#also also in the game this man has a criminally flat ass so excuse me for giving him some

[thepixelagora]

More sad jedi boy? More sad jedi boy. Now with 80% less clothing.

If you like my work, consider getting me a Kofi | Commissions

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you’re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[quidfree]

prompts,.,, fem tdbk and a date gone very wrong ? ❤️

ohhhh my god anon. pump this shit directly into my veins i love this whole premise let’s go. also all inspired by whatever the fuck horikoshi was doing in this 

just so everyone is on the same page here, it is not a fucking date.

it’s lunch. a singular lunch. people do that shit all the time. even katsuki does lunch, sometimes. she went to that semi-shitty diner place with kirishima that one time when the food hall was shut because some dumbass first year exploded into goo or whatever. and todoroki does lunch, too- her and deku were on some shitty lunch date like a week ago, as evidenced by deku’s even shittier selfie of them having a grand old time doing whatever the fuck they do alone.

fuck, not a shitty lunch date. a shitty lunch. whatever.

the point is lunch is a normal non-date thing people do, and the fact katsuki and todoroki are maybe not the usual suspects for it is just circumstantial. it’s not like they planned it ahead of time, or made some big thing about it. they literally arranged for it in public, so obviously todoroki didn’t think there was anything weird about it. and there isn’t! they’re both going to be in tokyo on the same day, and todoroki’s always happy for any excuse to spend less time with her old man, and katsuki sure as fuck wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to avoid her hag of a birth-giver for a few blissful hours, so when todoroki had very nonchalantly gone ‘oh, bakugou, we could do lunch then”, it wasn’t like she had any real reason to tell her to go fuck herself. like, yeah, maybe a year ago, on principle, she would have, but even katsuki can only take so much trauma-bonding before she resigns herself to the reality that she’s stuck with half ‘n half for life, one way or another, and she may as well suck it up and approach civility because said moron is determined to ignore her open malice until she plays along anyways. they’re... you know, whatever. friends. or something. jesus.

the point being that it’s not a date, and the fact that she’s getting increasingly annoyed at her limited wardrobe is just because she would have packed more shit if the crone hadn’t insisted that they ‘pack light’ so they could get cheaper train tickets for less luggage. it’s just annoying that she can’t wear anything that’s not screaming holiday.

it occurs to her as she sits and scowls at her suitcase that her mother has been watching her from the doorframe for some undetermined amount of time, which is criminal mainly because she’s a goddamn hero-to-be and getting snuck up on by anyone is a blight upon her good name. she tries to disguise the ego damage dealt by glowering murderously in her progenitor’s direction.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“you know,” the she-devil says, cocking a hip, “if you want to borrow something nicer...”

“i wouldn’t be caught dead in your shitty clothes!” katsuki snarls, which prompts the witch to immediately scowl back.

“watch your damn mouth!”

“watch your waistline! no way in hell are we the same size!”

“why you little-”

the interruption at least reminds her that she is obsessing over her clothes ahead of meeting todoroki for lunch, which is so humiliating it kickstarts her brain again long enough to grab some normal shit and get the hell out of there.

on the walk she checks her phone again. the previous day she’d had to bite the bullet and make the first move, todoroki’s infamously terrible communication skills making themselves known once more, and their ensuing conversation had been so mortifying she’d nearly cancelled all-together.

to: Half ‘n half

Yo asshole are we still meeting tomorrow or what

I’m busy as shit

from: Half ‘n half

Yes. TS

to: Half ‘n half

What the fuck is TS

from: Half ‘n half

I was signing off.

to: Half ‘n half

SIGNING OFF ON YOUR OWN TEXT

YOU THINK I DONT KNOW YOUR DAMN NAME

from: Half ‘n half

[Pin attached]

Does here at 12.30 work for you?

to: Half ‘n half

Yeah whatever

Don’t be late

And don’t think I’m forgetting the fucking signing off thing

from: Half ‘n half

Glad you can make time for mockery in your busy as shit schedule.

the venue looks like some rich person shit, which she semi-expected, but it means a lot of people give her weird looks as she makes her way inside, probably on account of the shorts and t-shirt she’s wearing if not her general vibe. some old woman actually drags her purse to her, which makes katsuki sorely tempted to bare her teeth and maybe hiss for effect, though she settles for scowling and shoving her hands in her pockets. it’s 12.27, because she wasn’t going to be late but being any earlier would have given off some dubious impression that she’s eager to see todoroki, except now she kind of wishes she’d just come for 12.30 because if there’s some reservation bullshit she gets the feeling she’s going to start fighting with the waiting staff, and then-

“bakugou,” todoroki calls, from inside, raising a hand with unnecessary formality. “you made it.”

“course i made it,” katsuki grunts, absolutely not relieved as she by-passes the suspicious looking waiter to join her outside. “think i can’t ride the damn underground by myself?”

todoroki is wearing jeans cuffed at the ankles and a white t-shirt on top of which she’s thrown on an open button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and she looks casual and normal and incidentally kind of like they dressed to match, but the important part is that she doesn’t look dressed up at all, so katsuki was totally right about the non-date situation, and also isn’t the only one totally underdressed for the shitty venue.

“you look nice,” todoroki says then, completely shattering katsuki’s brief moment of reprieve. “i’ve never seen so much color on you.”

katsuki almost chokes on her own tongue, but the worst part is that the asshole seems completely nonchalant about the weird as shit observation, focused on her stool as she takes a seat on the balcony. which- what the actual fuck? since when does todoroki issue compliments unprompted- of the non-professional variety, at that? and what the fuck does she expect katsuki to say now- return the compliment? say thanks? is this whole thing some kind of exercise in psychological torture?

well, fuck it. she can’t look like a little bitch just because todoroki said something inanely positive. two can play that game.

“yeah. you look half decent yourself. did you hire someone to dress you for the occasion?”

todoroki blinks up at her in surprise, which is totally a win and would make her more smug if she could stop feeling so weird and prickly all over. for a dangerous moment todoroki seems on the verge of blushing, but miraculously the world rights itself and the usual deadpan persists, one brow quirking up in completely feigned ineptitude.

“there was a compliment somewhere in there, so thank you, i think. i thought we were past this vendetta.”

“we’ll be past this vendetta the day you burn your piece of shit hero suit,” katsuki retorts, back on familiar ground, and relaxes long enough to squint down at the menu.

this turns out to be a mistake.

“the fuck? is this whole thing in french?”

“oh,” todoroki says, after a beat. “that makes sense. i thought my english had deteriorated.”

“are you- you didn’t know? you recommended the place!”

“it was the nearest place to our hotel,” todoroki defends, now having the decency of looking slightly put out. “coq can’t mean what i think it means, can it?”

“that’s chicken, asshole,” katsuki hisses, flinging the menu down. “great, now we’re going to have to flag down one of the shithead waiters and ask for a japanese menu. excuse me! hey! yeah, i’m talking to- what the hell, did he just blow me off? hey, jackass! you with the shitty mustache!”

“sorry about that,” todoroki interjects, when mustache asshole turns an offended stare their way. “do you have the japanese menu?”

“we only serve the food in its authentic form,” mustachioed asshole says, with frigid self-satisfaction. “might i suggest google translate?”

“might i suggest my foot up your ass, you shitty-”

“that’s fine,” todoroki says, in a flat tone that implies otherwise. “we’ll make do.”

the waiter sniffs pretentiously as katsuki thinks about all the ways she could beat his ass into next tuesday, running an aggravated hand through her hair when the wind rustles it into her face. she’d half expect todoroki to suggest they fuck off elsewhere, but when she looks back her way she finds an ill-boding gleam of determination in her eyes despite the impassive set to her face, and it’s a testament to how fucked in the head ua has made katsuki that she feels a sort of sick thrill of recognition at the sight. todoroki’s in stubborn bitch mode.

“i’ll have this,” todoroki says, sure enough, pointing to the most expensive item on the menu. “and also this. and one of those.”

the waiter’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull, and todoroki looks unfazed in katsuki’s direction, tapping pointedly at a sleek black and red credit card in her wallet. “bakugou?”

well, if endeavour’s paying....

“sure,” katsuki says, slowly, and then turns her meanest smile the waiter’s way. “i want the frog legs.”

mustache clears his throat, attempts condescension. “we don’t serve that here.”

“you’re a gastronomique restaurant,” katsuki says very loudly, as other clients turn to stare, “and you don’t have fucking frog legs? is this a joke? does this napkin say authentic french cuisine or am i hallucinating?”

“i can ask the chef,” the waiter demurs, casting a nervous glance at the muttering snobs nearby, and attempts an ingratiating smile. “anything else for you, mademoiselle?”

“what did you just call me?”

once the ordering debacle is over, todoroki slants katsuki what may well be an apologetic glance, vaguely contrite frown sitting pretty atop her usual dead-eyed stare.

“i probably should have read up on the place ahead of time.”

katsuki is well within her rights to chew her head off, she thinks, but food’s on the way and she got to yell at the asshole who gave her the once-over when she came in, so she’s feeling forgiving, even in the face of todoroki’s annoyingly doll-faced apology. the bitch really has to do the bare minimum and she looks like a fucking kpop idol.

“yeah, whatever. i always knew you were a shitty ops planner.”

todoroki, who is an asshole, looks relieved at her generous forgiveness for all of a second before she quirks a brow. “between the two of us, i only count one person who has actually spoken the words ‘shoot first, ask questions later’.”

“that was in a training simulation,” katsuki protests, outraged. “and you know damn well the actors were annoying as shit!”

“i did find them slightly too committed to the role,” todoroki concedes neutrally, which totally means she agrees with katsuki 100% and is being precious about it. katsuki scoffs.

“least the view’s decent.”

“the-“ todoroki starts, in weirdly confused tones, until she follows katsuki’s gaze outward and nods in understanding. “oh, the skyline. yes.”

what else katsuki could have meant she doesn’t fucking know: they’re sitting pretty in the middle of tokyo. the only thing the hellhole of a restaurant has going for it at this point is the cityscape.

todoroki stares out into the distance for a good long moment, and with the breeze her negligently loose hair whips this way and that, red and white blur where the two halves mingle. instinctively katsuki itches to braid it flat so it doesn’t tangle. if todoroki asked her she’d tell her to just cut her damn hair into a bob or something- it’s not like icyhot has any attachment to her princess hair, and she’s got the obnoxious bone structure to pull off any length. not that she’d mention this last part. or that she’s given it much thought. it’s just fucking obvious.

if todoroki could keep her mouth shut throughout the rest of the meal, it could be sort of nice. tokyo skyline, and companionable silence, and presumably edible food. worse ways to kill some time, and way less incriminating than anything that may be said otherwise.

“i think this is the part where we make small talk,” todoroki says instead, sadist that she definitely is, as katsuki grimaces feelingly her way.

“no, we don’t.”

“well, we don’t. but this is the part where we should.”

“i don’t even believe you can last a minute of small talk, icyhot.”

todoroki looks pensive, mismatched eyes thoughtful. “...how has your day been?”

“uneventful,” katsuki says, combative, and eyes her watch. todoroki does not give.

“this place seems nice.”

“you don’t even think that.”

“how have you been finding tokyo?”

“noisy.”

“the weather seems-”

“no.”

“you look nice.”

“you said that already, dumbass,” katsuki grunts, palms crackling with sweat, and does not at all read into the way todoroki makes a stupid little movement with her mouth that could ungenerously be interpreted as a pout.

“well, i meant it, so i’m saying it twice.”

“give it up, half ‘n half, just ask me about training.”

“...how is your training?”

“i did this thing yesterday,” katsuki starts, leaning back in her chair, and from then launches into a very technical and barely exaggerated retelling of the batshit insane stunt she pulled off with her quirk the day prior. todoroki’s focused attention is gratifying, in a totally platonic non-weird way- it’s just that her parents couldn’t very well follow why exactly said stunt was as insane as it is, but todoroki obviously can, and also there’s that thing with todoroki where pulling a reaction out of her ice queen act is admittedly more satisfying than most people. it has jack shit to do with the fact katsuki’s got a very minor complex about todoroki paying her her dues, and even if it did then that’s entirely fucking reasonable considering she still hasn’t forgiven her for the sports fest incident. 

it is a little weird having todoroki’s sole focus on her outside of hero shit, though. it’s not like they really hang out one on one outside of school or work. it’s kind of- unnerving. yeah. unnerving, to be making prolonged eye contact, todoroki’s expression intent but not intense the way she gets in fight scenarios, frowning lightly because she has resting bitch face but apparently genuinely interested. it’s kind of a relief that todoroki asks questions- moves them safely into a conversation, so katsuki’s not just sitting there talking and sort of dry-throated. fucking waiter, leaving them water-less.

it’s fine. they talk about training, and quirks, and then todoroki pushes her hair behind her ears and leans forward to demonstrate on a small scale this thing she’s trying to do where she melts her ice and refreezes it in rapid succession so it causes what is essentially ice rain, but there’s logistics and shit that need to be worked out for it to work the way she’s thinking it might, and katsuki knows her thermal shit so they start scrawling maths over the napkins, and then bicker over the finer points of first year chemistry, so when the food actually arrives to interrupt them todoroki’s startled blink is weirdly relatable, like she also forgot where they were.

the waiter’s there and gone before they’re really recovered from the brief misplacement, which katsuki registers only when she looks down at her empty glass.

“goddamnit- how hard is it to bring us water?”

“they only offer sparkling,” todoroki says, gravely, then outpaces katsuki’s disgust by placing her hand over her glass, ice rising before she switches hands and melts it down. “tell me if the temperature’s off.”

intensely mollified and trying not to look it, katsuki sips it. “’s fine.”

“okay,” todoroki says, faintly pleased, and tilts her head to look down at her food. “i have no idea what any of this is.”

“moron,” katsuki snorts, except it comes out way fonder than it has any rights to, and from beneath the convenient curtain of hair todoroki’s smiling a little, so she hastily stabs a frog leg and gets to eating before anyone gets any ideas.

the actual meal goes okay-ish. most of the stuff todoroki ordered is extremely pretentious french cuisine, and todoroki secretly has the culinary adventurousness of a five year old, so it befalls katsuki to impatiently attempt every dish and pronounce it edible before todoroki will deign to brave it. she’s still trying to bully an unyielding todoroki into attempting the weird bird soup thing when there’s commotion nearby. it takes the both of them approximately three seconds to spring into work-mode; katsuki’s on her feet poised for a fight before she’s even consciously thought about it, scanning her peripherals, and she doesn’t even need to look to feel todoroki unconsciously covering her back, cool sting of air signalling her quirk at the ready. 

the commotion turns out just to be some old dumbass choking, relaxing them both out of their stances as she falls back to let todoroki ahead. they’re both uber-qualified for first aid shit, but she’s self-aware enough to know even todoroki’s bland reassurances are usually preferred to her bedside manner. unfortunately, the whole entourage seems to be braindead, because they’re all crowding the old guy in a panic while he chokes, his wife in shrieking hysterics.

“oh, my god, he’s choking! he’s choking! sugar-plum, stay with me!”

“fuck me,” katsuki mutters, unethically thinking that she would personally prefer choking to being married to someone who calls her sugar-plum, but todoroki’s pushing ahead with implacable calm, so she trudges after her anyways.

“excuse me. excuse me. i need access to your husband.”

“who are you? don’t touch him! help! get this woman off my husband!” wailing hysteric yells, bosom heaving dramatically. katsuki is starting to suspect she poisoned him on purpose or some shit, because no way does anyone talk like that in real life.

“she’s a fucking qualified first aid provider, lady, shut up and let her through!”

thankfully, the woman seems on the verge of an outrage aneurysm, which drags her focus away from suffocating her choking husband to dramatically pointing at katsuki long enough for todoroki to duck past her and reach the guy as he turns purple.

“how dare you speak to me that way? who do you think you are?”

“ma,” chinless moron number one says, clearing his throat. “i think that’s one of those future pros from TV.”

“what?”

“you know, ma,” chinless moron number two adds, glancing nervously between them. “the one that explodes things. you know. from UA.”

katsuki takes great pleasure in watching recognition dawn in the old cow’s beady eyes, but in any event there’s a hacking noise and then the old man’s coughing out a bone into his plate as todoroki steps noiselessly back from the table.

“he’s fine now. enjoy your dinner.”

“god, that was gross,” katsuki says, as they ignore the woman’s sputtering and return to their seats. todoroki tilts her head. 

“not really. if he’d thrown up it would have been.”

“not the choking guy,” katsuki scoffs, casting a glance back his way. “his wife. talk about theatrics.”

“she seemed more afraid of us than her husband dying.”

“for good reason,” katsuki mutters darkly, spreading out in her chair. “i hate civilians.”

“i don’t think she recognised us,” todoroki counters, pensive, and absent-mindedly takes a bite of the weird soup before she screws her face up like a betrayed kid. “oh. you didn’t say it was sweet.”

the look on her face thoroughly distracts katsuki from asking what other reason the pearl-clutcher could possibly have to be so terrified at the mere sight of them; instead, she chokes back a laugh, stifling a grin. “what are you, five?”

“i don’t think i like this,” todoroki says, mournful, which makes katsuki grin harder. she can’t help it- todoroki looking stupid is her kryptonite. 

“then don’t pick a restaurant where you can’t read the menu, next time.”

todoroki’s midway to looking up, but for some reason her expression transforms instantaneously, which makes katsuki reflexively try to quash her amusement. todoroki always gets weird when she’s smiling. 

“next time?”

motherfuck. obviously she didn’t mean next time like next time, she meant next time like- hypothetically, in the future, when todoroki’s on a lunch date with someone else. a lunch non-date. she’s just about stopped sputtering furiously long enough to try and express this sentiment when it occurs to her that todoroki seems- pleased, one eye soft sky-blue when katsuki accidentally meets it, and that draws her up short long enough that she ends up just muttering lamely to herself. fucking todoroki. 

on the heels of this utter embarrassment, she downs the rest of her water, scowls in a neat 180 at everything in sight, and wonders for the first time in her life how the fuck extras get through dates. not that this is one.

it’s fine. they’re done eating, and no one’s died, and katsuki is no longer fifteen and thus mostly trusts her ego to lick its wounds and recover from the ordeal. even if they stick around for desert that’s only another half hour of this to endure. as long as todoroki doesn’t make any sudden moves they’ll be fine.

...the problem is, of course, that sudden moves are todoroki’s modus operandi. katsuki has not forgotten the bitch calling them friends on national television in the same breath that she was vociferously denying them being anything of the sort. in todoroki’s fucked up brain, they’re always ten steps ahead of whatever they actually are- considering katsuki’s come around to privately acknowledging she’d take a couple more stakes through the gut for the asshole, in todoroki’s world they're practically hitched.

platonically. platonically practically hitched. this is not a thing, goddamnit. no matter the weird looks aizawa’s been giving them, or utsushimi’s nefarious schemes, or the alarming cardiopulmonary condition katsuki’s been developing of late. she’s not some shitty yuri protagonist pining over the nearest female bishōnen in her vicinity.

admittedly if she was to pine over anyone it sure as fuck wouldn’t be some guy, but that’s besides the point, since pretty damn near every person on earth is just some guy by her standards, regardless of gender. the fact that todoroki is not one of said people is entirely irrelevant.

her internal irritation is so distracting that she misses the tremors nearby until entirely too late, by which point todoroki’s stupidly perfect brows raise an incremental fraction and she goes: ‘oh’.

when todoroki goes ‘oh’, some shit is about to go down. 

katsuki turns slowly with an impending sense of doom, and sure enough, the sight that greets her is so nightmarish she seriously reconsiders whether the entire day has been just that. 

“don’t freak out,” a giant building-sized deku booms, apologetically, as his hideous giant face stares at them. “it’s just a quirk thing.”

it’s probably a good thing katsuki has gone speechless with outrage, since it permits todoroki’s constantly composed ass to ask useful questions katsuki probably would have coated in a fair amount more threats and cursing.

“midoriya. i didn’t know you were in tokyo.”

“well, i wasn’t meant to be,” deku says/booms like a foghorn, as the restaurant clientele shrieks and stampedes behind them. his sheepish expression is even more punchable when magnified. “it’s a long story. it’s almost sorted out now, though. i just saw you guys from over at the NPA office and thought i’d come ask if you maybe wouldn’t mind lending a hand? i wouldn’t ask but there’s going to be a lot of cleanup and your quirks would be really helpful to-”

“we’ll do it as long as you shut the fuck up,” katsuki yells, to cut him off, massaging her temples. “the monologuing’s bad enough when you’re not about to burst my fucking eardrums, jackass.”

“oh, sorry! i’m trying to be very quiet but this body’s just hard to get used to- thank you so much for helping, i didn’t mean to come bother you on break...”

“it’s fine,” todoroki says, and then seems to realise that her monotone doesn’t reach midoriya’s giant-ass ears and clears her throat, raising her voice to a shout. “it’s fine. let me go deal with the bill and then we’ll go.”

“sorry?” midoriya whisper-shouts, craning his monstrous head closer to them, the sight of which will haunt katsuki for the rest of her life. “i can’t hear what you’re saying!”

“she said she’s going to go pay for our nice fucking lunch,” katsuki hollers, with no small sense of satisfaction, as deku winces and todoroki slinks off. “since you want to come crashing it like a dipshit.”

“sorry, kacchan!” deku begs off, flapping hand gestures creating enough wind to knock over a nearby umbrella stand. “i just thought it would be a lot of help if you came to oversee the fall-out- especially with the building damage-”

“we’re good,” todoroki announces, to katsuki, apparently having given up on matching her in decibels. she’s got that classic hero look on her face, already in work mode, but just when katsuki’s about to do the same and jump into action, the look wavers a little and she frowns vaguely awkwardly. “thanks for doing lunch.”

“huh?” katsuki stutters, thrown, and then scowls at nothing in particular, stalling. todoroki’s the one who paid, albeit indirectly- it’s typically weird of her to be all formal about it all of a sudden, leaving katsuki to attempt to wriggle them out of the awkwardness of the moment. “i didn’t do shit except show up and eat, weirdo.”

“it’s been abnormally hard to show up and eat in the circumstances,” todoroki replies, a little wryly, and more concerningly a little resigned sounding. which is just unnatural, because todoroki may have expanded her range of emotions considerably since first year but resignation is not on her usual roster, and there’s nothing to be resigned about unless she had some kind of vested interest in this whole fiasco playing out any better than it did.

which she didn’t, obviously. katsuki’s been through this. she chose the nearest possible venue and rocked up in jeans and a t-shirt, and- and why is the fact that todoroki never dresses so normally out of class only now occurring to her, again?

she’d said ‘i think this is the part where we do small talk’. the part of what?

“yeah, whatever,” katsuki says, automatically, as her brain plays catch-up, which is the excuse she will forever stick to for what leaves her mouth next. “should have known you’d be a lousy date.”

todoroki goes ‘what?’ at the same moment deku does, ten times louder and more bug-eyed, which reminds katsuki that 1) deku is still there, 2) deku is still as big as his martyr complex, and 3) deku is the fucking worst, and allowing him to trap her into friendship is somehow responsible for this, she’s sure of it. 

“can we go handle this fucking mess or what?” katsuki snaps, instead of screaming or breaking deku’s very large nose or maybe self-immolating in abject humiliation, hands erupting into explosions as she jumps onto the balcony railing. maybe if she throws herself headfirst into the debris she’ll concuss herself and turn amnesiac. 

“um,” deku is saying, when she turns a withering glare his way. “um, yes! yes! yeah! let’s go do that!”

so she jumps skywards, explosions blasting her high into the air, and very scrupulously does not look towards the sounds of slick ice forming just behind her until todoroki skates into her peripheral vision, hair waving flag-like behind her. ahead there’s a building with a crater clean through it where deku must have erupted from, though when she turns to comment she finds him a fair deal behind them, lumbering pace slowed further as he avoids stepping on anyone or anything along the streets. instead her eyes lock on todoroki’s where the latter is staring at her, face unreadable, and she bristles hard enough to disrupt trajectory, correcting course rapidly before she plummets into an office.

“what?”

“i’m a lousy date,” todoroki repeats, neutrally, over the wind. katsuki grits her teeth.

“and what about it?”

she’s bracing for a lot, but not the horrible, sickening eye-crinkle thing todoroki does, dark eye twinkling even as her expression stays carefully impassive. “you think you can do better, then?”

“hah?”

“next time,” todoroki intones, very precisely, and then dips ahead like a complete coward as katsuki goes a color never previously visible to the human eye, sifting through about fifteen emotions before she decides to stick to outrage.

“what the hell? you suck at asking people out, icyhot!”

“you don’t have to say yes.”

“what, you think i can’t do better than this mess? you’re on, asshole.”

“i look forward to it,” todoroki says, gravely, and then there’s a collapsed building to handle and shit to do and if anyone wants to ask why katsuki is so especially gleeful in blowing shit up they wisely keep their mouths shut. she just likes the job, all right.

(for the record, it’s still not a date until katsuki says it is.)

[iheardarumorxxx]

Midnight Sun, Chapter 9 - Port Angeles

Right. I remember this chapter from Twilight. I also have heard quite a bit about this chapter. This is gonna be a ride. 

Eddie starts off this chapter saying that he used to be the ‘responsible’ one. I would like to remind everyone that Edward Anthony Masen Cullen spent a few years eating people he percieved to be horrible criminals because he didn’t like animal blood and was being a whiny baby. But go off, Eddie.

SM is still trying to paint Jessica as a rude bitch and I still don’t buy it. It is extremely clear to anyone with eyeballs that Mike has a thing for Bella, and it is pretty obvious that this date he’s going on with Jessica is because Bella said no. So her thoughts come off as insecure. She’s a teenage girl, so I think insecure is a pretty standard thing. Not always, but SM has painted these kids as the stereotypical teens, so.

Basically, I still don’t buy the attempt to make Jessica seem evil.

Bella has wandered off to go get that book she wanted, and Eddie is simply freaking out because he let his daughter out of his sight for one minute and she wandered off. He’s about half a second away from considering getting a leash to put on her. Seriously, though, that’s how this reads. A parent frantic because they lost their child in a crowded store or park. We all know she’s gonna get a serious scolding for this one. Maybe even grounded.

a volly of snarls erupted from my throat

Okay, we’re still not to the big rant about vampire instincts in this universe, yet, but I want you guys to remember this for later. It absolutely aides in the point I plan to make there. Also a ‘volly’ of snarls. That sounds so forced and I genuinely laughed out loud when I read it. Anyway, Eddie has found Bella and she is with the Evil Bad Guys Who Have Ill Intentions. 

I would see how he enjoyed the hunt when he was the pray. I would see what he thought of my style of hunting.

Technically a spoiler because it hasn’t happened yet in this book, but not because we’ve seen it in Twilight. Eddie literally does not do anything to this Lanny guy or his friends. He gets out of the car, makes a mean face at them, and then gets back in the car and drives off. Maybe SM has Eddie go back out and hunt them later after he drops Bella off, but that doesn’t fit in with his squeaky clean good boy persona that Daddy Carlisle puts on him, so I doubt it. The scene as we know it comes off as very ‘man, if my girlfriend wasn’t here I’d kick your ass’. Because Eddie is a lot of bloated, puffed up talk.

When SM uses dialogue tags like ‘ordered’ to describe how Eddie says things, it just really hammers home that point I’ve been making about red flags. Even if it’s practical, like him telling Bella to put on a seat belt, especially since Pires bend the will of cars to their inane and idotic physics.

We went on a tangent about one of Eddie’s kills from his Vampire Batman days, and like honestly? I watch a lot of Criminal Minds. I see a lot of this kind of stuff, and it is absolutely awful that people like that exist in the world. I’m not saying that they shouldn’t be stopped. HOWEVER, this idea Eddie has that he was playing a good guy by taking justice into his own hands, I don’t jive with that. Now, I am aware of how faulty the criminal justice system is, especially with victims of sexual assault and domestic violence. I’ve lived that, myself. But if Eddie is so comfortable taking another life, no matter how he tries to justify it, he is no better than the people who he’s deciding to kill for their crimes.

a highly justifiable murder

See, this. This is why I don’t buy that SM’s Cullens are the paragons of good that she is constantly trying to say they are. There is no such thing as a justifiable murder, no matter what. Solving heinous acts with heinous acts simply perpetuates a cycle of heinous acts. 

I wasn’t giving her a chance to say no.

This is a trend that will continue throughout the entire series. I will point you to all of the times that Edward never gave Bella a choice in a matter, including leaving her in New Moon, and DISMANTLING HER CAR ENGINE IN ECLIPSE SO THAT SHE COULDN’T GO SEE HER FRIEND. That one in particular rubs me the wrong way for reasons, but we won’t do that here. Just know that Edward never actually lets Bella make a choice in this series, and even when he pretends to, he does everything in his power to make the outcome go his way.

And now we’re at the restaruant. I’ve heard some stuff about this scene and god, can I not WAIT, but for now, let’s just talk about the one off waitress character. She is clearly only here to be a rival to Bella for this scene. Brief, unimportant, underdeveloped. And honestly? One off characters don’t actually need that development, not really, but what I can’t stand about this one is that she is literally only here, both in this book and in Twilight, so that SM can puff up how clearly Bella is so much better than she is. Because, you see, Eddie doesn’t find the pretty hostess attractive, he only has eyes for Bella. Her entire point is so that Edward can look at Bella, and therefore, the audience as Bella is their SI for this world, and go on about how much better and prettier and more perfect she is than this woman. It’s just gross.

“Do I dazzle you?”

This is still, in my personal opinion, the best and most iconic line in a series full of iconic lines. Eddie the Dazzle Machine. Charming the pants off people when he’s trying to scare the shit out of them. It’s hilarious, and so fuckin’ romance novel cliche, and I love it.

This restaurant is apparently a real place in the real Port Angeles. And from what I understand, at least when the Twilight craze was in full swing back in 2008, they got a lot of extra business and a lot more people ordering the mushroom ravioli. Even put something about Twilight on their menu. Good for them, taking advantage of that free marketing. I have never been to Port Angeles, and am allergic to mushrooms, so I can’t say I’ve experienced the dish, but if any of you have, please let me know if it’s worth the hype.

Its so funny that right now, Eddie is worried about Bella being cold and going into shock, while Bella is over there huffing the fumes off his jacket like it’s a paint can, and he can’t even tell that that’s what she’s doing. The girl is doing everything short of just shoving her whole face in it and inhaling, but he’s too thick to get it. 

And here we are folks. The meat and potatoes of this chapter. The big comparison. The reason the cover has a pomegranete on it. Edward Anthony Masen Cullen has the absolute GALL to compare Bella, the boring, walking video game avatar to Persephone. Lets break down Persephone for a second here. There’s a lot to break down, but let’s stick to the basics, for fear that this rant gets wickedly out of hand before I can stop it. Persephone radiates optimism and hope. Persephone is soft, sweet, but has a temper that could kill a man. Persephone is sympathetic. When in the ever loving FUCK has Isabella Swan ever shown any of those characteristics? She is NEVER optimistic about anything. She fucking exists in a constant cloud of negative thought and assuming the worst. She isn’t hopeful about ANYTHING, not even her future with her PRECIOUS Eddie because she’s always questioning his intentions and feelings for her. She is not sympathetic in the slightest, no matter what SM tries to shove down my throat. She treats her friends like shit, she manipulates and lies her way through conversations so she doesn’t have to deal with them, she compares Mike to a FUCKING DOG. Bella is not comparable to Persephone, and it’s fucking beyond ham-fisted, it’s fucking EGREGIOUS to try to make that comparison. 

I could see more of an argument for comparing Eddie to Hades, since, ya know, Hades fucking stole Persephone to be his wife and most stories about Hades paint him as kind of a moody, brooding dickbag, but I’m still calling fucking foul on this attempt at comparison, SM. No dice.

Moving on.

Eddie describing Bella’s skin as ‘velvety’ gives me war flashbacks to those grocery store checkout novels with Fabio on the cover that my mom used to read. Eghhh.

So, Bella touches Eddie’s hand and it’s described in a way that gives me very G-rated sex vibes. Which just makes me wanna tell them to get a room because they’re in public right now, and also don’t do that in front of Bella’s salad ravioli.

Eddie is still being super controling and weird about Bella eating, and honestly, I super wish that Bella had had the good sense to get the hell out of there with Jess and Angela. Or that she would have the good sense now to excuse herself, find someone on staff, ask to borrow a phone, and call her dad. Because this guy is literally throwing out every red flag that exists. I know I say this a lot, but if Bella were a normal girl, she would not be charmed by this guy, she would be freaking creeped out and trying to get away from him. He isn’t even subtle about his creep factor or charming enough to play it off.

Edward thinking he has any edge at all is like white bread thinking it’s the right kind of bread for a hamburger.

Anyway, chapter ends with Eddie paying the bill and the pair getting in the car to head home. And the drama chord of the last sentence that’s supposed to play in your head when you read it falls flat. They’re on the way back to Forks and Eddie is chomping at the bit to hear Bella’s latest theory that we know from Twilight isn’t actually a theory so much as she heard a story from Jacob and then did some searching on some shitty Angelfire website. Or Geocities. Either way. And then she just went ahead and had a big old prophetic dream about it. 

Next time, we get the awkward car ride home and more. Thanks for hanging around guys. As always, feel free to message me (though, please note to anyone who has sent me anon messages that are rude or angry because I’m making fun of this book, I’m gonna ignore you.), recommend what books I should put on my list for my next recap series, and feel free to buy me a snack using the CashApp tag in my bio.

See you next time, babes.

[shewrites02]

Southern Hospitality | Erik Killmonger x Black Reader | Chpt. 1

Summary: College AU where Erik seems to make the reader’s college transition a nightmare, while some how making it better as well

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Word count: 953

A/n: Heres a short little flick for all my college girls out here. I hope yall enjoy it, pretty please tell me what you think. I’m just now starting to get inspired again. 

You scanned the cafe for your friends who promised that they would wait for you to get out of class. But their lack of prescence and the dirty dishes that sat on yall's regular table, told you they had chosen otherwise. Yet again. You huffed. If your freshman year at MIT had taught you anything it's that you can't trust the bitches. Especially being one of the few black women on campus, you couldn't help but feeling left out and rejected. After your first week here, you'd already contemplated going home back to Ft. Worth. But being yet another college drop out to come back to the hood had to be worse than being a lonely black girl at a prestigeous university.

You grabbed your usual pizza for lunch, and searched for a place to sit. Your eyes fell upon the only other black person in the cafe, and the only black person you'd seen on campus since move in day. Swallowing the voice of social anxiety that told you to go sit at the booth in the back alone, you turned on your Teaxas charm and approached the table.

"Can I sit here?"

The boys eyes met yours, then they surveyed the cafe as if to say "look at all those other seats" before landing back on you. He didn't say anything just returned back to eating his food. You took that as an invitation to sit, and even if it wasn't there was no way you were going to allow your friendship shot to be rejected by what seemed to be the only other black person on campus.

The two of you sat in awkward silence. You would glance his way every other bite of your pizza but he never bothered to look up at you. It was almost as if you were completely invisible to him.

"What's your name?" You asked plastering a friendly smile to your face.

He didn't respond. Didn't even look up. You hoped he hadn't heard you, and that he wasn't such an asshole that he would sit infront of you and deadass ignore you.

"What's yo-"

"I heard you the first time!" He retorted finally looking at you.

You waited anxiously for him to continue, maybe even answer you question. But just asbefore, he went back to eating his food.

"Well excuse the fuck outta me for thinking you'd answer! Especially as there aren't too many of us around here ... God, I fucking hate it here."

You snatched your plate off the table and proceeded to leave the cafe.

-

Weeks later you had accepted that you were here to achieve one goal. Get that degree.  Fuck making friends! You didn't need anyone but you! But that was  difficult motto to live by right now when you've found yourself broke down with a flat tire on the darkest road on campus, with no one to call. And you knew damn well that none of these melanin deficiant people would stop and help. You had no clue as to what you were going to do. You had a spare you couldn't even put on because out of all the life lessons your father decided to bestow upon you before leaving college, changing a spare was not one of them. Putting me up on game so "none of these little niggas, played me" was your daddy's top priority.

With tears swelling in the brims of your eyes, you sat on the curb breaking down into tears. This was it, this was God's way of telling you to take your ass back to Ft. Worth where you belonged. Who the fuck did you think you were to move across state and feel like you were okay. places like this, they weren't made for girls like you.

"You got a spare?"

Your eyes darted up. In the dark of the night you could only make out a 6' figure, nothing more. Chills ran down your spine. Every episode of Criminal Minds has taught you that this is the part of the show where you get ropped up and put into the back of a pick up truck never to be reported missing or seen again. Paralyzed with fear, you froze.

"Damn your friendly ass can't speak now? "

The voice had now started to sound family, and the shadow man had finally stepped into the sliver of light that bounced off the pavement . You were now able to see it was that bastard from the cafe a couple weeks ago. And your hoplessness had now slipped into full despair.

"Nigga, what the fuck do you want?!"

"I already asked your goofy ass if you had a spare! Or I could fucking leave you here!"

You let out a small frustrated growl. Part of you was tempted to tell him to go, in the south disrespect wasn't easily forgiven. But you also knew he was probably the only help you were going to get out here.

"In the trunk."

"Move."

He slightly pushed passed you being sure that his shoulder bumped yours as he did. He yanked the tire out the trunk and quickly replaced the tire. Throwing the flat in your trunk and slamming it closed once finished. He didn't bother to wait around for a thank you or even tell you he was done, just started to walk back to his car.

"Thank you!" You shouted at him. A bit of sarcasm laced in your tone. "You should really work on your people skills" You continued.

That made him stop in his tracks, and for a moment he just stared at you.

"Erik."

"What?"

"My name is Erik."

and with that he got back in the car.

Chapter Two: https://shewrites02.tumblr.com/post/187761495400/southern-hospitality-erik-killmonger-x-black

tags: @missshae @chaneajoyyy @lostennyc 

I lost my tag list so if you would like to be on it, please let me know lol and sorry to those I forgot. 

[theheavymetalmama]

And now, some Unpopular Opinions!

Because at this point, why the hell not?

Iron Man was better than The Dark Knight

I am in no way, shape, or form suggesting that The Dark Knight is a bad movie. Far from it, in fact. It’s a damn good movie with some fantastic performances, a gripping story, and some of the best written characters and dialogue in the history of movie making. So is Iron Man the better movie? For one, it’s not so stuck up its’ own ass about its’ message. The Dark Knight is a lot of things and one of them is pretentious as fuck, come off as less of a love letter to Batman and more of a method of the director Chris Nolan showing how much he has nothing but contempt for superheroes and comic books in general. Iron Man, in contrast, embraces it and has fun with the idea of a guy who builds a mech suit and fights bad guys. There’s also the question of influence, and that right there is no contest. The Dark Knight influenced Batman; Iron Man influenced the entire movie industry.

Final Fantasy XV was a massive disappointment

I kind of feel bad for dunking on this game considering they just cancelled the last of the DLC. Then again the last of the DLC was going to expand on Lady “Show Up and Blow Up” Lunafreya and Aranea “I’m here and now I’m not” Highwind’s stories and now we’re not getting them and I’m still bitter as fuck for the director’s pathetic excuse for why a girl couldn’t attend the coming of age road trip, so all bet’s are off! Okay, the ladies getting shafted aside, there is a lot to like about Final Fantasy XV, but was it worth the tedious development time? No way in hell. The game looks good but like many open world games feels mostly lifeless and empty, and of the four main characters only one of them is likable and isn’t even playable in the game’s vanilla form. The story is a broken mess that requires other forms of media to fully grasp (dick fucking move there, Squeenix) and the summons coming at random times serves as more of an annoyance than anything, especially since they always seem to show up except during times when and where they’d be useful. It also doesn’t say good things about a company’s management when a game can sell millions of copies in record time as well as do gangbusters on downloadable content and then still manage to lose over 30 million dollars.

And for the record, let it be known that Noctis is far and away the whiniest and most emo protagonist in Final Fantasy history, which is saying something considering this is a series where one such protagonist’s entire character is being so jaded and world weary to the point that his name is the sound a crying baby makes, and he doesn’t whine and complain as much as Noctis does.

Just because you’re a cop or a soldier, that doesn’t automatically make you a good person

I’m in favor of police and law enforcement and even though I believe our military budget makes Caligula himself look frugal in comparison I do support our troops. Having said that, being a cop or a trooper doesn’t mean jack shit if the person under the uniform is a complete and utter scumbag, which happens more often than many care to admit. In fact some people, many people, become cops and soldiers not to protect and serve or out of a sense of honor and duty, but simply because they like making others miserable and want to do it for a living. There’s a reason songs about fighting the law and unflattering depictions of authority figures date back as far as authority figures have been a thing. Respect is earned, not given.

‘White Nationalist’ and ‘Nazi’ are the same things

Calling a Nazi a white nationalist is like calling somebody who abuses their spouse a rough lover. Stop beating around the bush and tell it like it is. Also, don’t debate Nazis, punch them. Punch them as hard as you fucking can. If they punch you back, punch them again, and again, and again until they either run away (which most of them do) or stop moving. Trust me, nobody is going to miss them. That goes double for the alt right. Oh, and speaking of which...

Far Cry 5 chickened out

As somebody who grew up in a dead gold mining community that was mostly Catholic, when the first trailer for Far Cry 5 came out I was stoked as hell for the chance to gun down religious fanatics and skinheads in a place in rural America that didn’t look all that different. Then the game came out and it was abundantly clear to anybody that something somewhere in the game was changed at the last minute. Some have argued that it was their intention from the get go, others claimed they didn’t want to alienate their core demographic. It doesn’t say nice things about your core demographic if you’re worried about depictions of white supremacist cultists scaring them away, but okay, fine. Then make a game that takes place during the decline of the Ku Klux Klan, or in a post World War II Europe where you hunt Nazi war criminals, or failing that make something akin to Black Dynamite or a wacky 70′s Kung Fu movie where everything is purposefully over the top and exaggerated, I don’t care! All your other games have you gunning down hordes of brown people, let people like me and my husband kill some skinheads god damn it!

If you still support Donald Trump after all the vile and abhorrent things he’s done, you’re a bad person

There’s no beating around the bush on this one. I don’t blame people who were swooned by this conman thinking he’d genuinely make a good president and have since regretted their decision. I have nothing but sympathy for them. No, I’m talking about the people who STILL trip over themselves to defend this vile, homophobic, delusions, misogynist, narcissistic bigot. Like when he called Nazis “very fine people,” or is still pushing for a stupid wall along our border that will be bested by two extension ladders and a pair of tin snips. The travel ban, the rollback on regulations that kept food insecure people fed, kids dying in his fucking concentration camps, yeah, no. He’s a treasonous scumbag who deserves to be locked in an 8x8 cell until he rots, and if you still support him then you can claim the top bunk.

Climate change is real and coal can fuck off

Coal is dead. Let it lay down and rot. What, coal is your only source of income in the area you live in? Then move somewhere else! You think I would have left my hometown if there were any opportunities other than timber, fishing, and tourist traps? Sorry, but the longer we stay in the past with coal the lesser we can look forward to a future where a planet can sustain human life. If we want our planet to live then coal needs to die.

No, the left isn’t “just as bad” as the right

This is a fucking gas lighting farce that immediately falls apart when put under scrutiny. Are there extremists and crazies on the left? Of course there are, but they’re entirely different beasts as those found on the right. The left is more of a “eat enough kale and you can talk to dolphins” or “sleep with crystals under your bed and you can see the future” kinds of crazy, whereas the right is more of the “kill all the queers and let the brown babies starve” kind of crazy. Oh, and to each and every single person who said “Clinton is just as bad as Trump,” y’all can cover your reproductive organs in honey and stick them in a mason jar filled with live bullet ants and tarantula hawks, you ignorant scare mongering shitheels!

“Captain Marvel doesn’t smile!”

So what? She’s a space Navy Seal, not a boy scout like Captain America or Superman; she’s not supposed to smile.

No, the ‘alt left’ doesn’t exist and Antifa aren’t the same as Nazis

Are Antifa breaking the law? Yes. Should they be held accountable for their actions? Yes. Are people who want to kill Nazis exactly the same as people who want to exterminate the Jews and subjugate anybody who isn’t white while wiping other people’s culture off the face of the Earth under an authoritarian rule? Hell to the no and “Antifa is just as bad as the Nazis” is right up there with “Vaccinations cause autism” and “the Earth is flat” on the scale of “If you believe this, you are STUPID.” If Nazis and white supremacists went unopposed they’d go around raping and murdering Jews and non whites until there were absolutely none of them left. You know Antifa would be doing if there weren’t any Nazis around? Sitting in their crappy apartments smoking weed, sipping craft beer, eating pizza, and laughing their asses off at 20 year old Saturday Night Live skits. Ooooooh, scary! Yes, Antifa are assaulting people and destroying public property and yes they should be held accountable for their actions. But I’m not going to pretend, even hypothetically, that Nazi apologist scumbags like Tucker Carlson having his door banged on or actual Nazis like Richard Spencer getting punched in the face is on the same playing field as babies being put in cages, innocent black people being murdered by cops, or Jews being put into ovens, you fucks!

New She Ra is better than Old She Ra and 80′s cartoons in general

If you don’t like the new She Ra and prefer the old one, fine, you do you, but don’t act like the original is “So much better” because it isn’t at all. The villains were jokes, the animation was beyond cheap, the characters all looked the same, there were stupid talking animal sidekicks, and the story went nowhere really fucking fast outside of “Bad guys are doing bad guy stuff, our heroes must stop them” because they were commercials to sell toys. Nothing more, nothing less. If the new She Ra isn’t your bag then that’s all well and good, but don’t be a stupid asshole about it, talking about how it wasn’t featured at PowerCon like it’s a big fucking deal when only sad dorks like us give a shit about conventions, or whine about how you’re being oppressed and censored because a 16 year old isn’t rocking 44DD’s, or talk about “CalArts style” like that’s a real goddamn thing. Oh yeah, and speaking of which...

“CalArts style” is not a thing

Shut the fuck up, no it isn’t. It’s a stupid, meaningless buzzword hurled at people who never fucking went to CalArts in the first place. If you’re perplexed as to why modern cartoons all look like Steven Universe, the simple fact is that cartoons are made predominantly for children and shows are made to be aesthetically pleasing to them. With shows like Adventure Time, Regular Show, Steven Universe, Star vs the Forces of Evil, and Gravity Falls being soaring success stories while shows like Young Justice, new GI Joe, and 2011 Thundercats ambitious failures, it’s obvious that formal abstractionist non angularity is in while aspirational human physical fitness is out, and a big reason the latter was even a thing in the first place is because they were toy commercials first and there were only so many variations on plastic molds to form the fucking action figures and because it was the 80′s and Arnold was the biggest star at the time.

“Star Wars: the Last Jedi” is a good movie and fanboys can eat bantha poodoo

I’ve heard all the reasons for why The Last Jedi is a bad movie and they’re all either stupid nitpicky bullshit or meaningless fanboy gripes. I could write an entire essay debunking those reasons point for point, like how the reason Holdo didn’t tell Poe a damn thing because no admiral would ever a tell a lowly grunt anything about their plan, especially after being demoted for being a hotheaded little fuckup. Or that Rey being related to Obi Wan or any previous Star Wars character didn’t happen because that would have been stupid and the definition of predictable. Or that the reason Akbar didn’t do the suicide run is because he’s a meme that the general audience doesn’t give a shit about and that there’s no way in Hell that the Mouse would allow a character named “Akbar” to do a suicide run. Or that Kylo Ren not being an intimidating villain is the whole point and that you’re supposed to hate him because he’s a petulant Darth Vader wannabe and a snake to boot. Or that the effectiveness of said suicide run, where Snoke came from, or the state of the Resistance by the end of the movie, or that any other so called ‘plot hole’ doesn’t matter because this is a movie about space wizards for children and paying obsessive attention to meaningless and pedantic details is exactly how we end up with stupid subplots in the Beauty and the Beast remake and Metropolis and Gotham City being across the river from each other! But the biggest one is Luke wasn’t portrayed as some Jedi Clint Eastwood (why fanboys want that eludes me; the EU did that a few times and they were all terrible) and that him exiling himself doesn’t make any sense.

Sorry, but no, Luke running off to a far and unreachable island makes perfect sense. For one, it’s kind of a thing that disgraced Jedi do, and for two, Star Wars is a fairy tale in space. All of the characters draw inspiration from characters and archetypes from fairy tales and fables of old, and the one Luke Skywalker resembles most (largely by design) is King Arthur. Think about it. Common boy who doesn’t know who his real parents are, meets an old wizard, gets a legendary sword, discovers he’s of noble lineage, tags along with a few colorful characters, goes on a quest that’s bigger than him and the life he knew, hits a few bumps down the road, and then eventually he saves the kingdom by overthrowing his father who once was a great man and a hero but gave in to power and corruption and became a dark reflection of his former self.

You will never unsee that. 

Oh yeah, and remember how things turned out for King Arthur in the end? He started a whole new kingdom, he had a few good years, he grew arrogant, things started to fall apart, and suddenly he and everything he worked to build up were undone overnight by a younger, more vindictive relative. Disgraced, Arthur was whisked away to an unreachable island deep rooted in his own legend and mythology where he remained until Britain had fallen to darkness and needed him again. Now of course Britain as we know it has yet to see such a thing (we’ll see how Brexit turns out) but Luke did exactly that. And no, sorry fanboys, but The Last Jedi wasn’t a failure in any sense of the word. It grossed over a billion dollars, received critical praise, the DVDs and BluRays sold like hotcakes, and was adored by kids, teenagers, and young adults, the primary audience that Star Wars is for in the first place. And I don’t give a shit what the audience score on RT says, because for one aggregate sites are a blight on film criticism and we went from this;

“Batman v Superman and Suicide Squad are AMAZING, Rotten Tomatoes is biased and paid off by Disney!”

To this...

“Star Wars: the Last Jedi is TERRIBLE, Rotten Tomatoes says so!”

In just over a year. To say nothing of the fact that what you’re currently saying about The Last Jedi was also said about The Empire Strikes, and like ‘Empire’ twenty years from now people will look back on the fanboy outrage and say “Wow, what a bunch of babies.” And before the inevitable response...

“But Solo bombed because of The Last Jedi!” 

Nooooo, Solo bombed because it came out right between Infinity War and Deadpool 2, was rife with development issues since day one of production, it was aimed overwhelmingly at fanboys obsessed with Star Wars deep lore answering questions that the general audience doesn’t give a shit about, nobody was even interested in the thing until the Lego Movie guys were signed on for a hot second, moviegoers aren’t currently hurting for cocky space cowboys...

...and because of the simple fact that it’s a solo movie about Han Solo...and it’s not 1995 and Harrison Ford isn’t in it. See, fanboys don’t realize that just because nerd and geek bullshit is mainstream now doesn’t mean that everyone is now a fanboy deep rooted in everything from where the characters are from to where they’re going, because when people say “I love Star Wars and Han Solo is my favorite character” what the vast majority of them mean is “Those movies with the space wizards and the laser swords are a lot of fun and Harrison Ford is a great movie star.” That’s it. That’s extent of why people like Han Solo. Sad dorks like us may care about stuff like where and when he got the Falcon, how he met Chewie, where the dice came from and all of that and more, but the general audience just wants to see Harrison Ford do cool shit in space. That’s it. To say nothing of the fact that nobody was even interested in the spinoffs in the first place. When Disney announced that they were making episodes 7,8, and 9 everyone went “Oh Hell yes, sign me up!” Then when they followed up with that they were also making spinoff movies about stuff that happened off screen or between movies the same audience was like “Oh...well that’s neat, I guess.”

And no, that stupid fanboy boycott had nothing to do with. Even the dude who started that petition to strike TLJ from canon admitted that he was in a bad place and that he was being stupid and angry, and I can promise you that all the shrieking dorks on Youtube are the buzzing of flies to Disney. If that crowd had any box office and movie making decision influence whatsoever, the next spinoff we’d see a trailer for would be “My Twi’lek Waifu: a Star Wars Story.”

PewDiePie is the worst thing to happen to video games this side of the gaming crash of 83 and he needs to fuck off

Yes, you read that right, and I don’t say that lightly. All sorts of terrible things have happened in the gaming industry since the gaming crash of 83. The console wars, the Atari Jaguar, the Philips CDi, Jack Thompson, the death of the Dreamcast, WoW, an entire console generation packed to the gills with homogenous gray and brown shooters with protagonists who all looked the fucking same, GamerGate, microtransactions, DLC abuse, the death of Maxis, an increasingly toxic fandom, “women are too hard to animate,” the degradation of E3 from a showcase of the biggest and bestest in gaming to a corporately sponsored circlejerk of self congratulatory backslapping and so much, much more.

I don’t care how much PewDiePie gives to charity, or how many fans he has, or how many people think he’s just the greatest, because he’s not. He’s an embarrassing, stupid asshole who constantly gets busted for making stupid racist jokes and by extension making his fans and everyone who has even the vaguest ties to the word ‘gamer’ look like stupid, racist assholes. He’s a corporate ass sucking apologist who gives exposure to anti Semites and racist wastes of space to his audience of mostly 10 to 15 year old boys, and he’s more terminally obnoxious than an Adderall addicted Pomeranian. 

The day he posted his first video of him overreacting to a jump scare while making loud screeching noises on top of edgy rape jokes was the day the progress of “gaming as an art form” was shot between the eyes, placed in a box that was then filled with concrete, and thrown into the ocean. He’s a dumbass man child that’s making all of us look bad and he needs to take his millions worth of corporate sponsorships and fuck off forever into some dark, lonely corner of the Internet where he’ll never be seen or heard from again until an inevitable meltdown that lands him on an episode of Down the Rabbit Hole.

And that concludes this post. I’ll give my final thoughts tomorrow, and on Saturday I’m closing this account forever.

[jbuffyangel]

Weekly Rundown 10/21/18-10/26/18

Time to rundown what I’m watching, loving, hating and everything in between! Spoilers ahead! Full episode reviews and reactions are linked in the titles.

Daredevil Season 3

Just so y’all know - most nuns do not wear their habits in public anymore. It’s been that way since Vatican II, but TV refuses to catch up.

The action is amaaaaazing again. I love how Matt actually gets tired when he’s fighting.

I don’t want Matt to put that ugly Daredevil suit on again he looks ridiculous. Keep the black mask and call it a day.

I want Foggy to propose very badly. I need a Foggy wedding in Season 4.

Is there any particular reason why Karen didn’t haul ass to Frank’s Punisher lair when her life was in danger and Matty Mcbrown eyes was off Daredeviling an existential crisis? That’s where I’d go.

Matt refusing to ask the other Defenders help because “it’s not their fight” is the stupidest reason ever.

Arrow (“The Longbow Hunters”)

It is a bit creepy when Stan says, “I bet a guy like that would do anything to keep his family safe.” Maybe Stan is a nuthouse, but leave me to my dream for now.

Is it me or did Yorke look older than 40? 1978????

Deputy Director Bell is evil. Calling it now.

The Longbow Hunters don’t actually use bows. This is a twist I did not see coming.

Bl*ck S*ren can’t lawyer worth a damn, but she can wear a suit.

“Stay behind me.” That was oddly hot Rene. I’m wildly uncomfortable that I find you attractive right now, but it is what it is.

Rene: Been back in town a week and you’re already sneaking out of A.R.G.U.S. behind Papa Dig’s back? I’m so proud.

Felicity: Thanks man.

This whole exchange was delightful and not remotely derogatory like “Blondie.” THY NAME IS CHARACTER GROWTH.

“Grab your balls Curtis, we’re going in.” If the Rene character only exists to say this one line of dialogue then it was worth it.

Why didn’t BS and Dinah go after the Longbow Hunter? What is up with allowing all these criminals to run away at a moderately brisk pace and our people acting like they can’t catch them? They are called legs! Move your ass!  

BITCH YOU BETTER NOT STEP ON THAT PHOTO!!!!!!!

Legends of Tomorrow  (“The Virgin Gary”)

Legends Season 4 premiere is fantastic and full of all the hi-jinks I’ve missed over hiatus.

“Speaking of the same old crap isn’t that what he did last year?”Legends gets points for acknowledging that Wally gets the storyline shaft a lot.

When you are officially a hero the time bureau gives you a medal, but I was more excited about the balloons.

It would be super weird if the Legends spent more than a day in 2018.

Remember when Oliver asked Sara to move in with him and she went running screaming in the other direction? It all worked out because Sara knew he was really in love with Felicity. I’m just saying she’s come a looooong way.

I want to be clear about one thing and it’s not up for debate. Ready? The best thing about Legends is Mick. It’s always Mick. That is all.

OMG NATE’S FATHER IS BIFF FROM BACK TO THE FUTURE?????!!!!!!!! THIS IS SPECTACULAR CASTING!!!

Manifest “Connecting Flights”

It was nice to fill in the back story of the characters left behind after the plane went missing, however the show is starting to lose my attention. I need more movement on these character relationships. Manifest is hitting a lot of the same notes week after week.

This Is Us (“Toby”)

Randall is going ahead with the city council job? Are they independently wealthy Does no one have to work?

Baby Toby is the cutest.

Holy crap is this how in vitro really works? It’s so friggin expensive and no guarantees. Wow, my sympathies to all those who have gone through this excruciating process.

Randall unbuttoning his shirt is all the reason I need to vote for him. Done deal. 

Toby used his wonderful sense of humor to cheer up his depressed Mom. Ugh my heart.

But for real though sometimes you need just “one damn day.” #MomLife

Three hours to get ready Kate? Just as an FYI - that’s all over when you have a baby. You’ll be lucky to get a shower.

Miguel carried a piano up stairs to cheer Rebecca up. That’s love.

“There’s so much of her in you it scares me.” THAT IS NOT SOMETHING YOU SAY TO YOUR CHILD ASSHOLE.

A+ on the prom dresses. Absolutely what I wore in high school. We were fashionista slaves in the late nineties.

Kate’s impression of Adele is dead on.

Miguel tries so hard. He’s just trying to keep his promise to Jack.

Rebecca is such an amazing mom. Kate doesn’t give her nearly enough credit.

KATE IS PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Rookie (Pilot” and “Crash Course”)

I really loved The Rookie. I typically don’t hate procedurals, but this one has surprised me thus far. It’s fast paced, so it held my attention more. I hope it stays that way. 

I love how it is the rookies versus the training officers. It fills my Rookie Blue void.

I am not invested in any ships yet. I am not buying the romance between Nolan and Lucy so far. I actually think Lucy has more chemistry with Bradford and Nolan with the Captain.

A Million Little Things (“Friday Night Dinner” and “The Game of Your Life”)

I want to love this show, but they are making it next to impossible. I hate cheating storylines in any show. It’s one of the main reasons I quit watching Shonda Rhimes’ shows because she is unable to write one without including adultery. Arrow’s original love story revolved around cheating and was an absolute mess. It feels like a lazy way to inject drama. This cheating storyline between Eddie and Delilah is making two characters who are otherwise very likable extremely unlikable. 

Instead of jettisoning this plot into the atmosphere where it belongs and never speaking of it again, A Million Little Things is double down on it.  Delilah is pregnant! Oh wonderful, now we get to play “Who’s the Daddy?” for several weeks.

Apparently, the writers come from The Fl*sh school of writing. Characters can only be mad at other characters for one episode. All the friends found out about Eddie and Delilah’s affair and the very next week they are sitting down to pizza. It’s at Delilah’s house and Eddie’s wife Katherine comes too because FRIENDS. No. Just no.

Instead of being angry at Eddie and Delilah, the friends make excuses for them. Regina’s conversation with Delilah turned into a huge “I didn’t see your pain” apology, which is flat out ridiculous. What Delilah did was so off the charts wrong there is no excuse for it. If you are in pain see a therapist. It’s not an excuse to cheat on your husband. Also, Regina you are not to blame for Delilah lying to everyone for over two years. 

Gary, who has been the angriest, decides he’s being too hard on Eddie (ya know by actually holding him accountable for his actions) and lets Eddie move in with him after his wife finally kicked him out. Are you freaking kidding me with this? I was already mildly irked at Gary for giving Delilah a free pass, but I understood his reasoning because her husband just jumped off a building. She has been punished quite a lot. But Eddie? I think we could muster a couple episodes of anger towards Eddie.

The writers attempted drum up sympathy for Delilah by shining a little light on her seemingly perfect marriage with Jon. It’s not really perfect, but what marriage is? Jon was short with Delilah during a family dinner. He took a phone call from work and snapped, “Everything I do is for this family.” What a bastard. Of course, that is reason enough for Delilah to jump into bed with Eddie, her husband’s best friend. GIVE. ME. A. FRIGGIN. BREAK. If my husband slept with someone else every time I was cranky with him, he’d have a harem.

So, on top of being suicide apologists, the writers are adding cheating apologists. There is no reason to cheat. It’s just mean. Nobody has put a gun to your head. If you want out of your marriage you march to an attorney’s office and file for divorce. Not sure if you want a divorce? Then go to counseling. But cheating, under any circumstances, is wrong. It’s cruel and selfish. It’s trying to have your cake and eat it too. A Million Little Things trying to excuse away Eddie and Delilah’s heinous behavior is almost as bad as the cheating itself. Trying to make suicide and cheating okay with excuses is dangerous behavior. I AM NOT A FAN.

Stray Thought - on what planet is a school program presented in the middle of the freaking day? What kind of ridiculous school do Eddie and Katherine send their son to?

Blindspot (“The Quantico Affair”) 

Zapata has a very interesting running stride. Sorry I was in cross country. That stuff interests me

Roman saying "He knows. This is it. Kill him" underscores the dramatic tension.

I’m gonna need someone on Team Blindspot to pick up on Remi's side eye. Y'all are FBI agents for goodness sake.

I don't actually know what Patterson's name is, but I feel confident it is not Lisa.

I think Martin Gero saw me write "Where is Patterson's storyline?" in my last review. I could have opted for patience, but complaining loudly via written word felt like a better plan. 

Hey watch the condemnation Remi aka Jane aka double secret agent who told so many lies I can't keep it straight anymore.

OMG Rich not explaining how the tattoo was solved is the best thing ever. PLEASE DO THIS EVERY WEEK

I wanna talk about the Book of Secrets mostly because Rich calls it the Book of Secrets.

Hahaha. Her one night stand showed up at work. This is how Meredith and McDreamy began. I highly recommend elevator scenes too.

One night stand boy is Weitz's nephew. IT. JUST. GOT. BETTER

Sure Madeline come on in and check out our super secret tattoo murder board.

"Thundercats ho!" OMG was that an ad lib?

Totally ship Patterson and this dude. I should probably learn his name.

Somebody tell Rich about the one night stand. Pleeeeeeeease.

I'm not calling him Lincoln. He shall be known as "Slab of Man-Ham" forevermore.

Patterson and Rich are the perfect work wife/husband team. Remember Rich is the work wife

How does Weitz maintain employment? This may be the greatest of all Blindspot's mysteries.

Of course "Jane" and Weller are on the train Weitz. IT'S THEIR JOB. Seriously someone get this dude a DVD of #Blindspot S1-S3

Patterson girl, Jane is never that cranky with you when she's diffusing bombs. SOMEBODY NOTICE PERSONALITY CHANGES PLEASE!!!

"You're new here." ALL KNEEL TO PATTERSON.

[supernaturalthoughtsworld]

One Night with a Psychopath

Description: Jim Moriarty takes reader to a ball, where things soon take an unexpected turn. 

Characters: Moriarty X Female Reader 

Triggers: Sex 

Length: 1,998 words

Note: Sorry guys this was a long one but I plan on writing more parts to this. Hope you like it! 

He left the invitation on top of your pillow in your bedroom. It was typed with calligraphy letters that made it seem like you were being invited to 17th century French ball rather than a modern one. You had told Jim that you would rather swim in shark infested waters than go to a fancy party with him. He took this as an act of playing hard to get, which you could tell turned him on oh so greatly. His mouth grew into a devilish grin and he reply with a simple, “We’ll see”. Moriarty made your skin crawl, however, as of lately you weren’t sure if it were in a bad or good way. Being Sherlock’s assistant was turning more into a nightmarish fever and when the criminal mastermind himself took a liking to you. It become even more of horrifying carnival attraction that you where forced to participate in. You roll your eyes at the invite when your phone beings to ring. You know exactly who it is before even looking at the caller ID. 

“What?” You answer. 

“Is that how you greet your date?” Moriarty replies. His Irish accent is playful almost like he knew it made you shiver in delight. 

“What makes you think I’m even going”? You scoff

“Please, don’t try and think you’re smarter than me. Darling, I am a bad boy for a living, you should know by now I always have a plan”, he says ending the last part with a sing song tone. 

There is a silent moment until you hear a sigh on the other end. 

“Meaning, if you decided not to join me. I’ll have to pay your mother a visit, now wouldn’t I?” Moriarty explains with a serious infliction. 

Your heart drops to your knees as you realize the severity of the situation. It dawns on you that Jim will not be letting you off the hook as simply as you hoped. 

“What should I wear”? You tried to sound sarcastically cheerful. 

“Something sexy”, he says. Before finishing with a quirky goodbye. 

You were left stunned and heart pumping into your chest  You knew you had to go to this damn ball for the safety of your loved ones but in the back of your mind, you felt a jolt of electricity from the thought of being with James Moriarty.     

The evening of:   

The red dress hugged your curves in all the right places with a backless detail that showed off your soft skin. You looked in the mirror and smiled, you look smokin’. “Eat you heart out, Moriarty”, you say to the mirror before heading out. The car was waiting outside your flat, Jim as usual with his games was meeting you at the venue. You were nervous for what the evening held but most of all you were nervous over your emotions towards the psychopath. Like most textbook psychopaths, James Moriarty was charming, handsome, and supernaturally smart. He made you flush every time he said your name, every time he even looked your way with those deadful eyes. 

The ballroom was cluttered with societies finest trying so desperately to sound more sophisticated than each other. You walked in scanning the room for Jim but the stares of the men and women alike blocked your sense of direction. They were looking at you either with lustful eyes or jealousy, it made you slightly uncomfortable. Just as you were about to text him, a familiar accent filled the air. James was in the center of a group of people, laughing at every word he said. For a brief second you thought of running, telling someone you were brought here on threats towards your family but you caught Jim’s eye as you stood there contemplating. His stare burned holes into your skin as he walked away from the crowd without saying a word. When you were face to face he leaned in kissing your neck softly growling into your ear. “You look amazing”, he whispered. He handed you a glass of champagne with a teethy grin like a predator who found his next meal. The two of you walked around the ballroom greeting every other couple as they made their rounds. You could still see men fixated on you as you moved, you could also see the glimmer of jealousy in Moriarty's behavior as he ushered you away from these men. If he wanted to play silly games, you were more than happy to play. 

“Is someone a little jealous of how much attention this dress is getting”? You ask.

The question took Moriarty aback as he paused for a second. Giving you a look that seemed to only be reserved for the great Sherlock Holmes. You flashed him a smile as you walked passed him and began talking it up with another gentlemen at the bar. You could feel Moriarty’s death stare even has your back was turned but this only excited you more. In all the time you worked for Mr. Holmes, you had never experienced this type of stimulation before. A dangerous man taking you out to a ball whilst you flirt with other men was like having a severe death wish. However, you thought if he was distracted by you, he wouldn’t hurt your family. Perhaps that’s a better reason than admitting that you loved the way Jim looked at you with desire filled eyes.

“If you want to play, (y/n), we can play but I’m warning you I don’t play fair”, Moriarty said. 

He was standing in the back of you as you were speaking to a man in front. This revaluation made the hairs of your neck stand up. 

“Excuse me”, you smiled at the man and he quickly noticed Moriarty, moving himself along without saying goodbye.Moriarty looked at you with an open mouth as if he was faking a surprised expression. He laughs, pulling you in as the music starts up and people begin to dance. 

“You’re sick, you know that”? You gave him a distasteful look. 

“Oh yes, my dear, my sweet sweet dear. I’m sick and twist but your still here, aren’t you?” He answers.  

The way he looks at you burns a fire beneath that you try to suppress. The swaying of the dancing and the licking of his lips might as well take you down right now. 

“I have too, remember”? You snap back. 

He laughs at your sudden burst of attitude like it excites him. “You are sassy, I love it. I’ve never met someone who would dare test me like that”, he explains. “If you were anyone else, I’d have to... well you know... accidentally push you off the balcony”, he said as a matter of fact. 

“Well I’m glad I can be so entertaining for you”, you reply. Realizing that his body was inching closer to you as the music slowed to a stop. Your knees became weak at the thought of his kiss on your neck again but to your disapproval he only teases a kiss. Pulling away with an enlightened expression. 

“This place is boring me and you’re far to beautiful to be at such a dull party”. Before you could protest, he called his Sebastian to bring the car around. 

 The air was brisk causing you to shiver wrapping your arms around yourself. Jim wasted no time in peeling off his jacket and placing it on your shoulders. He winked as he lead you into the car. Your heart began it’s usual abnormal rhythm the one James Moriarty was responsible for. As the car moved towards it’s destination, Jim placed his hand on your knee, massaging it, and working his way to your thigh. You didn’t stop him not because you didn’t have a choice but because you needed this, needed him. 

“You are going to get it when we get home”, he whispered into your ear. Slightly nibbling on the lope, your body tightens and it feels like your entry being was lit on fire. 

“We’ll see”, you smirk. 

Moriarty’s Personal Space: 

 Jim walked you into his estate with a determination, giving you no real time to examine the exterior of the place. But, to your knowledge it looked as if he lived off in the middle of nowhere. Trees and what looked like a garden in the distant tipped you off of your surrounding. 

“Welcome”, he said opening the door, revealing a gorgeous interior that could only be described as something out of a posh magazine. You looked around in awe at the crystals fixtures and 18th century paintings plastered on the wall.

“Nice bachelor pad”, you narrowed your eyes at the criminal consultant. 

He shrugs bashfully looking at the floor, “ I don’t know, I guess it’s pretty nice. I don’t normally bring dates over”, his tone is child like.  

Rolling your eyes you can’t help but feel those pesky butterflies form in the pit of your stomach. “Do you always have to be a smart ass”? You ask. 

His expression drops at this and he walks towards you with lustful intent. He breaths in your hair, his eyes fixated on yours as he presses himself against you. Your body begins to boil with desire as you feel him growing underneath his trousers. 

“Let me show you my play room”, he says as he kissing down your neck.

You nodded in agreement, your voice caught in your throat as he leads you up the staircase. Moriarty's room was surprisingly warm and very clean. You thought it might be filled with gruesome sights and people hang from the ceiling or something equal as horrifying. However, this room gave the impression that someone normal slept in here. Which was equally as troubling to find. 

Jim closed the door behind. “Do you like it”? He asked holding your shoulders from behind. His fingers teasing the material hugging them, slowly crawling his fingers around as they dragged down fabric. He kissed the back of your right shoulder causing a slight moan to escape your mouth. Jim stepped back. “Oh I see I hit a pressure point”, he giggles. 

“It can use a new fresh coat of paint”, you narrowed your eyes at him, gesturing to the bedroom walls. 

He raises an eyebrow at you with a smile forming onto his mouth. “Bed, now”, he says shortly. You obey but never taking your gaze away from him. You sit on the bed lifting you dress that your thighs are exposed. There is a hungry look in Jim’s eyes more than before with just a hint of mischief. He begins to unbutton his shirt also never taking his gaze off you. Something dangerously sinister is brewing in his concentration but you feel far from in danger. He steps towards you whilst he works his shoes and trousers still staring at you with that famous Moriarty stare. You fish your arms out of your dress, revealing a navy lace bra that shows a little more skin than a bra should. Jim smirks as he slightly pushes you onto the bed and hovers over your. 

“Do you want me, (y/n)”? He asks. 

“Yes”, you reply. Biting your lower lips, watching as his hand move underneath your dress, pressing his fingers just at your entrance. You know your wet, you have been since the car ride here. 

“You are a bad, bad girl”, he says lowering himself closer to your lips but doesn’t quiet touch them just yet. 

He’s teasing you, you can tell but you don’t care at this point, you just need him if only for this moment. His fingers are playing with your lace panties, he inches his way into the side of them and just as you can’t take anymore teasing. He moves his index and middle finger inside you, causing you to gasp, which he catches with his mouth. His kiss is intoxicating, passionate and menacing. Biting on your lower lip, his tongue swirling in your mouth, the damn psychopath is an expert at kissing. He plays you like a musical instrument with the just the touch of his finger tips, you’re purring out in ecstasy. Working your way down south you feel every corner of this body, smooth except for the tiny ridges of his abs. You stroke his member and watch as he closes his eyes in pure pleasure, groaning as your confidence grows and your rhythm speeds up. Moriarty kisses you deeper and harder, pulling you closer he releases his fingers from inside you. 

“I bet you taste delicious”, he says. Taking his fingers into his mouth pulling them out with a pop. “Mmmmm”, he moans. 

Slipping the rest of your dress off along with your panties, he tosses them to one side. You tug at his boxers and he springs free. 

“Defiantly not bored anymore”, you say. 

He shakes his head in a rhythmic motion and smiles. “You’re a terrific alternative”. 

Moriarty places himself in your just between your legs, moving his way down to your breast, sucking at biting at the skin. This causes you to let out a moan in satisfaction. He looks up at you with a crinkle in his forehead and a smile that could stop a lion mid run. 

“I bet I can make you say my name”, he says in a sing song manner. 

You snort and laugh. “You’re on”, you simply reply. 

He continues to work your breast as he does he inches his way slowly into you. Swerving his hips in a clock-ward motion, leaving you yearning for him, your body crying out for gratification. You want to yell his name but you well this would mean you lose. He looks up at you again with a picture perfect smile. 

“I know you want to”, he teases. 

“I don’t think so”, you breathe. 

“Fine, if want to play rough, I am more than happy too”, he tone is dark. 

Moriarty thrust himself inside you quickly just enough for a groan to escape your mouth. Biting your lips hard so that nothing else finds its way out. He kisses down at your neck as he pulses through you, quicker and harder. Your back arches in approval, he shifts and hits a weak stop, causing you to form his name on your lips. However, you stop yourself before reciting the rest. 

“I always get what I want”, Moriarty whispers.

“Not today”, you groan. 

He thrust harder, deeper, with just a little bit of force. 

“Ugh!” You cry out in delight. 

He nips at your chest, frantically racing up to kiss your mouth, deeply and more passionate than before. His hips grinding into you, he knows fully well you are close to the edge. Gripping his back with your fingertips, softly biting his shoulder as he groans into your mouth. 

You think to yourself that you might just win against the criminal consultant. Until he shifts once again into the right spot, slowly at first but then he picks up speed. He stares into your eyes as if waiting for what he already knows is coming. 

“Uh! Jim!” You scream. 

Clasping your hands onto your mouth, hoping by some miracle he didn’t hear a thing. He laughs in triumphant, coming shortly after, and collapsing on your chest. 

“You owe me”, he breathes. 

“Shut up”, you snap back. 

“I don’t just place a bet on anything or one”, he says. Rolling over onto his back, he flips onto his side and places a hand on his head prompting him up. Moriarty stares at you intently before continuing. 

“I ask that you join me tomorrow night for dinner and a show”, he explains. His eyes have a serious tint to them. 

“Just dinner?” You ask. 

He nods with a grin, “Just dinner and a trip to the cinema”. 

You think for a minute at all the possibilities that could go wrong by daring to date James Moriarty. In his bedroom you see a different side to the criminal mastermind. There’s no threat, no true danger, yet you know there is, somewhere out there the possibility of this ending very badly. You figure one shag and a dinner date won’t be too bad as long as you keep your guard up. 

“Fine, one more date and that’s it”, you finally utter. 

“Fantastic!” He giggles. Pulling you in closer and nuzzling your neck. 

What can possible go wrong? 

[lhugbereth]

Yakuza!Ignis fic update!

Hey there, lovelies! Here’s the second half of the first chapter of this thing (the first bit can be found here)

It also now has an official title: Death Fears Not the Reaper (it will make sense in later chapters, just trust me okaaaay) and can be found on AO3 here!

As always, feedback is GREATLY appreciated as this is my first time attempting a full-out AU with more plot than smut.... Let’s be honest, I have no clue what I’m doing lol *flails* On with the show!

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It was only a short drive from the main complex to the penthouse apartment where Noctis, son of Lord Regis L. Caelum and heir to the family’s veritable underground kingdom, lived alone. It had been a compromise of sorts between him and his father; while Noctis wanted nothing more than independence, Regis wanted him close at hand to keep learning about the family business. Getting him his own place nearby seemed like the perfect solution, and Ignis himself had been asked to scout the area for suitable living arrangements. As such, he knew the place like the back of his own hand, and even had his own access code to get him through the heavy security.

Stepping up to the front entrance, he ignored the cameras that tracked his every move and punched in his key code by heart. The doors swung open and he was inside. It seemed easy, perhaps, but he knew that one false step, one suspicious move and he would never even hear the bullet coming. Regis took no chances when it came to his only child.

Ignis rode the elevator to the top floor as he’d done countless times in the past. As he waited, he withdrew his phone from his shirt pocket and skimmed through the various messages he’d received throughout the night. There was one from Cor, undoubtedly in regards to Gladio’s half-assed reply after the warehouse fiasco, and a few updates from other members of the Glaive whose names he’d never bothered to learn. Surprisingly, there was a message from Noctis as well; this was the only one Iggy bothered to read. He swiped the notification next to the familiar icon to see only two words:  

/Bring pizza./

A long-suffering sigh escaped him. Yet as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, he had no choice but to step forward into the vast expanse of the ohji ’s suite.

From the foyer, he could see past the kitchen and into the drawing room that Noctis had furnished with plush grey sofas and a gigantic flat-screen television against the far wall. Noctis was there, too, as far as he could tell from the mess of black hair bobbing rhythmically above the edge of the couch to some music only he could hear.

Approaching, Ignis cleared his throat twice before the young heir, finally noticing him, yanked out his earbuds and turned around. “Oh! Hey, Iggy,” he grinned, and set his game controller on the cushion next to him. “Didn’t hear you come in.” He got to his feet and circled around the edge of the sofa.

“You should take more care. Lucky for you I’m not an enemy of your family, but the next time….”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Not like this place isn’t harder to get into than a maximum security joint.” Still smiling, Noct folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the sofa. Dark blue eyes roamed up the length of Ignis’ body, taking in the sight of his suit, his gloves, the way his hair was beginning to fall out of place where he’d slicked it back much earlier in the day. Fresh off work, then, and decidedly not carrying dinner. Noct feigned a pout.

“All out of pizza at the pizza store?”

He almost laughed aloud at the way Ignis stiffened. “Apologies, your Highness, I only just received your message. If you’d like I can call for delivery, or -- “

“It’s fine, I’m kidding. Anyway, I’m sure I’ve got some ramen or something around here.”

As he brushed past his advisor on his way to the kitchen, Ignis released another sigh. “Highness….” No response. “Noct, please. At least let me prepare something for you.”

“It’s fine ,” came the reply, Noct’s voice muffled inside the half-empty pantry. “C’mon Igs, you’ve gotta be exhausted. Don’t worry about me.”

A firm hand closed around his shoulder, causing him to jump half out of his skin in surprise. He hid it as smoothly as he could behind a cough. Above him, Ignis’ eyes softened. “Noctis, you are the one and only son of the most powerful man in the city. You need to learn how to let others serve you. Trust me, cooking for you is a pleasure, not a chore.”

The red tint that started at the bridge of Noct’s nose and spread slowly over his cheeks was impossible to hide. He swallowed, dropped his eyes to the gloved hand on his shoulder, and nodded. “...Then, uh, thanks. I guess I’d like that.”

“Very good.” Ignis shifted, moving instead to the refrigerator to inspect what little his ward had in the way of ingredients. “Hmm. How does a simple stir-fry sound to you?”

“Yeah, fine.” Mostly recovered now, the dark-haired heir to the criminal underworld hopped up on the edge of the kitchen counter and stared his advisor dead in the eye. “But no veggies.”

“...H-highness….”

In the end, Noctis acquiesced to the addition of green peas to the stir-fry provided Ignis double the serving of potatoes and smother the whole thing in sauce. While certainly not the most balanced meal, it was a far cry better than what Ignis normally got him to eat, so he accepted the deal without much argument. Noctis watched as, stripping off his gloves, Ignis stepped up to the sink and began to rinse his bare hands under the warm water. He noticed, of course, the dried blood under the other man’s fingernails, and the subtle red tint as the water washed away the rest, but he knew better than to comment. Ignis never talked about the details of his work with Noct, and now was hardly the time to press.

They ate together in relative silence. The dining table in Noct’s penthouse was large enough to seat eight guests comfortably, but more often than not it held only one. Dinner for two was a rare treat for the young ohji . Perhaps that was why, when Ignis got up to collect the tableware and, inevitably, excuse himself for the night, Noctis jumped up to stop him before he even knew what he was going to say.

“Wait a sec.”

Ignis paused, a plate in each hand, and glanced over his shoulder. “Something the matter?”

“No, I just, um.” The young crime lord shook his head, thinking quickly. “Don’t you want to grab a shower or something before you go?”

The look Ignis gave him made him instantly regret his choice of words. But never one to back down from even the scrappiest of fights, Noct straightened his back and continued. “I mean obviously you have a perfectly good shower at home and all that, but, well, it’d be a shame to get your car dirty on the way, right?” Open mouth, insert foot , he chided himself, though he managed to hide his grimace behind a convincing smile.

Ignis glanced down at himself -- his pristine suit jacket, his pressed pants, his polished shoes -- and arched a brow. “Do I offend ?”

“N-no, no!” Kicking himself mentally, Noctis decided to spare himself further humiliation by instead sidling up to Iggy and very gracefully snagging the plates from his grip. “I just mean, why don’t you take it easy for once, hm? Relax, pamper yourself. You go shower, and I’ll take care of the dishes.” That dark green gaze narrowed in suspicion until he was forced to add, “Well, I mean, I’ll at least put them in the sink for you. Go on, stop wasting time.”

Though his mind was spinning a mile a minute trying to catch Noct’s angle, Ignis couldn’t very well ignore a direct order. He padded down the hall to the bathroom, stripped and folded his clothes, and placed them neatly on the counter. While waiting for the water to heat up to an adequate temperature, he stole a glance at himself in the mirror.

And frowned. He had served for the Caelum family his whole life, just like his father and grandfather before him, and from a young age he’d gotten accustomed to the plethora of scars and injuries that came with the territory. But something he had never quite learned to accept were the tattoos. A mark, a brand even of his history with the yakuza, his irezumi were colorful, exotic, covering nearly every inch of his body from waist to neck. His chest was a menagerie of gruesome beasts with great, open maws. On his left arm, lotus blossoms scattered on the surface of a blood-red stream. On his right, falling leaves burned and blackened in a fiery wind as great, winding dragons ascending to the heavens. His back held the largest piece of all; the most fearsome skeletal figure imaginable, a Reaper, surrounded by the anguished souls of its countless victims.

Horrors, all of them. Noctis had never seen the tattoos, and Ignis was determined to keep it that way.

He tore his eyes away from the mirror and stepped into the hot water, letting it burn away the filth and rot of the day’s unsavory work.

When Ignis returned to the living room, hair damp but not a button out of place on his suit, he found Noctis once again on the sofa with his headphones. This time, however, he was nose deep in a comic book and, much to Iggy’s chagrin, had his shoes propped up on the arm.

“ Really , Noct,” he started, swatting his feet down and snatching the comic from his hands. “Is this all you do in your free time?”

“No. I play videogames, too.”

A resolved sigh before Ignis was taking a seat on the sofa at his side. There was a stack of black, sealed files set on the table in front of them, and he swiped up a few to pass forcefully to his companion. “Why not read up a little about the state of your family’s current investments? This is going to be very important for you one day.”

Noct accepted the files, glanced at the title on each, and tossed them back onto the table without ceremony. “Money comes in, money goes out. Got it. Hey, here’s a question,” he said suddenly, shifting a little closer until he could pick up the scent of lilac soap on his advisor’s skin. Ignis leaned back a few inches out of instinct. “Why don’t you tell me about those Glaives? Y’know, the ones who died yesterday.”

Behind his glasses, green eyes widened in surprise, then just as quickly narrowed. “Where did you hear about that?”

A shrug, and a smirk. “Y’know, around . ...Actually, it was Nyx.”

“Of course it was.” Ignis pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with one gloved finger and sighed. “How much do you already know?”

“Not much. I heard it happened in broad daylight, that three of them were attacked and -- “ He paused, drawing his thumb across his throat in a meaningful gesture. Ignis’ mouth twitched.

“Beheaded, yes.”

“Right, that. So they’re dead, and now my father thinks someone is trying to start a turf war, or whatever.” He looked at Ignis for a long moment, his deep blue eyes searching for answers, for affirmation, anything written in his stoic expression. “Is that what you were doing today? Why you had blood on your hands?”

For once, Ignis wasn’t sure how to respond. As much as he wanted Noctis to someday successfully fill his father’s shoes, he was also loathe to drag him down any further into a world he didn’t yet belong. Still, he supposed this counted as studying in its own right, so he was willing to let both the comic book and the economics issues slide for now. “Yes. And no,” he added quickly, not missing the curiosity piquing on Noct’s face. “Nyx isn’t entirely wrong, but your father knows this is no mere turf war. The killings were sudden, unprovoked. Neither the Niffs nor the Nox Fleurets have stepped forward to claim the acts, and we haven’t been able to find any witnesses or reliable….informants.”

The young heir let the words sink in for a moment before asking again with renewed interest, “So who did it? What’s your theory?”  

He shrugged. “A couple of rogues? Or a mistake. Even a fool wouldn’t pick a fight with the Caelum family without some kind of deathwish. Still,” he sighed, reaching forward to lay a gloved hand on Noctis’ shoulder. “Until we sort things out, it isn’t safe for you out there. Noct, you’re going to need to stay here for a few days.”

Anger flared to life almost instantly in those usually calm eyes. “Stay here, alone in this glorified prison?” Noct spat, suddenly raising his voice. “The tournament is this weekend, Father promised he’d let me go this year!”

“Noct, calm down. I’m sorry, this isn’t my decision.”

“But you agree with it, don’t you?"

"For your safety, yes, I do." His reply was met with rebellious silence as the dark-haired nineteen-year old folded his arms over his chest.

It wasn't that Ignis didn't understand. Of course it was only natural that Noct was lonely, of course he wanted a taste of freedom. The boy had spent his entire life under constant surveillance, after all, under lock and key by an overprotective father who was doing what he thought best against the dangers of the cruel world. But no teenager ever understood that. And Ignis, for his part, would have given the world to see Noct happy, if only that choice were up to him.

"If it helps," he offered, voice quiet and soothing in the space between them. "Once this all blows over, I promise to take you fishing. Outside of the city."

"...Really?" Noct’s tone was a mix of hope and incredulity, but if nothing else the thought got him talking again. "And you think Father would allow that?"

A warm smile, one that made Ignis’ eyes crinkle as he patted the other’s cheek. "It may just be our little secret." That was the kind of thinking that would likely land his head on a spike someday, but he wouldn't really be Iggy if he wasn't risking his own neck to please the prince.

Although still somewhat reluctant, Noctis managed a smile up at his advisor. His gaze faltered for a moment, then before he lost the nerve he leaned forward and pulled the taller man into a hug. "You're the best, Specs."

Few things made Ignis the Reaper’s heart thud in his chest. Danger, the adrenaline-fueled thrill of a fight, was one. Palming a brand new set of knives was another. But perhaps more than either of those was the feeling of holding Noctis Caelum in his arms.

Only five years apart, Ignis had quite literally grown up alongside the young would-be boss. They'd been friends once, back when the innocence of youth had allowed such things, and even as they fit piece by piece into their ever-shifting roles, Ignis had wanted nothing more than to stay by Noct’s side. Selfish, perhaps, given the sheer amount of secrets he kept to preserve their relationship, but it was a feeling that gave him strength all the same. And, at times, had him questioning his own sanity.

He returned the hug gently, almost reverently, and willed his mind to focus on the present. "It's late, Noct. Would you like me to help you to bed?" Because that didn't conjure up any vivid images at all.

Against his shoulder Noctis shook his head. "Nah. Not tired yet. But...you don’t have to go right now, do you?”

Once more Ignis checked the clock on the wall. He had a meeting first thing in the morning, and Regis would be expecting results that he didn’t yet have. What he should be doing was making his report to Cor and checking that his men had properly disposed of the evening’s evidence.

What he did instead was pull Noctis closer and settle into the cushions of his sofa while he watched him play videogames for several more hours.

The young ohji had fallen asleep against him sometime just before midnight. Ignis carried him to his room and laid him out on his bed, at least taking the liberty of removing his shoes if nothing else. In sleep his face was so peaceful, so beautiful that tearing himself away from the sight was almost physically painful. Yet it was as he turned out the lights and made his way back toward the foyer that he finally retrieved his phone once more from his pocket. Now that Noctis was settled, it was time to get back to business. He pressed a single key on his screen and the line was ringing before he even stepped into the elevator.

Cor answered after only two beats. “Scientia, where the ever-loving fuck have you been?”

“Working,” he replied politely. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

“You’d better be. Now that our last informant is sinking in about twelve different parts of the Crestholm -- and I suppose I have you to thank for that? -- we’ve got nothing to show the boss. He isn’t going to be happy. You and Amicitia have exactly seven hours to fix it.”

“Overtime again, then, I take it?” His answer came in the form of a dial tone, and Ignis raked his gloved fingers back through his hair before switching to text.

/Be outside in ten/, he warned Gladio, letting his head fall back against the wall of the elevator as he continued to descend.

On the bright side, at least he’d already had a shower.