#eh it's fine i like having top scars

[zincbot]

less "i wish i was born cis" and more "i wish i could have gotten on puberty blockers"

[arinmoss]

Beautiful trans man for the lads :3

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

one odd thing about going deeper is that I'm no longer satisfied with shallower. and that's, weirdly enough, a net positive. I've self harmed - eh, twice? in the last month. both were well into the criteria that should have got sutures and ignored it; suspect I hit a vein once and was extremely close to muscle, which feels kind of odd. yeah, it's ramped up; yeah, there's a lot of blood and all that kind of stuff. very high risk of infection, potential nerve damage and all that kind of stuff (though I have not got either of them; I scared off an infection that wanted to hang round by chucking quantities of alcohol on it). but at the same time. that's only twice. that's a lot better than previously.

[oddyseye]

super interesting to read your takes on Epic! was wondering if you ever read Madeline Miller's Circe and if yes, what were your thoughts on it?

Yes, I’ve read Circe. I actually read a PDF online, but I recently found the actual book! Not that it was a smart decision to waste money on a book I’ve already read, but eh...What’s a girl to do... Anyway, it’s fine, I guess, if you’re into that sort of thing. Y’know, the whole “I took a Greek myth and turned it into a sanitized Pinterest board” vibe. Madeline Miller’s writing? Solidly meh. It’s not the revelatory prose the internet insists it is, but sure, it’s readable. Circe is, at its core, an interpretation of myth tailored for modern consumption. It’s accessible, marketable, and easy for readers to feel clever about loving. That’s fine! But it’s not the tour de force some fans seem to think it is.

Miller’s prose is polished, sure, but it’s also overly workshopped. It’s the kind of writing you’d expect from someone who graduated at the top of her MFA class, not from someone channeling the raw energy of myth. Myths are messy, strange, and wild. Miller’s style, in comparison, feels sanitized and controlled, like she’s so afraid of losing her grip on the narrative that she cuts away anything that might add texture or complexity. It’s the literary equivalent of a curated Instagram feed: nice to look at, but lacking depth.

Then there’s Circe herself. Miller does try to give her more agency, and I respect the effort to center her voice in a way the original myths didn’t. But the execution? Kind of frustrating. Circe starts out promising — turning men into pigs is such an iconic power move, and her fury feels righteous. But just when we think she’s found her strength, here comes Odysseus, and suddenly the narrative shifts. She’s no longer the fearsome witch-goddess carving out her own place in the world; she’s softened by the love of a clever man. And let’s be real: Odysseus isn’t just any man. He’s a walking bundle of red flags, even by Greek myth standards. He lies, manipulates, and cheats, and yet somehow, we’re supposed to believe that after Circe has been burned by men over and over again, this is the guy she opens her heart to? It’s not just about him, though — it’s what his arrival represents. The story moves from “Circe standing on her own” to “Circe defined by her relationship with Odysseus.” And for a book marketed as a feminist retelling, that feels like such a cop-out. And then...Telemachus.

I get why Miller paired him with Circe. Symbolically, it works. He’s everything Odysseus never was. Their relationship is clearly meant to be this balm, a quiet resolution after all the stormy chaos of Circe’s life. And I’ll admit, it’s sweet in a way that sneaks up on you. But does it feel entirely earned? Not really. The thing is, their bond develops too neatly, almost like it’s checking off a box labeled “Happy Ending.” Telemachus shows up, all sweet and thoughtful, and we’re supposed to believe Circe would just open her heart to him after everything she’s been through? I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve love, she absolutely does, but where’s the tension? Where’s the hesitation? This is a woman who’s spent centuries in isolation, surviving betrayal after betrayal. Shouldn’t there be a little more conflict in letting someone like Telemachus in, no matter how gentle he is?

That said, I can’t deny the appeal. Telemachus stepping away from his father’s shadow and finding peace with Circe does have a certain poetic justice to it. And the moments between them are undeniably tender — there’s a quiet power in the idea of two scarred people finding solace in each other. It’s just that, for all its cuteness, their relationship feels more like an epilogue than an integral part of the story. It’s nice, and it is sweet, but it doesn’t quite feel alive. Telegonus is...a plot device. Literally I do not care half as much as I should for him, so I honestly have no idea what to even say for him here. He could and should have been better. Sure, Telegonus is the catalyst for some major events, but he himself feels oddly passive in his own story. He’s the one who accidentally kills Odysseus, yet the emotional fallout of that act barely scratches the surface. Instead, the focus shifts back to Circe and Telemachus, leaving Telegonus as this loose end that never quite gets tied up. Not normally, at least. He’s there to serve Circe’s arc, not to have one of his own. And for someone with his parentage, that feels like a waste.

What really irks me, though, is the missed opportunity. The premise of Circe is so good: a witch cast out by the gods, building her life from scratch and dealing with the fallout of her choices. There’s so much room for nuance and exploration there — of power, isolation, anger, and what it means to be both divine and deeply human. But Miller doesn’t lean into those themes as much as she could. Instead, the story often feels like it’s ticking off a checklist of tropes to make Circe “relatable” to a modern audience.

To be clear, I’m not saying Miller needed to write a hyper-accurate mythological treatise. Adaptations are allowed to take liberties! But they should still engage with the source material in a way that feels authentic, not just convenient. Instead of grappling with Circe’s contradictions — her cruelty and compassion, her power and her vulnerability — Miller smooths over those edges to make her more palatable. Circe is fine. It’s a decent book if you’re looking for a cozy entry point into Greek myths, but it’s not the radical, feminist reclamation it’s often made out to be. It takes some of the most interesting elements of Circe’s story and waters them down into something more comfortable, more easily consumed. Which, hey, works for a lot of people! But if you’re looking for a Circe who’s truly complicated, messy, and unyielding, you’ll have to go back to the myths, or write your own. It’s cute, it’s tidy, and it’s easy to love, but myths, in my opinion, should be anything but. Working on my own little retelling of the Odyssey, and I just hope it will not end up like a mess.

[razorblade180]

9 days of Lancaster Day 8: Beach Day

Ruby:Jauuuuuune! You ready for next week’s team environmental bonding training!? AKA, the beach!?

Jaune:Umm, yeah. I’m sure it’ll be fun.

Ruby:..Don’t tell me you can’t swim?

Jaune:I can swim fine. Although if I’m honest I’m probably build a sandcastle or something. Maybe read.

Ruby:You sound like Blake. I need you amped! We gotta wipe Yang’s smug look off her face in volleyball.

Jaune:As long as Nora’s on our team.

Ruby:Obviously. Hey, are you already done packing? I didn’t even see you shop.

Jaune:Ren got most of the travel stuff like sunscreen.

Ruby:You owned beach clothes already?

Jaune:I mean…sorta? I have trunks and y’know, a cozy top.

Ruby:Like a divine shirt?

Jaune:More like a…beach hoodie.

Ruby:Jaune, it’s gonna be in the triple digits when we go.

Jaune:I’ll live.

Ruby:Yeah in an emergency room! What’s with you? Do you have a weird scar or something?

Jaune:No. I…*rubs arm* I don’t know. Being shirtless really isn’t my thing. Never had the confidence.

Ruby:Really? I mean i get it; especially before training but you look good! Nora calls you Mr. Muscle.

Jaune:Hehe, yeah it’s a wild thing. I know it’s in my head but after getting picked on when I was younger I kinda became self conscious. Hoodies have always felt cozier after that.

Ruby:….Wanna make a deal?

Jaune:A deal?

Ruby:I actually have been trying to gain more confidence in myself and shake off some awkwardness. I was planning on wearing this older one piece I own. But, there’s also a part of me that wants to try a bikini for the first time. If you step out of your comfort zone then I will do it too. We can be awkward together.

Jaune:I bet you would look nice in a one piece though.

Ruby:….

Jaune:..Yeah, that didn’t sound quite right coming from your boyfriend in this situation.

Ruby:I got the sentiment, but yeah. Not your finest moment. *holds his hands* Let’s take the plunge together. We can even be a little gross and get matching outfits. *smiles*

Jaune:Haha. That would be something, wouldn’t it? I…eh, why not? Sure, let’s try.

Ruby:Yussss!

xxxxxx

The fateful day arrived. After lots of second guessing himself, Jaune stood on corse hot sand underneath a recently planted umbrella . His hoodie was nowhere in sight and his new white swimming trunks fit nicely. All he knew about the design was the at the right leg had a gray pail pouring water out of it like one of those watering buckets.

???: Nora might be onto something with Mr. Muscle.

He turned around to see a red reaper holding her beach bag. More importantly, on her was the bikini she picked in secret. It was the average cut for a standard bikini, with the top being green on the straps and upper rim. Meanwhile, the cups and bottom were bright red with a few yellowish specks. Jaune quickly realized Ruby was a red as the strawberry design she chose.

Ruby:S-So? Any thoughts? How do I look?

Jaune:Edible.

Ruby:!?

Jaune:That’s not- I mean- *covers face*…. You look really nice. Man this hasn’t been my week.

Ruby removed the boy’s hands to get a good look at him. He wasn’t as cut as her but man did he bulk up! Not too much though. Jaune was still pretty lean and Ruby found that wonderful. She moved her arms under his own and gave a gentle hug while her fingers traced his back.

Ruby:If ya ask me, you look, feel, and smell good. I’m one lucky gal.

Jaune:*red* Thanks. I’m pretty lucky too. *hugs her*

Ruby:Well your luck isn’t over. I kinda need your help. *pulls out sunscreen*

Jaune:..You’re really trying give me a heart attack.

Ruby:Hahaha!

[sleuth-draws]

LOVESICK (part 4) - Close to You < prev | next >

Vitani has been acting strange.

Well, she always acts strange; that's kind of her thing sometimes. But stranger than usual.

Kiara has noticed that her friend can't quite keep eye contact anymore, often darting away quickly. When Kiara comes close to nuzzle her, groom her, even just to chat, she's been insistent on keeping more distance than usual, scooching away with an awkward and very unsubtle clearing her throat. On top of that, she's being leaving the den at night more and more to pace and grumble. Vitani might think she's being discrete but Kiara knows her enough to be able to tell when something's wrong. She's started to worry that her dear friend has started to lose sleep.

She's more than familiar with the old Vitani -- the quiet broody lioness who most times couldn't stand to stick around the pride, more out of habit than preference. She's reminded now of that Vitani.

There's no one she's enjoyed seeing come out of her shell more than Vitani. Except Kovu, of course. But she loves getting Vitani to crack that crooked smile of hers, getting her to loosen up and see that there's no immediate threat to look out for anymore. Kiara never bore witness to the atrocities Scar inflicted upon the Pridelands but she thinks witnessing how her new friends have been affected by Zira's tyrannical reign is the closest thing to it. The lack of food, the lack of support, the lack of love. She can't imagine what that's like.

Kiara does realize her privileged position; she's the Princess of the Pridelands for gods' sake. She knows she could never come close to knowing what it's like to suffer this greatly or to feel the after-effects of cruelty. But it's all she can do to check in on those who have.

So when her training lets out at the first sign of sunset, she spares Kovu a halfhearted nuzzle before going off in search of Vitani as she always does.

She's not at the watering hole, nor the fields, nor in the shady spot where they play-fought just a few days ago.

Hm. The Guard must have finished late today.

Kiara heads back to the Rock to visit the lair and approaches just in time to see Vitani exit with Imara at her side. The two are speaking with hushed tones and standing rather close. Vitani ducks her head in laughter and Imara nuzzles her side.

A pit forms in Kiara's gut. Huh. She must be hungrier than she thought. Yeah. That must be it.

Before she knows it, she's trotting towards them, calling, "Hey, Vitani!"

Her friend perks up instantly, those big ears of hers at attention. She looks hesitant but smiles at her nonetheless. Kiara grins as she makes her way over.

Imara nudges Vitani with her shoulder almost smugly, before bidding her goodbye and offering a respectful nod in Kiara's direction just as she comes face-to-face.

"Hi," Kiara breathes, only a little winded from her hurried journey over.

"Hi," Vitani breathes back, though she doesn't look tired at all.

Kiara tilts her head at her tall friend. "How was patrolling today?"

"Eh, it was fine. Imara just left to report to your old man. Had to chase off some mangy rogue who thought he could flirt with me and the Guard. Unfortunately, he was stubborn enough to let things get violent."

"Ugh, he sounds awful."

"Oh, he was," Vitani barks out an amused laugh, "But I knocked him flat and he ran away scared."

"Ha! You sure showed him," Kiara chuckles, finding herself circling around Vitani. She does things like this sometimes, stalking around Vitani as if hunting -- and at one point, Kovu as well -- and she doesn't quite know why. At this point, she's reasoned it's simply a natural habit. "How lucky we are to have you to protect us." She leans in to brush their sides together, nuzzling her cheek to Vitani's. "I missed you, y'know."

Vitani tenses but that's never been atypical. Touch has always been something her friend found hard to get used. "Oh, I, uh --" She clears her throat, thrown off her game. "I-I missed you too." She shakes her head. "But you just saw me yesterday, Princess!"

"I can still miss you!"

A snort. "Yeah, right."

Kiara is about to shoot a retort back when her nose starts to itch and a loud sneeze interrupts her, startling them both.

"Yeegh," Kiara exclaims, shaking her head and licking her nose, "Vitani!"

"What?"

"There's so much dust in your fur! No doubt from that fight. You seriously need a bath."

Vitani bristles. "Ugh, no way." She shakes herself out, ears flapping almost aggressively. "Look, I'm totally fi--" When she takes a step forward, her foreleg buckles and she stumbles, catching herself with the other foreleg.

"Vitani!" Immediately, Kiara is moving in to assist her.

"I'm fine, Kiara." Vitani grits. "It's just a sprain, nothin' I can't handle."

Kiara looks back towards the fields. Her mother won't be back with food a little while. "Come follow me."

"But --"

"Don't argue with me. Come on." Kiara headbutts Vitani's shoulder and though Vitani grumbles the whole way, they walk up Pride Rock together. There, several lionesses are resting out at the entrance of the den, grooming themselves and each other and sunbathing while they still have a sun to bathe in.

There's a round of greetings when the pair ascend, including Tiifu, Zuri and, surprisingly, Kasi, who are dozing in a pile together. Vitani stares as they pass; Kasi looks away in slight embarrassment.

They find a spot somewhere nearby, still warm from the sun, and Kiara gives a look that makes Vitani sigh loudly and plop down. Kiara settles in beside her.

"Hmph, good. Now..." Kiara leans in and starts grooming the fur on Vitani's neck; immediately Vitani jerks away. "Oh, come on, Vitani."

"I-I-I really think I can do this myself!" Vitani stutters.

"Don't be ridiculous," Kiara huffs. "You couldn't reach that neck of yours if you tried!" She leans in again and when Vitani dodges once more, she reaches with both paws to ensnare her head and hold it securely to her. Vitani struggles but doesn't go so far as to kick at her with her hind legs -- a great sign. "Ha. Good girl."

Vitani goes ramrod straight. Kiara pays her no mind and starts to groom the tuft on her head. Slowly, her friend starts to relax, though she maintains the tension in her shoulders, claws digging into the dirt. Eventually, that too leaves her, pressure rolling off her shoulders till even her claws, trained to be out at all times in attack position, start to sheathe themselves. She breathes a sigh and closes her eyes.

Delight fills Kiara's chest. There's something precious about this. Being able to just lie here in peace with someone once considered her enemy and relax together. To see her realize there's nothing to fear, at long last. Vitani has been scared for so long. She might not like to admit, but Kiara knows. Kovu has told her the hardships they all had to face at Zira's paws, Vitani in particular. He'd been blind to it, at first, giving in to Zira's hate-filled rhetoric and training. But the months after the war had allowed the siblings to open up to one another, where they'd previously been emotionally standoffish.

Vitani was the one keeping their family together. Her closeness to their older brother as both of Zira's neglected children and her admittedly enforced love for Kovu was bridged by her need to do right by her mother. She amplified the admiration for her younger brother among the Outsiders, she kept her older brother in line, and, greatest of all, she was the perfect soldier. Savage and wild and bloodthirsty, eager to fight and, lucky for Zira, eager to please. Because, however small, that was the closest she would get to actual love from Zira.

A transactional, militaristic relationship.

And when at last she defied her mother, she was quickly cast aside.

Where Vitani had loved Kovu superficially, as taught by Zira, there was also the real love of being the only sibling who truly cared for him. They're twins, after all, as easy it is to forget, uniquely linked. That love was smaller, unfostered, buried away, but it was there. Her betraying Zira was what made Kovu realize there was more that needed to be talked about. How could they leave things the way they were? After they'd lost their only mother and Nuka, after not even knowing their supposedly shared father, how could they go on not truly knowing one another?

The months of healing did them well. While Vitani had been reclusive at first, there were times where she was seen with Kovu and she looked truly happy. Now, they're closer than they'd ever been, and Kovu happily recounts their visits together to Kiara.

It makes Kiara wonder: does Vitani fear being cast out again? Is that why she's been so aloof? Is she afraid that the peace is delicate, that it'll all fall apart one day and her value will be reduced to nothing once again?

Kiara will do anything to keep her from feeling that way.

An easy rumble in Vitani's throat draws her from her thoughts. She's nearly clean now, her usually unruly tuft smoothed into a funny-looking cowlick, but Kiara is reluctant to let her go.

"Something's been bugging you lately, hasn't it?"

Vitani's eyes open and, regrettably, a small amount of tension comes back to her. She's quiet for a long time, as if calculating her response.

"It's nothing you gotta worry about, Princess. I'll be fine."

Perfectly calculated, in fact. Something that says she shouldn't press or pry, even jokingly. Something Vitani wants to sort out herself. And as much as Kiara wants to help with this, to get her sleep and ease again, she has to respect it.

"Okay," Kiara settles on, "But if you want to talk, or need help in any way, you know I'm here for you, right? I always will be."

Vitani tilts her head and looks earnestly at her. Her violet eyes are soft, softer than she's ever seen them. A thumping erupts in Kiara's chest.

"Yeah. I know, Ki."

"I-I really care about you," Kiara finds herself blurting, "You're my best friend."

"What? But I thought Tiifu and Zuri were your best friends," Vitani says, surprised, "Or, Kovu? I can never keep track."

"No -- I mean, well, yes, they are -- but I can have multiple!" Kiara sputters, suddenly nervous and not knowing why. "The point is, I...I feel so close to you. I couldn't stand it if you were hurting a-and there was something I could do to help you."

The whole exchange gives Vitani pause and she's quiet for a long moment.

Then, miraculously, terrifically, magnificently, Vitani allows herself to nuzzle the side of her face into Kiara's chest.

"You're my best friend too, Kiara." Vitani smiles that lovely, crooked smile. "I...really care about you too."

It feels as though a storm cracks through her.

She's shaken, almost vibrating in her pelt. Her fur is warm, her mouth is dry -- what is this? She prays -- oh gods, she prays -- that Vitani can't hear her thunderous heartbeat. It would be awful of her to ruin this moment.

But what is it that's afflicted her?

And where did the air in her lungs go?

[fairymunson]

The Right Somebody To Love

pairing: eddie musnon x chronically ill! reader

summary: you're already used to being alone on the battlefield, fighting a disease that plays foul, but eddie decides to be your knight in shining leather.

warnings: insecure reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex, oral ( f receiving ), mentioning that people are total assholes, absolutely sweet Eddie, mention of medication, illness, but nothing specific, I wanted everyone to be able to identify with it

You were biting your pencil with nerves, correcting your faded skirt every now and then. And it wasn't because you'd overslept, it was because you were cradling it in your hands the whole time, nervous about your first day at a new high school. A new one. Another one this year. All you wanted was for them not to find out, so you held the sleeve of your sweatshirt tightly, covering your puncture scars. It was summer, terribly hot and you were barely panting in those suffocating clothes, but you sweated more at the thought of having to show your body. Your pulse began to pulsate in your head. Panic settled on your heart and gnawed at it vindictively, making you palpitate. You had the feeling that everyone was looking at you, exchanging communicative glances. For the first time, you felt sorry for the teacher being late for lessons. The whispers turned into voices in your head, shouting ''disgusting'' ''you're giving yourself a hard time, huh? ''you probably require some special treatment, eh?'', ''go back to the hospital, girl, no one will take pity on you here''. It's always been like that. From a very young age when they diagnosed your illness. At the time you didn't quite know what it entailed, guessing only that it was no good, looking at the frown on your dad's face and the tears of defeat in your mum's eyes. It was only later that it came to you. Not going to school, the constant hospital visits, the days, passing through your fingers, the infusions and the scars. More and more puncture scars. On your arms. On the stomach. On my arms and on my thighs. They were nasty. The healed ones and the ones that were still recovering, some more red, others brown and faded, but still awful. At least you've always been told that. Your eyes well up with unshed tears as you recall how, at your previous school, girls could be cruel when you dressed up for PE lessons. They treated you as someone inferior, just because you didn't have a smooth belly and a perfectly soft body; they laughed at you because you got tired faster when you ran or played volleyball, or when you hid in dingy corners to take a shot or change your clothes.

''Hey girl, why are you covering yourself up like that? It's hot in here, don't you think?'' Jason whistled at you, drawing the attention of the rest. Thunderous laughter filled the room. A group of cheerleaders giggled, measuring you from top to bottom. They sent you a venomous look, snorting contemptuously. You curled into yourself, covering yourself more tightly with your sweatshirt. Your nostrils moved as a sharp intake of breath escaped through them. You smiled for show, trying to play amused. Pretending that everything was fine, that his remark had not at all triggered the wave of uncertainty now humming in your gut; that you were not at all hiding the tiger-like scowls that made you feel not at all like a tigress and a warrior, but like a little frightened kitten, drenched in a rain of sadness and labiality. Hearing more nasty remarks, you run out of the room, ignoring the fact that you are already leaving the class on the first day. Your head is buzzing with questions about what they must have thought of you now. Why in the hell did you put up that crib? Now they certainly won't give you a break, thinking you're hiding some secret from which to get some good entertainment. You run through the hall, looking back, making sure no one has come up behind you to continue the rambling. Distracted, you feel after a moment as you bump into someone. This someone, grabs you by the shoulders, firmly but gently, pulling you away from his hard chest.

''Hey sweetheart, are you okay?'' You looked up, seeing a pair of the most gorgeous brown eyes. They were so big and soft, fluttering towards you with concern. He looked like Bambi when the butterfly first sat on his nose. Surprised but charmed and so pretty you felt like sticking your finger in his dimples and those soft cheeks. You took a closer look at him, gasping at the storm of brown curls framing his pretty face. ''Sorry, but I don't think I've seen you here before. Are you new? You've already managed to run into those assholes from the basketball team, I swear they're just a pack of motherfuckers and…''He moved in place, swaying gently from side to side. The chain hanging from his trousers made a noisy sound, matching your rapidly beating heart. You blushed, lowering your gaze. Wiping your cheeks with your hands, you sobbed quietly, trying to hold back the crying. In vain. Fuck, you couldn't even keep your emotions in check. They were right. They were all right. You were a failure. Why are you crying now? After all, they didn't do anything. They just hooked you, that's all. But the fear bug was crawling up your spine, leaving a slimy terror behind. ''Hey, hey, hey, baby. Why are you crying, someone upset you? Is it them?'' You shook your head, embarrassed by the whole situation. Shame hugged you to himself again, even though you wanted to break free from his embrace. Humiliated, you clamped your lips into a tight rope to keep from letting out your sobs again. ''Hey, how about stopping by my place after school? Or, if you don't want to, you can also come to my D&D campaign, I'm organising it here in the hall tonight…'' You gasped, rolling your eyes at him. However, after a moment, you lowered your gaze, picking at your nails again with nerves. You were afraid that he would discover the anxiety in your eyes. All your insecurities will be visible to him, and he will stop being interested in you when he discovers the truth. He'll see your scars, the fact that hanging out with you isn't that easy because you don't always feel like doing certain things. Often you're just lying in bed after yet another treatment, you feel like just snuggling up in a blanket and not coming out of it until you've had a cry of all your nerves and hidden emotions. Sometimes you are too tired after taking a dose of medication to even go out for a silly walk. Why does he need such a friend? Insofar as he wanted to befriend you at all, or did he just take pity on the crybaby who ran out of the room as if he had been tripped?

''You know, I… I don't really get to see you after school. '' You choked out, reminding yourself of another appointment with your doctor. An awkward silence, punctuated only by your isolated sobs, filled the corridor. You expected him to leave immediately, recognising himself as just another cry-baby. Although you wanted him to stay, you were too paralysed and buoyed by his height and that dark look to cough up anything. He reminded you of the frontman from some famous metal band you liked to listen to and you couldn't hide how captivated and charmed you were by him. What you didn't know, ba, you wouldn't have dreamt in your wildest dreams, was that this handsome man couldn't take his eyes off you either. From how sweet and shy you were, making him want to just be that shitty sweet boy and gentleman, just to see the smile on that plump, flushed face. He grunted, shifting to bow for you and pointing with his hand towards the canteen. ''In that case, I would like to invite a beautiful lady. Oh, I would be honoured if you would agree to have lunch with me, Miss.'' You raise an eyebrow, a little stunned by his drama and theatricality. When you didn't reply, he theatrically grabbed his heart, falling to the floor. You couldn't help yourself, giggling loudly at his foolishness. And so it began. That's how you met Eddie Munson. Your hero.

The trailer smelled of cigarette smoke and some stale laundry as you stepped inside, giggling warmly at Eddie's boisterous behaviour. He bowed to you and grasped your hand, placing a kiss right in the middle of it, pretending to be a knight. Just like the first day you met. ''My lady, princess of my heart, I wish to welcome you to my humble abode. Oh, damn, I gave the cleaning lady time off, wait. A lady like you can't make such an effort.'' He grumbled, seeing the scattered beer bottles and a few of his T-shirts on the floor, grabbing you quickly into his arms bride-style. ''Eddie! Let me go!'' He just laughed, spinning around with you, skilfully dodging the rubbish. He was a bit overly dramatic and theatrical at the same time, shouting that he had to save you from disgrace, finally throwing your body gently onto the couch. He leaned over you, wrapping you in his arms, which were now on either side of your head. His hair surrounded him like a halo, but his smile was devilish, showing his dimples and that ruddy curve of his lips that made your knees soften and your thinking turn white. You batted your eyelashes, feeling a flickering warmth in the pit of your stomach. You snuggled into him, letting the scent of his cheap cologne seep into your mind, making you into a sweet mush that only he could taste.

''My lovely girl, so beautiful. And only mine, yes? Just for me. All mine.'' He cooed, joining your lips in a faint kiss. Rubbing against him, you sank your fingers into the nape of his neck, drawing him impossibly close to you. His warmth, his hot breath, his lips licking yours, deepening the kiss with each passing moment. You moaned sweetly when, after a series of wet and sloppy licks, he moved to your ear, biting the lobe. He knew. Oh, this sexy bastard knew how much you loved it. How small and whiny a mess you make when he uses his hoarse voice, so different from the tone he uses to read you to sleep, whispering the filthiest things into your ear, reaching deep into your selfish, slutty ego with it. He just knew you wanted to be his little cry-baby bitch. He licked his clit before lowering his voice. Your pussy clenched helplessly at nothing, soaking your little panties. You rubbed against his clothed cock, and your skirt rolled up halfway up your trembling thigh, gaining coveted access to the leather material. He growled at you, feeling his penis flutter at this delicious contact. Oh, what he wanted to do to you. You trembled in his arms, wishing only for him to be by your side, driving your demons far beyond consciousness. ''Beautiful, we are getting naughty yes? Are we getting greedy? You're such a smart girl, sweetie, but when we use that dirty talk you're just a stupid and mindless slut, huh? Hush, baby I got you. Rub up against me, come on, you can wet my jeans, fuck me, use me just like that. I'm yours.'' Each successive word was laden with the sweet sucking of your ear that drove you crazy. You wanted to cross that line, you wanted to have sex with him. You wanted to do indecent things with him. You wanted him to undress you and worship your body, but then the insecurity returned. You remembered your scars, a few new ones, because you had recently started to feel unwell again and the amount of drips had to increase. As soon as you felt his penis pushing against your pussy again, hearing his dirty words and his veiny hand gliding towards your breast and pebbled nipple, you tensed up. The fear returned with redoubled force, weakening you. You and your enthusiasm. Your eyes glazed over, and you fidgeted silently. Eddie immediately sensed your anxiety. Fuck. He discerned every last wrinkle on your forehead. Every little grimace and wrinkle of your nose that he thought was cute. When you got angry, when you lost to him in D&D, when you failed to learn to play the guitar, he distinguished it from that frown that accompanies something nice, like when he picked you field flowers in the meadow, or went with you to your doctor for a consultation. So when you were too quiet and your body stiffened, he moved away, embracing you with a soft and sweet gaze. Damn. He was the death of you. He looked so pretty in the faint light of the yellow bedside lamp. His eyes glittered at you, with nothing but concern.

''Darling, everything's fine, yes? We're interrupting. I don't want to force you to do anything angel, okay? No questions.'' He kissed your nose, stroking the apple of your cheek with his fingers, cooing at how blushing you were. His sweet red beet. He bit his lip to just not start singing a tirade of love, coming straight from his heart, sharp on the sides but plush inside for you, marvelling at your beauty, tenderness and how pretty you were. So vulnerable and tiny beneath him. He respected that. Fuck, he'd be damned if he did anything without your permission. He would spit in his beard for the rest of his life if he hurt you. His most precious treasure. A tiny little bell. ''Eddie, I'm sorry…'' you muttered barely, limping away. You knew that once you showed yourself to him, there would be nothing left. The defensive walls would be torn down and you would be at his mercy. Defenceless, naked. You could lose him. Like all the previous ones who left you because they thought your wounds were ugly and only disfigured you, because you don't look like the women in the magazines with their big breasts and perfectly cut figures that aren't covered by any blemishes. Thinking about it, you clench your eyelids, fighting back unshed tears. ''Sweets, it's okay. You don't have to apologise for anything. You know that?'' Eddie felt bad for thinking you needed to apologise to him. God, he could have jerked off for the rest of his life if you weren't ready for sex and he'd still be OK with it. The important thing was that you were happy. That was all that mattered to him. ''Is it because of your medication? You've been taking them haven't you? Are you feeling worse? Baby, we can lie down, I can make you something to eat, although… I know you're not very hungry when you're taking them, so I'll just make you some tea, wrap you up in a blanket, turn on Black Sabbath or Iron Maiden and give you a little hug? Unless you don't want my touch right now, that's fine too, I'll do whatever you want, just tell me how you're feeling right now, princess, I need to know what's going on in your pretty head…''You interrupted his chaotic ramblings, almost crying from how much of a sweet boy he was. You kissed his parted lips, swooning at how soft they were. Even more than they seemed to be at first glance.

''Eddie I'm fine really, I'm just a bit scared.'' You muttered, dropping your gaze to his guitar pick hanging around your neck. You began to play with it, wanting to ground yourself at least a little to stop the doubts rushing in, and the coolness of the metal made it a lot easier. ''What are you afraid of, my sweet girl? You're safe with me, you can tell me anything, I swear honey. ''You want to be brave. You really want to. For him. But it's so hard. It's hard to trust someone when you've been cheated on and betrayed so many times. When you've had to experience hurtful stares and unfavourable comments so many times. Boys preferred to be with someone else after all. With someone you didn't need to be looked after, reminded of the medication you often forget, often in a crisis when you just want to pretend you're not facing a serious illness at all and everything is fine. But this is Eddie. Your sweet boy who, over months of dating, of sweet dates, of kisses exchanged in the back of his van, has never failed your trust. When you told him about the illness, he immediately wanted to know the details, not because he was nosy or wished to use all these facts against you to make fun of you; but because he wanted to know everything so that he could react appropriately if necessary. So that, despite his forgetful and noisy nature, he could remind you of your medication and be with you at every doctor's appointment. He was there, holding your hand and whispering tender words about how proud he was of you. He was wrestling with his thoughts. He hasn't seen you yet, not even your arms, because you're always covering them up with sweatshirts and sweatpants. And Eddie has never squeezed. Your heart fights against your stubborn and wounded reason and wins as soon as those little Bambi eyes flutter open again, pulling you from the embrace of anxiety.

'Love, if I've hurt you in any way just tell me, I'll fix it. ''Fuck, you can't stand that he thinks that. You can't stand that you've made him the one who feels insecure. You search for his hand in the pleasant darkness, this time turning the skull ring between your fingers. You take a deep breath. ''No, Eddie. It's not about you, it's about me. Christ, you haven't done anything wrong. You're the best in the world. I'm… You know I'm sick. I, like I told you I've faced it since I was a kid, but apart from having to take medication and sometimes I really don't feel like moving out of bed, there's something else, something I'm ashamed of, because I've always been told it's something to be ashamed of.'' You shudder, fighting the sob vibrating in your throat. Eddie doesn't say anything. He just nods for you to continue, tenderly kissing your knuckles. ''I have a lot of scars from all those infusions. They're horrible. I can't stand them. I can't stand my reflection. I can't stand looking at them. I hate that there are more and more of them. That they're not disappearing, they're just getting bigger every day. I hate them so much.'' Eddie's heart breaks. He can't believe you think that about yourself. Not when he thinks you're the most beautiful woman on earth. The most valuable, intelligent. You are his rising sun, when he was like an October night without you. Cold and devoid of rays, his feelings somewhere behind a fog of fear. The silence consumes you both. It begins to overwhelm you. You want him to speak, even if they are words of rejection, though you probably can't bear them. Eddie senses your confusion and self-doubt. He wraps his arms around you, one hand gripping your face. His hand is large on your cheek, giving you a beloved sense of security. You love comparing it to yours as yours literally sinks into him, or watching him slide his thick fingers over your thigh, embracing almost all of it. He sees you returning to him. He smiles soothingly, rubbing the thumb of his other hand over your neck, at the point of your pulse.

''Princess. Listen to me now, okay? I love you. Christ, I love you so fucking much. I think more than my guitar, Lord of the Rings, music, because fuck me baby, you are my music, my muse, my ruler, my everything. And no scars will be able to change that, you got that? Beautiful, they'll only make me admire you more. For how bravely you fight every day, for how you don't give up. For how you are still open to the world, to people, to the good, despite the unpleasantness that has befallen you. I feel very lucky that you let me in, that you let me be with you. Therefore, I will appreciate this opportunity as long as you let me. I will honour you as you deserve.'' You are crying now, ready to make love to him until you are out of breath. He rubs his salty peas, smiling tenderly at you. Even more thirsty and desperate, you slide impossibly close to him. You climb into his lap again and again feel the pleasant stimulation as your insatiable pussy, covered by soaked panties, comes into contact with the rough material of his trousers. Eddie hugs your waist, helping you to move. ''Eddie, I…'' You faintly shrugged. God, it was so pathetic. You rubbed against him like a desperate little slut, crying raspily. ''I love you so much Eddie. I'm sorry I doubted you. It's just that so many people have let me down and…'' ''It's okay, honey. You don't have anything to apologise for, okay? You had a right to all those feelings and emotions and you also had a right not to trust me at first…'' ''No, Eddie. I trust you. I trust you so much. I want you so much, please.''' Eddie stammered, hearing your silent plea. His cock also twitched curiously at this spectacle. The little whine that escaped your wet lips was the sweet end of it. It sounded better than the notes from his guitar and better than any Metallica song. Maybe he was blaspheming now, but nothing he was going to do to you was sacred. Just blasphemous. It was how fucked up you sounded and how desperate you sounded that broke whatever brakes and chains were holding him down.

''I want to see you, is that okay love?'' You nodded as his hands, which a moment ago had been held securely on your sweatshirt, now wandered slowly towards your naked waist. You held your breath, but you didn't stop him. Nor did you stop him when he lifted the sweatshirt up your body, causing you to be left in just your bra after a moment. You clenched your eyes shut, terrified, vulnerable and not ready for the judgement you expected to see in his gentle features and eyes. You remembered the last injection on your stomach and panicked. However, you heard no laughter, no snorting, no chastising. Eddie didn't get mad at all, didn't get up disgusted. He didn't. You felt butterfly kisses right next to your navel. He kissed your puncture scars with his open mouth, purring into your heated skin, sending pleasant vibrations throughout your body. ''Beautiful. Jesus Christ, I have the most beautiful baby under the sun. On top of that, so brave and courageous. Baby, you are so beautiful.'' A kiss. Another just below the underwire of your bra, which he got rid of in less than a second, exposing you to his greedy gaze. And another on your hip. More passionate and juicy. A pleasant current reached your frightened heart this time. He accepted you. He loved you as you are. When this reached you another wave of tears flooded you. This time the happy ones. ''Let it out, sweet girl, you are safe here. My dear little crybaby. I guess I need to take better care of you, huh? I need to show how precious you are. Come on, come here to me. I'll take care of you properly. I'm going to wipe out all the nonsense you think about yourself. '' Eddie licked his lips lewdly before kneeling on the floor in front of the couch. Before doing so, he kissed the bend in your elbow, where you'd last had an IV done. That one kiss evoked more emotion than all the others that night, even though they made you dizzy. It showed his love and care. That he is here for you. That he wants to be there for you and isn't going anywhere. One of your knees was on his right shoulder and your other leg was spread wide for better access to you. He grinned, playing with your greedy crack through the thin material of your panties. You whimpered.

''What's all this whining, sweetie? Be so good to me and I'll show you fucking how you should be worshipped. '' He patted your ass, seeing the stain on your underwear get bigger. He laughed darkly. Of course you liked that shit. You could pretend to be so innocent and small, but really you just wanted to be tied up with his belt, thrown over his knee and treated roughly. ''Eddie, don't tease me.'' You flutter your eyelashes at him, playing the little shit. ''Honey, let me worship my goddess. I'm just discovering a new religion. '' You moan desperately, giving in to him. Eddie removes your panties and you feel like it's taking ages. He teases you and you let him, especially when he bulges his eyes admiring your dripping, lovely pussy. He slurps hot air into it, and as you squirm in his embrace, you get another two spanks. Gentle but firm ones. The kind that makes a pleasant warmth tickle your belly. You swear that you could come just from that. But then he leans in and sucks your clit avidly, as if there is no tomorrow. As if he's licking the last bit of ice cream off a spoon, as if he's had his last meal and as if he's been given water after days of drought. And that is exactly how he felt. Thirsty and miserable until he tasted your sweet juices. He licks your crack, from the tight ass hole to the sensitive nodule, expanding your folds with the tip of his tongue. He again embraces your clitoris with his open mouth, swirling his tongue around it. He slurps lewdly, spitting into your pussy and licking up his drool. His hand glides across your belly, stopping at a sensitive nipple. He maltreated it between his fingers, every now and then focusing his attention on the other one too. You moaned, arching back, feeling the knot tightening in your insides. You had never felt an orgasm approaching so quickly. Your toes curled and you rocked your hips, clenching your fingers in his curls, trying to bring his face impossibly close to your thirsty folds. Though his tongue was literally one with your pussy and touched places you hadn't known before and didn't reach, even with your fingers.

''God, pretty girl. I could eat you out all night until you were all shivering and wet. But I promised to worship every square inch of you, I have to do it, yes? Come here to me.'' You look so fucked he can't stand it. His hands land on your back to ease you onto him. You are now sitting on top of him, your thighs on either side of his hips, and rubbing your clit pleasurably against his trousers again. Eddie removes his t-shirt so that he is skin to skin with you and allows your fingers to tighten on his alabaster shoulders. You admire his tattoos for a moment, running your finger over his bats and spider. But he doesn't let you enjoy the view for long, as he grabs your pebbly nipple between his forefinger and thumb, making you squirm, hungry for his touch and attention. ''I want to see you whole, okay? Ride me, sweet girl. Be a good fucking girl and ride my cock. ''Drooling, you undo his belt buckle and zipper. His cock pops out of his boxers. All hard, pink, wet and tempting. You lick your lips, playing with his red tip, to which he growls, tilting his head back against the couch headrest.

''Don't play with me, babe. I need your pussy on my cock, okay? Get me wet, sweet girl. Fuck, use me for your pleasure. I'm all yours, right? Ride me. Milk me to the finish''He purrs in your ear, helping you climb onto his heaving penis. You feel him rubbing against you, slowly thrusting in and ruining your entrance with just a push. Your eyes roll back, your pulse tightens the hoop around your head, and your breathing speeds up. A light sheen of sweat glistens on Eddie's chest. It doesn't help that your boyfriend is clamping both hands on your buttocks, kneading and kneading your fleshy skin like fucking dough. He pats, pinches and massages your ass, impaling you on his cock ever more brutally. You stagger back and forth on him, jumping up and gripping tighter to his arms, which are doing your leverage. You are swamped, fucked and over-stimulated. His shaft slides into your wet pussy, perfectly hitting that spongy spot he had skilfully caressed earlier with his tongue; his mouth salivates over your breasts, biting alternating nipples, his clasped fingers tormenting your swollen clit, making the most lewd sound. Completely frozen, you whimper and squirm wildly, barely hearing his words. ''Beautiful. Perfect. My tigress. My brave girl. ''He covers all your scars with his eyes, scissoring the places he has access to in this position. This time his arms hug your back, to be able to be closer to him. So that you can look into his eyes, continuing to ride him, this time slower and more sensual. His bushy pubic hair is now rubbing against your clit, sending a delicious shiver to your core. He touches his lips to your mouth, not kissing, but rubbing against it. Your slick nipples come into contact with his hot chest as you circle slowly on top of him now, feeling every vein of his cock deep inside you. You don't even know what he's saying to you as the orgasm oozes towards you like a speeding train, stunning you. ''Fuck, baby, that tiny cunt is swallowing me so good. You are so tight. Come for me, come now. I can feel you squeezing me. ''You're muttering something under your breath. Since he slowed down the bluntness, your release seemed to lap at you harder. Everything became blurry, white and skimming. Satisfied and far beyond your brain, you only felt his semen spilling inside you, soaking you and filling you. The last things you remember are his soothing arms, his words of apology, his breath against your ear, the scent of lavender candles and tobacco you could still smell in his soft curls and the hot water enveloping your tired body.

It was one of those days. You came back from hospital after a whole day of not eating so they could properly prepare you for another gruelling examination. You had had enough. You were exhausted, hungry and frustrated, barely managing to keep your eyelids ajar as they discharged you home, marking you to come in for a check-up in a week's time. Eddie ran at you like a puppy. He insisted on carrying you to the car so that God forbid you got tired of walking. On the way, he turned on California Dreams, humming to you as you dozed off in the front seat, while he stroked soothing circles on your thigh to help you relax; he also took you out for your favourite burger and a double milkshake, because, he said, he had to pamper you properly after those nasty meds. However, the real pampering began at home. He carried you to bed, making sure you were decently covered, had the right number of pillows under your head and a soft enough blanket. He treated you to a million little kisses on the forehead before disappearing into the kitchen to prepare your hot chocolate. Making sure you were full and all warm and snoozing sweetly, Eddie pulled out his notebook, where he mostly jotted down ideas for D&D campaigns, to check exactly what time you should take your medication. This chaotic, careless and incredibly forgetful boy didn't even remember his lunch box or to put the washing machine in on time so Wayne wouldn't get pissed at him again and reproach him for not fulfilling his duties, but you, sweet, adorable and most wonderful you, now snuggling like a teddy bear in the bend of his neck, drooling on his skin in your sleep, were his damn priority. He knew it was common for you to forget your medication, so he wrote everything down carefully for you, highlighting the time of day, when and what doses you were supposed to be taking. When he realised that it was passing the time for your evening dose and you were still asleep, pressing firmly into his side, he had to break your blissful state with a painful heart. He corrected himself on the bed, leaning your back against the headrest, and lifted you gently so that you could continue to lean against his body, but at the same time have a comfortable position to swallow the tablets.

''Sweetheart, hey. I really didn't want to interrupt your rest, but you need to take your medication, okay? I'll give you, just stay here, sweetie. '' He leaned over to the bedside table, reaching for a glass of water. He slipped the capsule between your parted lips, from which came your disgruntled muttering. You were somewhere beyond consciousness, not yet fully awake, aware only of his soft touch and the closeness in which you were splashing. You swallowed the antibiotic, obediently sipping as he tilted the glass towards you. ''My good girl. I'm so proud of you, sunshine. ''He whispered in a low voice, kissing the middle of your ear. You blushed at the praise. You quivered like a kitten who had been scratched behind the ear by someone. Your inner little girl was jumping for joy, and the big, more needy one was clenching her thighs, rubbing heat between her legs. Oh, how he worked on you. He had no idea. Or he had. He was just slyly taking advantage of it. ''Thank you, Eddie. Thank you for being here and helping me.'' You muttered sleepily, settling down to sleep again. You clung to his chest like a little koala bear, but he didn't complain. He wouldn't dare. He politely stroked your back, every now and then playing with your hair and rolling soothing circles on your tense shoulders. He made a mental note to give you a hot bath and massage later, once you were feeling a little better. ''Eddie?'' you grunted into his chest. A light came on over your head. ''Yes, love? Do you need something, get you something?'' You shook your head, glancing up at him from above half-closed eyelids. God, you had never looked more sweet and innocent, and yet he knew that behind that cloud of tenderness hid a tempting devil. ''Do you by any chance have a campaign today? It's already Thursday.'' You reminded, burying your head under his chin. The rhythm of his heart calmed you.

''I had, sunny, but I called the guys and cancelled. I rescheduled for the next one.'' You furrowed your brow, resting your chin on his chest to get a better view of him. The wry smile played across his face. He already knew he was going to get away with it. You couldn't resist those dimples and shiny chocolate buttons. ''Eddie.'' You fuked accusingly, feeling a sudden sense of guilt. You were the reason he'd given up. You knew. Surely he'd want to go when he didn't have to look after you. The treacherous gobble of insecurity began to giggle and ignite the anxious flames of shame in your chest. It made you feel hard. However, Eddie immediately picked up on the change in your behaviour, sweeping the goblin away with one tender kiss on the forehead. He felt you tensing up, so he embraced you tighter, not letting you move away. ''I wanted to, love. Don't start again with the silly things about me sacrificing myself for you and being unhappy because of it.''' He rebuked you gently, sending you a stern look, but the gentleness pierces through that fog. He really couldn't be angry with you. He would jump into the fire if you asked him, so how could he be angry over some trivial matter? ''I am doing all this because I love you. I'm staying with you because I want to take care of you, okay? I want you to be better off because then I'm better off too, you know? It's my choice, it's my decision. I chose to love you. And I will love you. And I will accept you. Exactly as you are.'' Your eyes glazed over. You were never anyone's first choice. Even your parents distanced themselves from you over time, letting you know that they were overwhelmed by caring for someone sick. And he didn't even freak out at the news of your illness. He was sad, yes, but because you have to face it and when he heard about all the assholes who made you feel less than valuable and sufficient. He kissed you faintly, stroking the apples of your cheeks, smeared with emotion. That's when you knew. Hearing the quiet words of The Mamas and the Papas in the background. This is the right somebody to love.

taglist: @eddielives1986 @goodhappyfriday @needylilgal022 @alienthingstwo @stranger-messenger @honey-eyed-munson @gretavankleep37

[bi-bats]

trick or treat!! 3-sentence fic or wip sneak peak? (up to u!)

HELLOOOOO MY BELOVED!! HAPPY HALLOWEEENNNNNNNN

For YOU I have a snippet of the one shot I'm working on that was like. supposed to be a drabble for the prompt you sent me and has gotten. long. lmao.

also it's going to be a fic with smut in it and I haven't even gotten to the smut yet and it's already 2.5k words lmao

so here my TRIUMPHANT RETURN TO WRITING JAYTIM

~ ✨ ~

“Do you… well… I mean… I could give you a massage?”

Jason blinks at him.

“Did… I’m sorry. Did you just say you could give me a massage?”  

Tim’s face burns furiously hot. What does he say, no? 

Well. He kind of wants to say no, actually. Maybe he can just gaslight his way out of this one—

No, no. Jason heard. 

Damn. 

He tries to say yes, but it tilts up into a question at the end. 

“Yes?” 

Jason blinks at him, and Tim’s skin feels too tight. The material of the couch is suddenly itchy on the back of his arms, but the heat on his face distracts him from it. Mostly.

“…Okay.” 

There’s a stutter in Tim’s breathing, the slightest hitch between in and out, right after Jason answers. It’s unnoticeable.

If you aren’t a bat.

Jason raises an eyebrow, because of course he fucking noticed.

Tim can’t just sit there while Jason looks at him like that, so he moves. 

He shifts forward on the couch, scooting an inch or two closer and waving his hands in what he hopes is a gesture indicating ‘turn around so I can rub your shoulders’ and not ‘I have no idea what to do with my hands right now this is so awkward why did I offer this oh my god’. 

He’s probably fine. The gesture for that would have had more flapping. 

Probably. 

It still takes Jason a second to get in gear. He shrugs, tilting his head to the side in a way that says something like ‘eh, why not’, which isn’t exactly what Tim had been hoping for when offering to touch a guy he’s had a crush on since he knew what crushes were, but he’s letting Tim do it, so it’s better than rejecting—

Jason slides his shirt off in a smooth motion, reaching over the back of his head to grab the neck of it and tug it off. 

It’s like one of those fucking thirst trap reels on Instagram.

Tim was just watching him move over on the couch while his thoughts went on a little spiral, and then Jason reached for the back of his shirt, and bam.

The lights drop, the music starts, the speed slows down, and Tim can see every ripple in the muscles of Jason’s forearm, every inch of skin revealing as he lifts the shirt, every angle of the dips in his spine, every scar, every scab, every damn freckle — for god’s sake, he can even see about a half an inch of elastic above the top of his pants. 

It’s red. 

Of course it’s red. 

Tim takes a deep breath, trying to disguise it by shifting closer to Jason, who’s sitting with his back to Tim, his arms threaded through the shirt in his lap. 

He can do this. He can do this. 

It’s just a massage. 

“Come on, Timbo. Let’s see what those scrawny fingers got.” 

Tim lets out an exasperated scoff, and Jason’s shoulders shake two or three times as he chuckles. 

He considers digging an elbow into Jason’s spine, just to be an asshole, but he has a better plan. 

He’s going to wow him. It’s going to be the best damn massage in his life. 

Scrawny fingers, Tim grumbles in his head as he places his hand down on Jason’s left shoulder. 

Immediately, Jason flinches and lets out a noise of surprise, and Tim flinches back because he’s surprised.

Great start.

“Jesus fuck, your fingers are like ice!” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Tim mutters, even though he isn’t, not really. Still, he rubs his hands together quickly, just a few times to get some of the cold out of them. 

He puts his hands back on Jason’s shoulders, and Jason stiffens, but he doesn’t flinch away this time. 

Okay. Good. 

Tim starts applying pressure, rubbing up and down the muscles, and after a few moments, it’s easier to shift into a more clinical headspace, even with the warmth of his skin seeping through Tim’s fingers. 

“Where is it bothering you?” he asks. 

“Oh, uh. By my spine. And…” Jason pauses for a moment while Tim’s palm digs into the meat of his shoulder, and when he resumes speaking, his voice is a little higher. “…my neck.” 

Tim nods, letting his palm dig in again. He wishes he had lotion or something. Jason’s skin drags against his every time he moves his hand, and it’s uncomfortable. Also, Jason’s skin is warm, flushing pink under the area he’s been rubbing, and… a little bit up his neck, too actually. The tips of his ears are pink, Tim realizes as he works his way up to the crook of Jason’s neck. 

He digs his thumb into the muscle right by the top of Jason’s shoulder, and he’s just starting to lose himself in it when he hears a breathy noise, almost like… 

No. No, Tim’s making shit up. Jason did not audibly moan. Tim is putting things where he wants them to be, because that’s what he wants.

On the next roll of his palm, Jason says, “Ngh, Christ, Tim.”

With Tim’s hand frozen on his shoulder, he can feel the way Jason tenses, has a front row seat to the burst of color across his neck.

Thank god they’re in Jason’s apartment. In Jason’s living room. With Jason’s cameras recording. He doesn’t have to memorize the way that sounded coming out of Jason’s mouth.

No, he can go hack into his files and save it as a clip and then back it up on three separate servers, and then also a hard drive, and maybe also on a USB in a lockbox buried in the woods somewhere, because he doesn’t think he can live another moment of his life without having access to the way his name sounded coming out of Jason’s mouth. 

“Sorry,” Jason mutters, and he sounds… meek? It’s weird, but Tim doesn’t think he’s ever heard Jason sound shy. 

“No worries,” Tim says, feeling like he’s regained some ground. 

“You can… make noise,” Tim adds. 

Immediately, he feels like he’s lost that ground. 

Jason clears his throat a little. “No, it’s — it’s fine, I’m good. You can, uh. Keep going.” 

A grin tugs across his mouth as he resumes his massage, listening to the way Jason’s breathing is getting heavier. 

“I thought my fingers were scrawny?”

[windrunner]

misc warframe 1999 thoughts pt.1 because i finally played the quest

his redesign has grown on me and it looks a lot better here/in motion than in that one promo image where they're all standing in the garage. i hope they sell the patches tbh

JEALOUS OF THE GLOWING BOOTS????

again he just looks way better than i expected here. the chestplates + lighting make it look like some of the stylized top surgery scar arts i've seen around so #transmascswag king. Base excal looking cute as ever. biased b/c he's my starter frame and I love the little WW mouth.

I love her design so much. no notes, she completely ate, i want to see more of her, she's making smoking seem cool, etc.

old man yaoi is SO real and we are SO fucking back loidheads

four guys. chilling in the backroom. five feet apart because they aren't gay (yet). some of the angles in this part made me really wish that they let us keep the face accessories b/c there's no way in hell (my) Drifter would be fine with having his full face exposed or that close to another person. it probably fucked with the rigging so i get it but eh.....

including this b/c it was such a bad joke it looped back into making me chuckle. accurate radio host humor

correct. also i love Quincy a lot more than i thought i would (romance maybe?????)

A little too real for what's going on rn for my tastes but it's interesting how The Hex are portrayed in Höllvanian media/Scaldra prop. as working together with Albrecht while they're so openly against him now? interesting how Aoi doesn't really comment on that here

I know it's another ~time travel~ quest but how. is the Jade Light here if it was an execution method developed and used by the Orokin. did Albrecht bring it back with him. did it leak through. am i thinking too hard about a mechanic? yeah probably

amir i love you go off bestie

loved the execution of this scene but did NOT love how they made the Operator BALD for a HAT

i love this new loading screen and the fact that you can wiggle the bike around just like your landing craft in the older one.... cute

i want to gamble.... let me gamble....

i hope they let the Hex have the chance to sit around like this in the mall more. having them hangout is cute + makes it more believable that they've been stationed here for a while

Aoi i love you so much it's unreal. i sure hope nothing bad ever happens to you :^)

accurate and canon. Drifter would ignore a hard convo to pet an animal. also Kalymos is not helping my intense desire for a sphinx cat rn

[chibishortdeath]

I got a new sketchbook since I filled one recently :3c. Shout out to suddenly getting a ton of energy and drawing bizarre fanart at 1 am 💀💀💀.

I’m putting the more violent ones under a cut even if the post is already tw tagged because of the subject matter being a bit dark d(^^ ).

Along with explanations for all of them of course!

⚠️tw for self harm and burning past this point⚠️

First one (before the cut) is just some pose practice. Simon’s just sitting, all sad and mopey. There’s also a little chibi doodle of him in the bottom corner and a little pose armature in the top corner for a pose I didn’t even end up drawing whoops lol. I feel like I drew his face a little differently than I usually do in this one :O. Idk how that happened lol.

This one is to show the differences in anatomy between each game! The curse takes a lot out of him, poor guy, so he’s a bit less jacked than usual 😔. Well, more specifically he doesn’t have as much of a layer of protective fat anymore. And he’s also very tired :(. But yeah, this is just a reference I’ll look back at to keep this detail consistent! I was going to put scar reference on it too, but I completely forgot and eh it mighta made it kinda hard to make out anyway d(- - ).

I drew this side profile of Simon while watching a video talking about lost media stuff. I think the image I based it on was something Saki Sanobashi related, idk I just liked the vibes of the hair being blown back by wind and got inspired :). And yes I know that Saki is probably a hoax 💀💀💀💀💀, I didn’t have much interest in it tho tbh, besides just hoping something lost gets found in general. Lost media videos are honestly great for putting on as background noise when drawing :)

Simon is totally me when I have a crisis and cover my face with my hands, but make sure one eye is visible and miraculously out of shadow for dramatic effect!!!

Ok spookier stuff time, first of the below the cut drawings. This one is based on how sometimes vampires are depicted as being able to drain someone from long distances or beyond the grave. Dracula is mean, and Simon is suffering from the curse, the usual. Augh I actually need to do things cause I keep thinking of a cool scene of Simon having a weird Dracula nightmare and then waking up to see it wasn’t a dream, and that’s tropey as hell, but it’s spooky!!! Do you see my vision?

This is a depiction of like what happens with a game over or something :O. Like an absolute worst possible outcome: Simon dies and Dracula is unsealed and fully regenerated. I basically just took is Simon’s Quest design and then rehydrated it and tada, Dracula is no longer a skeleton— He ends up looking way more like Vlad the Impaler in this outfit hmmm. Also, unrelated, but a friend of mine mistook Dracula for Jesus in this drawing 💀💀💀.

Oh boy, edgy depictions of uh a lot of not being very kind to yourself themes. Idk how else to describe this one other than ya know when you get really mad at your past self for making a mistake or the wrong decision that you could’ve only known about in hindsight? Also in part the fear of actually becoming a vampire at the end of all of this? And I guess a bit of feeling like it’s your own fault, you’re the one that keeps shooting yourself in the foot, but I feel like he’d also attribute getting hit by Dracula in the first place as his fault too… hmm just a lot of very sad things going on, this one was definitely a later 1 am time drawing, maybe 1:40 or something. I think what I draw at night is further proof to not trust you when you’re tired; I get weirdly existential at night and then it’s totally fine in the morning. Simon! Just sleep! Stop overthinking!!! You’ll be ok!!!

This one I debated putting up at all cause it’s graphic and not finished (TwT ;). But it was a rare drawing of Simon smiling that didn’t look uncanny, which is kinda ironic because Simon this is not the time to be smiling—! That is also wayyy too far for just the Dracula ritual, you really only need a tiny amount to open the seal, but I’ll cut him some slack cause he is a bit at wits end by this point. I’d say maybe he’s smiling because he thinks he finally won, but tbh I thought of it more like when things are just so bad you start laughing. Like Dracula just rose from the altar and the morbid irony of it all is just so absurd, the irony that you did everything right and fought tooth and nail (Dracula’s to be exact lol) to stop it and here it is happening anyway. I wanna give this guy a weighted blanket and a bowl of warm soup—

These last two are based on what could’ve happened to him. The Grey ending is pretty much usually considered the “worst”, but they’re all nearly interchangeable, especially in the Japanese version. For example: the western release really makes the Blue ending seem like he died and didn’t kill Dracula, but it’s a lot more that he just died doing it in the original, which is to say that it’s kinda like the Grey ending just with a different eulogy— Anyway, the Grey ending is the only one that doesn’t show Simon at Dracula’s grave, so I’ve always taken it as he didn’t make it out of the castle basement. And well, setting Dracula on fire is a pretty common way to kill him so uh um, R.I.P. I’ve got a couple ideas for alternate comic endings to say the least. I might honestly just depict all of them and leave it entirely up to the reader which one happened because it doesn’t change much— Though this also has me thinking of how him surviving would work now. The curse would definitely have left some lasting effects, you don’t just magically stop having been rotted, sleep deprived, and whatever else it did. Idk I picture him being like Renfield levels of lost it afterwards if that makes sense… that could also be a pretty solid explanation for why his story isn’t told correctly and the cycle repeats with Maxim later; it’d be a pretty traumatic thing to talk about tbh. Ok but yappersvile over, next doodle 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Aside from the burnt doodle that’s uh same explanation as the above (R.I.P.), the other two are just a little head angle and expression practice and one tiny one towards the top that’s Dracula being all spooky ghost vampire, but I didn’t like how it was looking and gave up on it 💀💀💀. It’s very hard to draw a vampire attacking someone and not have it look kinda awkward or unreadable. Tbh I struggle putting two characters in one image anyway because I have to draw the anatomy lines for both of them and they end up getting really hard to tell apart when one is behind another, one character suddenly isn’t proportional compared to the other, or you find out one of them isn’t tall enough for the pose you had in mind (>~< ). So anyway Dracula was accidentally way too short all of a sudden and I couldn’t figure out how to draw his torso without making a completely incomprehensible blob behind Simon oof.

Okie, it’s lunch time, bye :3!

[southernbluebellereader]

Apple Slices

Captain John Price x Young Female Reader (COD MW(2))

| Part 1: Bruised Apple | Part 2: Current Fic | Part 3: Apple Pie

Warning: Platonic, going on slightly romantic, Angst, Facial Scars, [Mention of Violence], [Trauma]

Summary: Our Captain finds it hard to keep his presence away from Y/N.

A/N: It's not quite where I want it to be but I will write a part 3 eventually

Word Count: ~1,814 words

Master List

(tag list at the bottom)

At this point: where Captain Price, Y/N L/N was close behind. Where Y/N L/N was, Captain Price was close enough with crossed arms, keeping an eye on her. They were inseparable.

“Where’s your mini-me?” Laswell chuckled. Price looked over at Laswell and nodded in the direction of the ladies’ room, “Be right back.”

“How is she?”

“She’s doin’ just fine. Stubborn little woman, but she’s done some good.”

“I told you that you’d like her.”

They watched Y/N come out of the ladies’ room and reunited with Soap and Ghost trying to teach her how to play pool. She scratched her head at the way they tried to give her directions, making her even more confused.

“She can kill terrorists in three keystrokes but she can’t figure out how to play pool, that’s Y/N alright,” Price chuckled as he took another sip of his drink, looking back at Laswell.

“Eh, she’ll figure it out. Always have.” Making contact with Price, she lowered her voice, “She tells you what happened?”

“Her bastard Uncle.”

“She tell you he’s been rotting in jail since it happened?”

“No.” A slight relief. But not enough.

Laswell looked back at Y/N once more, seeing her giggle and smile, “You’ve certainly made a difference. I could barely make her crack a smile when she worked with me.”

“She liked green apples.”

—

“Do you eat anything else?”

“Sometimes.” Y/N cut up her green apple and gave the Captain half of it. “An apple a day keeps a doctor away, John. Maybe it’ll keep you from getting hurt.” They sat under the shade as they watched Soap and Simon grapple each other under the sun, John waiting patiently to grapple against the winner.

Mumbling something incoherent, he took the apple half and started to eat it, “I don’t need a doctor.”

Y/N looked up at him. She didn’t know if he was serious or not. She scoffed and shook her head, “Whatever you say, RoboCop.” Y/N looked back at Simon and Soap. The Captain looked down at her, he didn’t know if he should laugh or be offended.

—

However, there were days that Y/N didn’t feel so happy. On the day that she was attacked, she typically went home and stayed home. But she wasn’t home. She was on the other side of the planet. But it didn’t make a difference in how she felt, despite it happening several years ago.

It’s as if she could feel the pain in her face and the weight of a brute of a man on top of her body all over again, unable to move as the dull knife was pressed against the corners of her mouth, blood gushing into it.

“I need to take next Saturday off.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to.”

Price looked up at Y/N from his desk. Her eyes were dark.

“It’s not your birthday is it?”

“That’s two months from now.”

“Why do you need the day off, Y/N?”

“That’s the day.”

Every year on that day, since that day, Y/N never left her room - wherever she was. She kept water bottles and enough food on her person to keep her fed and hydrated until the next day. She didn’t want to be caught using the wrong knife.

—

“Where’s L/N?”

“Don’t worry about her.” Price looked at Simon sternly. They were getting ready for a debriefing after coming back from a mission. Worry bubbling in the back of his head, “But-”

“I’ll catch her up later,” Price remained tense the rest of the meeting. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but this was different.

—

“Y/N, it’s John,” Price’s voice was low and soft outside the door. He heard rustling inside her room, then silence. 

He heard his name - barely a whisper. His chest tightened as he put his hand on the door handle.

“Y/N, can I come in?”

He heard more rustling, then more silence.

“Y/N, I’m coming in.” Swallowing hard, Price opened the door. The room was dark and barely lit by the moonlight spilling from the small window. The room was a mess. Furniture was moved, a chair was tipped over, and things were on the floor. Y/N’s heavy breathing from the corner of the room gave her away. Treading carefully, he held his hands up.

She looked exhausted. She was slumped on the floor in the corner of the room. Her skin felt warm, cold, and clammy. Her face lay in her hands, drenched in tears.

He stopped in the middle of the room and crouched down, barely whispering, “Y/N?”

Y/N rubbed her face with her hands, wiping the excess tears, then looked up at John. His heart fell to his stomach and his chest felt as if it was about to cave in. More tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but they were met with hushes.

“Shh, it’s ok, I got you, Y/N." Price sat down and scooted forward so that she was situated between his legs. She was trembling. He held his hands out, reaching out for hers. “I got you.”

Y/N hesitated slightly, unable to back up any further, keeping her eye contact with Price.

Price kept his arms and hands open but lowered them so that they rested on his knees. He just wanted to hold her and never let her go. He never wanted her to feel like this again. He didn’t care that the man who did this to her was in jail, he wanted to kill him himself.

“He’s not here, Y/N. He’s locked away with the key thrown away. He can’t touch y-”

“Then why is he still in my head? Why do I still feel knife?”

Price couldn’t help himself and pulled Y/N closer to his body. One arm lay across her back and the other rubbed his other hand over the back of her head. Y/N rested her forehead against his chest, her tears staining his shirt. Her silent sobs became louder, making Price hold her closer, rocking her gently side to side.

“You’re safe, lass. You ain’t never seeing him ever again. I got you.”

—

Price remained in her room for the remainder of the night in Y/N’s room. He moved some of the furniture back and cleared the floor. He took her flipped-over desk chair and placed it against the wall at the foot of her bed.

“...What are you doing?” Y/N’s voice was barely a whisper from under her covers.

“I’m staying here tonight.”

“But won’t you be uncomfortable?”

“I’ve slept in more uncomfortable positions, Y/N. Now get to bed.”

“But-”

“Y/N. Please. You need sleep.”

—-

The morning after, John woke up shortly before dawn, silently stretching his aching neck. Damn chair. Looking over at Y/N, he smiled gently. She looked so peaceful when she slept. He glanced over at the time and silently crouched down beside Y/N, just watching her sleep. 6:32 AM.

Her steady breathing, a lock of hair that lay across of face, and one of her hands resting by her face made her look angelic.

“Why do I still feel the knife, John? I still feel it.” She kept repeating between sobs a mere few hours before, holding her hands to her face. God, he wished this never happened to her. But would he have met her otherwise? Would he have a new appreciation for green apples?

He was happy that she joined. She brought a certain liveliness to their surroundings. She even made Simon laugh a few times - he didn’t think he could laugh. But just like him and just like the rest of the team, she knew how to hide her feelings and hide her trauma - maybe a little too much.

But - ever since he laid eyes on her, there was a growing urge in his chest to keep her close. To keep an eye on her, to protect her, as she protected him while he was on missions. Y/N certainly made a difference as she served a pair of watchful eyes, relaying useful information he never knew he would need before a mission, weakening enemies quicker and more swiftly than if they went the normal route. He didn’t understand half of the software and programs she used, but they worked. He trusted that she’d keep him safe.

“John…?” Y/N’s groggy barely came out as a whisper. She blinked her eyes a few times as she groaned and stretched her body slightly. When she realized her Captain was sitting so close to her, her face blushed, and she pulled up the covers over the lower half of her face.

Smiling gently, John lifted his hand and moved the lock of hair away from her face, “Can I see you, please?”

Still blushing, Y/N moved the blanket down, revealing her face. Both of them stayed silent as the Captain gently cupped her face, stroking his thumb over her cheek, feeling the small indentation of her scar, “Ye alright, Y//N?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay, John,” Y/N turned her face slightly towards his face, feeling more of his calloused and rough palms and fingers on her face.

“Don’t worry about the briefings today, yeah? I’ll fill you in later.”

“Bu-”

“You need more rest, that’s an order,” John chuckled, “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

—

The Captain hated himself for feeling for Y/N the way he did. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. He can’t. He shouldn’t. But he does. The way she’ll always have a green apple and a fruit knife, and silently cut one of them in half and give one half to him. The way she’ll call him ‘RoboCop’ whenever he tries to complain or minimize his injuries. The way she’ll tell him “Godspeed” through her headsted before they begin every mission. The way she’ll constantly follow closely behind him to assess damage to some of their electrical and tech gear, assess how he and the team should approach a mission, and the way she double and triple checks all their gear before they leave.

The way she’ll spend an extra moment making sure her Captain’s gear is set right and runs smoothly, and say “Don’t go breaking my things, ya hear?”

“I’d put you out of a job if I didn’t, Y/N,” He’d answer back.

“Yeah yeah, just come back, alright?”

“Didn’t know you liked me that much, L/N.”

“A girl can only eat so many apples by herself, Captain.”

“Is that so, L/N?”

Y/N smiled and took a hold of his wrist and calibrated the little computer attached to his wrist, “How about I treat you to some apple pie when you get back?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

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

TAG LIST

@ateliefloresdaprimavera @galagcica @sweetybuzz25 @wisedinosaurpolice @itsasecrets-things @ronbon @lieutenantlashfaz @piper570 @shuttlelauncher81 @thanksbutno98

[myloveforhergoeson]

tw: discussion of scars + childhood injury

“woah… what’s this?”

gingerly, roxy caught james’ left wrist between her calloused fingers, turning his forearm to face her direction as they cuddled on one of the many lounge chairs by the pool. with his well maintained tan from hours spent in the los angeles sun, the thin white line was almost impossible to spot; she’d certainly never noticed it before today.

thumb swiping over the scarred area, she felt james slightly flinch at her touch. “it’s nothing… old injury.”

removing the right arm slung around her waist, he shifted to the left a bit, dark sunglasses obscuring the look on his face. he covered the mark with his hand for a moment, palm over the area like a bandaid, before taking a breath and gathering his girlfriend in his arms once more.

with her ear to his chest, she could hear his heart race. though that might be due to their proximity, the feeling of his palms growing clammy on her bare skin told her otherwise.

she silently praised her choice of a red crop top for the day.

“i’ve got one on the back of my leg,” she said in response to the chill, moving her right foot into the air and wiggling it a bit to ease the tension she could sense radiating off of him in waves. “one of dani’s dogs didn’t like me very much. i got too close to her one day and she really decided to let me know… god, that shit hurt like hell.”

one of his brows raised, signifying she’d caught his attention. “you had to know that she didn’t like you. dogs are super vocal about that type of thing aren’t they? like, missy really hates logan. we think she can sense he’s more of a cat person.”

“i know you’re not blaming me for being viciously bit by a crazy animal right now. everybody else loves me! why should i assume bear felt any different?”

air shot out of his nostrils in a silent chuckle, tickling the top of her head, almost going unheard against the chatter of other hotel patrons on the deck around them. “the dog was named bear?! baby, you were totally asking for it!”

visions of the black labradoodle ran through her mind, much like how bear loved to run through dani’s family’s large, open property. “she was a total sweetheart when mag and dani were around her… maybe she doesn’t like gorgeous, talented women or something.”

james’ nose exhale turned into full on laughter, roxy practically bouncing off his chest as his body shook at her words.

from the table beside their lounger, roxy reached out to take a drink of the lemonade she’d picked up from the cafe, offering the cup out to her boyfriend as well.

after a long, slow sip, james’ free hand set it down before sinking into her long hair. instinctively, her arm draped around his waist. “i forgot to put the blade guards on my skates after practice one night. coach worked us so hard that day i was just happy to get off the ice and get home; too distracted by what my mom might be making for dinner to think straight. walked out of the arena with my bag in one hand and my stick and skates in the other, hit a patch of black ice before i reached her car, and ended up cutting myself up pretty darn good.”

just the thought of the sharp, stainless steel of an ice skate anywhere near her skin caused a shiver to crawl down the girl’s spine. “that must have been awful…”

“well a trip to the er, sixteen stitches, and a bunch of ibuprofen later i was feeling just fine. i think my ego was more bruised than anything. my mom was super freaked though.”

“well yeah,” roxy nodded, finger rising to trace the lines of the soft black tank top james wore, “any mom would be worried about such a substantial injury. i’ve never had stitches but i imagine sixteen means it was very big and very deep.”

closing his eyes, james took another breath. “deep? yes. big? eh. nothing like the time carlos got a metal plate put in his head.”

“jesus christ. i’m going to pass out just thinking of it…” her hand curled into a fist, taking the smooth fabric with it.

a few kids from their class were starting up a game of volleyball in the pool in front of them, sounds of shouting and splashing water distracting the writer from their conversation momentarily.

“but you’re right,” james continued. “my mom was worried - just not about me. more about the mark it would leave than anything… she even called an emergency meeting for her product development team to start work on a scar cream. i still use it to this day.”

roxy chose not to comment on the success of the cream if she was still able to see the mark that remained on her boyfriend’s skin, though her heart panged at his words. clearly, brooke’s concern had reached him, just for the wrong reasons. she saw it in the way he instinctively covered the area when she’d mentioned it, in the solemn way he discussed the product he still used, months, maybe years, after his accident.

without thinking, her fingers caught his wrist again from where they tangled in her locks and pulled his forearm to the sun once more. the scar stood out more prominently to her now, and now she couldn’t even remember what he looked like without it. it was part of what made james james. “she shouldn’t have made you feel that way... it was an accident; you were seriously hurt. who cares what it would look like in the future? what should have mattered was your safety in that moment and beyond.”

he didn’t respond to her, gaze somewhere off in the distance behind the tint of his shades. this time, when roxy swiped her thumb over the area, he didn’t jump.

“we all show concern in our own way i suppose,” he whispered into her hair, placing a kiss on her crown before resting his chin there.

as they cuddled by the pool, james hugged roxy just a little bit tighter.

[wren-beowulf]

So, um, My name is Wren, Wren Beowulf.

Name: Wren Beowulf (Used to be called "Bad Luck Birdy" by the other kids when he was young. His brother calls him Wrenegade.)

Alter Ego: The Lurcher its stupid I know

Occupation: Villain

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Gay

Age: 22 (October 13th)

Gotham knows me as The Lurcher, for some reason. I didn't choose that name, it's super dumb, I know, but eh ya know. Beggars can't be choosers 'n all that.

So... elephant in the room... I'm a Villain. Not entirely by choice, but it's a long story, kinda don't wanna talk about it, not all of it at least. What's done is done. Thief, mostly, of tech. Re-sell that shit to the Gangs, Rouges, whatever of Gotham, again, long story, but business 's business. But most people in Gotham kinda already know that.

I like Tech, anythin' mechanical. 'M not a big robot buildin' guy, but anythin' else and I'm on it. I can re-make anythin' I've made before, photographic memory and all that (So if ya made an order from me before, don't worry, just send it again and the date and I've got the specs memorized). My brother calls--called me a genius once, I'm not sure about that, but I'm pretty smart if I can toot my own horn for a second.

Oh, right! Uh--I almost forgot. I'm a guy, male, I use He/Him. I'm Gay, only been uh, out, for about a year now so I'm still kinda sorta new to it. My birthday is on October 13th, I was born on a Friday. Yeah I don't believe in curses or anythin' like that, but I have some pretty shit life luck, so 'm totally cursed ha ha...

Been livin' in a couple of places 'round Gotham, mostly the line between The Bowery and Crime Ally. Abandoned buildin's are a plenty, and I have my own ways of keepin' them under the radar. It's fine. You won't find me, so don't bother.

Hmm... was that all? Oh wait--yeah. I'm a Meta. Yep, that's all now. See ya.

OOC Info:

Older Brother (Sirius Beowulf) - @brother-of-a-villain

I'm open to shipping stuff/romance, Wren x Canon or Wren x OC, either one is fine. Not necessary haha but it's an option.

APPEARANCE INFO: (because info dumping is fun yay)

Pale blue husky eyes, long-ish black hair (usually pulled back), short stature at 5'7", but actually pretty strong with muscles (He works with a lot of heavy machinery), very fair skin with lots of little moles, beauty mark under his lip.

Lots of scars from working with Gangs, most prominently, a long cut going from his left thigh, inner hip, up his back and ending over his right shoulder. Also has many playing card slices, hammer smashes, bullet scars, knife slashes, pretty much all the works you'd get in his line of work. Some of it can be played off as a work injury... others get covered up. Fortunately, most of it ain't on his arms. Though some are from his parents, like the cigarette burns on his palms.

You'll probably commonly see him in his tan jumpsuit and black tank top combo, though usually has the top half around his waist. Other times you'll see him in his brother's old hand me downs from highschool, very alternative looking.

He has a lot of piercing, he will likely get more. Three on each ear (R Ear Lobe/Upper Lobe/Indistrial) (L Ear Lobe/Upper Lobe/Helix) And snake bites in his lips. Used to have a nose and eyebrow piercing, but they closed up some time ago.

He has more than once been described as being Hot lmao.

Rando Info

- Wren has a scary good photographic memory, can remember everything. But usually pretends to struggle to not freak anyone out with it.

- Wren semi-lives with a Raccoon named Pudge who lives in his workshop.

- He has a complicated relationship with his brother. Sirius lived with their uncle in Gotham Proper his entire life, except weekends due to split custody. He used to love weekends...

- He has a large Dragon Plush named Danny. It was a Christmas present from his brother and is special to him.

- Wren's Meta ability let's him make perfect duplications of anything, and control such duplications to a degree. He can even make duplications of himself or others, though when they die or disappear he or they gains their memories.

- Wren's Backstory has themes of CSA, abuse, addiction, and depression, so you have been warned. Posts will be tagged accordingly so ya don't have to see those.

- I am very much an adult ha ha. I'm fine with NSFW 🔞 stuff, but if I'm not comfortable with something I'll let you know.

[d-parade]

overheard my pansexual femboy brother (18) talking about top surgery to my sister.

my 10 year old sister.

to quote: “it’s when you don’t like your breasts so you chop them off, then you get scars.”

i felt so ungodly annoyed that i had to remove myself from the situation before i bitch slapped him across the face.

why is this bad, you may ask? my sister has always been a tomboy, and she is right now struggling hard with puberty. she obviously has no dysphoria but is still having hardships like any other normal girl.

my brother doing this is giving her ideas. false ideas. how and why is top surgery reduced to: “it’s when you don’t like breasts”??

call me transphobic or whatever. conservative even. i’m fine with children knowing the concept of transsex but i do not agree with telling them details, and again, false information.

so you know how saying that can influence a child’s thoughts, especially when they’re learning how to cope with new things.

my brother also cannot physically shut up about trans related issues even though he’s just a fucking “femboy”. and he once kept trying to suggest i’m trans and get me to talk about the topic. so i made it very damn clear that i wasn’t into the lgbt bullshit by shutting down his pansexuality so he would get off my back. it worked, but he thinks i’m homophobic. eh who cares.

i wish i was kidding. i seriously wish i was creating a made up story to stir shit and prove straw man arguments. i’m not. seriously. wouldn’t tagged this to death rather than leave it as a stupid nonsensical rant on my blog.

i’m sick of this shit gootbai

[kittysamzkewlz19]

Medusa Ex Makina

Chapter 6: Until and Under

Rated M for Mature

Warnings: Violence, Canon Typical Misogony, light manipulation, Mild Torture intervention (You know that one scene in Girlfriendklok, that’s what this is)

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took so long to produce, it’s a bit all over the place because of how long it took. I’ll do better next chapter.

The trio of Nathan, Pickles, and Makina re-entered the recording studio where Chester was waiting patiently in the spiked office chair. Makina was silently seething at the sight of her former bandmate, she had originally imagined this reuniting moment to be a lot more calmer than how she initially reacted. What had only been just a few weeks, felt like years to the raven haired rookie. “Let’s be a bit more professional eh?” Chester said with a little smirk on his face, his voice was laced with a kind of arrogance that a big shot producer would have had. Makina rolled her eyes, she looked back at her mentor and sighed. “Fine, redo your little intro Mr. Barker.”

”Dr. Barker.”

”Whatever.”

“Anyways. My official title is of course as your manager, but also as your producer. I’ll also be alongside Dethklok as a sound engineer, so I’ll have my work cut out.” He said smugly. Makina’s eyes twitched at the thought of Chester in such an important role, especially to the band she ever so admired. The fletchling singer felt small in comparison. “From what I know, and I do know Medusa, is that you haven’t signed onto the label yet.”

“Sign what?” Makina asked, Chester clicked his tongue, “ ‘Course, the mucky one’s the most forgetful. If we want to get our new partnership off to a proper start, you gotta sign on. It’s a legal thing kidda.” Makina furrowed her brow and turned to Nathan and Pickles, only to look back at her shrugging in confusion. Makina looked back at Chester, “We’re talking about Crystal Mountain right?”

“Actually, the name’s changed to ‘Blinding Hope Music Group’. But yeah, same people. And don’t fret Mr. Explosion, your contracts were already brought over.”

“Whoa, nice.” Nathan replied under his breath. “As I was saying. Medusa, do you not have a copy of the contract?” Makina shook her head, Chester sighed and took out his phone from his jacket pocket. “I’ll print one out and you can deal with it tomorrow. You can go.” the welshman said, shooing her away. Makina grumbled something to herself, biting her tongue at what she could say next. “What was that ‘Dusy?”

“Nothing.” the raven haired woman replied solemnly as she walked out of the recording studio.

XxxX

“Hows did its goes? Was its a goods surprise?” Toki asked curiously, peeking into Makina’s bedroom. She aggressively threw her jacket to the other side of the room revealing her tube top. Makina flopped her back onto her bed and groaned in response. Toki entered the room and carefully sat next to her on her bed. “Its was bads wasn’ts it?”

“My so called idiot friend, who fucking ghosted me, came back and decided to become my manager and my producer. Fucking bullshit!” Makina whined. Toki grabbed her hand, “Yeah fucks that! …Waits yous saids its ams a friends?” The singer mindlessly began meticulously intertwining her fingers into his, “Yeah, you remember Lycan RIOT? My old band, he was the drummer. That’s the guy!”

“Oh hims, I always knews thats guys looks likes a dildos. Hims snooties likes he ams a gods!”

“Yes! Holy fuck! But, I can’t send him away just yet. I still need answers from him.” Toki rubbed his thumb into Makina’s knuckle. “It’s like… I don’t even know who he is anymore. He acts like a corporate suit, or a robot!” He giggled at her remark as she rolled closer to him. As she moved, Makina’s nails accidentally pricked into Toki’s skin. “Owwies!”

”Oops, sorry ‘bout that.” Makina replied as she released him from her grip. The raven haired woman took a closer look at the guitarist’s hand, thankfully there was no blood or wounds. However upon closer inspection, his hand had many little healed scars and cuts. Going further up his arm were more remodeled scars, with some of them looked like they were from a time long past, “Are you ok?” Makina asked sweetly. Toki nodded and grabbed her hand again. ‘None of the fan books ever said anything about Toki having scars… was there something I missed?‘ Makina thought to herself, she didn’t want to press further if it was something personal to Toki. But something deep inside of her shifted, she couldn’t understand what. “Hey Makis, so what ams ya gonna do nows?” Asked the norseman with a playful curiosity lacing his voice. Makina snapped back to reality, “I don’t know. Since I have plenty of time to kill now, wanna play DDR with me?”

“Sures, buts ams warns yous. I’ms gonnas wipes da floors withs ya!”

XxxX

‘I don’t get it, wasn’t she supposed to be happy to see him?’ Nathan pondered as he watched Pickles show Chester the custom controls the recording console had. “And this one isolates between vocals and individual backing vocals.” The redhead pointed. “Impressive. I suppose you lads already had ‘Dusy record some demos?” Pickles scratched the back of his head, “Not really, we’ve been trying to get her to be ready for fame rather than the actual singing portion. I mean, she’s already good so why push her?” Chester hummed, understanding the situation at hand. “She’s a ragged howling mutt. She needs to sing to vent, or she goes mad as a Monday magpie. Heh, I remember one time, we had no time to do practice and she got so pissed off, she kicked a hole in her family’s bar counter.”

“Damn, that must’ve been a pain in the ass.” Nathan added, “Believe me mate, we would never hear the end of it from Rats.” Pickles cocked an eyebrow, “Rats?” Chester nodded, “Yeah, Rats Montague, they were lookin’ after her now. Dunno if she told-”

“RATS MONTAGUE?!” Pickles shouted. Nathan practically leapt out off the couch in surprise. The drummer continued, “I didn’t know the kid was connected to an underground legend! And, I still owe that fucker 30 bucks on that tab I opened up.”

“Ooh, guess it’s cleared now. He passed away a while back.”

“Oh… that’s uh. That’s unfortunate, I’m sorry.” Pickles remarked. Nathan was reminded of Makina’s diary. ‘So that’s Rats, damn. Her dad must have really known some people.’ The hulking singer readjusted his seat, “Barker, when Makina sang did you ever see green smoke?”

”Sorry?”

“Green smoke, with fucking christmas carol ghost chains in the shape of a cage. Oh and sometimes random instrumentals begin to play when no one is playing anything?” Chester turned around in the swivel chair and looked at Nathan with concern, “Are you sure you weren’t high?”

“No dude, it was real. I saw it too, and so did Skwisgaar.” Chester shook his head, “If it was, I would’ve seen it, wouldn’t I?” he grabbed his files and straightened his tie. “I’m off to my office, wherever the hell it is.…” he grumbled. “Here, why don’t I walk you.” Nathan answered, he stood up and began escorting Chester out of the recording studio.

The two made their way down the corridor, passing by various rooms. “So… were you and Medusa exes or something?”

“Oh, far from that. We called it ‘bandmates with benefits’, I stopped that nonsense after I found a girl I liked. I settled down and ‘Dusy’s been supportive for the most part.”

“Hang on, you’re a married man?”

“Yeah, and she was there for that bit. However with marriage comes sacrifice, and I chose my wife and job over the band. I didn’t expect Dusy to be so passionate about Lycan RIOT staying together.” Nathan furrowed his brow, “Of course, she wanted the band to stay together.” the vocalist said out loud. “A band is kind of a family, if one member dropped there’s a short mourning period and people move on. But if everyone drifted away, there’s no use for the band to be together. For Medusa, Lycan RIOT was that family. After all you said it yourself, her guardian’s dead and technically she’s alone.” Chester looked at Nathan astonished by the profound eloquent way he spoke, as if he had felt Makina’s pain before. There was an awkward silence that plagued the rest of the walk as they finally made their way towards Chester’s room. “Uh… anyway, talk to you whenever I guess.” Nathan blurted out as he walked away from the welshman. “American rock stars truly are oddballs.” Chester said to himself as he opened the door to his room.

XxxX

“You’re not an ordinary fella!” The game announcer called out, Makina was slowly realizing how good Toki’s reflexes truly were. The denpa music began to swell into its final notes and the score was settled, Makina’s at a lousy B grade in comparison to Toki’s double A. “Ok… I give up, you truly are the king of DDR.” She said as she began kneeling to the floor. “Tolds ya so!” He beamed, as he knelt down to her level. “Maybe we should… take a break?” The two sat on the top of the dance pad console, as Toki patiently waited for Makina to catch her breath. As much fun as she was having she still felt like shit. Her mind began to wander, part of her still felt hurt that Chester had just randomly popped back into her life without warning. The other half of her heart had a raging fire of anger, she just wanted to go buck wild and kick him in the face. “Yous stills thinkings abouts that guys?” Makina looked up at Toki and nodded as she heaved. The young vocalist was a bit surprised that he could guess correctly, was he able to read her mind or was the vibe that obvious? The rhythm guitarist grabbed Makina’s hand, he yanked her arm harshly to help her up on her feet. Makina was entirely confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor; his eyes looked violent. “Can’ts stands thats hes makings yous feelings likes shits, ands we ams gonna do somethings abouts its.”

”Toki, you don’t have to.”

”Buts ams goings to!” Makina thought hesitantly of what he was implying, she knew she’d get in trouble again if she violently attacked Chester like she did with Murderface. But there clearly would be no other reasonable way to talk with him with her mentor and Pickles around. ”Well then, what are you planning?” The raven haired rookie asked, Toki didn’t answer. He just smirked and Makina understood completely. Or at least she assumed she understood what the norseman was thinking.

XxxX

“Lady, and gentlemen, I have summat important to say.” The other members of Lycan RIOT stopped and looked to see Chester beaming with pride. “She said yes!” Chester exclaimed. “Whoa, congrats Barker!” Gerard said as he leaped off the stage to hug his friend. “Holy fuck, you’re gonna be in a monkey suit!” Teased Syd, dapping him up and pulling him into a hug. Makina couldn’t properly emote, she smiled half heartedly at her drummer but her eyes told a different story. “Wow… That’s great Chester. I’m really happy for you.” Chester’s smile began to fade. “You don’t sound happy ‘Dusy.”

”I am, believe me. I just… it’s incredible.” Makina shuffled her feet as she walked towards Chester, she patted his upper arm. “Good for you man.” Makina turned away and began walking towards the door that led up to the apartment. “I need to do something, I’ll be right back.” Makina choked on her words, she didn’t want the others to see her tears slowly welling up from her eyes. Her chest tightened and throat began to close up. This was it, like John and Yoko’s relationship blossoming to The Beatles breaking up, this engagement would be the beginning of the end for Lycan RIOT. He wouldn’t break his promise right? Makina silently seethed as she bit her own tongue, causing the long appendage to bleed. Her breathing hitched as she began desperately attempting to calm herself down. But the thought of someone she deemed precious leaving her began to remind of the worst moments in her life, flashing through her mind like a manic slideshow. Makina felt like she needed to do something drastic in order to keep her friend from leaving her. But not at this moment, she didn’t want Chester to suspect a thing.

XxxX

Evening fell as Makina followed Toki down the halls of Mordhaus, the pair had a set of silver objects in their hands. They stopped in front of a door and knocked. Chester groggily opened the door. “What did you-“ WHACK! THUD! Chester fell to the floor. “Whats da fucks Makis, I thoughts we agreeds to useings da fryings pans to hittings him!”

”You didn’t say shit, I thought you were implying using a steel chair. Like how they do in wrestling!” Makina seethed. “Ugh, what the hell-“ KLANG! Toki quickly interrupted him and whacked Chester upside the head again. “…I hope we didn’t kill him.”

“He ams gonna be fines.”

”What the fuck was that noise?” A voice called. Murderface peaked out of his room and saw the scene unfolding in front of him. An unconscious Chester being dragged by Toki and Makina. The chaotic duo paused and looked up at the bassist with daggers in their eyes. “You ain’t seen nothing.” Makina hissed as she and Toki continued dragging the unconscious producer to the raven haired rookie’s bedroom. Murderface quietly followed them, watching the two through a crack from Makina’s room door. “So… now what, do we tie him up?” Makina asked as she unfolded the steel chair. Toki placed Chester’s body on it, making him sit upright. “Ja.”

“And are you sure this is ok?”

“We dids this for Nathans ats ones points. It shoulds works fines.” Toki said, he then turned to see Murderface’s eyes peeking in. “Whats yous wants?” The brunette asked as Murderface jumped, “Nothing really just… are you planning on killing him?”

“Nopes, justs interventions.” Murderface cautiously looked over to Makina, she had an almost eerily familiar look of insanity in her eyes. “Ok, I’m gonna stay and watch. And if you fuck this up Makina, I swear to god I’m telling on you.”

Makina nodded, she then went into her personal bathroom to get a bucket of water. “Damn it, I made it too heavy. Toki, help please.” Toki finished tying the last of the rope and walked into the bathroom, he helped Makina lift it and then dumped it onto Chester. Water spilled all over the floor and underneath Makina’s bed. “Wha- what happened?” The welshman woke from his stupor, “You forgot to turn off the light dumbasses.” Murderface commented as he flicked the switch himself. “Oh rights, thanks. Nows… uh… whats da crimes agains?” Makina facepalm’d herself and whispered into Toki’s ear. “Nos you talks.” Toki whispered back. ”I don’t want to be associated.”

”It ams a bits lates for dats Makis.”

”Medusa, what the fuck are you on about!?” Chester shouted. Makina quickly slapped his face to shut him up, her nails scratched his cheek a little bit but not deep enough to bleed. “Shut the fuck up!” She said, spitting a bit in his face. “Before you spew any of your goddamn high and mighty bullshit, I just wanted to say that I fucking hate you. How could you, how dare you waltz back into my life like nothing ever happened!”

”That’s because there was nothing that happened.”

”Wrong again you slut nugget!”

”Well then, enlighten me!” Makina paused for a moment, mocking a thinking pose. “Hmm… No. You don’t deserve an explanation, it’s obvious and clear to me what you did was wickedly cruel. Without you even knowing.” Toki grabbed the frying pan again and held it ready, like a baseball player winding up his bat. Makina placed a hand on his shoulder, “Hold on.” She then went into the drawer of her dresser and grabbed a pen. Makina knelt down and scribbled a signature on Chester’s left cheek, took out her phone to take a picture, and sent it to Chester’s via text. “Just copy and paste that photo onto my contract. And Chester, don’t fuck with me again. We’ll pick up this emotional baggage another day.” Makina then patted Toki on the back and whispered something in his ear. Toki put the pan down, before he went to untie him the guitarist covered Chester’s mouth and stomped on his foot. The producer let out a muffled scream.

Makina turned to Murderface, his face was a mix of horrified and amused. “Geez, that was psychotic Medusa. What did this dildo do to you?” Murderface questioned, Makina leaned in and whispered into the bassist’s ear. “Fucker broke his promise, he left me not once but twice. And on top of that, he played hooky with me. I’m not gonna tolerate his bullshit if we work together again.”

“You kissed him?!” Makina shook her head and whispered again into his ear, Murderface’s expression turned from shock to utter disgust. “As a feminist-.”

”Dat’s bullshits!”

”Fuck off Toki! As I was saying, I respect your decision to kick his ass. I’ll cover you if he begins to squeal.” the bassist said as he put a hand on her shoulder, “Wow, that’s oddly nice of you? …There’s a catch, isn't there.”

”One feature on a planet piss track and I can sweep this under the rug.” Makina’s eyes widened, “You mean the project that’s been in development hell?! I don’t know… I’ll have to check with my manager.” Makina remarked, she looked to Chester being helped up by Toki. The welshman scowled at the raven haired singer, “…I will talk to you, later...”

[ampedupkaon]

August Writing Challenge Day 17: Arthur/Nanashi

AN: This was one of the specific days too. The seventeenth of August is Arthur's birthday. Set the first night Arthur and Nanashi are in the bunker in Camelot.

Nanashi hadn't been surprised to discover that there wasn't enough beds. It was a hastily cobbled together shelter; of course there wasn't enough beds. What did surprise him...

“Won't you join me, Sir Nanashi?” Was that Arthur... King Arthur wanted to share a bed with him. Surely the boy king shouldn't have to share a bed? Surely he shouldn't be sharing with a man either; who knew how his subjects would take that?

“Surely it is not proper for you and I to share a bed?” Nanashi told him. Arthur laughed.

“There aren't enough beds for everyone to have one each. And that includes there not being one for me. You're my ally, what's strange about it?”

“We are both men.” Nanashi informed him, as though that was news to the boy king. Again, he got an incredulous look.

“So? Sir Gilthunder and Sir Howzer shared a bed in the Boar Hat. So did Sir Slader and Sir Gowther. Two men can share a bed and it not mean anything. I don't sleep in the nude but... even if I did and you did... it doesn't mean we have to do anything... adult.” A slight smile crossed Nanashi's face. Arthur was wise beyond his years it seemed. Though, Nanashi wasn't going to take any clothes off. He wasn't willing to show the scars on his back, the remnants of his wings. He feared questions about that. He'd saved Arthur with his healing magic a few times in the past; all done on the sly. The boy was important. He would unite Britannia, Nanashi was sure of that.

“Then shall we go to bed?” Arthur grinned before leading the way. It turned out the beds were only just big enough for one person to lie in. Getting two people in would involve... a lot of squeezing and squashing together.

“I thought the beds might be a little wider than that...” Nanashi swallowed. He was thankful he wasn't removing any clothes. Arthur started to remove his armour, what remained of it at any rate. His top quickly followed, then his trousers. Arthur might not sleep in the nude, but he didn't sleep in much.

“Are you not bothered about people seeing you like that?” Nanashi asked. Arthur giggled.

“Eh... they can look. Not much to look at anyway. Some of the men sleep in the nude. Some of the women do too; I've saw them if I've got up through the night.” Arthur climbed on the bed, lying dangerously close to the edge furthest away from him.

“They know we're friends. Some of the other men are sharing a bed with their friends; having to lie close together and cuddle. They don't care.” Nanashi was a bit more bothered about it than Arthur was. Perhaps because it was frowned upon for goddesses to cuddle if they were both male. Pats to shoulders was allowed. Proper cuddles weren't. And what goddesses got up to in privacy of their own chambers was never discussed openly; so if two male goddesses did cuddle he knew nothing of it.

“Are you nervous, Sir Nanashi?” Arthur asked, shaking him from his musings.

“I admit I have never shared a bed with someone else before.” He wasn't nervous of the act. Nervous of how others might view it, but not nervous of the act.

“It's fine. We just need to shuffle together and slip our arms around each other.” Nanashi made his way over, climbing on the bed. He and Arthur were quite close together already, but Arthur shuffled closer. He felt the boy king's arms sliding around to his back and stiffened a little.

“It's alright. Nobody is going to judge. We're friends and friends cuddle.” He forced himself to relax. The scars were just that; scars. There was no trace of his wings, not even a stub. Arthur wouldn't be able to tell. He let his arms slide around the boy king, pulling him a tiny bit closer.

“It's a little cosy... but we'll be alright.” It was warm, even without a blanket. He got as comfortable as he could, which wasn't very; knowing he couldn't move very much without falling out of bed. Arthur yawned, tired out by fighting demons all day it seemed.

“Night Nanashi.” His eyes fluttered shut and he found sleep easily. Nanashi himself was a little jealous. He closed his own eyes, hoping that sleep found him as quickly as it found Arthur.

“Sleep well, Arthur.” He whispered, aware the boy king was probably asleep. A soft grumble answered him before sleep dragged him under.

AN: Arthur wakes up first and scrambles backwards when he realises he's in bed with someone else. He ends up landing on the floor, which wakes up Nanashi. He apologises for waking Nanashi, but is told by Nanashi that he would have done the same thing had he woke up first.