trying to get your attention, testing you worried about a concussion. Apparently, you hit your head falling down. Once asserted, and once assured both Ona and your teammates you’re fine, you are escorted to the sideline while the game resumes.

Alexia’s eyes are on you.

You always had a feeling of her presence and you were always able to find her wherever she was around you. It doesn’t matter the place, it doesn't matter how many people crowded it. If she had her eyes on you, you knew.

You smile at the realisation you can still sense it.

“How do you feel?”, the medic asks you.

“Like I just hit my head”

“Funny as always”

“Are you being sarcastic, Alice?”

“Glad you didn’t hit it hard enough to get some wisdom”, the woman is not amused by your attempt to dismiss the situation.

They’re holding you up and you’re quite happy they don’t let go when you ask, your legs failing to support you like they are supposed to.

Immediately looking back toward the pitch, you assert the situation. Barça is taking the most of the extra player, pressing higher and controlling the midfield easily. You can’t put your team at a disadvantage, not by wasting time on the side but not by coming back into the game with unsteady legs either.

You gave it all.

“Ask for a sub, Ali, please”

“You okay?”

“Yeah”

It’s ironic how both teams opt to make substitutions at the same time, it’s ironic how Alexia enters on the pitch as you make your exit from the other side.

The Culés crowd is screaming and applauding for their captain, but you like to hope they are also cheering for you as you walk your way towards the bench.

You sit impatiently, getting up every couple of minutes to shout directions to your teammates and to encourage them. Even after Aitana splits around your defence and plays an incredible ball that just needs to be chipped into the net.

~

The final whistle is both a blessing and a curse.

You join the circle of white kits gathered in the middle of the pitch, exchanging congratulations or supporting pats for every player you meet on your way there. You don’t really listen to your manager’s or Kim’s speeches, always blacking out every rational thought after a match despite the result.

The group disbands soon, tomorrow you will study every single moment of this game to better prepare for the second leg. It’s not done, but it’s over for now.

You encourage some of the younger girls to enjoy the atmosphere in the stadium, not everyone has the opportunity to play in such places and they should take the most in. There are fans to thank for their support too, never stopped cheering for you all.

“¿A dónde crees que vas?” (Where are you going?)

Mapi jumps on your back like you haven’t left the pitch on trampling legs just twenty minutes before.

“Let me lick my wounds in peace, Marìa”, no real spite in your words.

“Lo mereces, nena” (You deserved it)

“I wasn’t hoping for a welcoming party, but you all sure made the statement clear”

“Estás bien, ¿verdad?” (You’re good, right?)

“I’ll survive”

“You better, there’s still the return”, Ingrid must sense her girlfriend is about to say something stupid as she greets you in a warm hug.

The two of them are the only ones of your former teammates you met in person since your transfer, besides Keira who you cross paths with thanks to your mutual blonde friend. You’re glad they can act as a buffer as you find yourself back here.

Said English girls join the little group, animatedly discussing as Leah’s frown gets deeper. You know she’s upset about the result, but this something else entirely.

“Why is her face like that?”, you ask.

“She wants to swipe with the traitor and not with her best-est friend!”

“¡Vale, I was about to ask my favourite teammate ever!”

Keira and you make an all scene exchanging your tops but you cover yourself with an Arsenal warming vest, not really ready to wear the Blaugrana colours again. The Alexia’s one you sometimes happen to fall asleep wearing is another thing entirely, you’re not going to unpack that right here and right now.

Leah’s pissed look and Mapi’s glare about your antics are a good distraction.

Ona reaches out to you to apologise again, but you are quick to pull her in a friendly hug and reassure her that her tackle was clean – contrary to another defender, you joke.

“¡Muy bien, nena, tú lo pediste!” (Fine, you asked for it!), the Spaniard grabs your arm and literally drags you toward the family and friends section of the stadium.

You’re pretty sure you’re about to have a stroke when you realise her intention.

You meet a few of your former teammates on your way to the stands. You accept Irene’s embrace happily, also glad to delay the time of your execution. Jana’ and Claudia’ are a little shorter than what you wished for. Their smiles are sincere and their nice words are honest, you understand and you know it’s even more than what you deserve.

“¿Pensabas de irte sin saludar?” (You thought you could leave without saying goodbye?), Eli doesn’t give you time to answer as she welcomes you in her open arms, holding so tightly you have to hold back tears.

You don’t let her go and she understands you need a moment to compose yourself, hidden in her embrace, and she lets you be. The woman’s the closest to a mother figure for you during your time in Spain, mothers know better.

“You look awful”

“You always were the better looking one, Alba”, you quip back as you let the younger girl join the hug.

“¿Estás bien, mija?” (How are you?)

“Como alguien que perdìo un partido de Champions League, señora S” (As someone who has just lost a Champions League’s game)

“¡Ay! Aún tan formal” (Still with the title)

Alexia’s family welcomed you as a born and raised member of their clan, always trying to make your homesickness less difficult and succeeding at making you feel loved. Yet, you insisted on calling her mother with all the formalities, first out of respect and then just as a running joke between the two of you.

“We’re going out to eat something, you’re coming”

“Nope”, you can’t think of anything worse than sitting and trying to have fun with your ex girlfriend’s little sister and some of your closest friends – who also happen to be your ex’s best friends, your former teammates and the ones that just beat your club and your ass.

“Keira already spilled you guys are free tonight”

Damn Keira.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”

“Te extrañamos, nena” (We missed you)

You missed them too, truly.

Nevertheless, you have to process all your feelings about being here, being back in Barcelona.

The familiar road to the stadium somehow looked like taking you to a completely different destination. The hectic tunnel somehow crushing on you, the exciting atmosphere somehow making you sick. The Culés crowd is a completely different experience when they’re not cheering for you.

“I just want to sulk in a bit by myself”

Marìa knows you, she doesn’t press on the matter even if you can tell she wants nothing more than to spend more time with you and your friends. Her arm around your shoulder is comforting as you say your goodbyes to Eli and Alba, promising them not to disappear again.

You’re keeping your promise this time.

“¿Estás segura?” (Are you sure?)

You two finally reach a more private part of the tunnel’s exit, stepping a couple of times on the way there to wave at the fans. At least they don’t seem to hate you.

The hug you envelop each other in is the longest and most comforting one you ever exchanged, holding more than what words can tell and actions can convey. You let Mapi go just after spotting a blonde head waiting for you around the corner.

“Yeah, I’m gonna crush your dreams next time we see each other”

“¡Vale, pero mándame un mensaje antes!” (Yeah, but you better text before then)

The defender takes the opposite direction as Leah drops her arms around your shoulders from behind, effectively dragging you into the locker room.

“You good?”

“If someone else asks me again I’m gonna scream till you have to call the Neuro on me”

“Perfect, you can shower then, you stink”

The girls aren’t as loud as they usually are as you just lost a pretty important game and some are gonna sleep really bad thinking about missed opportunities or defence mistakes. You, first of all, know you’re not gonna sleep at all tonight.

When you’re ready to go, you leave the stadium for the parking lot.

“Are you going back to the hotel?”

Leah is probably hoping you decide to join her, Lia and a couple of the girls at the eating place Mapi mentioned before. You honestly would love to spend a quiet night out with your friends, both from your past and present, but you’re pretty sure Alexia’s gonna be there.

She managed to avoid you until now, you don’t want to ruin her night.

“There’s a place I want to go to”

~

Half an hour drive away from Camp Nou there’s a little secluded beach, rocky shore all the way down to the sea and just a couple of metres of sand in between.

Alexia insisted on bringing you there one day, unprompted and without a real reason to make such a trip in the middle of the week. The location is far away from any tourist spots but close enough to be a place to go when you need to think, surrendered by everything and nothing at the same time.

The Catalan ended up there the first time when she was barely old enough to drive herself around, coming back any time she needed to silence her mind and allowing herself to focus only on the unbothered nature.

You two used to go there together to just exist in the same place at the same time without needing anything else.

However, you got the habit of going there by yourself when you felt overwhelmed and in your last months in Barcelona you feel like you spent more time looking at the sea from that particular spot than in your own home.

The taxi’s drive there is quiet in the most awkward way possible, the old man asking way too many questions for your liking, but when you feel steps approaching you have no doubt who is joining you.

“I can leave, it’s your spot after all”, you gave yourself permission to come also secretly hoping to find her here.

“Tenía una sensación” (No need, I had a feeling)

When she refuses to join the little night out, much to her teammates’ disappointment, the English girls are way too fast to assure her you declined the invite and Mapi even encourages her with a silent but meaningful nod.

She drops on the ground keeping some needed distance from you, crossing her legs and holding herself on the sweater she’s wearing.

“I thought you were ignoring me”

“Ajá, intenté pero mamá me regañó” (Yeah, I was but mom scolded me)

You finally really look at her for the first time in nine months, allowing yourself to take in every single detail you memorised that last day to make sure her eyes still brighten the same way and the creases around her mouth still move in the same spots.

How can she be the same person and a completely different one at the same time?

The older girl is not looking at you, her gaze fixed on the landscape as she tries to regulate her heartbeat while shaking every time a gentle blow of wind urges you both to breathe some air in.

“You’re a brunette now”

Alexia’s laugh is something you had no idea you could miss so deeply until it reaches you open and at full speed, almost knocking you down physically as much emotionally.

When she finally looks at you, oh, you are so fucked.

The sound of the waves crashing on the shore is not enough to cover the silence that surrounds you again, you’re sure she’s here to kill you slowly without having to use words or weapons. She just needs to remind you what you left behind, who you lost.

“Lo siento” (I’m sorry)

“I– what? No, no, you don’t need to–”

“Te conozco” (I know you)

The Catalan has an all speech planned, rehearsed all the way here just to make sure she can say everything she needs to say in the best way she can.

“Lo siento, te conozco y yo– I knew you weren’t in love anymore y I didn’t do anything”

“I never stopped loving you, Alexia”, you have to make sure she understands it was never about her.

“Lo sé” (I know)

A warm hand leaves the hiding spot in the pocket of her sweater to land in the space between you. It’s not an invitation, you are not stupid enough to hope that, but it’s an open gesture. You believe she even smiles, but you’re probably delusional and actually concussed.

“I was there, I saw you fall in love with the club y with the city y conmigo”, she starts, fixing her gaze back to the waves, “I was there and I saw you fall out of love too”

“Alexia, I–”

“Por favor déjame terminar, you left without a word and I have words to say now” (Let me finish, please)

When it was time for you to leave Barcelona, she was the one taking you to the airport. She insisted, she was adamant about it.

You broke up with her with a transfer request and a shiny contract signed with a club in a different country, and she didn’t try to change your mind.

You packed your life in Barcelona and your life together in a couple of boxes, shipped them to an apartment you didn’t even visit yourself beforehand, and she went to her mother for a week just to give you the space to do that.

You said your goodbyes to your teammates at the end of a particularly hard gym session, no game left to play and a recovery plan already sent in by the trainers, and she watched over you a couple of steps back even if all she wanted was to join the group hug.

However, when you wanted to take a taxi to the airport, she was determined to drive you herself. The radio mocking you all the way there, playing your song as soon as she started the car up. You didn’t dare to turn it off, but you wished she had.

Alexia didn’t say a word, she parked the car and helped with your luggage, following you inside till just bureaucracy and security checks stopped her. Not a single word, not a single tear. You had red eyes and shaking hands, your ex girlfriend nodded to you and let you leave like that.

“You fell in love with Barcelona and playing for Barça and I thought that was enough for you just because it’s everything to me”

“You are–”

“No, por favor” (Please, don’t do that)

You’re not sure if she’s asking you to let her apologise or if she wants to stop you from saying something that could most definitely just hurt the two of you more.

“I’m sorry, I knew you didn’t feel at home anymore and I just hoped your love for me was enough to make you stay”

“It was”

It takes everything in you not to reach her, brushing away the tears that are marking her cheeks.

“Ay, but that’s why you ask for the transfer, no?”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, you left a place that was not your home”

“I don’t even know where my home is”, you’re not sure if there’s a place for you to call home in the first place. Maybe you’re just not made to feel at home.

“Es aquí” (It’s here)

You register her coming closer just when she has a finger pointing in the middle of your chest, eyes soft as she looks right through your heavy breaths and broken soul.

“Tu casa es tu corazón y cuando tu corazón no se siente en casa, te vas” (Your home is where your heart is and when your heart doesn’t feel at home anymore, you leave)

“I should have explained, I should have tried harder”

“I knew”

“Alexia–”

“No importa, I didn’t understand it, but it’s okay”, she’s the one reaching for you, gently touching your face as she’s scared you’re gonna break in a million pieces if she speaks too loud or brushes her fingers too roughly on your cheeks.

“Mi casa está aquí, mi familia está aquí y mi futuro está aquí, juego en mi equipo favorito y estoy dónde está mi corazón. Soy afortunada, tú no tienes la misma suerte. Intentaste explicarlo y nunca te escuché, y luego fuiste” (My home is here, my family is here and my future is here. I play for my childhood club and I’m exactly where my heart is. I’m lucky, you don’t have the same luck. You tried to explain it so many times but I never listened. And then you left)

“Te juro, dejar Barcelona fue la única manera” (I swear, leaving Barcelona was the only way)

“Lo sé, me sentí como una parte de mí dejé contigo” (I know, I felt like a part of me left with you), she takes a moment and you can see in her eyes that she spent a lot of time thinking about this, “I feel like I was missing a piece that let me breathe properly and kick a football the right way or winning successfully and sleeping peacefully”

“I’m sorry I had to leave”

“You never left, not really”

Alexia’s voice is shaking now, for the first time since sitting next to you and letting you understand you can forgive yourself for hurting her. She did.

“No estabas aquí, pero nunca te dejaste” (You were not here, but you never left), she laughs before explaining herself, “You’re in the cafeteria you were a regular at and I can’t let myself go anymore, you’re in the dating shows I avoid to watch. You’re in the songs you say you hate but you sing so bad while you cook”

You can’t hold her gaze when she says the last part, “You’re in the footballs left behind after training”.

“You knew”

“Nunca siento que no estás aquí, a veces lo odio a veces me ayuda” (I never feel like you are not here, sometimes I hate it and sometimes I hold on into it)

“Yo también te extraño” (I missed you too)

Her laugh is still your favourite sound in the entire world.

~

When the sun disappears under the waves, the Catalan offers to take you back to your hotel.

Alexia’s driving always manages to calm your nerves, you don’t miss the fact she is taking the longest road and she has the windows rolled down even if she hates it.

You’re exhausted, drained both physically and mentally. Somehow, though, your chest doesn’t feel so heavy and your lungs actually fill with fresh air, your mind doesn’t feel so crowded and your thoughts actually unravel rationally.

The last time you were in a car with Alexia it felt like the two of you were going to bury a piece of yourself down the heart of the earth, this time you are going to bring it flowers. This time, when a familiar song starts to play, you find the courage to turn it off.

“Thank you”

“Por no odiarte?” (For not hating you?), she quips, not taking her eyes away from the still very familiar road.

“Thank you for understanding”

“Hiciste lo que debías hacer” (You did what you had to do)

Alexia stops the car in the private parking lot of the hotel your team is staying in, you don’t need to check the time to know you should head back soon.

You say your goodbyes, knowing you will see each other in ten days and it’s probably going to hurt as much even if in a completely different way.

She doesn’t accompany you to the hotel’s entrance, but, unlike the last time, you turn around when you hear her calling out your name.

“I hope you found what you left for”

[aritany]

On Identity: The Truth

Content warnings: homophobia, transphobia, references to self harm and suicide.

I’ve been keeping secrets my whole life.

I’m 10 and I’m listening to my dad at the dinner table, who I know to be the most trustworthy person in the world. He talks about the legalization of marriage between two people of the same sex and asks us to consider the implications. Where do we draw the line in the sand? Legalizing gay marriage paves the way for legalizing pedophilia, after all. If a union between two men or two women isn’t disrespecting the sanctity of marriage, what’s next? Marriage between men and animals?

I’m 11 the first time I hear it: “It doesn’t matter how low I set the bar for you, you still can’t reach it.”

I’m confused and afraid—I’m trying so hard—but I hear it then, and again, and again, spoken low in disappointment, shouted with a vein popping in her forehead, cold like a fact, and it sinks in, bone deep.

I’m 12 with my first crush on a girl. I’m not confused, I know that’s what it is—I want to kiss my friend, and I already know not to talk about it. Never to talk about it. It isn’t safe.

I’m 13 and doubting. I throw myself into fitting in. I pick the right boys to like and I go overboard, and I do like them, I do, I do, I want them to like me, I want to be their friend. I want to be their equal, but that’s not quite how the story goes, so I settle for trying to hold hands with somebody I desperately crave respect from, but that’s wrong too, I learn. 

I’m 14 and convicted. How could this be wrong? I brush hands with a girl in choir and we meet eyes and I know. I watch a gay kiss on TV and I sob into my hands and I tell no one, no one, no one.

I’m 15 and I come out to my mom, haltingly, with the terminology that I have, because the thought of hiding forever—keeping quiet through one more dinner—kills me.

She tells me no. She tells me I’m wrong.

I look in her eyes and I understand: it’s not an option, and it never will be.

I’m 15 and I do my best to stop there.

It doesn’t work.

I’m 16 when I first hear my mom say that you can love someone and not approve of their lifestyle. I wonder what kind of love that is. I wonder how that kind of diluted, half-hearted, patronizing love can be enough for anyone. I wonder if she’s thought about how that feels, to be told that who you are—not by choice—is fundamentally wrong.

I’m 16 and a boyfriend is a shield. The right choice, so I make it, and it’s even almost fun. I love being his friend. I’m afraid of anything more.

I’m 17 and my youngest sibling whispers, “So am I.”

My heart breaks for the pain they’ll experience, as they too are taught, painstakingly, how to hate themself. Which parts of themself have to be kept hidden, which parts are shameful. They sit at that dinner table and hear the rhetoric that pushed me to the brink and over it, and I hope they’re stronger than I am.

They aren’t.

I’m 18 and my mom works at a college for the performing arts. I sit and curdle quietly while she talks about her genderqueer students. Misgenders them behind their backs. Deadnames used flippantly. She knows better, after all. She can be the expert on somebody else’s identity. They’re mentally ill, all of them. None of them are happy. They’re searching for something only God can provide.

I’m 19 and I come out as bisexual to the man I’m certain I’m going to marry, tearing the secret out like a bandage fused to skin. He tells me of course it’s fine, that he supports who I am. Of course people like me should have rights, of course. I laugh, relieved. Later, I find out this moment was almost a dealbreaker for him, and I wonder how much was ever real.

I’m 20 and I’m out. I’m 20 and I’m free. I’m 20 and I believe, because I’ve been told, that I am loved for who I am. All of who I am. I still flinch when I hear a car door slam.

I’m 21 and I’m searching for the connection to my womanhood. I’m searching for what makes a woman a woman. I’m reading gender theory and talking to friends around the world and wondering exactly what it is that I’m missing.

What does the rest of the world know that I don’t?

I’m 22 when my marriage ends because my body might not be attractive to my husband one day, and my parents email him in support and solidarity, expressing sympathy, and I’m not surprised.

I’m 22, and standing up for who I am has cost me everything. A spouse, two sets of parents, financial security, a city’s worth of community, more childhood friends than I can count. My parents tell me to go back in the closet so my ex-husband will love me. To them, his frustration is understandable, of course—by presenting androgynously, I’m betraying my marriage vows, after all.

I wonder, stunned into silence, where I promised to look like a woman.

I’m 23 when I come out to my parents for the third time; not as bisexual, not as trans, but as hurt. 

I lay out the pain of the last decade as succinctly as I can, hoping they’ll hear. When I assert that yes, to be in relationship with me, use of my name and pronouns is a requirement, my mother jokes, “Well, we don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

It’s not a joke.

I see the flash in her eyes, the instant regret as she laughs it off like it’s funny, but it isn’t.

The kid sitting at the dinner table knows it’s not a joke. The kid who listened to countless lectures on the morality of queerness knows it’s not a joke. The kid who stood with shaking hands and tried to bleed out the bad knows it’s not a joke. Years of casual bigotry taught me how to hate myself, which parts of myself I should cross out and ignore, which parts of myself I should be ashamed of.

I’m 23, and I have finally unlearned shame, and when I ask my parents to see me, the joke is that I’m a terrorist. I’m unreasonable.

The shock of it becomes a balm, later on.

Some jokes aren’t funny.

Some jokes aren’t jokes at all.

I’m 24 and I’m learning that it’s scary to be alone. Bigotry made me an orphan and made us strangers, and knowing that it’s the right choice to stand up for myself doesn’t make it any easier. I’m learning the only way out is through, if you’re not squeamish:

Cut off the part of yourself that’s 7 years old standing outside of their bedroom because the nightmare had teeth and claws and they are the heroes that will hold you close and make it warm again.

Amputate.

Cauterize.

Don’t let them see you bleed.

I’m learning that the wound takes a long, long time to close.

I’m 25 as I write this, and I am proud of who I am, even if I’m still bleeding. All of who I am. It’s taken a long time for me to let that person see the sun, but here we are, basking in the glow. Those wounds are healing. I am visible for everyone else who whispers, “So am I.”

Your sunshine will come. Your sunshine will come. 

Your sunshine will come.