#also my rats freaking love this stuff

[elenorasweet]

If anyone doesn't know, the "interact" graphic is Rat Tickling, and they freaking love it. My girls will chase my hand around hopping and squeaking with excitement, waiting for me to turn around and tickle them, and then run away and hop back over to start again.

Rat Tickling has to be done right, because there is such a thing as Too Much. It was studied by Purdue university and Dr Megan LaFollette, a member of the National Centre for Replacement Refinement and Reduction of Animals in Research, as a way to improve the quality of life of lab rats easily. Funding from the Animal Welfare Institute.

You can get the certificate by completing the webinar here:

Finally some good fucking news

[termagax]

re: "good girl" i think they say it once randomly as a joke and its just one of those things that gets him wayyy more than they expected it would. so now its their secret weapon and they use it very sparingly and every single time he gets super embarrassed about it but it works ill tell you what.

[notebotted-x31]

Man i wish i was like less obnoxious when it came to my opinions in the past

Like my opinions haven't changed but damn i wish i was better at arguing my points lol.

[silkentine]

Me when they are the sisters ever: 😭😭😭 They came out soooo freaking well. I won’t lie, they took me a thousand years to finish but through the constant support from all of my buds (and my latent bisexuality), we made it 😤

Hopefully you guys know the deal by now: design choices, easter eggs, and (NEW!) closeup shots below the read more. ⬇️

I wanted Ace to have a very down-to-earth vibe and looked at Aussie beach-girls, coastal cowgirls, and vaqueras for reference. (IDK, I’ve just always envisioned Ace as part-Australian🌺 and Mexican 🏴‍☠️) Her clothing choices are mostly natural or utilitarian materials like the painted wooden beads on her top, her woven fabric and leather belts, and her denim jumpsuit. I gave her bikini top a zen-garden kind of feel because I read the first Ace’s Story Novel and I loved how idyllic and peaceful they made Sixis Island sound so I wanted to invoke that in some way.

Speaking of her painted wooden beads, they hang off the back of her top and represent her connection to Sabo and Luffy. They watch her back once she sets sail. She only wears one red glass bead earring because the other one got ripped out of her ear when a child, leaving her earlobe torn (don’t think about it too much 😢). Also, YES! she does wear a hibiscus flower just like Rouge (because I hate you and I want to make you cry, muhwahahahaha).

Also, I really wanted her to have super textured curly hair that licks behind her like flames. I am always considering whether or not a character should have long hair or not because I don’t want it to be a hindrance if they’re in a fight (or if they ARE a fighter with long hair, how to they avoid an enemy making use of that?). Ace is, of course, a Logia-type Devil Fruit User so I think she wouldn’t have trouble with people grabbing it LOL I get the feeling that she doesn’t take very good care of it even though it looks amazing. Like you’d think it would be soft and bouncy just by looking at it but if you ever get the chance to run your fingers through it, it’s a total rat’s nest and there’s sand and food all up in it. She still falls asleep while eating 😂 but she tries her best to only do it around people she can trust (woman moment 😔).

Honestly, her design is not that different from Ace’s canon look. It feels really vital to Ace’s character to have a lot of skin showing. And he’s always hanging all over himself with his hips all cocked like the weight of the world is too much to stand up straight. It is certainly not my OWN preference to make her an absolute smoke show. That’s just the character, okay? (I’m partially lying and the proof is that I turned the emblem on Ace’s hat strap into a sternum tattoo for no other reason than that it is sexy af.)

Here are some closeups of Ace:

Now for Sabo, I’ve made her very girly. I tried putting her in pants or something more militant but she told me that she’d wear the big poofy sleeves and hiked-up ruffled skirt. I think Sabo has always had a strong grasp on his fashion sense and individual flair and I truly believe that his personal style is one of the major influences for the rest of the Revolutionary Army resulting in the very flashy, queer, steampunk aesthetic (aside from Dragon’s plain-ass cloak). So of course I had to implement her nonconformist look when reimagining her as a woman and dress her up to the nines.

I’ve given her very ornate jewelry that is there to tell a story, even if she herself doesn’t know it. I like to think she picks up stuff from her travels that resonate with her, such as a damaged set of earrings with one stone missing or red cup-shaped shells featuring three nestled pearls. Another accessory that cannot go unmentioned is her dragon claw hat pin that keeps her top hat resting on top of her hair (and is definitely used as a weapon when the situation simply doesn’t call for trusty metal pipe). She also has a veil that obscures her prominent facial scar. I imagine she’s not very keen on the reminder of the incident from her childhood that took away her memories. I also kept her chipped toothed because 1) it’s fucking adorable and 2) is a visual reminder that she no longer aligns herself with the nobility who would have gotten such a thing fixed. She is so poised in almost every outward facet of her life from her dignified role as the Chief of Staff to the elegant materials in her clothing that it can be easy to forget she was also a rough and tumble forest dweller. Every time Koala remembers this, he lets out the biggest sigh.

Her hair is inspired by Gibson Girls and Elizabeth Swann from the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I wanted it to be fussy and tidy but fall apart when she’s in moments of distress. For example, when she remembers her sisters, her hair starts to look like Ace’s flaming mane. I’m so in love with her, I think she looks like an adorable little porcelain doll that would fuck you up. I made an effort to keep her eyes a little bit manic. I get lost in her steely black orbs (and also Ace’s warm brown ones, but we’re talking about Sabo rn).

Here are her close-ups:

Plot notes for this AU:

For this series of character designs, I wanted the expressions and outfits to be aligned with the canon plot but I don’t know if I have the heart to kill fem!Ace in my AU. I’m too attached and ASL has suffered enough!!!!! But Ace’s death is also a major defining moment for Luffy so it feels disingenuous to completely avoid it. Also a huge aspect of Sabo’s character is carrying on Ace’s will and I have so many thoughts about how the Dressrosa Colosseum scene would play out if they were all women. Oh well, I’ll cross that tragic bridge when I get to it. I’m definitely going to draw some Modern AU Girl Piece ASL though. They deserve to hang out with no stakes 😭 They are sisters!!!

Check out the tag “girl piece” on my blog for my other One Piece genderbends! 🥰

[arolesbianism]

I have such a love hate relationship with Ellie. On the one hand I have my petty grudge against her, but on the other hand shes so sillyyyyy being Jackie's lil lackey did her so many favors in my mind she's not only a lil shit but also a lil teachers pet I love her

[suiana]

yandere! golden boy who is your loving boyfriend and... surprisingly loves listening to you talk about your interests! yes darling, talk about your games and novels and silly plushies! he loves seeing how interested you can get about things you're passionate about and it just makes him feel so warm on the inside.

you might even go as far to say he ENCOURAGES your interests. buying you plushies, taking you to exhibitions/places you want... you don't even have to ask, just one look with your eyes and he's taking out his card. yeah, it doesn't matter if you have an unhealthy attachment to that fat cat pusheen or whatever. you seem to really like it so he's buying that 400 dollar plushie for you.

on the same note... he can't help but get jealous when you're gushing over attractive fictional characters. SPECIFICALLY that ONE dude that you seem to have EVERYWHERE. on the wall, on your phone cover, lock screen, profile picture, fuck, even on your bed as a plushie! and all he gets is a meager nickname on his contact?!

"sweetie, must you... really have all these... THINGs of HIM?"

"he's my first husband, you're my second. of course i have merch of him. plus I'm not gonna just throw all these away, i spent big money on these ya know 💀"

he knows it's petty! he knows that it's just a fictional character and that he shouldn't be jealous but dude! you don't even have him in your wallet! it's that freaking guy!

so he does what evey sane boyfriend does and replaces some (not all just some!) of your merchandise with pictures of him and you. how adorable, right?

no.

"bro where is the portrait of my MAN🤬🤬🤬"

"i replaced it with a nice picture of us together darling☺️ look at how cute-"

oh. and you...you just put another photo of that guy again... oh... and you're ranting on reddit/instagram about how he's being mean... you also removed him from your close friends list... oh you... you also decided to kick him off the bed and onto the sofa... oh...

well no biggie! he has lots of patience and he will sneak in his presence into your stuff. he's determined.

"best friend I'm going to need you to cosplay as my favorite character please ☺️"

damn!

why didn't he think of that sooner? if you can't win the normal way, you should do it another way, right? he can just get you to see how much better he is and you'll eventually replace that fictional man for HIM!

...

yeah, that didn't work out as planned. now you're even more in love with that character and you're asking him to cosplay every other day. erm... at least.. your wallpaper is a picture of him cosplaying the character??? he'll take what he can get.

"lol best friend, did you see that video i sent you. it's so stupid."

"for the last time, sweetie. we're dating, call me boyfriend. and which one? I can't watch every single one of the 99+ reels you send me."

"a real best friend would watch them all..."

being with you has singlehandedly changed this man. for the worse or for the better, he doesn't know. but what he does know is that you DON'T know how to dress.

"sweetie, no. you can't just go out in a shirt and shorts! you look like adam sandler!"

"clothes are clothes 🤬"

at least he has a fun time dressing you up. you're like, his cute little rat! his very own personal dress up rat! oh how he wants to just keep you in his pocket and pick out pretty clothes for you, making you look like the cutest thing ever! sure you might take them off and just wear what you want but... at least he's got the photos and the sight of you in a pretty outfit ingrained into the folds of his brain already ☺️ and he'll take every chance he can get to put you into another pretty outfit again. that i assure you.

he... has ALSO found out that you are living on instant noodles, sandwiches, and the occasional takeout. you don't even open the curtains! how can you see in such a dark home? and why are you sleeping until midday?! dear oh dear. you really are a rat, huh?

"darling get up! it's 12 in the afternoon already!"

"i slept at 3 just let me sleep more..."

that simply won't do. he will not be allowing you to lead such a horrid lifestyle! not if he can help it! especially because... well, he's also your boss. from part 1, remember! yeah, you guys didn't break up at the end haha! you were just joking, obviously! not like you'll ever be able to break up. it's in the contract, silly.

"come on, get up. you need to have a healthy lifestyle. I've already gotten my personal chef to cook up a healthy meal for you."

"who's gonna stop me from living like this? you? 😂😂😂"

"yes, me. in our contract, remember? i will be responsible for your health from now till we die."

don't worry. he'll be by your side every step of the way. and hey, who knows? maybe you can even teach him a thing or two about gaming or something else you like! he's open to learning about the things you like.

and he won't even have to worry about you finding another REAL person to like because... well, let's just say you don't even like going out for dinner. we'll keep it at that ☺️

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

I hope I'm not annoying you

Had another thought how would some autobots/decepticons react to their human darling just casually popping/cracking their joints

I can only imagine they're like

Darling: cracks joints

Auto/decept: concerned look

Darling: this is normal just some air bubbles stuck in my joints

Auto/decept: surprised pikachu face/ excuse me WHAT!?

Annoying me???? r u kidding AM LIVING for these ask u send op pls I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

Also LMAO YES they would be so freaked out about it cuz like for them hearing noises in their joints when they move means they either got rust which i feel like its an uncomfy pain for them or that they need oil like when ur door creeks

I remember i had a friend that would twist their headtoo high up to make it pop and legit i looked at them like this the first time they did it infront of me

that's them. that's ur cybertronian s/o being traumatized by our weird human quriks

TFO B 127: He would go from fear to amazement.

Like he was just chatting ur ear off like he always does, telling stuff that happen today in his missions or something that was like centuries ago (i headcanon he sometimes repeats stuff he's already told you cuz he kinda forgets sometimes but u dont tell him that most of the times cuz he just looks so happy 😭💕💕💕)

And you listened to everything he said, some of the stuff was hard to understand cuz u know...alien stuff BUT ANYWAY- ur back was starting to scream at you cuz u been sitting for a while now, twisting yourself to stretch, your bones letting a pleasingly loud POP!

I can imagen him letting a squeal and backing away like he just saw a rat or something 💀

and it got u asking whats up and he just points at u and ask what was that noise and u just basically tell him that human joints have air pockets and when moved or stretched they just pop, "its just a human thing, nothing unusual to us" you say shrugging to him as he slowly closes his distance to you "but doesn't like....hurt?? it sounds like it does...wait you're not in pain right now are you?!" he starts to ask in worry already thinking into carrying you to ratchet, quickly you shut his worries telling him again its just a human thing and it doesn't bring any sort of discomfort as it for us it rather helps us when we feel ache in our bodies

and feel like this would go on him asking more questions about how our bodies work, if u dont got any medical knowledge then you might just pull ur phone to answer him cuz i feel like he would ask the wildest shi fr 😭

all and all he becomes more and more fascinated by humanity the more he learns from you, specially if its from you.

[yanderenightmare]

what possessed you to write that nasty gamer boyfriend fic, not being judgemental, just genuinely curious cuz I love that fic and it seemed so vivid with all the detailing, did anything inspire you?

♡ GAMER BOYFRIEND

Yeah! A couple things actually!

I'd been staying with my brother and his girlfriend for a while. And while my brother is nowhere near the guy in the fic, he is a gamer who games a lot while his girlfriend does the grocery shopping and makes all the food every single day. So, I guess the idea first started with me just thinking about what a hopeless wreck my brother would be if she decided to suddenly leave him.

But my brother isn't useless or incompetent or anything like that. Nor is he a slob. He's just very comfortable with letting his girlfriend make decisions, I think. So this isn't a diss to my brother! Though, maybe a little...

Anyway. While I was staying there, my brother was watching a lot of Asmongold. I don't know so much about him, but from what I gathered by staying at my brother's place, he's this streamer who plays video games and discusses different topics of interest. But, more importantly than that, what I really noticed is that the guy lives in a complete pigsty. Like, the stuff I was describing in the fic is literally how this guy lives, and he's completely at peace with it, too. Idk, it's the wildest thing. He was talking about how, a while back, he had this dead rat that he didn't bother tossing out and that when the sun rose in the morning and shone through the window, the dead rat would start cooking, and the smell of that would wake him up and let him know it was time for him to stream. He called it the dead rat alarm clock. Like, I'm not even making this up.

I'm not really dissing him, either, though. Like, to each their own. I just thought it was the wildest thing I'd heard in a while.

And we were watching other Asmongold-ish streamers who just have the wildest fucking lifestyles. Literally just living in trash with cockroaches roaming around. Idk. Stuff is wild. But it got me to realize that, yeah, some people really don't give a fuck about hygiene and tidiness whatsoever.

And then, funny enough, my best friend's boyfriend broke up with her. And while we were dishing about how he wasn't good enough for her anyway and all that jazz, we were also digging up and talking trash about all her other previous boyfriends. And then she opened up about how one of them was a total fucking disaster. She'd been too ashamed to tell me this when they were together, but apparently, not only was he a hoarder, but she could tell he never ever cleaned his apartment because the bathroom had something she called "layers of sticky dust coating everything"

Like, it seems like such a common standard to have, but no, some people don't think cleaning is important at all. Or they just don't care enough to bother with it.

And, yeah, I suppose it just got me thinking about boys in general and how completely dirty their apartments are, with exceptions, obviously, and probably some girls included.

But yeah, the last guy I dated had constant shit stains in his toilet. And he had a pair of Lego flowers in there he was so proud of. And don't get me wrong, Lego flowers are cool, but they were always completely shrouded in dust, so you couldn't really enjoy them. And, you know, it's fine not to have everything spotless all the time. I'm not a neat freak myself, but I mean, if you're having visitors, the least thing you can do is make sure there isn't shit in the toilet. I don't know. That stuff is so wild to me.

But yeah, in the midst of all these musings and discussions, I got the idea to write that fic. I just really felt the need to make that character as he'd become so real to me all of a sudden.

[ccrites]

chokehold

listen, I've had this idea in my wips for a while (since the begnining of the year actually) and the fat reader worms have been wiggling in third gear with all the awesome stuff early ( @391780 ) has been putting out lately. So have 6.4k words of Soap being an absolute pussy eating freak but you know you love him

(also on ao3 if you prefer the formatting there, or if you want to drop a kudo)

.

The second the doors swing back closed behind you, you start feeling the scratchy feeling of doubt at the back of your throat.

It was predictable, really.

A small gym in a small town, heads turn when the hinges creak, not because they’re staring at you specifically, but because it’s a reflex.

Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself to keep the scratchy feeling from turning sour in your mouth. Or make you throw up from embarrassment.

Perhaps your New Year’s resolution should’ve been to start on a home gym type of situation. Buy yourself some girly weights, a mat, and some sort of stepping device, and do those easy exercises every slim, pretty, high-ponytailed YouTube instructor seemed to preconize people out of shape do. Like a hamster on a wheel inside their cage. A rat chasing its own tail, maybe.

No, you promised yourself no more fake promises. Perhaps the money spent on the gym membership (stupid fucking New Year’s promotion) would motivate you to use it, lest it’s just money down the drain. 

You wore the stretchiest, thickest pair of black leggings you owned, hoping no one would see the terrible shape of your underwear through it. On the opposite spectrum of things, you knew the largest hoodie you owned would smother you and make you boil with sweat, so you chose the next best thing: the widest black t-shirt you owned. It was definitely not black enough, the dye faded into a dark gray from use over the years, but it was the only thing that camouflaged your body enough from the others’ sight. God forbid they imagine what your body actually looks like underneath.

The heads pretty quickly turned back around as you started walking towards the empty treadmills. It couldn’t have been more than a second, but the combined weight of at least a dozen pairs of scrutinizing eyes would’ve been enough to make you turn on your heels and back to your car, fuck the membership price.

At the very least, you could convince yourself that walking in place (no better than a hamster on its wheel but oh well) would be enough to get you started. Baby steps, and all.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize the treadmill fucking sucks. Why would anyone suggest looking at a parking lot while suffering instead of the pretty scenery of a park or forest (while also suffering, but still).

The timer you’d set for the warm-up (ten minutes, just like the pretty blonde coach suggested!) crawls by way too slowly for your taste. You’d be all but whooping with joy when it beeps if you weren’t so out of breath and conscious of a gaze on you.

You’d seen him as soon as you walked in.

Between figures of balding men trying to get rid of their beer gut with abs, two thin women whispering to themselves in a corner while trying to look inconspicuous, and a few other, completely average-looking men and women, there he stands, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he deadlifts an impressive amount of black plates.

He immediately looks straight ahead, correcting his stance, as if there were anything to be corrected, in your unathletic opinion. The muscles in his arms bulge even through the thin, grey hoodie, and the ones in his legs coil tight as the weight is lifted off the ground in a slow, controlled motion. Not even a grunt escapes his lips, at least no one you could hear from where you stood, completely mesmerized.

There was always something almost unappealing about overly muscled men. Their wife’s not feedin’ ‘em enough, your granny would grumble when passing by the rows of magazines at the checkout of the supermarket. 

Yet this man.

Yeah, he was muscled. But in a way, he looked… almost normal. Like he was built for strength, not necessarily vanity. Each bend of his legs, each twist of his arms…

You’d swoon if you hadn’t lowered your standards so low he’d trip on them. Accepted it a long time ago. Fats belong with fats, thins with thins, and if there’s a thin with a fat, either one’s getting fattened up, or the other’s getting dumped. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, and one you’d rather not be a part of.

You walk with shaky legs to the water dispenser, then get ready to grab the second to lightest weights to try some bicep curls.

You try to remember the positioning from the videos. Rotate in… or out? Should the wrists be like this? You go through ten repetitions on each side, before you think that you should’ve gone for the abs straight away. God knows there’s fat to burn there, and that the flab under your arms can wait.

You turn back from the rack and walk straight into a wall.

No, a chest.

Fuck.

“Sorry there, miss,” says a deep voice. You detect some sort of accent, unable to quite place it right away.

Your eyes run up, instinctively stopping for a second at chest level (holy heavens that’s a Chest with a capital C if you’ve ever seen one) before finally meeting that same pair of eyes you met a few minutes ago, through the mirror.

Double fuck.

“S-sorry, it’s me, wasn’t watching,” you stammer out, gesturing to the weights in a panicked way. “Just, y’know, switching exercises,” you sputter with a nervous laugh, like it was a completely normal thing to switch exercises after one rep.

He chuckles, and you really need to start planning your escape, because holy shit the way his pectorals rise and fall as his chest puffs up is getting a bit too much for your poor little humiliated self to handle, but he doesn’t let you as he speaks in a soft tone.

“I’m getting arms aren’t really your thing, eh?” he asks, not unkindly. Gosh, did it have to be a Scottish accent?

You can’t meet his eyes, they’re too blue, too piercing for your liking. “To be fair I don’t know what’s my thing yet, I’m just starting out, y’know?” you shift your weight on your legs, conscious of the size difference, and not in the way you wanted to be. Your neck is very warm all of a sudden.

He laughs again, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, and you almost want the floor to open up and swallow you whole, but the words that come out of his mouth are completely unexpected.

“Figured! A girl with thighs like yours, I’m sure you can deadlift more than me with just a lil’ training. I’m Johnny, by the way,” he adds in passing, as if offering his name is the least of his concerns. “You ever got someone to train you?”

You’re entirely unsure if you’re dreaming or not. Did this Scottish hunk of muscle really just offer to be your personal trainer?

“Never - uh… lifted anything, I guess. Just when moving, my couch and bed and all, but I had a friend help me.” You definitely feel like you’re oversharing and you’re struggling to ignore the weight of the gaze of the two thin women, burning through you as they whisper among themselves, when you realize you hadn't answered the second part. “Oh and, uh– no. I’ve never… trained. Been trained. It’s my first time in a gym since- a while. I don’t want to bother you.”

You finally look up at him, and you’re unable to read his expression. There’s a sort of curiosity, a fascination, that blends fast into a wide-eyed joy that’s so open, so sincere that it makes your head spin as he gently but firmly grabs your wrist and pulls you where his bar stands on the thick mat, ignoring your sputtering protests. “Not a bother at all, lass!” He lets go of you as he bends down and effortlessly racks the barbell, starting to remove plates as he continues. “We can start by measuring your max lift, then the one where you can easily do three reps, then we’ll hike it up till failure, so I can calculate your starting training weight!” he rambles on excitedly. You nervously shift on your feet, conscious of more curious gazes on you, but then he’s back in your bubble, pulling your attention towards him like a magnet.

His smile is like a blazing sun, and you don’t have the heart to tell him to prepare for disappointment.

He’s infinitely patient as he shows you how to place your feet, and the angle of your hips (oh, how you feel your knee weaken at the feel of his light tough through the leggings, nothing short of electrifying, despite being perfectly friendly), the hold on the bar. It’s all a blur till you find yourself bent over in front of him, looking in the mirror at your position and trying not to feel conscious of the way he’s placed behind you. Or let your mind wander in inappropriate places.

“Whenever yer ready, hen.”

You brace yourself, close your eyes for a brief second, wondering how the hell you’d landed on this planet, then breathe in, open your eyes-

The weight is in your hands. Not on the floor. You’re holding it.

You almost drop it when he cheers behind you, warm palms rubbing down from your shoulders to your elbows and back up. “Easy! I told you you’d be a natural! ‘S all in the legs and you’ve got awesome legs, bonnie! Let’s add twenty more.”

It’s a blur of racking and de-racking and lifting once and setting back, and redoing it again and again. You’re out of breath, sweating like a sinner in church, but you’re smiling along with him, finding yourself giving him double high fives, and doing small, excited jumps.

“Next one’s exactly my weight, if y’can lift that, I’ll be losing my bloody mind! D’you realize how well yer doin’ for a first-timer?” He says as he bends next to you, adjusting the bar for the next set of weights. With a wipe of his forearm over his forehead, he crouches slightly down, placing his head right above your shoulder and looking your reflection in the mirror straight in the eyes with a conspiratory grin. “Swear to God, if ye can lift it off the ground, I’m buying you the most expensive drink at the bar next door!” he says, grin blending into a blinding smile, too genuine for your own good.

He’s just friendly, just friendly, just friendly, you say to yourself like a mantra as you position yourself. He stands again to his full height behind you, hands ready under the bar, a safenet.

Deep breath in– hold it…

Slowly but surely, you lift the weight off the floor, your ears ringing from the effort. You see his lips move as he cheers you on, but the blood pumping in your eardrums makes it impossible to hear him. Suddenly, the weight is back on the ground and your feet are off the floor as you’re lifted in a tight embrace and spun around like you weigh nothing.

You yelp and flail but he’s holding you tight, face pressed smack-dab in the middle of your chest, between your tits, rumbling praises about your prowess while you’re trying to figure out whether this can be something that your brain is capable of summoning as a dream.

“Put me down, Johnny, oh my God, put me down!”

He thankfully complies but not before squeezing your ass tighter, and suddenly nothing feels real anymore.

“Jesus, I knew ye were perfect,” he says, pulling back reluctantly to rerack the bar and put back the weights. “I cannot wait to properly start training ye’ tomorrow, but for now, I have a promise ta’ keep, and, uh, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind using those strong thighs as earmuffs with this freezin’ weather. On the way back from the bar, what d’ya say?” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows with a crooked smile that lets you know he’s joking around. (Is he?)

You laugh with him and for a second, you forget what you were here for.

+++

The way to the bar is short. It was just a block away (Good for business, he jokes), but the conversation with Johnny made time really fly by. 

He seems genuinely glad when you tell him you’d decided to head to the gym not just as a New Year’s resolution, but trying to simply become a better you. There’s no condescendence, no talking down, no (God forbid) pity, just an overall nice interaction the whole time. He tells you about being on leave as a soldier (Medical leave, he specifies, a fucked up knee can work in a gym, but it’s a different story out in the field), you tell him about your studies and how that led into a “big girl” job that left you no time for yourself.

“But I’ve always been a big girl,” you feel the need to justify. “Just… gotten bigger as I stopped finding time to move. The desk and the laptop are pretty stationary,” you joke, still trying to make sense of why a man like him (broad, and tall, and strong, and… gosh, just perfect-looking) would even deign to accept being seen with you.

(It’s not a date, you dumbass)

“I happen to like big girls,” is what you don’t expect him to say.

Wait, what?

His blue eyes glue you to your seat, and you respond dumbly. “What?”

“I mean, why do you think I’d offer to train you?” he continues, placing his hand, big and warm over your thigh. It’s squished as you sit, wide and flattened in your seat, yet his hand covers a good amount, almost covering the whole width.

Your brain is short-circuiting but you have to answer something.

“Out of– uh… out of niceness?” you stammer out, feeling your insecurities climb back out of the hole they’d been sleeping in all this time, making you shrink even more, trying to cover yourself as if he didn’t see right through you with that piercing gaze. “To feel good seeing you be the reason I lose weight?”

He chuckles, squeezing your thigh as his head hangs down, almost as if to hide the smile that spreads on his lips.

“Strength training doesn’t work like that, bonnie.” He looks back up, and his eyes are blue, and wide, and so pretty, that you can’t find anything to argue back. “Ye’ think building glutes underneath that fat arse does anything but make it bigger?” He shifts, inching closer as he licks his lips and drops his voice lower. “Ye’ think growing your quads will make this,” he gives an even firmer squeeze, wiggling the fat back and forth, and you tense under his grip, but he’s got you pinned down, “any less wide and soft?”

He presses closer, and the booth has no escape room, you’re practically squeezed into the corner as he pushes his body against yours, bending to whisper lowly in the crook of your neck.

“I did not joke when I said I want yer pretty thighs wrapped tight around my head.”

You can’t be blamed when you don’t remember how you ended up in the back of a cab, Johnny barely taking the time to bark an address to the poor driver and throw fifty quid on the front seat before kissing you absolutely senseless, shamelessly groping your tits with a hand and wrapping the other around your thigh, squeezing you close.

You should probably think more about going home with basically a stranger, no matter how hot, but when he presses his entire palm against your cunt, cupping it over the quickly dampening pair of leggings that didn’t seem so thick anymore, you can’t think at all. He swallows your quiet moans, and hums contently against your lips, taking each gasp for air as an invitation to slither his tongue into your mouth. God, you’d forgotten what a good makeout session was like, and you can’t even find it in you to be embarrassed when you see the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror, instantly looking away when you see him staring. 

Johnny doesn’t seem to mind either, and when he notices you looking in the front again and again, he crowds you against the door behind the driver with a huff, half-climbing over you until his knee is pressed against your core, and the only thing in your field of vision is him.

“Johnny,” you try to say, but it’s getting hard to think, with the way you’re being squeezed in a corner, this hunk of a man of pure muscle pressing against you like a weighted blanket, kissing you like you were a drop of water in the desert and he was a parched man drinking you for his salvation. You feel his excitement pressed against your thigh, and it gives you enough lucidity to try again. “Johnny,” you gasp out again, “aren’t we going a little fast?”

He laughs instead, choosing to focus on the side of your mouth, pressing fervent little kisses down your neck before starting to suckle the delicate skin over where your clavicle is. “I can go as slow as you’d like, bun.” He takes the spot an inch next to the previous one into his mouth and sucks again, this time more forcefully, marking you, and oh God you’re going to have to conceal it before work tomorrow, unless you can find a turtleneck to wear–

The cab driver clears his throat, and you notice that the car is stopped in front of a small apartment complex. Johnny says a cordial thanks as he pulls you out of the car and throws another twenty on the backseat, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and taking all of the thinking out of the equation as he walks you to the entry.

His flat is pretty well furnished, all things considered, but he doesn’t give you enough time to observe the deco as he presses you against the door and slides his hand under your leggings.

“Got me starin’ at that ass the second you walked in, best fuckin’ thing I’ve seen in months, d’ye realize that, bonnie?” he breathes out against your ear as his entire palm cups your sex, and you can only whine as you press your forehead into the crook of his neck. “And by how wet this pussy is, I think you liked starin’ at me, too.”

“You are–” you say, but he curls his middle finger in, spreading your lips and spreading the wetness to your clit, making you choke on your words, “-very nice to stare at.”

“Yeah?” you hear the grin in his voice.

“Mmhm,” you nod, as he keeps the back and forth of his finger, never dipping in too far, just keeping you hungry for more.

“Then how’d ye like to stare down at me as I taste this wet cunt of yours?” he purrs in your ear as he stops moving completely, letting the words process.

Brain.exe has stopped functioning. 

Had you ever had a boyfriend willing to speak filth like that to you when you were down to do the deed, maybe you would’ve gotten enough practice to know what to answer something sensible and intelligible to that, but as it stands, all you can muster is a very dumb-sounding “Huh?” as you stare back at him.

And that, apparently, is the funniest thing in the world to him, because he dips his head down and laughs, almost like a boyish giggle. Not only does that not stop him from kneeling in front of you, but it also somehow gives him more confidence to keep talking like that.

“How about you look down into my eyes as I eat out your pretty little pussy and make you come around my tongue, how’s that sound?” His baby blues bear no trace of maliciousness, no trace of a joke, as his fingers hook around the waistband and trace it around your stomach. You have to make a very conscious effort not to suck it in immediately in preparation for the letdown, but he doesn’t pull them down yet, only moving his hand alongside the edge. Your silence as you try to process what is happening only seems to spur him on instead. “In fact, how about you close your eyes, I close mine, and you hold my head close as I devour you, would you let me do that, pretty girl?”

“I’m not-” you can’t think of any way to properly let him down, not when he looks up with such pleading eyes, so the words stumble out gracelessly. “I’m sweaty, you don’t wanna–”

But he interrupts as he pulls your leg closer by gripping your thigh and squishing it against his cheek “But I do.” He inhales deeply, and your own breath shakes at the sight of how blissed out he already looks. “God, I want it. Let me have this.”

A voice somewhere inside yells at you that this has to be some sort of weird fetish, and that he most certainly won’t be having the same aura of desperation around him tomorrow, when post-coital rationale shows up and he sees your body past the veil of lust, but for now, you think that getting some with Johnny cannot be that bad compared to any one of your past encounters. Might as well enjoy it when you still can.

You wrap your hand around the one he still has around your waistband, and see his face positively light up as you softly caress his cheek.

In the end, you’re the one that pleads.

“Johnny, please.”

Your pants are off you and your leg is over his shoulder before you realize what is happening.

The feel of his warm tongue against your slit makes any thought, any doubt, any fear positively vanish, and the content sigh that he lets out as he licks at you is the same sigh as finally removing a bra at the end of a long day, it’s the sigh of laying down carelessly onto a soft bed after standing up for hours, it’s the sigh of the first bite of the best meal a man has after starving for weeks.

It should be awkward the way his arm wraps around your thigh and sinks into the softness of your stomach, using it to pin you up as he uses his other hand to spread you out enough for him to work his jaw the same way he did when he was making out with you in the car… Yet it’s not. It’s natural, the way his hand squeezes you as he licks, and sucks, and kisses around your pussy, unhurried yet passionate, languidly but firmly, pressing his tongue in, licking around your lips, and maddeningly avoiding the place you wanted him to touch most.

“Johnny,” you moan as he grazes his teeth around your sensitive nub in response. You almost buck out of his hold, but he’s firmly keeping you in place. “Please, don’t tease.”

He hums in response and dives back in, eyes fluttering closed as he ignores your whines. Every time his tongue or lips graze your clit, he works his mouth the opposite way, holding your thigh harder and pressing his palm up as he counters your hip movements with a clever swipe of the tongue. It’s absolutely maddening. “Johnny, please!”

He chuckles as he pulls back, an obscene string of spit lengthening as he pulls back, only breaking when he runs his tongue against his reddened, swollen lips. “Thought ye’ wanted me ta’ go slow, bun.” His eyes sparkle with challenge, but you can also discern a veil of unhidden desperation, of waiting for you to give the go-ahead for him to let loose.

“I’m fine with faster–” you start, but the words dissolve into a barely restrained moan as he hikes your leg up more, getting you closer to him, and immediately singling onto your neglected clit.

His forehead rests onto your belly now, and if you had more than two functioning neurons you’d wonder how he is that he’s breathing, but his hums and moans let you know that he’s perfectly content burrowing his nose in your pussy, nudging at your clit with the tip of it as he licks you with all the dedication you’ve never been shown from a man of his caliber.

He builds it up, and soothes it down, knowing exactly when to put more pressure, or when to teasingly swirl his tongue around your entrance, or to lave broad strokes of his tongue, so much so that the knee that’s not hooked over his shoulder almost gives out on a particularly forceful suck of your clit.

“Easy there,” he groans almost petulantly, as if you’re interrupting him. “Can’t have you fallin’ over when I’m not done wit’ ye.”

“My legs are gonna give out,” you say honestly, trying to catch your breath and avoid having the perfect man at your feet steal it again. “You’re a bit too good at this.” He grins up at you, “Am I?” and you want to give you a playful swat, but instead decide on carding your fingers through his now disheveled mohawk. “Guess the mess on my face speaks for itself… Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

You throw a glance around the apartment, assessing your options. “Couch is closer.” His smile is blinding. “I like how ye’ think.”

It’s now the second time he surprises you by scooping your legs from under you and picking you up like he couldn’t wait any longer and that carrying you bridal-style was the only way he could think of moving you. You yelp out a protest but he swallows it with another hungry kiss, shamelessly smearing your own wetness over your cheek as he walks you both to the couch.

You sink into the cushions where he places you gently without so much as a grunt of effort, and oh God, there they are, the standards are rising.

You reach over to pull him closer as he straightens up, but he only gives you a peck on the lips in return, like he hadn’t been kissing you sloppily the entire time.

“Come back,” you whine, hoping you can get it done before he comes back to his senses, like they all do, but he just smiles and kneels between your feet, hands pressing your thighs apart. The squelch of your lips parting should be embarrassing were he not looking up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, eyes full of adoration, like a child staring up at the full moon on full display on a clear night’s skies. Maybe you are his moon, his goddess, judging by the lust-clouded look directed at you.

“I did say I was gonna make you come on my face,” he says lowly, the gravel in his voice making you squirm as he places a trail of kisses up your thigh. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

With that, he dives in again, using his forearms to pin your legs open on the couch and his fingers to tease around where his tongue can’t reach. You mewl when you feel his tongue at your entrance, circling it around it briefly before delving in as deep as he could, his right hand stroking your clit rhythmically. The fact that he’s so good at somehow playing all your buttons like a maestro directing an orchestra has you thinking that he must be some sort of womanizer, some freak who does this kind of thing every night, but then his lips wrap around your nub and he gives a firm, long suck, and any restriction that you could’ve conjured up simply vanishes. Your thighs want to close around his head, but you can’t move under the iron grip he has on you.

You fist his hair more forcefully than necessary, and he looks up, wet eyelashes framing his beautiful eyes as he hums in response.

“Please,” you moan, and he hums affirmatively again, closing his eyes to focus on licking and suckling harder. He heard you, he simply doesn’t seem to care. “Johnny.”

“What,” he asks, voice muffled and why is this so hot? 

“I need… I need,” you whine, unable to string the words together, and desperately trying to buck your hips under him, for lack of strength to actually close your thighs how you want to.

That seems to get his attention, and he chuckles, before pulling back with a gentle kiss on your mound. “Guess you’ll have to keep tryin’, pet,” he sussurs, a condescending pat on your thighs before he dives in slower than before.

Oh, the absolute asshole. Now he wants you to work for it?

You think that doing the opposite, relaxing your thighs open and letting him go to town however he wanted would help, but he seems hell-bent on riling you up every once in a while, getting you closer and closer with each lave of his tongue over your poor, overstimulated clit, but never enough to actually push you over the edge.

After what seems like an eternity, and almost, almost starting to think that this was a mistake, halfway ready to let him do this thing before your hip starts to cramp up, you feel a finger nudge at your entrance.

“Fucking finally–” you start, ready to curse him out, but he’s faster than you can think in your blissed-out state, and he slides a second finger alongside the first one, immediately zeroing in on that spot that makes you go cross-eyed and buck under his hold.

“Thassit– there you go, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your clit, and oh, okay, maybe you were closer than you thought, because the rhythmic curl of his fingers doesn’t need to last long before you’re off like an arrow, back arching and thighs squeezing, coming harder than you ever thought was possible. If he were any less skilled at making you completely lose the ability to think, you’d maybe notice that you’d managed to close your thighs almost completely around his head, but he wasn’t, so you don’t, twitching helplessly in the aftershocks of the most wonderful orgasm a man had ever given you.

Limbs that somehow still belong to your body hang uselessly off the side of the couch, and you struggle to catch your breath. You blink lazily, noticing him smugly wipe his face with the back of his hand, his half lidded eyes not any less blissed-out than yours. 

You didn’t believe a man like this ever existed, until now. It aches that this might not be something that would last, so you make grabby hands at him, unable to find the will to speak just yet. 

He laughs softly and gently grabs your arms, kissing from your knuckles slowly up your arm, to the crook of your neck. The patience he has is almost inhuman, as he takes the time to let you regather your senses, matching the marks he made earlier on the other side of your neck. You cup your hand around his head in response, and he smiles at you.

“Ye’ with me, bun?”

“Mmhm.”

“That slow enough fer’ ye’?” He holds himself up, an inch fron your face, and you reach up to kiss him.

“I’m gonna kill you dead,” you mutter against his lips, and he chuckles.

“Let me at least fuck you properly, first,” he whispers, and you notice that he’s long since unbuttoned his pants. You barely get a view of the massive size of him over your belly as he holds himself in his hand, large palm not enough to cover the whole length of him as he strokes himself, angled in such way that his tip rubs against your clit on each downstroke. The word “Please,” is not even halfway out of your mouth when he sinks into you in one swift motion, the rest dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan.

“Fuck-” he grunts, “so tight, cannot believe it.”

He guides one of your legs to wrap around him, keeping it flush against his body with his elbow as his palm grips your ass tightly, the other holding him against the backrest, forearm near your head as he pulls you closer for a sloppy kiss as he starts rolling his hips. You moan into his mouth and he swallows them greedily, leveraging each trust of his hips with a pull with his hand, helping you move in tandem with him, readjusting when your thigh threatens to slip out of his hold. The slaps of his pelvis to yours should sound obscene, his hard muscles hitting against your soft, jiggly skin, but his groans into your mouth are like music to your ears, the fact that he’s vocal about it has you almost reaching your peak again in no time, but he seems to sense it, and slows down immediately.

You try to kiss him harder, but he makes a small noise of protest, muttering something that sounds vaguely like “no, let me, let me just–” and you want to ask what he wants to do, to help him, but he instead reaches down both hands to grab your hips and pull you off the backrest. You yelp as your ass suddenly hangs in the air, his cock speared inside you the only secure point as he pulls you halfway off the couch, but he directs you firmly, “Here, around me,” helping you wrap your legs tightly as he starts thrusting again, harder than before.

“Oh, God, oh God,” you flail around, but each thrust in pushes your back into the cushions, and he reaches behind his back to hold your feet in his hand as he presses his palm near your head for support, spewing more filth as he does.

“That’s it, hold me tight, squeeze my cock like ye’ almost squeezed mah heid off earlier, huh, bonnie? Show me what those thighs can do, fuck-”

Your whole body is jiggling with each thrust, and you don’t have it in you to even feel self-conscious with the way each time he fills you, the tip of his cock nudges against the spongey spot inside, making you mewl in tempo with his relentless rhythm.

“Johnny, Johnny,” you moan, and he bends over to kiss you again, swallowing his name like communion while you chant it like a prayer.

“Don’t give up now, bonnie, keep squeezin’, fuck, I can feel ye’, yer so close.”

You try to get some leverage with your upper body, trying to push yourself up the cushions, but his cock suddenly slips out of you as your thighs almost give out, and an apology is already halfway out your mouth when he kneels back down and burrows between your legs, tongue first with a rushed “Need ta’ taste us, fuck, both of us, together-”

One hand wraps around your hip and over your pelvis, reaching up to knead desperately at your stomach, to pull you closer or push you away, you can’t tell, the other pulling your lips apart to settle his entire lower face against your pussy firmly– before letting go as he starts humming.

Your thighs are free to squeeze around his ears, and he nods encouragingly as he keeps licking, and then you hear it: the sounds of wet stroking. You don’t see him fisting his cock, but you hear it, fast and desperate. As your hand tangles in his hair to pull him closer, and another hum– no, another moan vibrates through your core, it’s the last thing you hear before you’re absolutely gone, gasping out a curse as you tense up in his hold, trembling as you come.

It’s even more intense than the first one, and as you buck out of his hold, he stands up shakily, his hand moving faster and faster around his cock, the angry red of his tip at the same level as your face. You gesture for him to sit down, trying to signal to him that you want to reciprocate despite the post-orgasmic haze and exhaustion, but he shakes his head, and, seconds later, you feel warm wetness land on your belly and slowly trickle down as he moans your name when he comes.

You feel like you still have to give something back, and, when he slumps down next to you with a content sigh, you climb over to place a delicate kiss on the tip of his cock, letting out a huff of laughter when it twitches under your touch.

“Ye’ absolute menace,” he whispers fondly as he pulls you up and tips his body to the side to lie down, using his legs to push you up halfway over him, trapping you between his body and the cushions, yet protectively shielding you from falling over. You place another kiss on his stomach, and you see his abs tense under your touch as your warm breath moves his hairs as you hover for a second, before deciding to shift up and use his pectorals as a cushion. He hums softly as his arm wraps around under yours, reaching to pull the plaid off the back of the couch and settle it around you both. Ticklish, eh? That’s a piece of information best stored for later.

You’re still breathless, absolutely done for. God, best decision of your life, going to the gym. “Now what?” you can’t help but ask. It’s the same fear that always creeps up, the fear that he got to try out a fantasy, and now that he was done with it, he had no need to want to continue anything possibly serious. Not that eating a girl out on a first date, if you could even call it a date, was a sign of a one-night stand, you can’t help but feel awkward and insecure now that it’s all done, despite the comforting cuddle.

He chuckles in response, that same chuckle from earlier in the day, a What a silly question chuckle. Like he’d read into your thoughts and insecurities and found them absolutely laughable.

“Same time at the gym, tomorrow? I want you to squeeze my head off next time.”

“Next time, huh?”

He pulls your leg over his pelvis, trapping his still half-mast cock between his belly and the crook of your knee, hand firmly wrapped to shift you up, almost completely on top of him. When both of you are comfortable and you start feeling the tendrils of sleep pull you deeper, he gives a last, playful squeeze to your ass.

“Next time.”

[heytherecentaurs]

Everyone is crushing this show. It's even better than the first one.

Murph playing both Barry and Kugrash is great. Barry is truly having a moment. Murph flexing changed the fabric of the universe. The fact that he transitions from himbo to smart rat – THE RANGE.

Siobhan's first time as Rowan had her so over everything happening; this time she's a little more open to things but still calling out all the fairy tale bullshit. Very funny. Could be interesting if this is actually Rowan's first time in a quangle and some vague idea of it happening in episode 1 is why she's so over it.

Ally as Margaret is always incredible. Marge is always a little horny and somehow both competent and a disaster. They really rely on Marge's abilities because she's not a character optimized for combat. But it works for them.

Zac remains a king of oneliners. And the fact Gorgug is the one trying to keep things on the rails as a teenager is hilarious. He's an amazing Bad Kid to have alone. I love that the Fantasy High kid knows what the quangle is. Really good stuff. Also, "If I leave you with anything, it's this—those guys are not my friends." HA!

Emily really shines in the live shows, brings a ton of energy and seems to have an innate sense of structure that ties the chaos together. The whole bit about it being live theatre was amazing.

Brennan is a nasty lil freak.

[vitevii]

Stobotnik Role Swap AU Part 2

Here’s some more stuff about my Stobot Swap AU! Featuring: A potential excerpt from the fic I plan to write, more thoughts about Stone and Robotnik’s relationship prior to Sonic’s arrival, and another idea for a potential fic scene!

[AU: Stone and Robotnik are still an agent and a brilliant scientist respectively, but the hierarchy of their relationship is flipped with Stone being the ‘boss’ and Robotnik as the ‘henchman’.]

If you want to see the first post I made on this, it’s here: link (and it's also my current pinned post)

-

From the day he met Ivo, Stone was fascinated by the doctor... especially during the 2 minute rant the doctor blasted at him from point-blank (literally and figuratively). From the first day he saw Ivo at work, gliding and spinning between workstations like a dancer, Stone was enthralled by the doctor. From the first day he saw Ivo- glistening with sweat and grinning maniacally- complete one of his incredible inventions, Stone was captivated by the doctor. All of those days occurred in the same week. Stone had fallen very rapidly head-over-heels for the doctor, though he would not have used such terminology at the time, and he wouldn’t admit the fact to himself yet.

Regardless of the terms and conditions, Agent Stone had decided.

He would have the doctor for himself.

-

When Dr. Robotnik is first promoted to serve directly under Agent Stone, he tries to dial back his retorts and tirades against more ‘simpleminded’ agents as he fears that Stone may send him back to the lower levels of shadow ops or that he may get Stone into trouble in such a way that they’re both demoted. But after a while under Stone’s command, Robotnik gets a taste of Stone’s power, and he begins testing the waters on just how far Stone and Stone’s reputation can protect him. He drops formalities/titles for other agents and only addresses Stone properly (Mr. Stone/Sir/Agent Stone). He addresses anyone of lower rank with weird little nicknames and insults, and they can’t do anything about it. Ivo is very smug about this. He gets more and more accustomed to his new freedom and to being himself- as long as Stone is around.

He starts making sure he’s always around Stone.

Military personnel who’ve had the misfortune honor of working with the Agent+Scientist duo start referring to Robotnik as ‘Stone’s lap dog’ and ‘Stone’s lab rat’ when Robotnik and Stone aren’t around.

Random agent to Robotnik after being insulted: you disrespectful little freak I swear I’m gonna tear you ap-… ah..Agent Stone, Sir!

Stone, walking into the room with death in his eyes: Ah, Agent C, so sorry to interrupt. Did you have something important to say to Dr. Robotnik?

Random agent: Uh n-no it’s nothing important, Sir.

Stone: Well then if you’re done wasting the good doctor’s time, he and I will be on our way.

Stone turns to exit the room again, Robotnik starts walking backwards, grinning and then flipping off Agent C (who is fuming again)

-

The first time Dr. Robotnik lashes out physically against Agent Stone, Ivo freezes up, his fist still clenched around Stone’s tie, realizing that he could very easily lose his position at Stone’s side for this.

Stone is staring at him, seemingly unbothered, with eyebrows raised, clearly intrigued but not revealing much else. Ivo lets go and backs up. “Sorry, Sir,” He manages to mutter through gritted teeth. It’s been a long time since he’s apologized to anyone for anything. “That won’t happen again.”

-

[Scene below would take place after they’ve known each other for a while. Stone is fully in love with Robotnik but hasn’t confessed, Robotnik still thinks that Stone only keeps him around for his inventions and expertise.]

When Stone gets seriously injured, Robotnik puts him under general anesthesia and puts him in restraints before operating because Stone has a habit of reflexively lashing out when dazed. When Stone comes to after the surgery, the first thing his hazy vision lands on is Ivo's face, very close to his, and then he registers that his wrists are strapped down. His eyelids flutter.

Stone murmurs dreamily “Oh, doctor.. what do you have planned for me?”. And then he fades away into unconsciousness again.

Robotnik blushes deeply and feels things he doesn’t understand. He never mentions this to anyone. The next few days, he’s strangely quiet, his brow furrowed, focused only on monitoring the agent’s vitals and recovery. Stone, when he’s regained his senses properly, is concerned about the change in demeanor and asks, “Doctor.. is something bothering you? Did I hurt you when I…?”

Ivo scoffs. “Do you take me for a blithering idiot? I know to take the proper precautions. Shut up and let me focus.”

Stone nods and rests his head back down, smiling. “Of course, Doctor. I trust you.”

[mythronic]

Wayne Family Personas!!! (PART 2)

Previous Part here!

Damian Wayne:

Adorable and shy animal lover that sticks by his older siblings. If anyone has ever seen Damian Wayne at a gala, it’s often by his siblings’ sides, hiding behind their coattails or beneath their arms. Despite many attempts, no one has succeeded in disallowing Damian to bring animals into galas. Most notably, one time, Damian brought in a huge snake that scared some patrons to death. However, there is an… Outlier. Damian Wayne is reported to be a snarky and sly little brat when teamed up with Cass, Duke, and Tim, usually with the goal of irritating the fuck out of some socialite or Roman Sionis.

Damian is appalled by the personas that Bruce and Dick put on most of the time, and finds great pleasure in threatening people with a cat in his arms as Tim easily picks up from the threat with his sharp tongue.

He also likes to gaslight people that all the cats he brings to the galas are actually one in the same. They're all named 'Alfred' and no one dares to correct him. Cullen: "And... No one asks you where you got all the cats from...?" Damian: "Of course not. My status strikes fear into those below me, they wouldn't dare question me." Cullen: "I see."

Duke Thomas:

Bland, unassuming, middle class boy that doesn't know what to do with himself. Duke goes the 'invisible boy' route and plays the boring normal kid that got adopted by Bruce out of either pity or convenience. Duke is all too happy to use his 'invisible boy' persona to listen into conversations for Tim or ditching galas with Damian, and sometimes, when he's extra bored and either Lex Luthor or Vicki Vale or some idiot businessman or whatnot is at the gala, never let it be said that Duke doesn't know how to cause chaos and freak out rich people at the same time, eat the rich baby~

Duke has most definitely spiked the alcohol. No for real, he mixes alcohol with more alcohol just to laugh when rich people's composures break.

Duke doesn't often stick by Bruce, Dick, or Jason during galas. He prefers the chaos of blackmailing rich people with Tim, Cass, and occasionally Damian.

Izzy: "Wait, wait. What do you mean you managed to expose a rich person for moving and doing drugs??"

Duke: "How was I supposed to know that he avoided drinking more than one drink cause he knew he was a nasty talker??"

Izzy: "And you... Spiked his drink with what??"

Duke: "Nothing! Just vodka, and spirit, and some gin, and.... This isn't looking good for me is it?"

Izzy: "I still love you for it."

Harper Row:

Is she a family friend? Or a personal bodyguard? Harper doesn't often go to Wayne galas, especially since she actually isn't adopted legally by Bruce. But she can't say no when Dick begs for assistance covering for him when the guy is too tired to attend the galas. While gala people try to insult her appearance and obvious Bowery accent, she single handedly shows how much she doesn't give a fuck with a raised brow and laughter. They may try to hate on Harper, but she abuses and takes advantage of her statue as an honorary Wayne, it doesn't go well.

Harper also makes use of this persona of hers to find out who she should hate and who she should at least respect a little bit. She reports this to Dick.

She and Jason 100% gossip on the idiots at the galas, and teases the other Wayne family members and their personas.

Harper: "If I asked nicely, could I get some jewellery from Imens?"

Selina: "Why him?"

Harper: "Called me and Jayce sewer rats, I'd like to sell off his stuff and watch him weep."

Selina: "... Yeah, sure."

Mia Mizoguchi:

Snobby Gotham Academy brat who is too smart for her own good. Mia doesn't often go to galas, because she doesn't want to dabble in all the politics and subtleties of Gotham's high society. But she does occasionally do Tim some favours at galas, acting the cute but completely spoiled child with Damian in order to get information out of people. Mia's persona is that kid who takes pictures in the bathroom and purchases expensive shit to bring to school just to brag, and accuses any one scholarship kid for stealing them when they go missing.

Maps sometimes brings her friends to galas just to promote the persona she has, and learnt a LOT of slang in the span of two hours.

Maps has definitely joined DIck before on his little Instagram model bullshit, probably obsessively going through filters for 30 whole minutes while Dick talks to people.

Duke: "Why are you so committed to this persona?"

Maps: "I thought you of all people would appreciate the art of deception."

Duke: "... Yeah you're right I dig it."

So I'm sure you've noticed a bit (a lot of) mentions of Tim, and that's because I've kind of mentally split the family in terms of the goofy, not so serious personas (Bruce, Dick, Jason, Harper, Damian), and the High Society tea and biscuits (Tim, Cass, Duke, Mia)

Basically, Bruce's team does it for appearances, and Tim's side does it to gather information and to serve a purpose other than appearing 'normal'. He's at the head of this 'operation', which is why I defaulted to mentioning Tim.

Some of you might start stabbing me for not mentioning Steph, but I see her as a more separate persona and figure unaffiliated with Bruce's brood other than being Tim's ex and his go-to date before 'Conner Luthor'

[bogleech]

MY DRAGON QUEST MONSTERS THREAD

Dragon Quest Monsters: The Dark Prince is the first DQM game I've ever gotten to play after admiring the series since childhood. The bad news is that it leaves out exactly the three DQ monsters I love most. The good news is that everything else about it is great. I've been taking regular screenshots as I play and I am going to start adding things about it to this post, so it is going to get long. First of all here are exactly my next three favorite monsters in the franchise, which they fortunately did include, and were all available to me by almost the first area:

"Mad Mollusk" or in other dq games "taileater" is great because it has a sad flabby slug face at one end and a fanged leech mouth at the other end. When it uses magic, it reveals giant eyeballs in its antennae somehow?! Love how big the "carnivorous" mouth gets in the attack animation. What a stretchy guy!

"Lunatick" is just called "meda" (eye) in Japanese, I'm glad they decided it was like a parasite thing in the localization.

Finally there's DROHL, a classic DQ enemy that looks like...well I'm not gonna say what it really looks like but I think it's a cool little freak unrelated to that and I think it talks exactly like Droopy dog. Oddly it's known as a "Drohl DRONE," and I believe there are other "castes" in other DQ games, but only the "drones" are in this one sadly. I've yet to find this in the wild; I got it through the breeding system!

....Which is by far the most addicting thing about this game. The actual gameplay is good solid turn based RPG stuff, if a bit basic, but every monster can be bred with another monster to unlock a slew of other species. This is one of the first games in which they actually call it a "fusion" system now, I guess dropping the word "breed" from the English localization, but all other in-game dialog still calls these the 'parents' and 'offspring' and even makes jokes that they're getting married, so yeah, it's still breeding. What happens when you breed a slime with someone's dead grandpa??

.....There are multiple monsters you can get from that, but one of them, and the one that makes the most sense, is Slimeshroom! This is a new DQ slime that's some fungus! What's also fun is that every monster has up to three skills, and each skill actually unlocks a ton of spells, attacks, boosts and effects as you spend skill points on them. Then when you breed two monsters, you can give the baby any three skills from the parents. Any at all! I used this to make my Slimeshroom both a healer and a fire mage in the early game. This catches you up with the same progress I talked about when I first got the game almost two months ago so here's some things that have happened since:

I bred a flying cat and a vampire chinchilla to get a.....sexy bat??

I helped a fat rat - that's the name of his species - rescue his son

I bred a people ghost with a lamp ghost to get a bag of dirt!

I fought this bastard giraffe man who called an elderly wizard a "naughty boy" and put him in candy jail.

"Duffer" from the Giraffe quest is also best friends with Eileen the eye demon, and when you rescue him, they become your loyal subjects! BAD NEWS: this entire game is actually a prequel to Dragon Quest 4, and the player character of this game is the villain of Dragon Quest 4. Duffer and Eileen are also in Dragon Quest 4. They die :( .......Maybe this game gives you a chance to fix that future??? I don't know.

[heartfullofleeches]

Hiii I just started reading your stuff like a month ago and I love it sooo much bro😫 I read like stoner reader or sum shi but anyways can you like explain who your ocs v and k is? I hope that makes sense lol😭 I have like a little idea of who they are but not 🥲

V is my greasy rat of an oc - a borderline incel without any of the truly irredeemable qualities who struggles with his feelings for his darling because mom and dad were never home when he was a kid and he doesn't know how to express his emotions. Still spoiled rotten by them and lives a comfortable life behind his computer screen because their family is loaded and support through everything. He also really likes cats but is allergic to them and wants his darling to be their sweet little kitten - keeping a pet cage in his bedroom for them because he's a freak like that. Struggles with their identity/sexuality depending on where he is in life in any given fic, but this loser is very Bi and is adjusting to using He/They pronouns

K is V's younger sister - a friendly girl who may may not have a criminal record swept under the rug by her parents influence. Loves beaded bracelets and anything cute - like her darling. Feral gremlin woman who'd drop a brick off a roof when seeing a rival/someone who bullied her crush and say "Oops! My hand slipped :p". Goes to college unlike her useless brother and teases him often - being the reason V has purple hair and pigtails because he's too lazy to do his own hair, sneaking in to do it while he's passed out.

V is short for Vince. Technically it's short for Vincent, but nobody calls him that but his parents. K is short for Katherine.

[sapphicdib]

woo first post of the year! i finally finished my doodles of everyone in the streamer au :3 i’m rlly excited to post it cuz i love this au dearly!! some lil snippets of info about everyone is below the cut if ur curious abt this silly au :3

LTTM | Kamaria (she/her)

Works as a nutritionist, was inspired to go into the field because both her parents are doctors! Usually mods Sig’s chat and occasionally joins streams if she’s up for it. In a book club with Cyra, and is a little gym rat, specifically weight training and likes to joke that she can bench-press Sayani (she can.). Usually level-headed but gets extremely anxious when people get sick, especially Felix. Thankfully Sayani and Cyra are there to force her to rest and help if one of them is under the weather. Massive lesbian and Sayani’s partner.

SRS | Cyra (they/he/xe)

Sheltered catholic boy turned nonbinary librarian with like 3 boyfriends (gn). Started using they/them on accident when they got asked their pronouns in class and panicked and blurted “he/they” and then was too awkward to correct himself. Currently attends school with Felix, getting their masters degree in library science (xier bachelors was in history). On the very rare occasion they join sayani’s streams, xe wears a facemask which has triggered sayani’s fanbase to make a “headcanon” that he’s a vampire and doesn’t wanna show his fangs. Joined a book club to find some friends that he goes to with Kamaria.

SOS | Sylvia (she/her)

ngl she’s usually just a background character, probably an accountant or something

OSO | Felicity (she/her)

fun fact i literally googled “bitchy girl names” to get a name for her. looks like a tired office woman. probably works with sliver and hates her.

EOI | Echos (any/all)

haven’t really used him either but they’re vegan and like crocheting :3 probably has a small business on etsy or smth

CW | Chase (he/him)

straightest gay man in existence. had piper convinced he was genuinely straight until yui told them otherwise. sig’s childhood best friend and partner in crime. not a streamer but does play games with sig regularly. his last name is Gray-Windsor (clubs came up with that banger)

NSH | Sayani (she/he/it)

god i could dump so much stuff about this lil freak. she’s a streamer, obviously, and also a top-ranked esports player in multiple FPS games. refuses to tell chat its pronouns bc she thinks it’s funny watching them guess. gets hella bitches and is dating kamaria, cyra, & felix, and occasionally fucks around with piper, yui, & chase. his mom is from the philippines and his dad is japanese, and her mom speaks to him mostly in tagalog, which sig can understand but can’t speak (…aside from swear words, lmao). attended the same college as felix & cyra’s for one semester until the streaming thing blew up.

PI | Piper (they/them)

DEFINITION OF PRETTY PRIVILEGE. PURE OF HEART AND DUMB OF ASS. lowkey stoner and helps felix w his chronic pain. highkey gay whore, is with Felix officially and kinda Cyra and Sayani. competitive esports player & streamer who met sayani at a competition.

UI | Yui (she/they)

streamer & competitive esports player, can come off as a bit of a bitch due to being defensive in such a male-dominated space. from korea and makes fun of sig for not being bilingual like she is. very close friends with piper and phoebe.

ABL | Phoebe (they/them)

again, haven’t really used them much but they’re yui’s best friend. has a massive crush on yui but doesn’t really have the confidence to go for it. enjoys fashion design.

FP | Felix (he/him)

Kamaria’s adopted brother (hence why he’s a scrawny ass white boy). Battled cancer as a child and deals with chronic pain due to it, but has been in remission since he was 12! has to use crutches when he walks sometimes. artsy little fuck and getting his bachelors of fine arts, drew all of the emotes for sayani’s streams. used to be camera shy but eventually came to be a pretty regular guest on stream, and occasionally does little drawing streams. knows how to play guitar and sing, but thinks his voice sounds “girly” so he doesn’t do it often. dating sayani, cyra, and piper.

aaaaaand yeah! that’s all i can think of rn lmfao. i’m probably gonna hit post and be like “NO I FORGOT TO SAY—“ but oh well lmfao. feel free to send me asks abt it :D

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

Niffty in IKEA

Husk- There u are Niff! Couldn’t find u and u weren’t answering ur phone. We’ve been looking all over for you. I swear this place is a freaking labyrinth! U ok?

Niffty-Yeah I’m alright, sorry for worrying you, I just got a bit lost trying to look for stuff for my sewing, than I saw some washing stuff in the bedroom aisle so I went to put it back, then I accidentally stabbed my own phone and someo-lets just say I kinda lost track of time. Luckily I was able to sustain myself from all the free samples, cheese bites anyone? Takes out a bag of free samples.

Charlie-Oooh thanks! Love the coat you got, looks brand new!

Niffty-Aww thanks, made it myself!

Charlie-That’s amazing. It feels so soft!

Niffty-You wouldn’t believe how soft rat fur can be! The hotel’s crawling with them!

Charlie-…Oh, so that’s why it has a faint smell of iron!

Niffty- That reminds me! Couldn’t find any sewing stuff but atleast I got this niffty laundry machine on sale, it was quite the fight to get. Which also reminds me, we need to leave before the other lady wakes up.

Charlie and Husk-What?

Lady in bandages-GET BACK HERE WITH MY LAUNDRY MACHINE YOU LITTLE-

Niff holding out her needle- DONT MAKE ME FINSIH WHAT I STARTED!

Husk-Sigh, This is why I prefer Bed, Bath & Beyond.