#he said fuck you i’ll show you a government. and he fucking did

[mearchy]

I really love Jaster Mereel, the most “fine then I’ll do it myself” guy of all time. Like, after he killed his corrupt superior UHC style and got exiled for it he could’ve been on that vigilante shit. And he did come back ready for a fight- but not with a battalion, or another assassination. With a fucking entire new system of living and governing contained in a codex he wrote himself, based on ancient laws he wanted to resurrect. By all accounts he wasn’t even in academia or government before that moment, he was a cop. And the best part is he fucking managed to create a majorly consequential schism in Mandalorian society purely on the strength of having actually really good ideas in that big-ass academic magnum opus he spite-wrote. That’s some Protestant reformation shit!!!! I wonder if someone said to him during his sentencing like “you can’t just make up your own laws because you disagree with the ones we have” and he said oh word?? Insane, I love him.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 5

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Glenn is the goofiest sexiest character there is and I will die on this hill! I will ride into battle for him! what Dndads created is truly unique and Glenn is a key part of that and for that he deserves to win. I said it before and I'll say it again - GLENN SWEEEEEP

Can we talk about how he says ‘baby’ casually? Like he just calls people that?? That’s HOT. THAT IS HOT!! He’s also bilingual and knows Japanese!!!! He’s a big dumb idiot with a lot of charisma!!!!!! HE WORKED AT A BDSM PLACE FOR TWO SEPARATE ONE SHOTS. HES SO SAD BUT PLAYS IT OFF LIKE HE’S CHILL ALL THE TIME!! HE DOESN’T THINK OF HIMSELF AS SINGLE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T DIVORCE HIS DEAD WIFE!!! He’s like.. the perfect guy. We need this win.

I’d also like to add the fact I made this. Which is the first 11 episodes edited to (almost) only have Glenn in them <3 which is a level of insanity I hope to reiterate. These took hours to make. I wouldn’t do that for anyone else.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Amber Gris (The Adventure Zone: Ethersea):

Middle aged woman who punches sharks to death. My hero

If you love me you'll vote for amber gris I swear to everything holy on earth amen

Amber is butch, instant win

Amber Gris has a negative charisma modifier and she pissed her pants on purpose in order to trick a guard and knock him out. She tied up a dude. She once killed an evil magic shark (they're out for murder. not like real sharks) by punching it and then picked it up and smashed it into another shark, also killing it. She talks in a southern accent. She calls people guppy because it indicates a lack of respect. She has a big pair of magical green arms that come from her stomach. She got a fancy jacket and immediately ripped its sleeves off. She has a gay thing going on with one of the political leaders in the city. She gets in fights with people and doesnt do vulnerability and tries to lay low and not get in any social trouble she doesn't have to. She jumped through a portal into a new world because she could. She's now the god of said world, alone with only afformentioned political leader, who was previously possessed and she had to fight. She spends her time in a bar called the Cloaca. She calls people she doesn't like claspers, because it means shark penis. She and her friend, an old man named Uncle Joshy, sneak attack each other and yell VIBE CHECK! She tries to talk fancy to impress people and she's really bad at it (verily).

She’s everything and more. She’s irreverent. She punches sharks for a living. She becomes God. What more do you need in a butch.

amber gris propaganda: she is straightup the physical embodiment of "women want me, fish fear me." also she's an appalachian post apocalyptic sea captain. that's just objectively cool.

AMBER GRIS IS PUNCHES SHARKS AND IS (one of) THE MOST BADASS BLACK WOMEN PCS IN DND SHOWS IVE EVER SEEN. SHES INCREDIBLE AND A WIN FOR DYKES EVERYWHERE

amber's creator said she was based off of the type of working-class woman you commonly see in appalachia where "this is the sort of woman that you see walking past CVS, and you know that a truck could hit her and it would just split around her as she continued to go pick up whatever she had to do that day." and that's pretty hot

guys Amber becomes lesbian god of the new world with her childhood “”friend””

#amber gris is LITERALLY a middle-aged butch #she would win this entire tournament in a just world

Last time Amber got horny was when she killed that shark

"it was a savage bummer though, don't-- trust me, there's nothing that great about a history. You know? I got one. What did I do, killed a bunch of sharks? Last time I got horny, god and christ I can't even tell you-- well, it was when I killed that shark. But! Hey. We're all just kinda figuring it out."

Moonshine Cybin (Not Another D&D Podcast: Bahumia):

She's a hot elf with mushrooms growing on her. She has 1 level of barbarian. She's bisexual. She shapeshifted into a dragon and ate a god.

how tf does the post not mention Moonshine’s giant boobs her greatest asset

Moonshine has canonically gone down on a woman for a solid hour without asking for anything in return. Moonshine edged a dryad just by kissing them. Moonshine faced down someone being controlled to kill everyone in his path and told him if he still wanted to hurt her, she would take his blows as a friend. Moonshine makes jambalaya for her family and friends. Moonshine mispronounced someone’s name for a month and that woman still wanted to hook up with Moonshine. These are just a few of the reasons why Moonshine is sexy.

shes illiterate

canonically huffs dirty water from a bong

has big tatas

wears a belly chain with a demon trapped in it

almost became the queen of hell

ate a god

turned into a pregnant moose & gave birth

The woman she went down on for an hour asking nothing in return is still hung up on her, 200 years later. Moonshine is unmatched

To be clear the woman whose name Moonshine mispronounced for a month and then hooked up with is the same woman she went down on for an hour, and the same woman who is still flustered over her 200 years later. The rizz is unparalleled. She’s also incredibly kind and accepting of others, and goes out of her way to bolster her friends. The party always requests one big bed.

moonshine cybin is a druid who learned counterspell through sheer force of will. moonshine cybin turned one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse into a dolphin, flew him 60 feet up into the air, dropped him on the ground, and then spit spores into his face to kill him. moonshine cybin turned into a dragon and bit the head off of a double god. moonshine cybin was willing to confine herself to an eternal hell to save the world. moonshine cybin is a dragon rider. you know what you must do.

Amber and Moonshine Together

Look at them. They should not have to fight when they could be gay instead. Imagine the power they would have combined... Every lesbian in a hundred mile radius of the post would swoon. It may be an odd alliance, but from an Ethersea fan to Bahumia fans, i believe this will strengthen both our odds. I have always been insane about Amber Gris but through this poll I have also learned about Moonshine and come to love her too. Take my hand... We can do this together...

OKAY HEAR ME OUT MOONSHINE AND AMBER WOULD GET ALONG SO WELL

appalachian sapphic solidarity!

Art of Amber and Moonshine from @pirateknight.

[thevoidstaredback]

Tales of Conquest, Warnings of Fools:

Letters Between Brothers

Damian Wayne,   Jan 15, 2014

Thank the gods you’re okay! I was so worried! When you didn’t answer, I assumed the worst, and then I saw the news and I freaked out! Seeing as you didn’t mention anything about accepting my help, I’m going to assume you don’t need it right now. The offer will remain open, however.

A lot has happened since my last letter, though you’ll forgive me for not going into detail. It’s gonna be a pain to get this to you at all, let alone if it had been filled with everything I want to say. What I can and will tell you is that my town has been put under a soft lock-in and a Media Blackout. Things and people and news can come in, but almost nothing and no one can go out. Everything is screened before it’s even considered for being able to leave the city lines. Something is here that the government doesn't want to get out to the general public. It took a lot to be able to even get this out, hence the huge amount of time between me writing it and you getting it.

I’ll keep the line open, but it might take a while for my responses to get to you.

Ancients, I hope you can come visit soon. If you need an excuse, we’ve got the only female purple-back gorilla in town! Her name’s Delilah. I can teach you how to communicate with her if you’d like!

Anyway, I gotta go.

من الجيد أن أسمع منك يا أخي.

Danyal

***

Danny was tired. He was ready to sleep for a week. He doesn’t care that he’s not gonna be allowed to because he’s gonna do it anyway. After beating Pariah Dark, Danny had laid on the floor for a solid hour before moving. When he finally got up, he moved the crown and ring to sit on the cushion of the throne. The orb he kept with him. He was gentle with it, careful to not hole it too tightly or too lightly. Then, he flew back to where Amity Park was floating.

“Where were you!” Sam demanded the second he landed in her room.

“Finding a way out of the Zone,” he said.

“And?” Tucker prompted, “Do we have a way home?”

Danny paused and then groaned. “Noooo.”

Sam inhaled deeply, frustration dripping from her voice like honey. “Then what took you so long to come back?”

Tucker finally looked up from his PDA and then startled. “Dude! You’re hurt! What the hell?”

“What?!” Sam screamed.

Danny looked down at himself. “Oh, yeah, did I forget to mention that?”

“Dude!”

“Okay, okay! So, you know that really scary Ghost King guy that Vlad decided to wake up because he’s a piss-baby who wants power?”

“Yeah?”

“Well,” he looked away from them and then held up his right hand, showing them the fire orb in his hand. “This is maybe kinda all that’s left of him.”

“Danny!” They both jumped away from him. “Did you bring the fucking Ghost King into my house?!”

“I wasn’t just- I couldn’t- Leaving it where it was seemed like a bad idea!”

“So you brought it with you!”

“Yes! It seemed like a better idea than leaving him where anyone could pick him up!”

Tucker calmed himself in the corner, taking large breaths. Sam closed her eyes where she stood, doing the same thing. After a few seconds she said, “Get that thing out of my house. Then, find out a way to get us back home-”

“Technically we are home…”

“-to Earth. When you’ve done that and the sky is blue and I can see fields on the horizon, then you may come back into my house. Okay?”

He backed towards the window. “I guess this is a horrible time to mention that I don’t know a single ghost that can help me?”

“Out!”

“Okay, bye!” He was quick to leave, flying away as Phantom, the fire orb still in his hand, though now he cradled it to his chest. He was stopped a few times by his classmates, trusting Phantom more than the ghost hunters. Anytime they’d ask him what was happening, he’d tell them that he had everything under control and that he was going to get them all back to their home dimension soon.

He didn’t tell them that he was freaking out. He didn’t tell them that they’d been there for six days now because he and Vlad are the only two in Amity Park who can keep track of time in the Realms. He didn’t tell them that he was working alone because the government decided to cut off all access to help. He didn’t tell them that no one even knew they were missing because of the same government. He didn’t tell them a lot of things. 

He’d learned, from watching other heroes in the world, that smiles and reassurances were the only things to keep people calm sometimes. So, that’s what he did. He kept the freakouts internal, and smiled at his classmates as they asked him to tell them it would be okay.

He flew over the edge of the island that was now taking the space of the Amity Portal. He didn’t know where he was going, but he was hoping that he’d be able to find someone that would help him as long as he picked a direction and flew.

It took an entire day, but he found someone who could help. Probably. The island was purple, just like all of them, and the only building on it was a dark clocktower. It looked like a grandfather clock, a balcony wrapped around the building just under the clock face. There were cogs floating in the space above and around it, as well as implemented into the building itself.

He dropped his flight, landing on the ground a ways from the door. “Ḵ̴͓̈́͌̔ạ̶̍s̵̥̤͠ ̴̤̽̓͛m̵̹̠̈́̂̍å̸̢͎̜̎ ̸̫́v̶͖͙̍̀̚õ̸̠͔̀i̴̍̕͜n̸͉̪͊̾̓ ̷̝̻͊̚̚t̷̬̩͝͝ú̷͔̟͖l̵̗̖͗͛̎l̸̻̫̂̀̕á̸̜͔̥?” he asked. The door under the glass pendulum window opened. He took that as an invitation and walked forward.

Inside the body of the clocktower was plain, a stone staircase winding up behind the ticking pendulum. He walked up every step, the fiery orb cradled in both hands against his chest. It was really warm.

There was no trap door or hatch at the top of the stairs. Instead, it opened up into the room behind the clock face. The wall opposite the clock face was covered in screens with orbs floating around, each one showing different faces and events and times. There was a small seating area right next to the giant window; that’s where he found his host.

“T̴̡̫́͊͝͠ē̸̞̱͑͊̃͝r̷̩͛͒͠e̶͉̠̪̎̔͂́̅ ̴͚̤͓̬̲͊͒̔̽t̵̢͉̗̺̲̑̌̅̚u̸̬̔͌͆ḻ̷̛̫͍̜́e̵̖̰͕̰̪͝m̷̳͎̘̮̞͝͠a̶͖̬͉̤͉̒̀̋s̸͖̱͓̪̪̈́́t̷̖̿̓͊,̸̢͙̮͊̾ ̷̡̲̱͖̲͑͆̔̕ń̴̠̪̈́̊̒̃ó̸̡̺̞͕͍́̽̀͆ō̵̦̅̔r̶̠̉͆̕ ̵̞̟̣̇̈̆ḱ̴̢͕͔͈̇͛͂͋u̵̫̲̎̀̀̽ͅǹ̵̢͖͚̜ͅį̴̠͖̠̪͗̒̓̅ǹ̸̝͒͊͠g̸͎̖̗͎̈́̃ả̸̮͉̱̀́̌̉s̷̡̞̼̃̿̏͂͊.” the ghost said. They were covered by a dark purple hooded cloak, a lighter purple tunic and pants underneath. Their skin was a light teal and their eyes were bright red. A black metal cog held the cloak on their shoulder, a glass door showed black clock and a pendulum in their chest. Floating upright beside them was a black metal staff, a mint green eye-like orb resting between the three prongs on the top. “My name is A̸̠̺̹̐̉̈̅j̶͈̐ą̷͈̩̱̣̑͐̎̔̉͝ ̸̛̹̮̹̦͆̊̇͘͜͝ͅm̷̢̲̳͚̞̄́̈ê̵̡̙̞̥i̷̡̹̺̺̼̟̽͜s̶̹͈͖̲̫̫̍̅t̶͖͈̓̽̍̒̋͝ę̵͔̠͐̍͛̒̈ͅŗ̶̡̲̺̩̯͌̓, but you may call me Clockwork.”

Danny bowed a little in greeting, the ghost’s very gaze pouring an intense pressure on him. “Greetings, Clockwork. My name is D̷̨̨̤̥̤́̈́͘è̷̲̟͗͒̾ë̶̩̥̪́́͠m̷͎̿̀̎ͅö̸͍̤̫̥͕́͂̓n̷̤̰̆͑͂̊ḯ̵̮̰͝ ̷̦̜̪̬̿͂̓͒̚l̶͓̬̣͚͈̉ȃ̵̰̭̮͈͐̿p̸͔̝̓̈͗̋ş̶̥̦̥͍̽͑͒̊, but you may call me Danyal.”

Clockwork nodded in return, motioning to the seats around him. “Please, join me.”

“Thank you,” Honestly, Danny had no idea where these manners were coming from, but they were here now and they seemed to be the right things to be doing and saying because he had yet to be attacked. And even when he’d gone to Pariah with the intent of a fight, they had a cordial conversation beforehand.

“There is a town from a Living Realm trapped in the In-Between Realm.” Clockwork said after Danny had sat down. “You seek a way to return them.”

Danny nodded. “Yes.”

“You walk a fine line, K̴͔̑͘u̸̙͌̋͠m̴̬̯̤̄͗̊̚m̷̹̜̟̣̈ḯ̴͚͕̙̗̥̀t̸͚̠̭̣͎̒̄u̷̺̹̫̅͑ṡ̷̞͆l̶̝̈́̌̅a̶̹̪̎̇̈̈̓p̸͎̬͖̺͊̾̽͜š̶̞̤͐͗͝.” Clockwork said. “The line between the Living and Dead is a thin one, and yet you walk with perfect balance.”

A million questions were going through Danny’s head too fast for him to fully register them. He asked, “Do you know what I am?”

The older ghost nodded. “You are P̷̺̞͆̓̇ö̵̯́̄̃̃õ̶̮͕̭l̷͕̪͉̮͚͆̽͆e̶̡̢͔̝̽̈͗̑l̸̢̖̗͇̐̿̕d̶̠̻̬̂̉̓̑̕ĭ̵̝̻͋̈ ̶̳̩̯̠͋̂̈́e̵̢̳̬̖̍͠l̴͓̼͒̄u̷̢̲͖̞̦̒̎̂s̷͙̪̘͊͒͆,̶̲͕͓͌̚̚ ̵̙̩͍͊p̶̫̼̪̝͑͘o̷̭̼̰̚o̸̖̭͓͚̲̽̓̅̏̕l̸͍͙̀̑̉ȩ̴̡̣͔̃̄͋l̶̟̫̭͗̌̊d̵̛̻i̴̺͈͉̔̂͘ ̷̜̯̣̙̍̅̇ș̷̌̂͝͠ư̴̰̿r̸̡̹͚̣͑ͅn̵̙͖̅̐̅ú̴͈͛̃͑́ͅḍ̶̖̱̍; T̸̬͒̆̎̈́͠õ̷̡̰̝͖̂̐e̴͙̊ͅl̸̥̥̹͚̩̥͊̄̀̔̈́͠i̴̟̜͖͔͓̦̔n̵̢͖͓͌͂ḛ̵̡̼͍̏̒͊̂͜͝ ̸͍̱͋̑͗ẗ̴̺â̵̧̞̰̣̰̬̝̊͌͊̆́s̷̤͍̱̜͙̑͒å̸͚͔̩̇̎͆͝k̴̲̅ä̶͕́̈́͂̎̂̏a̷̠͋́̌͊͊̓͝ļ̶̯̤̍.”

“What does that mean?” he wondered.

They shook their head. “You will understand in time.”

Danny was quick to concede the point. “Can you help me return Ḿ̷̢̳̫̮̾͗i̶̧̩̣̐̓̓n̷̬̼̘̟̞͝û̸͔̰̠̞̒͘̚ ̶̦͋k̸̤͔͊̄́ŏ̶̮̦̬̫̙̐̂͝͠d̶̝̯̆̎̉̊͜u̵̲̬͒͜ to where we belong?”

“I cannot,” was the answer, “But I can tell you how to do it.”

Danny hesitated for no more than a moment before nodding. “Your help would be greatly appreciated, sir.”

Clockwork smiled. “No need to be so formal anymore, T̶̨͇͋͌͆͌́ä̸͇̰͓̿h̷̥̓͌͋̈̔̓t̴̗̻͚͈͚̺̓́̔e̴̢̯̱̓̄̎̾̆ḑ̷̬̔ḛ̷̱̭̙̪͑̃͌̓͐ ̵̭̯͔̈̈̇̓̕̕l̶̜̞̺̜̦̋̿̄͒͊a̶̢̼͈͆p̶͓̟̱̣̉š̶̹͋̄̕͝. You are welcome in Ḿ̷̢̳̫̮̾͗i̶̧̩̣̐̓̓n̷̬̼̘̟̞͝û̸͔̰̠̞̒͘̚ ̶̦͋k̸̤͔͊̄́ŏ̶̮̦̬̫̙̐̂͝͠d̶̝̯̆̎̉̊͜u̵̲̬͒͜ whenever you seek it.” The whole building was filled with the chime of a clock striking midnight. “To take s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ back to the Realm in which it belongs, you must use Ŗ̸̢̱̻͊̍́̐̒ä̴̯̫̗̪̑̕͠e̸̯̞͎͇̍v̴̲̥̲̊͜͝ṳ̵̀ ̷͓̞͇̙̑̍̏̏s̴̡̫͇̅̑̏õ̸͔͋̏̀r̴̛͚̰̔͆m̷̲̞̈́u̸̠͆̀̂͜ş̴͔̩̰̎̇̆̎̿ to open a portal. However, once you put it on, you will be announcing your claim to T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶��̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾.”

“Wait,” Danny said, worry seeping into his tone and expression, “T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾? I don’t want to be King! I just- I wanna be me.”

“And you will be, but you must first make your decision. You told T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒ that you fight to protect, so now you must choose to protect. Claim T̴͖̳̪̭̫͆͜r̴̤̻̳͔̭̪̭̅́̋o̴̲̍͌̂͒o̶̢̩̳͂̒͠n̵̩͕͖̟̈̆͐́̃͋̾ and get s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ back to where it belongs, or refuse and keep s̸̡̮̤̽̓͝͝į̴̡̯͙͌n̴̤̅̈̌͊̃u̷͔̗̮͐ ̷̜̈̆̇̕͝k̵̢̰̙̗̱͂̄͋̈̈́ô̸̦͛̾̿͑d̸̢̡̪͇͋͗͝u̵̲̠͊̃̈͜ here between the L̷͔͕͔̂̿̆̾͠õ̸̭̙̮̭̽ͅp̸͚̲͍̐̚ͅư̶̐̍ͅt̷̡̰̙̚u̷͚̖͖̐̀̿́͝ḑ̷̟̲͔̭͗́̀ ̷̘̟̦́̾̒̑̕k̸͚̃ứ̵͕̘̥̩̾̓͑n̸̘̹̗̗͙̂͂̓͗͝i̷̳͕̝͂̓n̴̪̈́̇̌g̶̩͈̺̟͖̀̐̽͒̈ŕ̶̛̜͔͠ì̸̯̈i̸̠͎̳̳̓͠g̷̪̲̈́̽̐̌̄ì̸̮͌͒̌d̶͉̻̭̀̓͑.”

“That’s hardly a choice,” Danny said. Clockwork shrugged. “How do I use the  Ŗ̸̢̱̻͊̍́̐̒ä̴̯̫̗̪̑̕͠e̸̯̞͎͇̍v̴̲̥̲̊͜͝ṳ̵̀ ̷͓̞͇̙̑̍̏̏s̴̡̫͇̅̑̏õ̸͔͋̏̀r̴̛͚̰̔͆m̷̲̞̈́u̸̠͆̀̂͜ş̴͔̩̰̎̇̆̎̿?”

Clockwork’s smile hadn’t dropped at all during the conversation, but it did seem like they had only just started smiling. “You will know when you put it on.”

“Oh.” He remembered the little ball of fire in his hands. “When I beat T̵̳̪̂̌̎y̵̛̭̻̖̽r̴̹̰̗͝ḁ̸͚̟̈̆n̴͔̞͊̈͑ṅ̷̝̂-̷̼͙̼̏̃k̴̛̙̣̠͑û̶̘͍̞ň̷͈͇̲ỉ̶̛̗̺͜͝n̸͐̈́͜͠g̴̼̀ä̸̞͙̲́s̶͎̬͙̀͒,” he held the small orb in from of him, “he disappeared and left this behind. What is it?”

There was a twinkle in Clockwork’s pupiless eyes. “That is the very essence of his being; his T̸̼̈̏u̶͉̭̘̓̀ȗ̵͔͘͜ͅm̷̡̫͗͋̽. To T̵̨̉̈́̉͝a̴̗͉̪̐̾́̃ͅp̷̫̔̆̉a̴̗͉͛̈́̒͘͠ a ghost, you must End them by crushing or eating their T̸̼̈̏u̶͉̭̘̓̀ȗ̵͔͘͜ͅm̷̡̫͗͋̽.

“What?” Danny freaked out, “I don’t want to End him!”

“Then keep that with you at all times.”

“What’ll- What’ll happen if I don’t?”

“It would be within your best interest to keep T̷̢̥̟̈̎̀͆͝ÿ̴̪̍́͌r̷̯͍̹̔̎͠͠ȃ̶̮n̸̦̪̜̓́̽͑d̶͔͚̿͗́͘ȋ̸̢̪͉̕ ̵̩̎͐̒k̵̥̬͐̌u̷̢̎n̵̻̾̊i̶̧͖̳̅̽ņ̷̞̫̹̀̿̔̈͘ͅg̶͖̻̈̋̎͌͜͜͝a̵͔̱͍̺̓͝ ̵̰̲̤̈́̏̏t̸̺̫͙͐̽̔͐̎ú̵͖̗̪̠͊ụ̸̥̖̈̀̆̚̕m̷͇͕̮͖͑̀͝ with you at all times.”

Danny gulped and nodded, standing from his place. “Thank you for helping me, A̸̠̺̹̐̉̈̅j̶͈̐ą̷͈̩̱̣̑͐̎̔̉͝ ̸̛̹̮̹̦͆̊̇͘͜͝ͅm̷̢̲̳͚̞̄́̈ê̵̡̙̞̥i̷̡̹̺̺̼̟̽͜s̶̹͈͖̲̫̫̍̅t̶͖͈̓̽̍̒̋͝ę̵͔̠͐̍͛̒̈ͅŗ̶̡̲̺̩̯͌̓”

“It was my pleasure, K̸̡̧͕̇̑́̐̚͝o̸̧̰͕̯̿̐͠s̶͔͇͇̱̲͔̩̓̽͗̀͊̈m̶͉͇̟͆̄͆͆̈̉͘͝o̶̹̬̤̟̥̣̅͒́̇̇̆s̴̗͇̰̫͆͑e̴̪͕̲̪͎͓̾̚m̶̢͈̰̳̙̻̜̩̱̀̒ẹ̵̖̟͔́̃̒͑i̸̭̩̙͉̮͚̻̰̰̇̎̈́͊͘͠s̸̛̛͚̤̳̭͋̊́͒̔́̚̕t̴͍̮̱͈̹̞͊̋͂ḛ��̢͙̺̼͍̬̙͍̣̽̎̊͘̚r̵̤̜̲̱̦̕.”

Danny left through the clock face, flying back towards Pariah’s Keep. It had been just under a day since he’d been there. Amity Park had been in the Infinite Realms for seven days now. Any attention drawn by them disappearing for a week could either be really good or really bad. Regardless, they’d all find out about their lost time as soon as they got back to their Living Realm and Danny was not looking forward to that.

He arrived at the Keep much as he had earlier. Though, instead of walking up the steps, he flew straight into the throne room. It was just as he’d left it. Before he went to the dais, he tried to calm his nerves by picking up the weapons from his battle. The daggers were re-hidden, the rapier re-sheathed. He picked up Pariah’s long sword and strapped it to his back, just under his tanto using the two halves of the former King’s cape.

With a deep breath, Danny finally approached the Throne, Crown, and Ring. He touched only the Ring, fearing what might happen if he even breathed on the other two, and slipped it onto the middle finger on his left hand. He felt a pulse of fury rush through him before it settled deep in his gut. The Ring itself changed from a simple black band to an obsidian ring encrusted with ice. It wasn’t cold on his finger, and was hardly noticeable.

Once again, he flew back to where Amity Park had been dropped. Once he was floating over the town, he reached for the power inside the Ring. It came easily to him, as though he knew exactly what he needed to do. He lifted his left hand, ripping it down in a quick motion. The green and black sky ripped open, blue calling the attention of everyone in Amity Park. He ignored them, pulling the rip bigger and bigger before pushing it down onto the town. He ignored the screams as the rip engulfed them. Then, once the last of the purple island was through, he zipped the rip up. In its place was the reactivated Fenton Portal. He used it to go home.

No one was in the lab when he got there, but he turned invisible anyway, making his way to his room to put Pariah Dark’s Core somewhere safe until he could get something to turn it into a necklace or something. He texted Sam and Tucker, telling them he was fine and that he was going to sleep before he texted Jazz the same thing. He told all three of them to wake him next week.

*

Danny woke up the next day because his parents had invited the G.I.W. over to study the Portal. He groaned and flipped over, shoving the pillow over his face. When that didn’t work, he sighed and got up. May as well be productive if he couldn’t sleep, right?

He was still so tired.

Sluggishly, he dragged himself around his room to get ready for the day. Then, with the fire orb that was the former Ghost King in his hand, he left his room and knocked on Jazz’s door. She answered immediately.

“I thought you were gonna sleep for a week?” Her answer was an explosion in the lab. She winced. “Right. What did you need?”

“Do you have-” He yawned. “Do you have, like, a chain or something? I gotta turn this into a necklace.”

She looked at the orb in his hand, slightly larger than a marble and seemingly made of fire. “Do I even want to know?”

“Not until I’m awake enough to explain.”

“Riight.” She turned and nodded for him to come in. “Let me check real quick, but I can’t promise I have something.”

“That’s-” He yawned again. “That’s okay.” He sat down on the armchair in the corner of her room, pulling the light pink throw blanket on the back on himself. It was really soft. His eyes drooped.

There was some shuffling for a few minutes, the quiet noise lulling Danny further to sleep. He startled when she shouted, “Here it is!” She turned to him, holding up two chains, one thrice as long as the other. “This should work- Danny? Are you asleep?”

He rubbed his eyes. “No.”

She smiled softly. “Why are you so tired?”

“No reason.”

“I’m sure,” she hummed. “Let me see that, okay? I’ll make a necklace for you real fast.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“No problem.”

Again, the quiet noise of Jazz working started to lull Danny back to sleep. He shifted to get comfortable, closing his eyes for a minute. A minute that turned into a day and a half.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Jazz snarked when he left her room to eat breakfast.

He yawned, much more awake than before. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry about crashing in your room.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she waved off, “I crashed in yours, so we’re even.”

He reached up and touched the fire orb amulet that was now resting against his chest, fiddling with it as he watched Jazz make pancakes. “So, what’s the plan for the day?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have anything, do you?”

“Nope,” he said, “Just a let-” He froze. “The letter!” Quickly, he flew up the stairs and into his room. On the desk was the sealed envelope he’d meant to send when he got home the day Amity Park was pulled into the Infinite Realms. He found his way back down stairs, not stopping by the kitchen before going outside to have it delivered. He stopped short, however, when he registered where he was.

This was definitely Amity Park, and they were definitely back in their Realm, but everything had a strange tint to it. He didn’t think anyone noticed, though. The sky was slightly more green than blue, same with the sun and clouds, and it was slightly dimmer and colors were more vibrant, like during a solar eclipse. The ground and buildings all had a slight purple tint that made the shadows darker. Every plant, animal, insect, and person he saw had a barely-there glow to them.

He stumbled. What the hell? Was this a consequence of being in the In-Between Realm for so long? What did this mean for the people and animals living here? What did this mean for him?

“Are you alright, D?” Jazz asked from the door behind him. She must not see it, then.

“Um, yeah, just, um…Forgot my glasses.”

“Tsk. You need to get better at remembering them, Danny.”

“I know, I’m just…still not used to them!”

“It’s been a year.”

“It’s actually only been three months since I got them.”

“Just go mail your letter. Breakfast will be done soon.”

He waved behind him, going to stand in front of the mailbox. He was quick to put the letter in and close the door, flipping the little red flag up. He hesitated before going back into the house, though. He shook his head and moved before he could chicken out. Damian had reached out after two years and Danny wasn’t about to make him wait that long for a response. It would be childish.

The anticipation of waiting for a response was bubbling up in his stomach again. It was just like when he’d sent that first letter. This time, though, he knew he’d get a reply.

*

Damian was worried. He’d sent Danyal a response, but he’d yet to get anything back. He couldn’t blame his little brother, though. After all, he’d waited two years before finally answering. He wouldn’t fault him for not even opening the thing. However, he did worry if something had happened. When he’d looked up Amity Park again, he found that the whole town was on lockdown; Nothing was going in and nothing was coming out. That was lifted a day ago, though, and there was still no response.

His Father and his siblings all remained none the wiser to his communications. At least, he liked to believe that. Father was aware of Danyal, but he doesn’t know that he and Damian are - were? - in contact with one another. He would like to keep it that way.

He wanted to go visit Danyal soon, or maybe have him come to Gotham. There was so much to tell him, but only so much room on some paper. He wanted to know things, too! Ask questions and get more than a few words for an answer. He wanted to be able to see his brother’s face for the first time since they were six years old.

But he might’ve fucked it all up because he was a coward.

There was a Media Block on Amity Park, Illinois. It wasn’t obvious at first glance, but it was glaringly in the face of anyone looking into the town. He hadn’t managed to get much before he was found and kicked from the servers, but he did find news on two hero-like figures in the town; one of which was being debated as a hero or a villain. Damian thought it should be obvious if someone is a hero or a villain, but that’s just him and the rest of the world’s opinion versus this tiny little city in the middle of nowhere.

Father had caught onto his distracted state of mind and threatened to bench him if he couldn’t pull himself together. He tried, but he couldn’t keep his thoughts from wandering back to Danyal and how he was doing.

He refused to answer anyone when they inquired about why he kept spacing out. He knew it wasn’t like him, but there was a lot on his mind at the moment!

The very next day, a letter from Danyal arrived for him. Like the last one, this one had no return address, but he recognised the handwriting. His family - minus Alfred - were all suspicious of the letter because of the lack of information on the front, but Damian batted them all away and took the letter to his room, locking himself inside.

As soon as he finished reading it, he got a piece of paper and wrote out a reply. He was not going to make his brother wait any longer than he already had to.

Was Danyal this anxious about getting letters from him? He hoped so.

***

Danyal Fenton, Jan. 26, 2014

I am fine, as are all of the others. Thank you for your concern. Though, are you alright? I found the Media Block when I tried to access any information from inside Amity Park.

Your offer of assistance is greatly appreciated. Does it matter what I ask for? If not, then I have an idea that would require me to call upon you. If you are willing, that is. My family, though I am glad everyone is back together and tolerating each other, are stifling. Especially since I have taken up the Robin Mantle.

The Media Block is very concerning. What is the government hiding and why does it require them to soft-lock the town? Would you like me to contact the Justice League? This is something they will be able to help with.

I would be beyond delighted to come meet Delilah. If you are willing to teach me how to communicate with her, I am willing to learn. عسى أن تقود النجوم مسارك دائمًا. Damian Wayne

Translation 1 - Arabic: Good to hear from you, brother

Translation 2 - Estonian & Zalgo - May I come in?

Translation 3 - Estonian & Zalgo: Greetings, young King … Master of Time

Translation 4 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Demon

Translation 5 - Estonian & Zalgo: Ghost Child

Translation 6 - Estonian & Zalgo: Half Living, Half Dead; A True Balance

Translation 7 - Estonian & Zalgo: My home

Translation 8 - Estonian & Zalgo: Child of the Stars … My home … your home … Ring of Rage … The Throne

Translation 9 - Estonian & Zalgo: The Throne

Translation 10 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King … The throne … your home … your home … Infinite Realms … Ring of Rage

Translation 11 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King

Translation 12 - Estonian & Zalgo: Core … Kill … Core

Translation 13 - Estonian & Zalgo: Tyrant King’s Core

Translation 14 - Estonian & Zalgo: Master of Time

Translation 15 - Estonian & Zalgo: Master of Space

Translation 16 - Arabic: May the stars always lead your course.

Part 9 Storyboard

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

Spilled Ink

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: Uhhh Marcus Pike as the world's softest tattoo artist that's it that's the fic.

Warnings: Lots of tattoo talk, obviously, which includes needles, tattoo guns, pain, mention of bleeding, etc.; reader is explicitly coded as neurodivergent because I said so; yearning; lots of kissing; Marcus Pike being a goddamn menace and he fucking knows it

A/N: @kedsandtubesocks made a post about Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike (original post HERE) and then I wrote 7.5k words in 12 hours, as one does. All credit for the idea goes to the amazing Erika who entrusted me with this idea and THANK GOD SHE DID because I don't think I could have gotten it out of my stupid brain otherwise. Header pics credit go to Erin @perotovar, who made these with Tattoo Artist Marcus Pike in mind and I'm just WOOFWOOFBARKBARKBARKBARKHOWL. Thanks also to @littlebirdsbookshelf who suffers through HOURS of me sending screenshots every time I write anything. Love you <3

Additional Note on Canon: I am pretending that we never got to see Marcus Pike in short sleeves in the show despite it happening twice. He has full sleeves on both his arms in this fic that he covered up during his time working at the FBI. Because sleeves are hot and I said so.

Masterlist

It’s not unusual, these days, to wander down the sidewalk staring at your phone. Some people are texting. Some people are reading the news–because hey, this is D.C. Others, like you on this brisk morning, are watching the little blue dot on a tiny representation of the city streets, trying to find the address you had typed into the search bar.

A text box pops up, informing you of your arrival, and you finally look up.

No wonder it took you so long to find the place–it’s hardly what you expected at all. You always picture tacky neon signs, bars on the windows, undesirables milling about on the street, smoking cigarettes.

Okay, so you admittedly don’t actually know much about tattoos.

All you know is that you want one–a fact you confessed to a friend over lunch the other week: a conversation that led you here.

“Okay, so get one,” she had said bluntly.

“It’s not all that simple,” you had protested. 

“Why?”

“It’s just… it seems like a lot. Mentally. Physically. I’m not sure I have what it takes.”

“They don’t hurt that bad,” your friend had insisted.

“I’m not just talking about that, I’m talking about… y’know, just everything. The noise. New people. Strangers touching me. It just doesn’t seem like something I’ll be able to do.”

“Oh. Ohhh. Because of the… yep. Actually I might have something for you,” she said, taking out her phone and scrolling through that app that drives you crazy–it’s overstimulation in a convenient package–full of noise, chaos, and flashing lights. 

She must have seen you pull a face, because she held out her hand placatingly. 

“Just finding the name of the place, hang on. It’s a shop right here in DC that went ‘viral’ for this video of a guy with autism who wanted a tattoo to commemorate his dad, but he was only comfortable lying on the floor–so the tattoo artist just… got on the floor with him! It was really cute, and anyway I guess he caters to all sorts of people, so… I dunno. Check it out.”

And here you are. Checking it out.

The words “Government-Issued Ink” are spelled out on large windows, and the punny name–apt for its location not far from the Capitol–makes you snort. 

The shop is bright, warm, and inviting–tearing down your outdated preconceptions that tattoo places must always be run-down, dark, and dingy. It’s also empty this early in the morning, save for a lone figure in the back, seated at a well-worn desk, his head pitched forward over his work.

He’s so enveloped in whatever he’s sketching that he must not have heard the light ringing of the bell as you had entered. You watch him for a few moments–taking in the graceful movements of his hand and the way his fingers grasp the pen. He’s dressed in a plain blue button-down dress shirt, which also doesn’t fit your assumed archetype of ‘Tattoo Artist.’ You can’t see his face; his head is leaning forward too much and a few short locks of dark brown hair obscure your view.

Suddenly wondering if you’re being incredibly rude, staring at someone without announcing your presence, you open your mouth to introduce yourself.

“Um.”

While not exactly eloquent, it serves its purpose. The man startles and looks up in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, jumping to his feet and letting the pen clatter carelessly to the desk. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“That’s okay,” you shake your head rapidly. “I was, um…” You blink a few times, your nerves getting the better of you as the man comes around his desk to approach the front of the store.

“Interested in a walk-in consultation?” he offers, holding out his hands in a gesture that could either be an open invitation or a shrug.

“I don’t know,” you confess quietly. “I was thinking about getting, uh, a tattoo, and I was told this shop was… good. With tattoos. And other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he chuckles, smiling warmly. 

“You know… with people who… might not be good at getting tattoos.”

“What makes you think you aren’t ‘good at getting tattoos?’”

“A hunch,” you shrug, expelling a little huff of laughter through your nose. “I was told to ask for a Marcus Pike?”

The man’s smile widens. “You’re looking at him.”

Oh. You aren’t sure what you expected, but it wasn’t this. Marcus Pike is well-dressed and clean-cut, almost startlingly so. You scan up and down, looking for any sign that this man could possibly be a tattoo artist, but the only evidence you can find is a small black target inked between his thumb and forefinger on his right hand. Don’t… tattoo artists usually have more ink? Of course, with him almost completely covered from head to toe, you obviously can’t create a full picture of Marcus’s skin, but the fact that he wouldn’t look out of place in one of the nearby government buildings still takes you by surprise.

You realize you haven’t said anything in response, but Marcus doesn’t seem to be bothered by your deer-in-headlights stare. Instead, he grins again and steps sideways, extending his arm in a silent invitation to come deeper into the shop.

“Come on in. If you’d like, go ahead and sit wherever you want, and we can talk about it. No pressure,” he promises. “I’m not here to push ink on you like a used car salesman; I’m here to collaborate with you. Figure out what you really want. And, if what you want ends up being ‘nothing,’ I totally support that, too.”

There’s something innate and intrinsic about Marcus Pike that sets you completely at-ease. You cast your eyes around, taking in the eclectic seating in the shop–all mismatched, all different colors, styles, and shapes, but all looking incredibly comfortable and inviting. You settle on a giant turquoise beanbag that seems to swallow you whole when you sink down into it, and Marcus grins and sits down in the bright yellow saucer chair beside it. 

“So at the very least, you’re thinking about a tattoo,” Marcus leads. “Can you tell me about that?”

You nod, feeling encouraged by his openness. “Yeah, so… my mom, she passed away a couple of years ago, and it just seemed like I should… memorialize her in some way. Like, in a way that leaves its mark on me like she left a mark on me, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of getting some kind of permanent art that commemorates her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Marcus says softly. “Lots of people choose to do that after losing a loved one.”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’m not good with um… noise, or people touching me, or… pain, really,” you confess. “I’m like, the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.”

Marcus chuckles softly and shakes his head. “Personally, I don’t believe that. I think anyone can get a tattoo done if they want it, provided they get it done in a way that feels safe and comfortable.”

“My friend, she uh, recommended your shop because apparently you’ve done some stuff for people with autism and it went viral on TikTok…” you ramble, “and I thought maybe that meant you’d be a good fit for… for me.”

Understanding flickers in Marcus’s expression, and he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. “I hope so,” he says with quiet earnesty. 

A beat passes–just a few seconds of silence–but something small and soft and warm settles down between the two of you, and the comforting feeling sinks down into the pit of your stomach and stays there, latent and waiting.

“So, let’s talk design,” Marcus announces. “Do you have anything in mind? Any images or ideas, however vague? I can do anything from replicating designs to building something completely from scratch for you.”

“I like the idea of it being a unique piece,” you tell him.

“I prefer original designs too,” he says. “Not to sound incredibly cheesy, but there’s no one like you, you know? In–In the general sense, of course.” He chuckles sheepishly, looking down at his hands. “I like knowing each person that comes in here leaves with something unique. Something all their own—I’m rambling,” he says quickly, the tips of his ears turning slightly pink. “One thing about me is that I talk too much. Anyway–did you have any ideas you can share with me about what you’d like?”

“I don’t have a good image in my mind,” you confess anxiously. After all, how can he build a design based on the swirling, disjointed images in your brain? “I think I want it to be colorful, like she was. And… I keep getting thoughts about, I dunno, the cyclical nature of life, something corny like that.”

Marcus laughs. “Sometimes the corny stuff is what sticks with us. So, colorful and commenting on the cyclical nature of life,” he lists off on his fingers, still grinning. “Anything else?”

“I’ve looked through your galleries online,” you tell him. “You have a few that look like watercolor paintings, and I really love how they look.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m gonna throw out an idea—Feel free to tell me ‘no,’ because I’m just brainstorming here, but I keep thinking about a tree of life. The leaves could easily be done in watercolor and could be any combination of colors you want.” His right hand twitches–as if reaching for a phantom pen–as he speaks, and his gaze seems to be fixed on a spot on the wall, his eyes glimmering with enthusiasm as he starts to speak faster.

“You could have the leaves and the roots connecting on the sides, making a circle, maybe even having her birth date and death date embedded in the roots…” He blinks rapidly a few times, as if dispelling the image from his head. “Anyway. That’s a possibility.”

“I think that’s amazing,” you say softly, watching Marcus with something like amazement in your expression. “Actually… I really like that idea. It sounds… perfect.”

“Oh,” he intones softly, looking at you in surprise as a bright, toothy smile breaks across his face. “Oh. Well then, let’s do it, huh? One final question: where do you envision getting it?”

“I was thinking on my shoulder. Here,” you indicate, pressing your hand to the skin of your upper arm. “That way it’s visible when I want it to be, but easily hidden if for some reason it needs to be.”

“That’s perfect,” Marcus says. “Plus, the circular design will go really well there. Okay. Great. Um, some things to know about the process. We’ll exchange emails, and you can contact me at any time with any questions, concerns, ideas, changes, anything. In the meantime, I’ll get started on a design for you, and I’ll share initial sketches that you can give feedback on before I move to the final stages of the design. It’ll take a couple of weeks, maximum, depending on any changes you ask for. My only request is that you’re always honest with your feedback–don’t tell me you like something when you don’t. I promise, it won’t hurt my feelings.” He grins widely. “After that, you book an appointment on a day that works best for you. I almost always book the whole day for the appointment to factor in time for copious breaks and making sure you feel comfortable. Does that work for you?”

You nod eagerly.

“Last question,” Marcus says. “Is it okay if I get a close-up picture of your upper arm? That way I can make sure it fits the curvature of your arm, it’s the right size, stuff like that.”

“Mhmm,” you nod again, pressing your lips together and trying not to look nervous. Thank god you wore a sleeveless top under your sweater.

“Only if you’re comfortable,” he insists.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say quickly, removing just the one arm from your outer layer and pulling it aside. 

You watch as Marcus grabs a little ‘point-and-shoot’ digital camera from his desk and comes back to your side.

“This is just used for design purposes,” he promises. “I delete them after the design is done.”

“I trust you.”

His resulting expression could light an entire room. “Thank you,” he answers quietly. “Okay. Super close-up, just your arm. Cool?”

“Cool,” you confirm, and you hear the camera click several times.

“Actually,” Marcus says, still staring thoughtfully at your bare shoulder. “Would it be okay if I made a couple of little marks–washable marker, of course–to make sure the dimensions are how you want them?”

Oh. You normally don’t like it when people touch you. You knew it was going to happen eventually, obviously, because how else was he going to get the design onto your skin? But it was something you had planned on working yourself up to, not something you had to do today. On the other hand, something about Marcus’s entire bearing makes you inexplicably ache to be touched by him. 

“‘No’ is an acceptable response,” he interrupts your dithering with a quiet reassurance.

And actually, that works to seal the deal for you, and your decision is made in an instant. 

“Yes. You can. That’s fine.” And, to your surprise, you mean it.

Marcus seems just as surprised at your answer–his eyebrows shoot upward almost comically at your response.

“Okay,” he says softly. “That’s perfect. Hang on.” He jumps up again to retrieve a black marker–from what was clearly a children’s set of washable markers. He meets your eyes, and again you take in that sincere, earnest, patient look that endeared you to this man from the moment you entered the little shop.

“Is it okay if I touch your arm?” he asks quietly, still watching you carefully as you nod.

“Tell me if that changes,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze to your shoulder again. His touch, when you feel it, is just as warm as you’d imagined. He’s gentle, cautious, and when he speaks again, his voice remains at that same, soft volume and tone. “I’m envisioning being from about here–” he makes a little black dot, “–to here. What do you think?” 

You nod. It’s the perfect size–large enough to cover your shoulder but stopping just above the point where the sleeve of a regular t-shirt would hit.

“That’s perfect.”

“Okay, so that’s–” he tsks softly, measuring the distance with his finger, “–about four inches, so that same distance across, and–” he makes two more marks on either side of your shoulder. “About like that. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” you answer, smiling with enthusiasm. 

“Great! Let me just…” Marcus draws a few short lines denoting the proposed boundary of your design, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you at the cool tip of the marker on your skin. 

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “One more picture?”

At your nod, the camera clicks one last time. 

“Like I said, that’ll wash off with soap, no problem,” he promises with a smile. “Thanks for that, makes it easier to scale.” He grabs two business cards off his desk and hands them to you. “Can you write your email on this one for me? And you can keep the other one. Like I said, anything you need, just email me. And uh, barring that, you’ll be hearing from me in a week or so with a rough sketch. Okay?”

You scribble down your email and hand the card back to Marcus before pulling your sweater back over your bare arm. You slip the other card into your purse and rise to your feet. “Thanks,” you say, nodding to him.

“Hey, no–thank you,” Marcus returns. “Thanks for entrusting me with this. I mean it.”

Surprising yourself, you extend your hand toward him, and, when he takes it, you feel enveloped with warmth again.

“Thanks,” repeat, a little bit more breathlessly this time, before turning and hurrying out of the shop before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Your shoulder still tingles from his touch hours later.

Rather than it being a week before you hear from him, you receive an email from Marcus Pike just three days later.

Subject: Initial Sketch

Hello,

Please see attached. It’s just pencil for now, but I made a note of the general blocks of color I was thinking for the leaves. You’ll see what I mean when you open the file. Sorry, I know it’s a pretty rough sketch, I was just excited to get this to you. I look forward to your feedback!

Best regards,

Marcus :) 

Eagerly, you open the attachment. First of all, there’s nothing “rough” about the sketch other than the fact that it’s just penciled in. The details are already so intricate, and you find yourself smiling in amazement as you take in the design.

It’s beautiful.

Brackets, each labeled with a different color in Marcus’s neat, tidy handwriting, surround the top of the tree. Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Violet. 

At the bottom of the image is another handwritten note: *All the colors will blend together and the result should look like a rainbow.

Tears spring, unbidden, to your eyes, as you feverishly type out your response.

Subject: Re: Initial Sketch

Marcus,

I really don’t know what to say other than it’s perfect. It’s absolutely perfect. Made me tear up. Look forward to seeing it in color.

Thanks again!

Not even five minutes go by before your phone vibrates with another email.

Subject: Re: Re: Initial Sketch

I’m sorry if I made you cry! Obviously wasn’t my intention but I’m glad the design evokes emotion :) I’ll move forward with the design as-is and you should hear from me soon with a full-color image.

Marcus :) 

You can’t wait. The next week and a half stretches out excruciatingly, but finally, on a Wednesday evening, you receive another email. 

Subject: Final Design

Hey there!

Hope you’ve been doing well. Thought you might like to see the final design of your tattoo ;) See attached and let me know if anything needs to be changed. Be critical! Don’t hold anything back! Once we agree on a final piece, we’ll get you on the calendar.

Best regards,

Marcus :) 

Your mind skims over the fact that Marcus used a winking-face emoji in your email, because you honestly aren’t equipped to process that right now, and open the attachment instead. This time, you start crying in earnest. It’s perfect. The colors are so vibrant, and they make the tree look as though it’s in a constant state of movement. Your mom’s birth and death dates are entwined seamlessly into the roots themselves, in a way that makes them not readily apparent at first glance, but seeming to just appear out of nowhere upon further inspection. 

Subject: Re: Final Design

Marcus,

If I had any critical feedback, I would share it, I promise. But I have nothing. This is everything I’d imagined and more, and it means the world to me.

Thank you so much.

After a few more messages back and forth, you settle on a date one month out. 

You can’t wait.

As excited as you’ve been for the past month, when you step foot back into Marcus’s little tattoo parlor, the air of finality makes your body thrum with anxiety.

You’re really doing this.

Marcus is at the back of the shop, busying himself with setting up his workspace when you enter. Today, he’s wearing a dark green henley that looks just as soft as he is, and seems to complement his features even more. As soon as he hears the chimes, his head snaps up, and he grins widely. 

“Hey!” he calls out excitedly. “Just getting everything ready. Do you want something to drink before we get started? I’ve got water, juice, soda…” he trails off, waving his hand in the direction of a mini-fridge in the corner. 

“I’m okay for now.”

“Sounds good, but when we take a break, you should have some juice or something else with a bit of sugar in it, okay?” You nod, and he continues. “Okay! Where do you want to sit?”

“Don’t I have to sit in the chair over there?” you ask, gesturing to the traditional chair and bench near Marcus’s work table. 

“Not at all,” he protests. “The table is mobile, I bring it to wherever you feel comfortable.”

“Oh,” you say dumbly. “I’ll go ahead and sit in the chair, though.” Of all the options, it looks like the easiest–you aren’t entirely sure how Marcus would be able to comfortably tattoo you whilst sitting on a bean bag chair. 

“Your choice,” he insists, spreading his hands out in an open and unguarded stance.

You settle in the chair and he sits down on a rolling stool beside you. 

“Okay, so I’ve got a stencil of your design here,” Marcus says, holding up a paper with an outline of the tree for you to see. “It’ll transfer onto your skin exactly how you want it to go, and I’ll just trace it. Make sense?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Before I do that, though, I have to make sure nothing interferes with the design, including tiny little hairs.” He holds up a pink safety razor. “Are you comfortable with me doing this for you?”

At your tentative nod of consent, Marcus leans forward and gently swipes the razor up and down your shoulder until he’s satisfied. His eyes dart between your skin and your face the entire time–making sure you’re still with him. After he’s done, he talks you through the stencil–confirming its location, gently applying it to your shoulder, and then holding up a mirror for you to approve. 

“It’s great,” you whisper excitedly.

Marcus returns your smile and begins to absentmindedly roll up his sleeves in preparation to start working–-and the question about tattoos that you’d asked yourself upon first seeing the man is suddenly and unexpectedly answered.

You can’t help the soft sound of surprise that escapes from you when you catch the colorful patchwork of designs on both of his forearms, disappearing under the pushed-up henley and suggesting that they go all the way up. 

Marcus catches you staring and grins, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I didn’t know,” you say softly. “You keep them covered up.”

“Force of habit,” Marcus shrugs. “I had a desk job for a long time.”

“Doing what?” you ask, curiously. You can’t see the man doing anything but this.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” he jokes, winking in your direction. 

Ignoring how the wink makes your heart stutter in your chest, you bark out a laugh at his answer. “What? Were you like a secret agent or something?” you tease.

“Special Agent,” he corrects, grinning. 

“Get out,” you deadpan. “I can’t imagine you as a Fed.”

Marcus shrugs, giving you another one of his boyish, crooked smiles. “Would’ve been fifteen years this year had I not finally seen the writing on the wall and run for the hills a couple of years ago.”

“What made you leave?” 

He laughs softly, shaking his head. “That’s a long story. How sensitive are you to noise?” he asks, abruptly changing the subject.

“Uh, I dunno. Kind of depends on the day and the situation,” you shrug.

“Fair. Well, I usually let newcomers listen to what the gun actually sounds like, so there are no surprises. If it’s too loud, I do have noise canceling headphones.”

And miss out on hearing Marcus’s soft-spoken reassurances? No matter how loud the tattoo gun is, you’d rather endure it just to be able to hear him talk. 

Marcus turns the instrument on, and the room is filled with a mild buzzing sound. On your worst days, admittedly, it would probably grate upon your nerves, but you’re feeling relaxed, comfortable, and excited about your new tattoo.

“It’s not bad,” you tell him truthfully. 

“Perfect,” he grins. “Are you all set to get started?”

Heart rate increasing with pleasant anticipation, you nod giddily. 

“I’m obviously gonna be touching your arm a lot,” Marcus says, “so let me know if you need a break from that, the noise, the needle, anything.” Seeing your solemn nod, he continues. “I’m gonna do a little dot right here to let you see how it feels, okay?” He gently touches his index finger to your skin to indicate where. 

“Okay.”

The gun turns on again, and Marcus presses it lightly against your skin for just a second before pulling back.

“...That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“I thought it would hurt more,” you confess.

Marcus laughs. “Well, the same feeling over and over again in a small area can start to be pretty uncomfortable. I’ll check in regularly to make sure you’re still doing fine. Good?”

You smile widely. “I’m really excited.”

His smile softens, his gaze becoming warmer and more tender. “I’m glad.”

His other hand gently cradles your arm as Marcus leans in, a look of intense concentration settling over his features as he begins the design. Engrossed in his work, you take the time to study his forearms. They’re a hodgepodge of designs, clearly done at different times and by different artists, but you can see themes throughout. He likes classic styles, you can tell, and in between some of the more traditional works you can see beautiful references to an assortment of famous paintings. A Dali melting clock here. A sunflower clearly inspired by Van Gogh there. On his opposite bicep, you can just barely make out the side of one design that looks like it might be of a Greek statue. Tilting your head, you realize it’s Nike alighting on the bow of a warship, and you inhale sharply. That’s one of your favorite sculptures.

“Still okay?” Marcus asks, glancing up at you with concern in his eyes.

“Sorry.” You shake your head quickly. 

“Just checking,” he says softly. “Try to be just a little more still, okay?”

“Sorry,” you repeat, laughing sheepishly. 

“Don’t be, you’re doing great.”

You try to fight the way your entire body seems to grow warm at Marcus’s praise, but you can’t stop the way the feeling stampedes through you. You’re being ridiculous, you chastise yourself. He’s doing his job, and you’re getting all moony-eyed.

In order to distract yourself, you continue playing ‘Spot the Famous Artwork’ on Marcus’s sleeves–although, as distractions go, it’s not your best work. You can’t help but focus in on the way his forearm cords with muscle as he holds the tattoo gun, controlling each movement so delicately and precisely, creating a beautiful, intricate design on your shoulder.

After finding a bit of yellow patchwork that's clearly a reference to Gustav Klimt's The Kiss near his right elbow, you break your silence.

“You like art, huh?”

It seems like a stupid thing to say to a fucking tattoo artist of all people, and you immediately kick yourself internally for saying something so obvious. 

Marcus glances up, and, seeing how your eyes are focused on his own ink, smiles. “Always have,” he murmurs, returning his gaze to your shoulder. “Some of those are years-old.”

“Is that how you got into being a tattoo artist?” you ask.

“Sort of,” he answers, brow pinched in concentration as he continues working. “I uh, apprenticed for a shop in college to pay the bills before going to Quantico for training.”

“You’re really talented,” you tell him. “I was surprised to find out you haven’t been doing this your whole life.”

Marcus hums his appreciation as he carefully fills in a root. 

“Can I ask what made you join the FBI instead of opening your own place after college?”

He huffs a little laugh through his nose. “Parents would have killed me, going to college and then doing nothing with it.”

“Running a small business isn’t exactly doing nothing,” you point out.

“Well, public opinion on tattoos wasn’t what it is now,” Marcus says. “They were scandalized by my apprenticeship, but it paid the bills, so they couldn’t complain too loudly.”

“Was it them who wanted you to join the FBI?”

“Mm, not so much,” he murmurs. “It was more like ‘whatever you want to do, so long as you can make a lucrative career out of it.’ Being an artist wasn’t one of those things, so in lieu of becoming one myself, I decided I wanted to protect them instead.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Protect them how?”

Marcus grins up at you and waggles his eyebrows playfully. “Art crimes,” he answers. “Being an art detective was kind of in the limelight in the early ‘nineties after the famous Gardner Museum theft, and I got swept up in the craze.”

“So you spent the last fifteen-ish years recovering stolen art,” you fill in for him.

“Stolen, forged, looted, illegally traded or smuggled…” Marcus offers, not breaking his concentration again. He wasn’t wrong–the repeated drag of the needle across what felt like the same square centimeter of your skin was starting to wear on you. 

“Uh-huh,” you say, forcing the discomfort out of your tone.

Noticing the tightness in your voice immediately, Marcus’s movements stop. “Feeling okay?”

You shrug.

The gun switches off.

“You gotta be honest about how you’re feeling,” he reminds you. “I might be able to create designs based off of customers’ vague descriptions, but that doesn’t make me a mind-reader.”

“It’s a little uncomfortable, but I can endure it,” you insist.

“There’s no need to endure something that’s painful,” Marcus argues with an amused smile. “Even if it involves choosing to repeatedly jamming a needle into your skin.”

You can’t help but laugh, and your heart swells when he joins you.

“C’mere,” he says. “Let me show you something.”

You let him lead you to the other side of the shop, where he stops in front of a large storage cabinet that you'd assumed held various supplies. When he opens it, however, you find that isn’t the case at all.

No, the entire cabinet is filled to the brim with a collection of stuffed animals just as eclectic and varied as the furniture. There's also a couple of shoeboxes filled with every manner of fidget toy you could ever imagine. 

"You can grab one, if you want. I know it might feel kind of goofy, but I promise they help with the pain."

"Okay," you breathe. Your gaze lingers first on the IKEA shark, then on a very soft-looking cactus with an adorable grumpy expression, but when your gaze lands on the largest and arguably oddest toy in the collection, your hands can't help but move toward it. 

"The big guy, huh?" Marcus laughs, taking the giant squid off of the shelf and placing it in your arms. You have to laugh at how large and ungainly it is; its massive black eyes stare vacantly back at you, but the effect is dopey, rather than menacing. 

"Where do you get all of these?" you ask in amazement. 

"Most of them are gifts from past clients, including that one," Marcus says, indicating the squid. "But I think he originally came from the Smithsonian. I was told his name is 'Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.'"

"Thank you," you say in a small, appreciative voice.

"'S'fine," Marcus shrugs. "Feel up to continuing?"

You nod, looking down at your partially-inked shoulder. "Guess you didn't get very far before I had to stop," you remark, somewhat self-deprecatingly. 

"It's not a race," your artist says earnestly. "We've got the whole day, and we go at your pace. You're paying me, after all." Another wink in your direction.

"Yeah," you nod, confidence growing again. "Yeah, okay." You plop down in your seat, with Cthulhu in your lap, and Marcus takes his place beside you. 

“Gonna turn this back on again,” he announces as the now-familiar buzz fills the room, “and I’m gonna touch your arm–” his fingers wrap warmly and gently around your skin, “–annnd here we go.” 

The needle scratches insistently against your skin, but it isn’t so bad–not really, not with the hilarious giant squid on your lap and Marcus’s gentle, soothing voice in your ear. He talks while he works, sometimes asking you questions about your own life–to which he listens intently and always seems to have follow-up questions–and sometimes telling you stories of his own. You discuss art, obviously, but also music, books, movies, and baseball of all things.

You find yourself wondering if he has this type of easy rapport with everyone who comes in, but you assume he must. He might be the most disarming person you’ve ever met, and it’s hardly a stretch to believe he’s like this with everyone. Still, there’s an ugly, jealous part of you that wishes the connection between you was unique, special. That he’s only this warm with you. 

Marcus was right–squeezing the stuffed toy on your lap is a perfect distraction from the discomfort of the needle, and before long, the sensation fades into the background. As the time drags on, though, the persistent drone of the tattoo gun causes an ache to creep in and settle between your eyes. You take in a deep breath through your nose, count to three, and exhale slowly through your mouth.

Marcus glances up, watching you for a split-second before cutting power to the gun and stretching his back with a satisfied sigh. 

“Break time,” he announces. “Hand’s getting a bit sore.” He shoots you a knowing glance and another one of those crooked smiles. “And you should probably have a little something to drink, maybe a snack.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you say gratefully as he walks over to the little fridge.

“Apple juice?” he asks, holding up a little juice box that looks slightly comical in his large hands. When you nod enthusiastically, he hands it to you.

His fingers brush yours.

If it were anyone else, you’d recoil, but it’s him. It might just be the forced proximity, but…

You’re developing quite the crush on Marcus Pike.

Shoving the thought aside for the moment, you stab the straw into the little hole and take a long sip. Marcus settles down beside you with his own choice–a little can of vegetable juice–and holds it up in a silent ‘cheers.’

Feeling emboldened, you ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since you started.

“So what made you leave the whole ‘helping other artists’ thing behind and start a tattoo business instead?”

Marcus presses his lips together, and for a moment, you fear you’ve crossed a boundary. Just before you’re about to apologize profusely, though, he speaks.

“Have you ever just… woken up one morning, and realized that everything you were working toward, everything you thought you wanted in life… was a lie?”

“I… I don’t know,” you confess quietly, surprised at the emotion behind his words.

“Happened to me,” he laughs softly. “I had moved to DC for what I thought was my dream job, with who I thought was–” he shakes his head, as though dispelling an unpleasant thought. “I had spent my entire life checking boxes: College degree? Check. Well-paying job? Check. House? Check. Check, check check. I spent so much time trying to get ahead, like life was some kind of game to be won. If I said all the right things, did all the right things, if I did everything right… I’d have the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“It was bullshit, is what it was. Saw one too many rom-coms as a kid, I suppose. I thought I was after the picket fence, the dog, the wife and two-point-five kids, that sort of thing. And one morning I woke up, realized that… that relentless pursuit of something I couldn’t even hold–it was all bullshit.”

“So you just… quit?”

“I quit. I wanted to create things again. I wanted to feel inspired. After a bit of uh… frantic soul-searching before I ran out of money entirely, I sold my stupid, too-big condo that I hated and bought this shop instead.”

“Did it work?”

“Well, I’m not bankrupt yet,” Marcus says dryly.

“No, I mean… did you feel inspired again?”

“I did. I do. So very much so,” he says, his voice soft and gentle. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and that comfortable warmth that had settled in between you the first time you had met him… grows. Mutates. Until the warm, tingling feeling feels a lot more like electricity.

An unspoken moment seems to pass through you, but then Marcus clears his throat roughly, setting the empty can aside and standing again, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Wanna keep going?”

Breathlessly, you nod. 

In no time at all, you’re settled back in the chair with one of Marcus’s warm, strong, large hands cradling your arm as the other gently wields the tattoo gun. As he starts to fill in and blend the colors, the pain starts to increase, and you worry one of the fuzzy tentacles back and forth in your hand as you grit your teeth.

“I know, I know,” Marcus soothes quietly. “The color’s the worst part, but you’re being so good for me.”

It helps you to watch him work, so you do. He’s blending in the colors now, and you watch with interest as it starts to take shape. It’s so mesmerizing that you hardly even notice the buzz of the gun or the light sting of the needle anymore.

“And you said you ‘weren’t good at tattoos,’” he teases gently, noticing your obvious interest. 

“Did I say that?” you laugh, teasing back.

“I believe your words were, ‘I’m like the worst candidate for getting a tattoo that exists.’” he reminds you. “And look at you now, huh?”

You duck your head at his praise, unable to withstand the intensity and honesty in his gaze.

“Doing okay after all, I guess,” you say with a sheepish smile.

“You’re doing amazing,” Marcus corrects, smiling warmly. “The type of client any artist dreams of.”

You don’t know how to respond to the things this man says to you. Stunned and at a loss for words, you stare awkwardly at your hand where it still wraps around Cthulhu, Lord of the Deep.

“I’m sorry.” The words are soft, concerned. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just meant that your enthusiasm and your curiosity is the stuff that makes me want to be an artist in the first place.”

“Are you saying I inspire you?” you try to tease, but it falls flat.

Just audibly, over the hum of the tattoo gun, you hear his whispered response. 

“Yes.” 

As Marcus wipes away the last of the stray ink on the purple bit of tree, the tattoo gun suddenly switches off. The silence is almost shocking, and you blink rapidly in confusion.

“Break time?” you ask.

Marcus chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “It’s all done.”

“It is?” you ask, although you can see the answer for yourself in the large mirrored wall to your right. 

“How’s it feel?” he asks.

“My arm kind of aches,” you confess, “but oh my God, Marcus… it’s beautiful.”

It’s his turn to preen under your praise, the tips of his ears blushing pink as he grins back at you.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “Here, let me give you a little something for the pain.” 

He squeezes a glob of light-green cooling gel and coats the angry skin with the barest of touches. “Still okay?” he asks, glancing up at you for confirmation.

After the harshness of the needle, the soft press of his fingers is more soothing than ever, and you have to resist the urge to sigh and melt into his touch. 

“Yes,” you whisper.

“You’re going to want to keep this covered for a couple of hours, up to overnight,” Marcus says as he carefully applies a dressing to your shoulder–still softly, but more businesslike than before as he walks you through all of the instructions for care. “Once you take this off tomorrow, you’ll probably see some fluid leaking from it–that’s totally normal. It’s blood, plasma, and extra ink, and it should stop after a few days before it starts to scab over.

 “You’ll want to keep it from drying out; I’d recommend scent-free, dye-free lotion if you don’t already have some,” he continues. “Wash it twice a day and put lotion on after. When it starts to scab, I can’t stress this enough: don’t pick the scabs.” He gives you a serious look. “Repeat that back to me.”

“Don’t pick the scabs.”

“If you do, you could cause it to scar, or even pull out the ink. One more time for me,” he prompts, and you get the feeling that this is always the sticking point in his speech.

“Don’t pick the scabs,” you repeat.

“It’ll take three to four months for the lower layers of skin to completely heal,” Marcus tells you. “During that time, keep it out of the sun, keep it hydrated, and you’re in the clear.”

“And don’t pick the scabs,” you say teasingly. 

Marcus winks at you. “Exactly. Any other questions for me?”

“No, just… thank you. It’s amazing,” you tell him. “You did such an incredible job.”

“Hard not to, when I have such a beautiful canvas.”

Your eyes dart up, expecting to see a teasing glint in his eyes, but all you can see is heartfelt sincerity. You swallow thickly, and he tracks the movement, his eyes dropping down, then back up to meet your eyes. Is it… not just you? Does he feel it, too? Realization slams through you and threatens to overload all of your systems. Marcus’s lips are parted slightly, and the look in his eyes… it’s desire.

“Marcus…”

“Wait,” he says urgently. “Hang on. Come… come over here for a minute, let me–” he dashes awkwardly over to the till on the counter and gives you your total. Frowning in confusion–he wants to do this now? Interrupting that electric moment that had passed between you?–you dutifully swipe your card and numbly take the receipt.

“Now you’re no longer my client,” Marcus explains softly. “I–sorry–I was about to throw caution to the wind and kiss you, and I didn’t… I didn’t want to be unethical, I–”

“Yes,” you say simply, giving your response to his un-asked question.

It’s all he needs to stride forward, gently take your face in his warm palms, and, seeing no hesitation in your eyes even as he searches your face desperately—presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is as soft and as tender as the man himself, which hardly surprises you. Your eyes slip closed as his lips move against you with aching caution. He’s careful in all things, including this–taking your cues, giving you the lead, letting you feel everything he’s giving you.

All too quickly, he pulls back–but his eyes only sweep your face again, a growing smile on his lips as he sees nothing but want reflected back at him. 

When he lowers his lips to yours again, he’s less gentle. One large hand leaves your face too hook around your waist, pulling you closer, closer–and when the proximity causes you to gasp softly, Marcus is ready. His tongue gently slips between your parted lips and you practically melt into him. When your knees buckle, his strong arms are what keep you standing upright, and still–

He can’t seem to stop kissing you. 

You break before he does–pulling back to suck in a few shaky, heaving breaths, and he smiles through his own labored breathing.

“I wanted–I–” he begins, before hastily pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth as if he can’t help but do so. 

“I’ve thought of you,” he tries again. “I thought of you like this for the last month,” the confession finally spills out. “I wanted to–wanted to kiss you so badly all day, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t let myself.” He kisses you again. “But now,” he promises, whispering the words against your mouth. “Now I’m gonna get my fill.”

To punctuate his statement with one of your own, you slant your head and deepen the kiss, wrapping one hand around Marcus’s neck and pulling him closer still. He makes a soft noise in his throat, and the grip on your waist tightens. You lose yourself completely to the feel of his tongue sliding slowly against yours, until he suddenly pulls back.

“I’m doing this all wrong,” he whispers–although he’s still smiling. “I wanted to ask you out to dinner, first.”

“So ask me,” you say with a giggle.

“Come have dinner with me,” Marcus murmurs, shaking his head in quiet amusement as he steals another gentle kiss. “Right now. Tonight.”

“You might have to open all the doors,” you tease. “My arm hurts.”

Another kiss.

“I’m wounded that you think I wouldn’t open every door regardless.”

“Are you always such a gentleman?” you remark with a wry smile.

Another. 

“Well,” Marcus grins wolfishly. He places on last, lingering kiss on your lips and then makes a show of offering his arm. “Not always.”

[februarybluues]

enemies with benefits || 2. - wounded.

warnings: tw shirtless hobie, slight flirting tbh, cursing, arguing, slight angst to fluff, hobie gets injured, horrible british (i'm very sorry🙏 ) read part one here - series masterlist here part three - can't be love

After a few months of being partnered up with Hobie, you found yourself growing to like him. Well, slightly. There was no denying that he was a dick. Miguel paired you up together multiple times, and soon enough your hangouts with pav, miles and gwen, now included hobie. Normally this wouldn’t be a bad thing, right? Except for the fact that he was insufferable. He was smooth and pitiful. He knew he could get away with anything, and that’s exactly what he did. “Did you just take that from miguel?” You asked him, looking right at his shit-eating grin. He had pocketed a few ‘spare’ parts from around the spider-society. What he was planning to do with them was beyond your concerns. He shrugged at you, his hands planted in his vest’s pocket. “Yeah I did. It’s easy to nick from that lad. He either doesn’t care or he’s too daft t’notice.” he said, pulling the mechanical piece from his pocket and showing it off. He was so difficult. “So, what? You’re an asshole and a thief? Pick a struggle.” you insulted him, annoyed. “Aye i’m no thief! I’m tellin’ ya, them big corporations are plannin’ somethin’. Prob’ly gonna use it for new brainwashin’ tech anyways. Pigs.” “So, your theft is justified by the fact that the government are brainwashers?” he shook his head at you. “Big businesses don’t need th’money. They get more people to buy their stuff, and make it more expensive. It’s a scam, innit?” he concluded. You stopped walking and he turned back to look at you. “I don’t think Miguel is a big business. You just robbed an old man.” you said, and the both of you shared a quick laugh. He was kind of cute when he laughed. I guess. That happened a few weeks ago. It was the last peaceful moment between you two. Soon after you had a huge argument, that almost got physical.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shouted at him, interrupting his speech. “Wha’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?! Y’show up one day n’suddenly you’re better than everyone else! It’s a load of bollocks!” your eyebrow furrowed as the both of you got angrier. “Oh you think i’m bad? Says the dickhead that practically feeds off of the attention of others.. I’ll tell you what you are, you're a greedy, narcissistic, self-absorbed cunt that is so far up his own ass he doesn’t even realise there are other people around him! You never listen to what anyone has to say as long as it doesn’t inconvenience you in the slightest, because god forbid you actually help out for once in your life. Typical fucking punk. Maybe one day you’ll rebel against your own jacket for being too small.” you enunciated each word with venom laced in your words. Your fists were clenched so tightly that your knuckles turned white. Hobie looked at you with the intention to kill. His piercing gaze burned right through your eyes. You never saw him that mad. Ever. “That’s fuckin’ it.” he cursed, before standing up. You stood up right after him and rolled up your sleeves, about to fight. Luckily, Pav jumped in between you two before a fight broke out. “Guys, guys, guys! There are better ways to settle things than with violence! Come on, sit down. Let’s just talk it out. Share your feelings with each other.” he said, his hands still barely keeping you apart from each other. You scoffed. “If he keeps talking shit I’ll be sharing a punch in the face with him.” “Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try, love.” The pet name was spoken, but not in a romantic or cute way. It was teasing, and insulting. You rolled your eyes at him, before turning around. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” you muttered before storming out of the room. Now, almost three weeks after that had happened, you hadn’t seen him since. You hadn’t seen much of anyone since. Miles and Pav tried to talk to you about what happened but you just shrugged them away. You couldn’t be bothered to deal with what had happened anyways. You were still so furious at him. You never wanted to see him again after that fight, and you were sure he didn’t either.  But, of course you’d be wrong. As he approached the window of your apartment, he was grateful that you had left it open. He clung to the wall next to it, peeking inside to see if you were there. The light was on in your bedroom, but you were nowhere to be seen. Or at least he thought it was your bedroom. This was his first time at your apartment. You both never hung out besides when you were paired up by miguel or when you were with miles, pav and Gwen. He'd never so much as been in your dimension at all. You were in the living room, eyes glued to the tv screen as you had been watching whatever had been on for the past few hours to pass time. It was then that you heard him climb inside through the window. Or rather, you heard the sound of him landing face-first on the ground. You sprung up, sneaking to your bedroom in order to investigate the sound. To your dismay, there he was. Standing right in the door frame; his hands inside of his vest pockets, posed strangely, as if he were hiding something. Your eyes widened at the sight of him. “Hobie? What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even get here?” you asked, looking at him with shock. His face remained blank and he looked at the ground. “Miles told me.” was all he said. He refused to look at you. As much as it pained you to say it, you really missed the sound of his voice. - Despite claiming to hate him. But whatever! “Why are you here?” you asked, this time your voice wobbled – not that you were sad. Well, you were sad. - and angry. And frustrated. God, you were just confused. Your voice wobbled with concern. You could only think of a few reasons as to why he’d decided to pay you a visit, and none of them were good. “Well, I uh.. Missed you?” “Bullshit,” you crossed your arms. You saw right through his lies. “Why are you actually here?” you asked, and he hesitated before speaking up again. 

“I… I need y’help.” He then  stood up straight, and pulled his vest off; now revealing a concerning wound that spread across his chest. He got hurt, badly. You looked at him and barely kept your jaw intact. You had so many questions, but you were sure none of them would be answered. “You… What…? Hobie what the fuck happened? Why- Why did you come to me for help?” your words were uttered with pure panic. He shrugged. He just looked at you and fucking shrugged. “Hobie, talk to me you dickhead!” you demanded, and for the first time in weeks, he looked into your eyes. But this wasn’t his usual hatred and spiteful look, He looked genuinely hurt. “Jus’ got hurt fightin’. No need to worry ‘bout me, princess.” you gave him a look that said both “are you serious right now?” and “are you okay?” He’d be lying if he said It didn’t make him laugh. You took a sharp breath, “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen.” you began. He tilted his head, curiously. “I’m gonna grab the first-aid kit in the bathroom, and I'm gonna patch you up.” without uttering a word, he nodded, and with that you led him to the bathroom. “Knew you loved me.” he muttered, and your head snapped back to look at him. “What?” he smirked. “You talk all this big talk ‘bout ‘ow much y’hate me, but ‘ere you are.” you laughed at his words, turning back around and grabbing the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink.

“I don’t love you. It’s just that if you bleed out on me, I won't have anyone to make fun of.” you said as you walked back up to him. But, he didn’t seem convinced, mumbling a quiet “sure..” “Shut up or I won’t help you.” much to your surprise, he actually did end up shutting up. You carefully examined his wound. And definitely not his abs. Nope. The side of his chest, and a little bit of the front was all-but ripped up. His skin was littered in almost cat-like scratches. But these marks weren’t from a cat. You grazed your thumb over a particularly nasty scratch, and he winced in pain. It hurt you to see him like this. He was suffering badly. Mumbling a quick apology, you opened up the first aid kit and began cleaning him up. He didn’t say anything the entire time. Which must’ve been a record for him. You wiped the dampened cloth around his chest, carefully and gently cleaning the blood. Once the wound was clean, you stitched and bandaged him up. You didn’t notice your face gradually getting closer to him, as you focused on the bandaging. It wasn’t until you felt his eyes boring into you that you looked up; your faces now a smile distance apart from one another. Embarrassed, you backed up slightly. “I’m almost done.” you mumbled, finishing up the bandages. “There, all done.” you looked up at him and smiled. A warm and genuine smile, he smiled back. There was such sweet bliss in that moment, for a split second you forgot that you were still mad at him. “Thanks, love.” The pet name was a common insult that he spoke like a prayer, never once failing to piss you off. But this time it wasn’t teasing. There was something about it that just felt real. genuine. He tried to stand up, but you grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down onto the closed toilet seat. “Nuh uh. You’re not going anywhere yet. You need to answer my question.” his eyebrow furrowed with confusion. “Question? Wha' question?”

“Why are you here? Why did you choose to come to me for help, instead of like – anyone else?” “Dunno.” he shrugged, smiling at you. You couldn’t believe him. “What do you mean you don’t know? You could’ve gone to anyone. Why did you choose me? We literally almost killed each other last time we saw each other.” “I don’t believe in consistency.” He stood up, and put his shirt back on. “What-” he cut you off before you could furthermore question him. “Goin’ to someone else woulda been the smart thing to do. It’s what they woulda expected.” “They? Who’s they?” you asked, and his smile got bigger. “Doesn’t matter. I also just wanted to see you I guess.” he mumbled that last part, silently hoping you didn’t hear what he said, but at the same time wishing you did. In truth, he missed you. He missed the pointless conversations you had shared when the room fell silent. – Almost always ending in a dumb battle over who had the best insults. He missed the joy and relief he felt when Miguel assigned you to a mission together. He just missed you. Although it had only been a few weeks since you’d last seen each other, let alone only knowing each other for a few months, he quickly found himself enjoying your presence much more than he did others. He’d choose to be around you in a heartbeat. But, It’s not like he liked you. Of course he didn’t! He just felt happier when he was around you. While, yes, his heart would beat a bit faster when he was around you, and his cheeks and ears grew hotter when your arm accidentally grazed against his– that didn’t mean he liked you! Of course not! If anything, he hated you! He hated your stupid face, your dumb smile, your annoying mannerisms that he definitely didn’t have memorised, and he especially hated the way your nose scrunched up when you got embarrassed or flustered.  

“You missed me?” Suddenly, your confusion was forgotten. Now replaced by a grin. He quickly sprung up and grabbed his sleeveless jacket “Well, would’ya look at the time! I gotta get back to um, – yeah! Thank you for the help, my love.” He pulled his spider-mask over his head and opened the window. “Bye hobie.” he nodded at you, before climbing out and going god-knows-where. “My love.” the sentence repeated in your head an embarrassing amount of times that night. That was the first time he had ever called you that. And one thing’s for sure, it wouldn’t be the last time. Your relationship definitely changed after that. – but who’s to say that wasn’t a good thing?

taglist: literally no one help dm me or comment or send an ask if you wanna be added idk

hope u enjoyed this part guys because it's getting juicy now mwa

[fanofstuff01]

PRISON AU IT IS!

AU by @rius-cave , although I added my own thoughts into it (For example, her idea was that Lute helping Adam but I wanted it to go more like the actual show, where I think Lute wouldn’t help Adam if he was a sinner.).

Tagging you @fightinsoda and @foreverpeachy2010 , hope you don’t mind.

Everyone’s roles:

People who’s in prison:

Lucifer: You’ll see

Husk/Hunter (I’m basic): Tax evasion/illegal gambling

Angel Dust/Anthony: That guy has a mafia family

Alastor: Spilling government secrets on radio (Still a serial killer)

Sir Pentious: Illegal weapon posession

Vox: Fraud

Valentino: Do I need to say something

Adam: Framed with murder

This is an all male prison yk

People out of prison:

Charlie: Law student

Emily: Also a law student

Vaggie: Fired cop

Lute: Cop

St Peter: Cop

Sera: Judge

Nifty: Canteen lady

Rosie: Prison nurse

Velvette: Crime partner of Vox, but managed to dodge going to prison

Do police officers can both patrol and do wardening? I have no idea. But this goes like that.

Also, sorry if this doesn’t has that much details. I tried not to copy @things-arent-what-they-seem66 ‘s fic. The next chapters will be better I swear.

ENJOYY!!!!

Also, I’ll post the new chapter of my favorite au a few hours later.

“Dad..?” A little kid came out from behind the desk where she was hiding and looked to his father. Why was his dad covered in red? And why wasn’t the person she didn’t knew moving? “Is he okay?”

“Don’t worry sweetie. It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine He can’t-“

“Stay away from her.” A slightly scared, but determined voice came from behind. “Charlie, come here.”

“Lily, you have to listen! He was going t-“

“I don’t care. Charlie, don’t go near him.” Lilith pulled her daughter to herself harshly and took her arm into her hands.

“I want to stay with daddy!” She fighted against her mother’s grip but she was too strong. Lilith gave Lucifer one more disgusted look and rushed to outside.

“LILITH!” Lucifer yelled as he wanted to go after them, but he froze when he heard someone shout.

“Stay where you are and raise your hands up in the air!” A police officer walked inside and pointed his gun to him.

Lucifer, who was still in shock, did what he said. He handcuffed him and guided him to a police car. He saw multiple polices around. Lilith was talking to one.

“I heard the intruder coming in. It was at my daughter’s room but instead of calling you, my husband decided to play the hero and end him himself. I’m hoping you will put an end to this.” Lilith’s eyes met with Lucifer’s, but she cut the eye contract. She couldn’t look him in the eye. All she saw was a murderer.

“I understand you ma’am. I hope you can get divorced easily.”

Lucifer then looked at his daughter. Oh, he could do anything to go near her, wipe her tears away, hug her and calm her down. Instead, he could just look at her. She teared her gaze from the stone floor and looked at her father. And at that moment, Charlie understood that her father wasn’t a monster like mommy said.

Lucifer only thought about how he failed as a dad while he was taken to prison.

— Today —

“Rise and cry you freaks!” Lucifer woke up with someone running their baton on the bars. It was loud.

“Mmmhm, that’s right! Get the fuck up before I make you.” He said.

Ah, of course. Officer Kadmon. A.k.a. the world’s biggest piece of shit. On his daily wisit.

“That mother fucker.” His cellmate groaned.

“Indeed.” He got up and grabbed one of his rubber ducks. Those always calmed him down.

“Whats the matter Morningstar? *random surname*? Uncomfortable?” Kadmon laughed at them, stopping at their cell.

“Nah, it’s more like a hotel to be honest.” He said calmly.

“Mocking me?” He hit their bars with his baton. “Too bad you’re not on the right position to do that right?”

“Don’t you have a better job to do?” The other guy spoke, annoyed.

“Aww, you don’t want me to break your other fingers? You want me to go the fuck away?” He said in a childish voice “Guess what! This is my fucking job you horse shit!” He laughed loudly, causing even more curse words. Shove that fucking stick up to your ass. Lucifer thought and stood up. Luckily the shithead didn’t realize.

“Goodbye bitches!” He kept walking but was immediately startled when the short prisoner squeaked the rubber duck on his hands near his ears. Nah, startled would be unfair. He literally jumped.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Morningstar!?” He tried to hit him behind bars but Lucifer was fast.

“Oops.” He chuckled and went back to his bed. It was worth it.

“Oh, do you wanna lose the privilege of your sissy hobbies?! I can make that happen!” He growled.

“Sure, sure.” He played with his duck, not caring about the screaming man.

“You’ll see, bitch.” He walked away to the other prisoners. “Back in your place huh, *Alastor’s surname*? I told them specifically to keep your cell empty!” He scoffed at the prisoner at the next cell, who hadn’t been around for a while because he escaped. Hunter said that it was Kadmon who caught and brought him back. Lucifer didn’t like Alastor, heck that prick thought he was being ‘creepy’ with his boring attitude. But at least he knew where he stood. Officer piglet didn’t.

“How nice of you, kind officer.” He could literally hear the smile on his voice. “I hope you had a wonderful week.”

“I did. Unlike you, pussy!”

— Awhile later —

Adam was on night patrol with Holly. He wished it was Lute, but that gal was nice too he guessed. She might be a gay, but she was still cool. He waited outside of a coffee shop as she got them some.

He was mumbling a song to himself when he heard a human voice coming from the woods. He was saying “You don’t own me.. You don’t own me…” repeatedly. He took his gun out just to be safe, he knew what kind of creeps there were at night. He walked off slowly there. There was an old man looking at him, and he was walking near him.

“Sir? Are you-“

“YOU DON’T OWN ME!” He screamed and made a dash to Adam, causing the officer to back down and pointing the gun at him.

And thats when he heard that. Someone shooting behind. Shooting the old man in the head right where he pointed his gun. He fell down, face all bloody.

Oh no.

“Oh shit. Shit shit shit shit!” Panic rose in Adam as he understood the crazy guy was dead.

“WHO’S THERE!” He shoot his gun at the woods. He heard someone else though.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!” A guy, much saner than the old man came from behind. “YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM YOU CUNT! WHAT DID HE EVEN DO TO YOU!?” He pushed him away from the old man and looked at him. Adam couldn’t do anything as he saw the cries of the man.

Oh shit.

“Look, it was-!“

“YOU’LL PAY FOR THIS!”

He got up angrily, ready to beat the shit out of the police but then stopped when he saw the person had a gun. Instead, he ran to their police car in order to find another officer.

“WAIT!” He tried to track him down as he ran there. But immediately stopped when-

He heard a high pitched scream coming near him. It came from a woman who was just out of the coffee shop. She looked scared. “Officer, help!”

“No, look, it wasn’t-“

“Sir..?” Holly came rushing, she must’ve heard the woman, and froze when she saw Adam.

“Holly, you don’t-“ He tried to came closer to them but the guy yelled again.

“HE KILLED HIM!”

“I DIDN’T! Holly you have to-“ He shutted his mouth in shock as she pointed her gun at him, hands shaking.

“Don’t come any closer!” She stated. “Place your weapons infront of you and raise your hands where I can see them or else!”

“Come on-“ What the fuck?!

“If you don’t, I’ll-“

“Fine.” He did what she told. “Hey, what are you-“ He panicked even more when she reached him with handcuffs.

(Is this how this works? I have no fucking idea)

— After —

Adam was thrown to a court the following days. He came up with a lawyer, but there were evidence. The guy who saw him -he learned that it was his son- testified that it was him, and the woman did the same. And before you know it, he was charged for murder and sent to prison in an orange jumpsuit. He didn’t understood what happened clearly until he was placed in the middle of the general population of prison.

“Wait! I didn’t do that shit! It was a fucking mistake!”

“It surely was, wasn’t it, officer?” He heard voices behind him and felt all the color on his face drain away. He was fucked. He turned around only to be met with a huge group of inmates. They were almost like predators, and in this case he was the prey.

“What are you dirtbags looking at?!” He yelled, trying to keep his threatening posture. Failing miserably.

“Ohoh, a punching bag I’m looking at.” One of them said, mimicking the ex officer’s ex attitude. The others took this as a starting point and threw him to the ground.

Lucifer watched the prisoners beating the shit out of former officer. His cries and pleas were harmonic. It’d be easy to let the prisoners end him to be honest, but he knew a better way to humiliate him. Physical beating was something, but psychological beating… Its harm could never be measured. He decided what to do and jumped up his seat.

“ENOUGH!” He shouted to his fellow inmates. Everyone backed away with disgusted looks on their faces, still not wanting to let go of that fucker.

Adam heard calm steps coming near him and holding his chin. He muttered something and looked up to the other man.

Morningstar. It was fucking over.

Lucifer eyed the pathetic guy. He was either gonna pass out or puke. His face was ruined. Aren’t mister handsome anymore, he thought, he still remembered how arrogant this prick was before. He chuckled, karma had a cruel but pretty good sense of humor.

“Do you hear me?” He asked.

“Y-yes.”

“Then listen carefully.” He whispered sharply. “Because I will only speak once.” He grinned to the scared man.

“I am offering you a deal. You will be protected from physical harm, no one here dares to cross me. In return you’d give me your full obedience. You’ll be mine. You will always do what I say. Deal?”

“I-“

“Okay, then I’m leaving y-“

“Deal.” He quickly said, hating the sound leaving his lips. He didn’t wanna do this, all of his cells hated this. But this was his only chance. He could still hear the wolves. Cops weren’t welcome inside bars.

“Excellent.” He cupped his cheek.“Now get up. You need treatment. Rosie will do.” He held his hand out. Adam barely stood up but that was it. He passed out to Lucifer’s arms. He groaned, this guy was fucking heavy. He just let him slip and left him on the floor. He could call the nurse later.

“This mean we could end him now?” One of the prisoners asked with hope.

“No. Everyone, listen!” He called out to the crowd at the last part. “You will not be hurting him from that moment. I agree,” He raised his hands as he heard objections. “He deserves it. But I am just saying you can’t physically hurt him.”

“And why would we feel the need to not do that?” One particular inmate spoke. One inmate with a personal hatred against the former guard.

“Think about it, Alastor.” He came closer to the smiling, taller man, still keeping an eye out for his newest toy. “Humiliating him like he did to most of us is much better than simply ending that bitch, right? You must know the damage the words can do much better than everyone.” He looked up.

“You might be right. But it is no guarantee that he won’t try to hurt us.”

“Oh if he does, you are more than free to fuck him up right there. But until that happens, nobody will lay a finger on him. Understood?”

The crowd muttered yeses and okays, although not all of them looked convinced. Alastor just walked away simply. Whatever, he made the announcement after all.

“Hunter, can you help me with getting the big baby to the nurse?”

End of the first chapter! This took a lot more time than I guessed, but it was worth it!

Have a good day/night!

[ladykailitha]

Do You Know What Shovels Dig? Graves Part 3

So apparently love and comments are a surefire way to get me to write more, who knew?

*looks over at parts one and two* yeah so...I may do a proper write up this sometime because holy shit the errors in both were BAD. *realizes fully that this will probably be as bad if not worse*

And it may have a total of four parts. Plus this thing really needs a title. Suggest something in the comments. Because I don’t even know what it is at this point.

*

Eddie went back to Steve’s and spent the night. He told Steve about the meeting they had while he was asleep.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve murmured.

“The hell I didn’t,” Eddie growled. “Besides, I don’t think that Jonathan or Will was going to let it stand either. El, though? That was awesome.”

“So Joyce is going to make them apologize?” Steve asked, unsure.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “And I’m going to talk to Uncle Wayne. I just don’t get why he did that. He likes you. Sometimes I think he likes you more than he likes me.”

“He was just trying to be protective of his boy,” Steve said softly.

Eddie kissed the top of Steve’s head. “I don’t care. I’m an adult. It just makes me mad about Hopper and Dustin. And Robin. Jesus Christ! What were they thinking?”

Steve sighed. “I don’t think they were.”

Eddie sighed, too. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

*

Eddie strolled into the newly minted government funded house that they were given after the shit show with the earthquake, feeling a little better.

“What did I tell you about calling when you weren’t gonna be home?” Wayne asked. He had been waiting by the window for Eddie to come home.

Eddie shrugged. “Sorry about that, but Steve had a breakdown yesterday and I was too busy consoling my boyfriend.”

Wayne blinked. “Is he okay?”

Eddie turned to with a sneer. “Not really. It was something about ten shovel talks, two of them with an actual fucking shotgun. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“Ten?!” Wayne squeaked. “I thought it was just me and Hop.”

Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth. “And that’s another thing. Why did Chief Hopper give Steve the shovel talk instead of me? You know, the metalhead, drug dealing, three-time senior?” 

Wayne blinked. “I don’t know, son. You’re right. That doesn’t make sense. I just never thought it through when he suggested it. Just give Steve a bit of a scare to take care of you.”

“I would think that of the two of us,” Eddie growled, “the one with absent parents, three concussions, and a hopeless romantic would be the one that needs taking care of, not the out and loud metalhead who’s older.”

Wayne’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right, Ed. It’s just that beneath that hard exterior, you’re soft and tender. And I wanted him to know that.”

Eddie gave a high pitched noise of distress. “He knows! That’s why he fell in love with me in the first place. God! Do you not see how messed up this all is?”

Wayne pulled Eddie in for a hug and he went reluctantly. “I do. And I’m sorry your boy got hurt. That wasn’t my intention. Bring him over for dinner and I’ll apologize proper.”

Eddie nodded. “Jonathan said he wanted to throw himself into the pool,” he whispered into his uncle’s shoulder. “I could have lost him.”

Wayne let out a curse. “I’m sorry, Ed. This has gotten so far out of control and it never should have happened. I’ll make it up to Steve. I promise.”

*

Hopper showed up at Steve’s door sometime after Eddie had left to go shower and change.

“Get dressed,” Hopper growled. “We’re going for a ride.”

Steve crossed his arms. “This another shovel talk? Because if it is you can shove it up your ass.” 

Hopper’s shoulders slumped. “No, son. It’s an apology.”

Steve eyed him warily but went to go get dressed. He wrote a note for Eddie and taped it to the front the door. “All right let’s go.”

They drove out to the diner and Steve was told get a milkshake. Steve got a double fudge brownie milkshake, while Hopper got a plain strawberry.

“I just wanted ya to know before I get into the actual apology,” Hopper began. “That ya have a lot of people looking out for ya. Joyce, my El. Even Wayne chewed me out once he found out from Eddie about all the other shovel talks.”

Steve raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“The shotgun thing was all my idea,” Hopper explained. “He wasn’t even gonna do it until I brought it up. It was supposed to be funny. Just a little joke from us to you. I don’t know why everyone else got involved and I am sorry about that.”

“But why me?” Steve cried, his voice cracking on the last word. “I thought--I mean I looked up to you! If I wanted a bully I would have called my real dad.” He was suddenly on his feet.

Hopper looked up at him in shame. “Sit down, Steve. Come on. Please?”

Steve stood there breathing heavily for a moment before he sat back down. Hopper glanced around them and saw that no one was looking.

“You do realize your reputation, don’t you?” Hopper asked after a moment.

“Well, it’s bullshit,” Steve grumbled. “It was all Tommy Hagen spreading rumors to help me get laid. I’ve been with a handful of girls. Sure I’ve dated a lot. But that’s because they leave me.”

“Oh.” Hopper reached across the table and took Steve’s hand. “I’m really sorry, kid. You have no idea. I’m cop. I’m shouldn’t have taken your reputation at face value. I know you’re a good kid with a good head on his shoulders.”

Steve nodded. “I guess it’s just that no one stuck up for me. I just wanted one person to see that I was worthy of defense, too.”

Hopped tilted his head back to stop the tears that threatened to overflow. “Come over here.”

Steve got up and shuffled over to the other side of the booth. Hopper put his arm around him and tucked Steve’s head under his chin. “That’s a valid feeling. And you absolutely deserve that.” 

*

Steve arrived back at his place just as Eddie pulled up in his van.

As Hopper drove off, Eddie turned to Steve. “I hope that was a lot of groveling.”

Steve nodded. “It was. A milkshake, too.”

Eddie nodded back. “Good. You deserve nothing less.“

Steve let them in, pulling the note and handing it to Eddie, because he knew Eddie would be curious to know what it said.

“Thanks for the note, babe,” Eddie said. “I’m glad you got here first, though.”

“You’re welcome. It was also for anyone else who might have tried to come apologize,” Steve explained as he made his way to the kitchen.

He pulled out two water bottles and handed one to Eddie. “I don’t know why I get so thirsty after getting milkshakes.”

“That’s because, beautiful, you always get the richest milkshake on the menu,” Eddie teased.

“But it’s also the best!” Steve protested.

Eddie kissed his cheek. “It sure is.” He chew on his lip for a moment. “Uncle Wayne wants you to stop by for dinner tonight.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Okay. Yeah, sure. According to Hop, Wayne also called him to bitch him out.”

Eddie grinned. “I know, I was listening. It was glorious.”

Steve laughed.

*

The second Steve walked into the Munson’s house, Wayne pulled in him for a hug.

“I’m sorry, Stevie,” Wayne murmured. “I know you’ll take care of my nephew. Because he takes care of you.”

Steve nodded, melting into the embrace.

Wayne gently pulled away. “Come on, I made your favorite.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Holy shit, really?”

Wayne laughed. “I don’t know why you like it so much. It’s super simple.”

“But that’s why it’s so good,” Steve said. “I love your tater tot casserole.”

Wayne waved him in. “Then come on then. It’s hot and waiting for ya.”

They talked and Wayne properly apologized. And after dinner Wayne put on a pre-season football game and got Steve laughing and cheering in no time at all.

Wayne and Eddie shared a glance over Steve’s head. Yeah, this boy was theirs now.

***

And I’ll see about having the last part up tonight. It’ll be everyone apologizing. The reason they didn’t apologize the next day (not only to give Wayne and Hopper a chance to apologize) is because they had to do some real soul searching before they did. Especially Robin and Nancy. 

I also hope I got everyone who wanted to be tagged.

Part four  Part Five  Part Six

Tag: @justforthedead89 @zerokrox-blog @ihavekidneys @didntwant2come @thelittleclare @liorereshkigal @estrellami-1 @swimmingbirdrunningrock

[sen-ya]

own terms

Summary: “We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Warnings: gender dysphoria, unplanned pregnancy

Word count: 1494

hi hello this is kinda part 6.5/7 of that comic series I’ve been posting. I have lotsa thoughts abt a lot of other points in this timeline but this is the only other one I’ve done something with oops.

“We have to tell ‘em soon.”

Law huffed, hurrying across his room to find a sweater to take refuge in. “As I’ve told you,” he hissed, rummaging through a drawer, “I’ll be waiting as long as possible.” 

Luffy sighed, flopping to the foot of their bed with his head in his hands. “That’s what I’m saying,” he reasoned. “I think it’s been as long as possible.” 

Law rolled his eyes at his husband. “Well, you think wrong,” he insisted, freeing an oversized black hoodie from his dresser. He pulled it on and observed himself in the mirror. “I’m hardly showing, and I have plenty of clothes like this.” He nodded, satisfied with the way the fabric swallowed him. “Honestly I may be able to conceal the whole thing without even using my powers,” this part was muttered to himself.

”Why though?!” Luffy whined. “My crew knows!”

“And I wish they didn’t!” If looks could kill, Law would have been guilty of mariticide and, in this moment, he didn’t even think he’d regret it. “Do we have to go through this again? I don’t want my crew to know I’m pregnant. It’s bad enough that Bepo made me tell Penguin and Shachi.” 

“Why’s it bad that your brothers know we’re having a baby?” The irritation in the Pirate King’s voice was becoming increasingly familiar to Law, it’d been weeks of this conversation and he was, quite frankly, sick of it. 

“I can’t believe you keep making me have this conversation,” Law sat at his desk and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “At this point it’s just insensitive.” 

“Did you forget we’re pirates, Torao?” 

This was a new talking point. Law quirked an eyebrow. “And that means you can be insensitive?”

”I mean, kinda? – But wait, that's not the point,” Luffy sighed heavily, speaking slowly like he was explaining something to a child. “Your crew should know the kind of coverage you need.” 

Law shot to his feet. “You’ve proven my point,” he said sternly. “I don’t need additional cover. I’m just as capable as I’ve always been.”

”Torao—“ 

“I’m not having this conversation again.” He waved his hand dismissively and swiftly sent himself to the deck of his ship. 

Left behind, Luffy let himself indulge in a long, frustrated groan. 

—-

“You don’t understand,” Usopp implored. “If I were in his shoes I’d be sensitive about it too, okay?” 

Luffy crossed his legs on top of the crate he was perched on in Usopp and Franky’s workshop. “But he’s always so…I dunno…practical,” he sighed. “And not telling your crew — y’know, the ones you fight with — that you’re fucking pregnant is totally not practical!” 

“I dunno, dude,” Franky offered from his work bench. “You sure that’s why you’re so hung up on this?”

Luffy’s face scrunched up at the question. “What else would it be about?”

Franky lifted his welding mask and shared a knowing look with Usopp. They nodded back and forth and whatever nonverbal conversation they were having led to Franky sighing. “Okay, okay. Think about it. When’s the last time you ever saw anyone land a hit on Traffy?” 

That was a tough question to answer. Truthfully, most pirates wouldn’t touch the pirate king or his consort. The new World Government still required levels and levels of approvals to engage with either of them, and even then it’s not like Koby would grant that approval unless a lot of things had suddenly changed.

”Doesn’t matter,” Luffy decided. 

“Exactly,” Franky continued. “Now tell me, why else would you want the Hearts to know?”

Another tough one. What other reason could there be?

”They were the last ones to know about you two being together,” Usopp added helpfully. Franky cleared his throat, clearly he’d wanted Luffy to get to that fact on his own. Usopp shrunk into himself sheepishly in apology. 

“Yeah, I still don’t get why Torao was so embarrassed,” Luffy muttered, paying no mind to his friends' silent exchange.

”And how’d it feel knowing he was embarrassed?” Franky encouraged.

”…I…” Luffy looked down at his hands in his lap. “…Didn’t like it.”

”Bingo!” Usopp cheered. “But it wasn’t that he was embarrassed of you, was he?”

Having finally caught up to the conversation, Luffy rolled his eyes. “No,” he whined. “He’s insecure.” 

“Exactly!”

”But he’s not like that anymore!” 

“And this isn’t the same situation as before,” Usopp insisted. “You’re asking a trans guy to walk into a room full of people and say ‘hey everyone, I have a uterus!’”

”But they’re his nakama! And everyone knows Ikakku’s trans and it’s not like anyone’s ever been stupid about it,” Luffy pouted. 

“No one’s gonna be stupid about it,” the sniper agreed. “But that doesn’t mean they can’t subconsciously change parts of how they interact with him, even if it’s only while he’s pregnant.” Usopp huffed a laugh. “Even if he weren’t a guy I’d think someone like Traffy’d want to keep it under wraps. When Kaya was pregnant tons of randos wanted to touch her belly all the time. It’s fuckin’ weird.” 

“…Torao does hate it when people touch him,” Luffy muttered. 

“And Ikakku talks about being trans, those are conversations she chose to have. I get to talk about it if I feel like it, like only when I'm comfortable enough to. I’ll bet Traffy hates not having a say in the matter,” Usopp sighed in empathy.

Luffy straightened up at that realization and a momentary silence fell over the trio. 

Franky cleared his throat. “Just keep an eye on him if anyone’s dumb enough to fight us,” he said in summation. “He’s his own captain. Let him handle his crew.” 

He hated to admit it, but Luffy knew he was right. He offered a grunt of acknowledgement and nothing else. 

—

Luffy returned to the captain’s quarters of the Polar Two greeted by the sounds of his husband emptying his stomach in the en-suite bathroom. It wasn’t an uncommon state to find him in these days, but it certainly didn’t make it any better. He made his way to the ajar door and poked his head in. Law sat on the floor, forehead resting on his arm that was slung across the toilet. Upon noticing his company, he shot his husband a glare.

”Lunch taking revenge?” Luffy offered light-heartedly. 

Law held his glare for a moment longer before allowing his face to soften slightly. “What else is new,” he grumbled, looking away. He decided his stomach was settling enough to relocate so he flushed the toilet and moved to get to his feet. Luffy was there in a flash, gently taking his arm.

”I don’t need any help,” Law sighed, pulling his arm back and reaching for his toothbrush. Luffy hovered, waiting for him to finish brushing his teeth before he spoke.

”I’m sorry,” he offered, hanging back in the doorframe of the bathroom while Law went to sit at his desk. 

“Are you now?” Law cracked open a book, pulled a few pages of loose leaf from a precarious pile on the desk, and started to scribble on them. 

“Yeah,” he replied, tentatively crossing the room to stand behind his husband. “Usopp and Franky reminded me that when you didn’t tell your crew we were together it wasn’t ‘cause you were embarrassed to be with me.”

Law placed his pen flat on his desk. “…That’s what this has been about?”

Luffy wrapped his arms around the other captain’s shoulders and nuzzled into his hair. “Maybe.”

They stayed like that in silence for a few long moments.

”I’m not embarrassed to be having your baby,” Law muttered after a while.

”I know.” 

“I’m embarrassed to be having a baby period.” 

“I know.”

“I’m certainly not embarrassed of her.”

“I know.”

”And I’m their captain,” Law continued. “I don’t want them thinking I’m less capable because…”

”They’d never think you’re not capable. They may be more protective though, and I get that you don’t want that.” 

Law nodded. “…Yes,” he agreed, leaning back into his husband’s embrace. 

“But if someone’s dumb enough to come after us, you can’t do anything stupid okay?”

That earned a hearty laugh. “Look who’s talking,” Law chuckled, looking up into Luffy’s eyes. 

“I mean it!” Luffy insisted. “You’re super strong. But…” He let his hand travel down to rest protectively on the front pocket of Law’s hoodie. 

“I know,” Law whispered. “If I’m being honest, I have been thinking about your point. It’d be…practical for them to know.” 

Luffy grinned at that. “And you do love practical.” 

Law nodded pensively. 

“Anyway, you tell ‘em when you’re ready. I’ll get off your ass about it.” In one swift motion Luffy hooked an arm under his husband’s legs and whisked him out of his chair bridal style. 

“Excuse me,” Law protested. “I have work to do!” 

“Yeah, I got stuff to do too!” the other captain laughed, turning on his heel to close the short distance to their bed.

[cto10121]

Romeo and Juliet’s Instalove Makes Sense, Actually: A Very Hot Take

So a big chunk of R&J clownery I constantly eat on this blog is the neverending bitching about R&J falling in love at first sight is unrealistic and based on lust because they don’t even know each other and how William Shakespeare totes meant it as satire and blah, blah, blah. Needless to say, love at first sight/instalove was a very popular trope in Shakespeare’s time, and Shakespeare himself used it constantly in his other plays. Occam’s Razor: He liked it. Also, er, it is very much a real-life phenomenon. If perhaps overrepresented in fiction.

But anti whinging aside, it does beg the question: What did attract R&J to each other in the first place? I’ve talked at length about their similarities and their compatibility personally, verbally, and socially, but the bulk of the evidence is largely after they have met. So it makes sense why R&J would stick together and even prefer shuffling off their mortal coil than not be together. But at first sight? Without knowing a thing about each other besides their appearances?

R&J obviously do value physical beauty, but that in and of itself doesn’t explain why they would be attracted to each other. Shakespeare makes it a point to tell us that Capulet invited all the hot women in Verona, including Romeo’s crush, Rosaline. Why didn’t Romeo fall for any of them, or simply pine for Rosaline from afar? Juliet was dancing with a knight when Romeo saw her, and there were at least boys her age and not related to her, including Mercutio and Benvolio. Why didn’t she prefer any of them? And then there is the underrated fact that they met during a masquerade ball at night.

My very hot take? Shakespeare kept the instalove of his source material because his R&J would, in fact, fall 100% in love with each other for reasons other than hotness, and it is plausible that they would do so. And I’ll prove it: through Y/N dynamics.

Romeo’s POV

You’re the son and heir of a lord, living in 15th century Italy. Good news—you got male privilege! You have been given a fine education (for the time) in Latin, Greek, rhetoric, and so forth. You know how to read and write and duel people with pointy sticks. You have been raised to lead, and thus people are predisposed to take you seriously. You can do whatever the fuck you want with whoever the fuck you want, within reason. So long as you conform to this role and not show any unruly womanish traits, you’re good to go.

That said, you live in a macho society that is 100% okay with killing other people with sharp pointy sticks because they said something rude to you. Not only that, but your family has revived a blood feud with another family who hate your guts. Hence, your chance of dying a bloody death is astronomically high. Despite this, you turn out to be a pretty cool and even-tempered guy—you don’t cause trouble in the slightest. Your dad’s enemy even acknowledges your sterling reputation as a “portly gentlemen” and a “well-governed youth.”

In fact, you’re so chill that your biggest problem is that this hot girl you like doesn’t like you back. Even worse, she refuses to have sex, period. Which means she won’t have sex with you. You are a teenage boy, and this is indeed the worst thing that has ever happened to you. Fuck your life.

That said…you are not really doing much to get Hot Chick Who Won’t Have Sex With You to change her mind about you sex, are you? All you’ve been doing so far is 1) sneaking off to weep beneath sycamore trees in the early morning and 2) bitching to the Friar about HCWWHS, and 3) bitching to your cousin about how HCWWHS won’t spread her thighs to receive your that sweet golden cum (yes, that is verbatim). And when you find out that HCWWHS is going to this party at your enemy’s house, you don’t exactly jump at the chance to see her, do you? Your cousin literally has to convince you to go. Your response? “Fine, but I won’t Like(tm) it.”

Sure enough, you don’t. In fact, halfway through, you tell your friends you want to turn around and go back home. Nah, you say. It’s not worth it. You had a dream/premonition and now the party has bad vibes. (HCWWHS who? Ngl, you kind of just forget about her). Your cool friend mocks you for taking a ~dream seriously, ffs, but honestly you don’t pay much attention to him. You decide to go anyway, not because of HCWWHS or your cool friend, but because you march to the beat of your own drum. Que será será.

So what do you really want out of romance? Clearly, you are interested in HCWWHS’s thighs, but not much else about her. Why are you so emo about her, then? Certainly, she’s smart and hot, per you. Possibly older. Perhaps you feel that being with a hot older chick who can smell horny teenage guy BS a mile away is exactly what you want, actually. Or what you think you want.

Because here’s the deal: You’re obviously an odd duck in this hateful medieval town. You’re too chill for this feud life, too smart to get into needless fights, too young to work (don’t have to), and too old for school (you had private tutors, but that was ages ago). You’re too young to shoulder the responsibilities of an heir, but too old to be kept at home. So what tf do you do? See a play???? Do archery???? Falconry???? Hang out with friends????

As you can see, it’s a little lonely. Your parents are the type to let you do whatever the fuck you want because you’re a ~man now, and you need your ~space. No rules or structure. And despite what pop culture adaptations of your story have told millions, you are actually a smart and fairly mature guy for your age. You love your independence, of course, you won’t ever complain about that. But independence alone does not equate to true freedom.

What you need (but you don’t know you do) is a girl who would, actually, ask things from you. Demand them, even. Someone who is not shy about telling you what she thinks and what she wants. Someone who is open to the idea of love and not be obsessed with either chaste perfection or violence. Someone whom you can relate the struggles of living this isolated, feud-stricken life to. Someone who is mature but closer to your own age. Someone who is about as ambivalent as you are about the status quo.

And then you see this beautiful, mature, sad-looking girl dancing with this random knight. Oh, you think. Oh, indeed.

Juliet’s POV

You are a young teenage girl living in 15th century Italy. Bad news—you’re fucked. So much so it’s honestly too depressing to relate here in its entirety. You yourself know it, very deep down. Some light in this darkness? You are the only daughter to a very rich and noble family. Does that make you better? It should, a little.

For one thing, you are protected from your very violent macho culture’s obsession with killing people with pointy sticks. You are a girl, and you don’t do that. Your only jobs are to learn to read, sew, and marry rich. Your parents are not what you’d call the progressive types. Your relationship with your mother is very formal and awkward; needless to say, she is not the warm, motherly type. That would be your Nurse, who was actually the one to raise you. Your father is fine until you contradict him even slightly. Then he turns red and shouty and blustery, and suddenly you are a saucy girl and his fingers start to itch.

Fortunately for you, you’re a good girl. Not only that, but you are a smart one. From a very early age, you have learned how to survive in this very dysfunctional family. You learn how to say the right things in the right way. You equivocate better than any lawyer. Through trial and error, you become an excellent liar. (Either that or your family is just too dumb to believe you could ever lie to them). But even this sucks, because plot twist: You dislike lying. So much so that most of your “lies” are really just truths cleverly edited into the PR speak your family will accept.

At the same time, though, your Nurse indulges you and has no filter. So you learn a lot from her, especially about sex and men. Perhaps you even listen in on your cousins’ gossip. Also, you’re a 13-year-old with a growing libido. Not that you think you will ever get laid, lol. Your cousins will literally kill any man who tried. Your cousin Tybalt in particular loves a chance to fight. It’s not just your virtue that you need to protect, it’s the poor guy too.

But you are still 13, so when your mother and Nurse start talking about this Count Paris who wants to marry you, your instinct is to shut down entirely. You keep your mouth shut and tell them what they want to hear to appease them. It works—now you can go back to your teen girl life in relative peace.

Except no. You actually do have to meet and most likely dance with Count Paris at your family’s party. Do you want to go? Not particularly, but you are the Heir of Capulet(tm), so refusing is not an option. Do you like dancing? Maybe, but it’s hard to let loose and shake that thang with your family and cousins around. Are you interested in marriage? Nah. Your parents are proof número uno that it is not something to look forward to. Nothing against marriage, but you feel it’s something for the very distant future.

So there you are, inwardly seething inside, perhaps having to dance with Count Paris and other men way older than you, surrounded by your family. At this point, you’re exhausted and want the night to be over already. All you what to do is sulk against the wall next to some torches, looking bored/pissed/depressed. And not dance.

And then you see a beautiful boy leaning against the wall next to some torches, looking bored/pissed/depressed. And not dancing. Oh, you think. Oh, indeed.

In Sum

So yeah. Dramatic necessity aside, R&J being instantly attracted to each other makes sense, actually. They’re both introverted/in a blah mood/reluctant to attend this party, both have ambivalent feelings towards their supposed love interests (Rosaline, Paris), and both just don’t seem to fit into Verona’s feud life as neatly as outward appearances would suggest.

They see what they actually need in each other, which is balance: Juliet has too little freedom and Romeo too much. And considering how much we find out they are alike personally, there is even a sense of recognition in their first meeting. Beyond the “bewitchèd by the charm of looks,” R&J had reasons for them falling in love.

[vilefiction]

› featuring: Camboy!College Student!Satoru Gojo + Fem!Reader

› word count: 9,052 words

› synopsis: Satoru Gojo is the star student of your college. He's handsome, athletic, and everyone around can't seem to get enough of him. You, however, completely despised him. He wasn't just your academic rival, but your least favorite person.

During a meeting for student council, you listen carefully to what Satoru has to say. Then and only then did it click: his voice, those eyes, the way the corner of his lips curl… he is the camboy you watch in your free time! When you get a notification on your phone for a bidding livestream, you're intrigued. It was an auction hosted by none other than ch0sen0ne. The prize? A private cam date with him, orgasm included.

› rating: nsfw, +18

› cw: vulgar language, mutual masturbation on camera, rivals who fuck, dominant!gojo, face slapping, oral sex (f), facefucking (m), submissive!reader, degradation (whore, slut, being called a toy), calling satoru sir, pet names (sweetheart), slight praise (good girl), public sex in a library, creampie, somewhat rough sex

› setting: college au (no curses or jujutsu sorcery)

⤷ paw's note: hiii! this is my first fic i've written in a while! i'm so excited to publish this and i really hope you all enjoy it. i originally wrote this on a different blog and for a different character but wanted to make a comeback with this one. i had a lot of fun writing it so i hope you all enjoy it just as much. anyways, this isn't proofread so if there's mistakes, pls ignore them. love u byeee xoxo

It was a familiar feeling for you. The feeling of getting off to his voice, to the way his lips curl into a blissful smirk whenever he touched himself on camera. He was your favorite cam boy to watch after a stressful day of college classes.

You let out a deep and shaky breath, reaching for the small towel beside your bed to wipe your hand of the juices that covered your fingers. Your heart was still racing from your orgasm and your breathing was slowly but surely returning to a normal pace. Your brain was foggy from the quick orgasm, but despite the short time it still felt like one of the best ones so far. Of course, you said that every time you watched his show and came to him.

“I hope you all enjoyed my show. I’ll be doing another livestream in a few days so make sure to turn my notifications on. Thank you for tuning in and have a splendid night.” His sultry and noticeably softer voice made you turn your head towards your computer screen, admiring how pretty his pink lips looked in the camera. Even though you could only see from his nose down, you knew that he was handsome. There was no doubt about it. No number of masks and camera angles could hide how attractive he was. It was no surprise that he had so many viewers watching him get off using various toys and methods. Not only that, but people paying for these toys, and for him to touch himself how they wanted him to. You wished you had more money to spare, to see him get off in a way that you desired. Unfortunately, being a college student didn’t give you the ability to spend your extra income on some popular camboy.

To say you were sexually frustrated was an understatement. You never thought you’d get to a point in your life where you would have notifications for a camboy set so that you wouldn’t miss his show. You shook your head and laid down, opening your emails to see if any of your professors had sent anything important out.

Just as you had thought, a new email was sitting at the top of your inbox. You rolled your eyes, closing them and laying your head back further into the pillow. School wasn’t difficult for you, more so tiring than anything else. You couldn’t wait for it to be over, and as a senior, you were so excited to graduate with a degree in the spring and start your life.

Your fingers glided across your screen and opened the email titled ‘School Government Meeting’. It was nothing more than a reminder of the meeting for tomorrow. You groaned, rubbing your eyes with one hand before realizing it was the hand you got off with and quickly removing it. What would the student body have to say if they knew their future class president was getting off to a camboy, you wondered. That thought alone made your face grimace into a snarl.

You set your alarms for the morning and plugged your phone in before turning the bedside lamp off and snuggling into bed with your stuffed animal. Your brain created thoughts of the camboy and what he looked like. You’ve only seen his beautiful blue eyes and plump lips, amongst other explicit body parts. You could feel the blush creep onto your face as you slowly fell asleep, wondering what his hands would feel like in replacement of your own instead.

The morning of the school meeting came sooner than you would have liked. It was prior to all of your classes, which eased the anxiety that you would’ve had if it had been at the end of the day.

Getting out of bed, you decided to look somewhat professional today. Instead of the usual tee-shirt and sweatpants combo, you went for something more work casual: a pair of black bellbottom slacks and a white button up with your favorite light wash jean jacket. You topped the outfit off with your signature white converse and headed out the door, leaving early to get breakfast from the school cafeteria.

It was a nice day outside. The sun was shining enough to warm you while the cool wind was blowing. You smiled to yourself, putting in some headphones while you walked to the student center where the cafeteria was located. Your head nodded to the beat of the songs on your playlist. while lost in the music, you realized one thing: you left your bag at the dorm. All the blood rushed from your face and turned you pale. Part of you wanted to run back and get it, while the other part of you knew that you’d be late for the school council meeting. You groaned to yourself, rubbing your eyes and carrying on with your walk. You decided it was best to be late for your first class rather than the meeting. In the process, you also realized that meant you didn’t have your wallet either. Skipping breakfast was the only option now.

As you arrived at the student center, you headed straight to the library where the meeting was going to be held. You were about twenty minutes early due to not getting breakfast, which was fine with you. You went inside and decided to peer around the bookshelves to see if there was anything interesting.

While looking through the books in the medical sciences section, one in particular caught your eye. You lifted it off of the shelf and examined the cover that read ‘Anatomy of the Human Body for Dummies. The title made you have to stifle a laugh. You’d hoped to yourself that anyone who was reading this wasn’t a pre-med major. You took your headphones out of your ears and put them back into their case before placing it into your jacket pocket.

As you looked through the contents of the book, a familiar voice brought you back to reality. It sounded very similar to someone you knew, but who? Your eyes left the pages to meet with the eyes of the one and only, Satoru Gojo. You did your best to not immediately roll your eyes after making contact with his, closing the book you had and holding it against your chest. “Can I help you?” You quizzed, attitude seeping through your words as a faux smile placed itself on your lips. It made him chuckle as he leaned himself against the bookshelf with his arms crossed. Anyone could tell that he was an arrogant prick by the way he carried himself. You couldn’t understand why so many teachers and students alike were enamored with him.

“I said, hi Y/N. Is it so wrong of me to greet one of my fellow classmates?” The rhetorical question made you want to roll your eyes again, but you didn’t. You knew it would only instigate him further. Satoru’s eyes moved from yours to the book in your hands. “Anatomy of the human body… for dummies? That’s a perfect book for the likes of you.”

Your eyes widened and you shoved the book back onto the shelf with a scoff. You didn’t have the time to deal with his snarky attitude at eight-thirty in the morning. As you walked away, you felt a hand grab at your arm. You quickly pulled it away and turned to face him, only to reveal that the gap between you both had closed in. You could feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and the scent of his light cologne was in the air. It was nearly repulsive. “Hey, hey. I didn’t mean it, sweetheart. You know I was jo-”

“Don’t call me that.” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence. His cocky smile turned to that of a feigned frown, a finger lifting to just below his eye being dragged down to simulate a tear falling. It took everything in you to not smack the look right off of his face. “What do you want anyways? Shouldn’t you be at volleyball practice or tutoring some girl who’s fawning over you?” You questioned in a sarcastic tone, turning towards the bookshelf to avoid looking at him any longer. Your fingers scanned over the bindings of the books; the indentions of the letters being grazed by your hand. “Or better yet,” You began with the same sarcasm exuding from each word. “Don’t you have some teachers to kiss ass to?” Your eyes lifted from the bookshelf to meet with his, a hand leaving the books to rest on your hip as you faced him this time. An eyebrow raised in question to further show how irritated you were with his presence. Satoru scoffed, holding a hand over his heart to seem hurt.

“Now why would I do that?” The white-haired man retorted back, seeming slightly annoyed with the rudeness you were giving him. “Y’know, I don’t really understand why you don’t like me.” That statement earned a small chuckle from you as you leaned more into the hand resting on your hip. Satoru crossed his arms, returning to the stance he had against the bookshelf earlier. “I don’t get it, honestly. I’m kind, athletic, intelligent… what is there not to like, Y/N?” He probed, using his fingers to count off each adjective as he spoke.

Satoru was somewhat right. He was a star student and the talk of the college. His grades were as perfect as they could be. He was extremely talented when it came to volleyball and helped his team win almost every game. Not to mention, Satoru was the opposite of unattractive, leaving half of the female population at school that knew of him to be head over heels. There wasn’t much to not like about him. Except one little thing.

“Your attitude.” You answered, honestly at that. It was nearly immediate. Satoru raised an eyebrow at your statement. You took a deep breath and then sighed. “Everything about you seems real, but it isn’t. You think you’re the king of the world and you’re not. I could go into detail and would love to express the multitude of ways I think you’re a phony, but I won’t waste my breath. Just know that you’re not who you make yourself out to be, and that’s what makes you so unlikeable.” A genuine look of confusion and concern was plastered across his face as you spoke. You shook your head and turned to leave the star student and the stressful conversation behind.

You checked your phone as you walked away and went to go sit at the table the email told you to meet at. With five minutes left, you decided to spend it looking through your Instagram feed. The door to the library opens and a few people in your year come in. You greet them with a smile and a little wave. “Hey!” You say to your classmate, Iori, who then sits next to you. She returns the smile as the rest gather around the table inside of the library. “You ready for the meeting?” You asked her. Your anxiety for the meeting about to happen continued to rise, but her presence alone begins to stifle it.

“Yeah, and no. I just really wanna get it over with so I can go to class and see Professor Shoko!” Iori leans toward you while dragging out the professor’s name. You rolled your eyes and giggled a bit before looking around. Your eyes landed on Satoru who was standing close to the table, yet again leaned up against a bookshelf as if it was his signature position. This time, however, he was reading a book off of the shelf next to him. As if he was reading your mind, his eyes slowly lifted from the pages to meet yours. A smirk danced across his lips as he made contact with your eyes, making you turn back to Iori who was now talking about what she had for breakfast.

Mr. Higuruma, the head instructor for the student council, came through the door of the library. A sigh of relief left your lungs as you could finally get Satoru Gojo out of your head by concentrating on the meeting.

The meeting went on as usual, until a familiar and annoying voice decided to speak up. “Uhm, sir. I thought I’d mention that I’m also here because I wanted to run for class president. I wasn’t able to attend the last meeting, unfortunately, so I hope that I can still apply.”

All the blood that was in your face had left at this point. You couldn’t believe it— actually, you could. This is exactly the kind of thing he would do. Satoru would have the nerve to come in and ruin everything you’d planned for. The voice of Mr. Higuruma brought you back down from the thoughts clouded in your head as you listened to what he had to say. “That is unfortunate, but considering today is the deadline you still have time to be put on the ballot. Lucky you.” Mr. Higuruma let out a slight chuckle as he wrote some things down on the clipboard in his hand.

Your stomach churned at the idea of having to run against someone that nearly the entire school and staff was head over heels for. You knew you had no chance and would have to pull strings if you even wanted to try your luck at becoming president of the graduating class after this. All of these thoughts were racing through your head at once and you started to feel light-headed, although it could be because of the lack of sustenance in your stomach as well.

“Splendid. Thank you, Mr. Higuruma.” Satoru responded happily.

But… that word. Splendid. Your mind couldn’t understand why that single word in his voice sounded so familiar, as if you’d heard it over and over again.

Until it hit you.

The flashbacks from every time you’d watched ch0sen0ne’s cam. Every single time he logged off, he would say ‘have a splendid night’. You wondered why Satoru’s voice in your ear earlier sounded all-too familiar and it hit you. But could he be…? No, he couldn’t be the same person. You rejected the idea completely and pushed it in the back of your head to be locked away.

Before you knew it, Iori nudging your ribs brought you back to reality. You came to the realization that you’d been staring at Satoru this entire time, who was returning the stare with a grin on his face. You shook your head, moving a strand of hair behind your ear before focusing back on the conversation at hand. “So, Mr. Gojo, what is your goal as president?” Mr. Higuruma asked with a plain yet curious tone of voice.

“Before I, hopefully, become president, I want to raise funds for a senior activity of some kind. I think it would be nice to get all of my senior peers together for one last outing before finals, y’know? I know that it would definitely help relieve the stress off of some of the students, me included.” Satoru answered with a smile, glancing at you ever so often. It made you want to puke. Satoru continued to go on about his goals, but your mind was doing its best to completely dissociate from the meeting at hand.

After zoning out for most of the meeting, trying to retain some of your sanity, you finally managed to get through it. “See ya later, Y/N! Try not to worry too much. You’re going to be a great prez.” Iori reassured with a smile, waving you off. You smiled back halfheartedly and headed to your first class of the day with a pain in your head and a pain in your ass.

You finally made it back to your dorm and immediately flopped onto your bed, face down into the pillow. A pillow-muffled groan left your mouth as you recalled the events of today. You really couldn’t believe the audacity of Satoru Gojo, and you really couldn’t get his voice out of your head. No, not his voice: the camboy, ch0sen0ne’s voice. You rolled over onto your back, chucking your shoes onto the floor by pulling them at the heel. A ding from your phone distracted you, with that set tone being the indicator it was from your favorite camboy. You didn’t even want to think about him. He was the one thing that brought you some sort of happiness and relaxation on your worst days, and it was ruined by the one and only Satoru. You grimaced before picking up your phone and reading the notification.

ch0sen0ne: “Hello, my lovely watchers. I will be holding an auction to raise funds for something very dear to me. The prize? A private cam session with me, orgasm included. Tune in tomorrow night to join in on the bidding, or to simply watch me come undone. Have a splendid night.”

You groaned in annoyance and let out a deep breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding in. Everything that was happening is all too coincidental for Satoru to not be the camboy. but there’s no way, right?

You shook your head and slid your lock screen to the side, checking the numbers in your bank account before deciding that you’re going to win that auction once and for all. There was no peace in your mind until you could confirm whether or not Satoru was behind the mask that you’d gotten off to countless times.

“Hello, my lovely watchers. It’s so good to be back.” The camboy’s voice rang through the speakers of your headphones as you watched him contently. He had a mask on as usual, and his shirt was nowhere to be seen. You admired his smile, amongst other things, as you listened to what he had to say. “Now, before we start, I wanted to lay out some rules. You can bid in $10 increments at minimum. The second rule is that to buy out all the bidders, you must autobuy. That means you will be paying $1500 to win the private cam session with me. Got it?” His signature smirk was plastered on his face, and you couldn’t help but notice how uncannily similar it was to Satoru’s grin. The soft smile resting on your lips slowly faded at the thought. “Let’s begin!”

It took twenty-five turns of bidding while the camboy did suggestive things before you placed the bet of $500. You thought no one would outbid you, after the last bid being $250. You bit your nails anxiously, watching the screen intently. “Wow! $500 from…” The camboy leaned in with a squint, reading out your username. “Ch0sen0nesGF? That’s adorable.” He smiled contently, showing all of his beautiful pearly whites. Your heart raced as he said your screen name out loud. You never thought he’d notice you, and although it was because of your bid, you still felt a rush of suspense and excitement run through you.

Eleven bids later and the current bid sitting at $820, you finally decide to say fuck it. “God damn it. My bank account is gonna start crying.” You say after placing your final bid with an exhale, closing your eyes and leaning your head into your hands. It was the autobuy. You knew you shouldn’t have, but your need for knowing whether or not your favorite camboy was Satoru led you to this unfortunate financial decision. It was a win/win in your head. On one hand, if he is in fact Satoru Gojo, you’re right and can potentially use it against him during class elections. If it’s not, you get a private session with the one and only camboy of your dreams. It wasn’t the most financially stable decision, but you had to do what you felt obligated to do. The camboy raised a brow in the middle of gripping his semi-hard cock, almost giving you the impression that he was getting off to people bidding money on him. His eyes focused on the screen before widening and letting out a breathy laugh.

“An autobuy from none other than Ch0sen0nesGF! Wow, thank you so much. I-I honestly can’t believe it!” The video star’s voice was full of genuine surprise. “I guess there you have it. I’ll send you an invite request shortly. As for everyone else, I’ll be doing another livestream later this week to take donations. I hope you all enjoyed, and have a splendid night.” With that, he was gone.

Part of you felt relieved that you didn’t have to wait any longer. The other part? You could die on the spot. Your heart was racing and your palms sweaty at the idea of meeting your admired camboy. Although it wasn’t in person, the idea was still extremely anxiety inducing. A fwhip ding from your laptop distracted you from the nerve-wracking thoughts in your mind. It was an invite request from the one and only camboy. Your mouth felt suddenly dry as you slid your fingers across your mousepad to accept. A few seconds later, a video call notification popped up on your screen from him. “Fuck.” You whispered under your breath. “I can do this, I can do it. It’s fine.” You muttered, fixing your hair as if that would make a difference. You answered the call with your video camera still turned off.

The camboy’s face was plastered across your screen, a soft smile playing across his lips. “Hello, sweetheart.” He greeted, leaning back to show off his toned torso. Muffled R&B music played in the background of his video call, seemingly setting the mood. “Now, as I said, you get this video call with me. However, it would make it much more interesting if I also got to see your face, considering I’m showing mine for the first time.” He leaned forward, mask still covering half of his face. His sky-colored eyes were sheltered by long, white lashes, making them look more sultry. “So, how about it?” The camboy quizzed and lifted his fingers to the edge of his mask as if he were to lift it at any moment.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. “Okay.” You replied softly, reaching for the mousepad with your index finger and turning on your camera. You stared at him as your face popped up in the corner of the screen, slightly messy hair framing your face. You bit your lip out of anxiety, slightly hoping that this was a dream. The cam boy paused, mouth open slightly as if he was examining your face. His eyes darted around, intently staring at the screen before smiling.

“This does, in fact, make things much more interesting.” His slender fingers delicately hovering over the edges of the mask finally grasped it and pulled it off. Your heart nearly went into cardiac arrest. All of your suspicions were proven at this moment as his face was uncovered.

Satoru sat there with his signature cocky grin, staring at you attentively through the screen. It felt like you were nearly naked with how embarrassment seemed to flood your entire body. “Are you going to say anything, Y/N? Or are you just going to stare at me with your mouth open as if you want something inside of it?” His attitude was repulsive, but you couldn’t help but think back to how many times he’d gotten you off without even touching you. His voice, his eyes, the way he stroked himself… all of those things led to your own orgasm countless times. You clenched your jaw, pushing those thoughts aside for the time being.

“I knew it was you, I just needed to prove it.” Your voice was shaky and your breathing continued to become more unsteady as your anxiety began to rise.

“Okay, so you know it’s me. Now what?” Satoru questioned, raising a brow and seeming unfazed. “You gonna tell the whole school that I’m an exhibitionist? That I take pleasure in knowing people watch me to get off, hmm?” His words were teasing you in their own way, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed by his reaction.

“N-no…” All of your confidence went out the window. “I just wanted to prove it to myself.” Your answer was honest to an extent. You did want to use it against him, but now that you could, you somehow came to your senses and realized it would be unjust cruelty. The perfect Satoru Gojo, a camboy. It would be hard for some to believe, but you knew that somehow it would benefit him.

“Well, you paid all of this money. Why don’t we go ahead and get to it?” Satoru’s words brought you back from the thoughts in your own head, cocking his head to the side and letting his hand slowly glide to his lower torso. You stared keenly before looking back up at his face which was riddled with arrogance.

“Get.. get to what?” You asked curiously, breath hitching in the back of your throat as you felt yourself become more turned on with each movement of his long fingers on his torso. Although you truly despised him, he was still the camboy you admired dearly.

“You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play stupid, doll. You can still hate Satoru Gojo, but don’t try to deny that I get you off better than anyone else could without even laying a finger on you.” That statement from him earned a breathy and near-silent moan. You weren't even touching yourself and he’d already gotten you to the point of wanting to do explicit things to yourself while listening to his voice. “See? Now that’s a good girl.” Satoru praised you for the noise you made, his voice dripping with confidence.

“I-I can’t. You're… I-” The words you tried to muster up seemed to get stuck in the back of your throat with every sentence you tried to speak.

“And why not? You mean to tell me that you paid all of that money and are gonna let it go to waste, princess?” The nickname made you clench your jaw out of frustration, but not the bad kind. “You know you want to…” Your eyes watched his hands grip around his clothed cock, getting harder with every word. You stared at the spot on his grey sweatpants that began to get soaked with his precum. “Look at what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”

Not even divine intervention could’ve stopped you at this point. You placed your laptop towards the end of the bed and sat on your knees, unbuttoning your shirt that you’d worn to school earlier that day. You looked into the camera, heart racing and breath spiking with every button that was undone. Your fingertips lingered on the last button before pulling off your shirt to reveal your pretty white lace bra. Satoru bit his lip, his hand gripping his dick with more force. He moved up and down the clothed shaft slowly as if he was teasing himself. You could hear him stifle a moan as he watched you undress yourself.

“You’re so beautiful. I’m surprised you don’t show yourself off on camera like I do.” That comment earned a small, genuine chuckle as you were finally down to your bra and panties. Satoru slid his grey sweatpants off to reveal a tented bulge in his boxers. His hands stroked the member at a slow and steady pace, as if he went any faster that he’d combust. You let out a soft groan at the sight, feeling yourself become wetter by the second. “Lay down on your back. I want to see all of you.” Satoru ordered in a demanding yet needy tone of voice, becoming more flustered as the time passed along.

You listened to his words as if they were controlling you, positioning yourself on your back to where he could see everything from the side. Your eyes closed briefly before the nerves got to you. “Satoru, I-” You started before he quickly cut you off.

“I don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. The only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, sir’, ‘no, sir’, and ‘thank you, sir’. Understood?” His words made you moan as your fingers lingered over your bra-covered breasts, touching yourself so lightly that it made you want more. You nodded, biting your lip and daring to look at the screen. Satoru was positioned to where you could see from his thighs to the top of his head. You took in the way his face stared intently at you with a lasting expression of lust. His toned torso moved in sync with his rapidly increasing breaths and his hands were teasing the tip of his cock through his tight boxers. Satoru raised a brow, expecting you to answer.

”Yes, sir.” You replied, nearly breathless from the teasing that felt like edging. You couldn’t believe the state you were in with not having done anything yet. This reply garnered a genuine and lecherous smile.

“That’s my girl. Now, take off your bra.” Your hands didn’t hesitate to reach around and unclasp the device, taking off the undergarment in one swift motion. You awaited his next command as the cool air from your room made your nipples perk up. Satoru licked his lips. His movements on his girthy member becoming more steady with each stroke. “I want you to touch your nipples, softly. Pinch them, tease them. Show me how you touch yourself when you watch me.”

You did your best to push the embarrassment of knowing that Satoru knew you had gotten off to him countless times. The tips of your fingers came up and flicked at your nipples, head leaning back into the bedsheets as you let out a soft gasp. You pinched them in between your fingertips, teasing them while replaying thoughts of him stroking his cock. “Satoru…” You let out in a breathless moan. It was a plead for more, and you knew he wasn’t going to give it to you just yet.

You other hand came up and gripped your neglected breast, squeezing it softly as you closed your eyes. Your pussy tingled with anticipation and your hips bucked up slightly at the feeling. You wanted more. You needed more. Your eyes fluttered opened and you turned your head to glance at him. Satoru was staring at you with lascivious eyes, almost as if they were imploring for more.

You slid your hands down, not caring that he only said to touch your nipples. Your thumbs grazed on the inside of your panties, glancing down at them for a moment before returning your eyes to him. Satoru’s teeth tugging on his bottom lip was confirmation enough, leading you to pull your underwear completely off. He followed suit, revealing his cock that was hidden behind his boxers. You’d seen it many times, but this one was different. It felt much more intimate knowing he, too, was watching you. His hands gripped the thick member, stroking it at a steady pace as he watched you unravel yourself for him.

“Fuck, I fucking need you.” Satoru’s vulgar words were enough for you to bring one hand to your breast and slide the other down to your pussy in hopes of relieving some tension. “That’s a good fucking girl. Keep going.” He ordered as moans began to leave your mouth over and over, eyes fluttering back and forth. You imagined that instead of your fingers, it was Satoru’s stroking your sensitive and swollen clit. You wished it was him teasing at your nipples with his tongue instead of your own hands. The thought alone pushed you closer to the edge.

“S-Satoru!” You breathlessly gasped, curling your fingers inside of yourself and watching him continue to speed up the movements on his cock. His hands were tightly curled around his member, stroking at a fast pace while watching you touch yourself. The moans leaving his mouth were heavenly, almost symphonic. Thoughts of what they’d sound like if he was inside of you flooded your mind, making you quicken the pace of your fingers.

“Keep going. F-fuck yourself faster. That’s my good fucking girl. Such a good toy for me.” Satoru‘a praise rang out through the speakers of your laptop, words coated in lust and longing. You obliged to his demands with a ‘yes, sir’, doing what he ordered as if you’d done it a million times.

You felt yourself getting closer to your orgasm. Your hips bucked over and over as you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers, watching him pant and continue to stroke himself. “Gonna cum for me?” Satoru asked in between melodious moans. You nodded intensely, unable to muster out any words while squeezing your eyes shut as your felt your orgasm bubbling. “Beg.” He ordered harshly, mouth opening as sweat rippled across his forehead.

“Please, Satoru! Please, sir!” You begged, curling your toes and bucking your hips vigorously. You turned your head and dared to open your eyes and watch him. “Please let me cum for you. Please, Satoru. I need to cum for you.” You pleaded as your release was closer than you could imagine. Satoru moaned deeply, speeding up his movements to match yours.

“Cum for me. Cum, you stupid fucking slut.” With his words, you felt your orgasm wash over and relieve you of any stress you’d built up. Your moans rang through his speakers as you reached your release. Looking over, you watched as he reached his orgasm, squirting his cum all over his toned torso. Satoru’s breathing was rapid and his eyes were closed. He brought a hand up and brushed his white hair out of his face, leaning his head onto the pillow behind him. “Fuck…” he said breathlessly.

“Y-yeah…” You agreed with a stifled chuckle, closing your eyes and leaning further into the mattress. The real world creeped in slowly, persisting you to grab a shirt from the floor and put it on to cover up. Satoru did the same, grabbing his boxers and putting them on to cover himself after cleaning his release from off of his stomach. “So.” You said awkwardly, brushing your now messy hair behind your ear and positioning yourself to sit and face the camera in a criss-cross position.

“So?” Satoru asked curiously, a sweet smile curling on his lips with the singular word. He rolled his eyes and scoffed at your extended silence. “Please don���t tell me you’re gonna make this awkward now.” You blushed, looking away and biting your lip out of anxiety.

“No, I just-” You began before shaking your head and looking down. You lifted your head shortly after to face him and begin again. “This never happened, okay?” The look of disappointment replaced his smile and he pursed his lips to the side. Satoru nodded in agreement, mumbling a defeated ‘yeah’ while shaking his head.

“As you wish, princess.” The sarcastic nickname made you genuinely laugh, causing him to sit for a moment and admire you. You took a moment before regaining yourself, admiring him as well. His eyes were so beautiful, something you loved about him before knowing it was actually him. Satoru’s lips were so perfectly designed for his face, as if God himself took the time to make sure he’d have a beautiful smile. You shrugged the thoughts off and decided to call it here.

“Bye, Satoru.” The words were not meant to sound sad, but it came out as if you were slightly heartbroken. You didn’t want the fun to end, but you knew it was for the best. Satoru wasn’t your friend, nor your acquaintance. He was the star student of your college, a semi-famous camboy, and your academic rival. Nothing about this would work. You sighed, content with knowing the answers you sought after in the first place.

“See ya later, Y/N.” Even Satoru’s voice sounded sad, but in the same way as yours of knowing what’s best for each of you.

It had been two weeks since your escapade with Satoru and you’d been avoiding him the entire time. Every time you caught a glimpse of him, whether it be in the cafeteria or the library, you immediately turned around to go the other way. He tried multiple times to give you a small wave but you ignored it, not being able to bear the thought of the things you two did together.

The memories flooded your mind as your physics book was laid out in front of you, notes scattered across the table in the back of the near-empty library. It was 7 pm on a Friday, meaning everyone was either out partying or doing their own thing in their dorms. You, however, had to study immensely for your upcoming midterms. The thought alone made you groan and shove your head in your hands. “Fuckin’ christ. I should just drop out.” You muttered dismissively, not wanting to study any longer.

“That’s not the attitude I’d expect from our future class president.” The words stung your ears as a familiar voice was deluged with them. You lifted your head slowly, eyes settling on Satoru who was watching you ever so intently. Your face flushed with a crimson blush after avoiding him for so long. He lifted his hand and did a small wave that you’d rejected many times before this meeting. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Satoru, I really don’t have time for this.” You stated in an annoyed and exhausted tone, beginning to close your books. He walked over slowly, grabbing at your wrist that was trying to put away the notes. Satoru closed the gap between you, leaning over and getting closer to your face. His blue eyes left yours for a moment to peer at your lips, only to look back up and smirk. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding and pulled your wrist away. He released a chortle, sitting close to you on the table where your scattered notes lay.

“C’mon, you don’t wanna talk to me for even a moment?” Satoru questioned with a smile, shaking his head. “And after all we’ve been through…” He tsk-ed, putting a hand over his heart. The blush that had since faded returned, making you turn your head away from him in attempts to hide it. Satoru took the redness of your ears as an invitation and without further hesitation grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. “What do you say we do it right here, right now?” A devilish grin was stuck on his face as he leaned in closer to you, almost as if he were to kiss you. Your tongue left your mouth to lick your lips before he moved right past your face and went to your ear. The star student licked along the outskirts of your earlobes before breathily whispering. “I can feel how much you’re aching for me right now, princess. Tell me you want me to take you in this library for everyone to see.” A quiet moan slipped from your mouth as the grip on your chin shifted to your throat, squeezing ever so slightly to arise a reaction from you. “Don’t you wanna be a good girl for me, Y/N?”

That phrase alone made you wriggle in your seat with anticipation, causing his mouth to leave your ear and look at you. His hand left your throat and rested on either side of you, positioned on the chair you were sitting at. Satoru’s eyes darted from your own to your lips, as if questioning if you really wanted to do this. Your breathing was steadily increasing, as was your heart rate. Part of you wanted to say no, to leave immediately. But you were desperate for him. You needed him to devour you like an animal. Before you could say no, your body produced a nod for Satoru.

His hands left the chair and instantaneously connected with your jaw again, closing the space between you and engulfing your lips into a kiss. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, nudging it down as if begging him to put it around your throat. Satoru smiled into the kiss and did as you requested, gripping your neck just enough to cut off the blood flow and send a rush to your head once he let go. The bliss of his tongue entering your mouth and intertwining with your own made you moan against his mouth, scooting closer to the edge of the chair to be more near him. Satoru took this as a sign to further things and lifted your body off of the chair, still locked in the kiss. He swiftly moved you to the table. Pages of your notes fluttered across the floor with the sudden movement. You wrapped your legs around his hips, deeping the kiss by pulling his head closer. The feeling of his hardening cock behind his white joggers against your own sweatpants made a moan escape your vocal chords into his mouth. Satoru pulled away from the kiss and moved the chair you’d previously been sitting in to settle himself on his knees. You raised a brow, confused by his actions. “Satoru?”

A fiendish grin made its way onto his lips as he placed his thumbs through the waistband of your sweatpants and tugged them down along with your underwear. “I don’t want you to speak unless spoken to. The only things that should be coming out of your mouth besides moans are ‘yes, sir’, ‘no, sir’, and ‘thank you, sir’. Understood?” The familiar words made you lose your breath as you remembered the moments from a few weeks ago. You nodded hastily and let him continue. “Atta girl.” Satoru praised before kissing up your thighs, gripping them with a steady pressure on either side. His mouth found its way to your stomach by sliding your shirt up, lifting himself up ever so slightly to reach your nipples. He looked up at you with hungry eyes before immersing one of your sensitive buds into his mouth, sucking on them with no hesitation. His teeth bit them gingerly, continuing to suckle at them as he did so. Satoru moved to the other side and continued to do the same thing before moving on, lips interchanging between peppering kisses down your torso and fellating the skin there.

His movements continued until he was face to face with your pussy. A deep breath exhaling from him caused you to buck your hips, in search of some sort of contact. You bit your lip at the unconscious act of desperation that your body performed. You never expected to be so submissive in the presence of Satoru Gojo, yet here you were in all of your half naked glory. His eyes locked with yours before licking up the sides of your folds, tasting in the sweet juices that had trickled out. You leaned on one arm and used the other one to cover your mouth with your hand. Even though it was highly possible no one else was in the library, you couldn’t imagine getting caught in this position right now.

Satoru continued to explore you with his mouth, licking along everywhere except where you needed him most. “S-Satoru…” You whimpered. “Sir, please. I-” His eyes focused in on you, darkening as you continued to speak in stuttered breaths. “I need you, Satoru.” Those words were like a switch in his brain as he began to devour every piece of you his tongue could reach. You did your best to withhold the sounds of pleasure that dared to escape your mouth as he suckled at your extremely sensitive clit. Satoru’s tongue made its way up and down your folds before settling on your clit, nibbling it ever so slightly. The explicit noises he made ellicited a deep moan from you, causing him to groan into your pussy. Before you knew it, you were being filled by not one, but two, of Satoru’s slender fingers. A loud whine made its way out of your mouth. You gave up leaning on your arm and gave way to laying down fully on the table, squeezing your thighs around Satoru’s warm face. The continuous pressure against your sweet spot combined with the movements of his tongue had you seeing stars.

“Cum.” Satoru commanded out of nowhere, muffled by your wet cunt. You hadn’t realized the feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you before he’d said something. Not responding in a proper enough time frame from him, he got up and leaned over the table, fingers still working at your g-spot. “I said cum, you pathetic whore. Cum for me.” His large hand went over your mouth as he kept bullying your insides with his middle and ring finger. “Look at me.” Satoru demanded. The lecherous look on his face and his continuous movements led you to your orgasm, slick juices covering his hands as he slowed his pace down. Your erratic breathing elicited a smirk from him; the signature, cocky smirk that you’d seen plenty of times before. He removed the hand covering your mouth and replaced it with the fingers that were inside of you, which you gladly and hastily licked clean. “What a good fuckin’ girl. Now say ‘thank you, sir’.”

“Thank you, sir.” You replied breathlessly, still coming down from the high of having an orgasm by his hands.

Satoru leaned in and kissed you, his tongue slowly making its way to ravage your mouth and selfishly steal the taste of your juices from you. Suddenly, he pulled away with a familiar devilish grin. “Now, should I give you what you want, or should I fuck your face like you’re my own personal fleshlight?” The vulgar words made your face hot with embarrasment, but you didn’t care anymore. You just wanted him, in any way you could have him.

“Whichever you want. Anything for you, sir.” Yiu responded in a sultry tone, wanting nothing more than to please him at this moment. Satoru’s lips curved into a smile as he pulled you to the edge of the table, making you sit up.

“Knees. Now.” Those two words sent chills down your spine as you moved to listen to him. You looked up at him with puppy dog eyes, giving him an innocent facial expression even though he ate you out like he’d been starving for days. Satoru chuckled, pulling his sweatpants down enough for his cock to bounce out from the restraint of the clothing. “Look at you,” He began with a hand on your jawline, running his thumb across your chin and up to your lips. He pulled your bottom lip down with his fingertips, eliciting you to open your mouth. Satoru’s spare hand was stroking his member at a painfully slow pace, precum dripping onto the floor. You took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and closing your eyes before opening them and making eye contact. “You’re such a pretty fucking toy, Y/N.” He took his thumb out of your mouth and continued to stroke your jawline, eyes never leaving yours. A grin took over his face before he pulled his hand back and landed a slap on your face, just enough to move your head but not enought to hurt you. “Open that slutty mouth of yours, yeah?”

You made an opening with your mouth for him, continuing to stare up into his pretty blue eyes. Satoru used his hand to move his member and hit it against your cheek, making a light slapping noise from the contact. He moved the tip to your lips, rubbing the dripping precum against them before slowly entering his dick inside of your mouth. He let out a deep groan as you continued to take him inside of your mouth, flattening your tongue as to rub it against the underside of his shaft. Satoru’s soft palms grasped at either side of your face, fingers tangling in the hair that he could reach. He started off slow, pulling his cock out to the tip and moving back in, doing the same again but only taking half out this time. You mustered up the confidence you could to not gag and pull off of him. Suddenly, he began to fuck your face fiercely. Satoru shoved all the way into your mouth with each thrust at a steady, quick pace. He was desperate to feel you around him, gripping your hair harder with each thrust and letting moans go with each time you’d gag or whimper around him. “S’fuckin good.” He praised while moving a hand to clench your hair into a ponytail. he used his free hand to lean on the table behind him while he thrusted into your mouth. The sounds coming from his mouth could’ve made the heaven’s cry by how lovely they were. You closed your eyes, focusing on breathing through your nose and whimpering with every harsher thrust Satoru delivered. The feeling of his cock riding in and out of your mouth so recklessly made you wish it was inside of you instead.

All too soon, he pulled his cock out of your mouth and grabbed you by your arms to place you on the table. “Need you.” Satoru stated frantically, kissing you feverishly in between sentences. His hand made its way to your folds, entering two fingers in suddenly and curling to hit your sensitive spot a few times before pulling them out almost as quickly as they were inside. He grabbed his long and girthy cock, positioning it in front of your pussy and sliding it along the slit. A breathy ‘fuck’ escaped his lips before he shoved it in without warning. You leaned on one arm, your free hand covering your mouth to prevent a scream from escaping as he pounded into you at full speed. You could tell he needed this just as much as you did.

Satoru thrusted into you over and over again, continuing to defile your insides with his cock. You bucked your hips in sync with him as his hands gripped your waist, pulling you onto him more with each thrust. You felt like you were drunk or high, as if you were in a haze. Your thoughts were incoherent as he started plowing in and out of your cunt, merciless by accident with how roughly he moved— not that you were complaining. Quite the opposite with how hard it was to keep quiet inside of this empty public library. Sounds of desperate moans and skin on skin filled the room. Satoru seemed determined to make you cream around his cock in a way that would make you completely forget everything but the image of him on top of you on this table. A deep moan slipped from your lips, making you arch your back as he hit the sweet spot inside of you. “Be quiet.” Satoru grunted, moving your hand from your mouth and letting it fall onto the table to support you. He replaced your own hand by shoving two fingers in your mouth. You happily obliged to this filling, sucking on his fingers and whimpering around them as he relentlessly thrusted.

Between incoherent pleads for more around his fingers and breathless moans, you felt your orgasm drawing closer with each time he entered you. A bubbly feeling was growing by the second, and your expressions of pleasure soon heightened in pitch. “S-sir… ‘m close!” The broken words escaped your mouth as soon as he removed his fingers from your mouth to return to your hips in hopes of somehow bringing himself deeper into you, although being already down to the hilt of his shaft. “That’s it, cum all over my cock.” Satoru’s fingers immediately went for your clit, fingertips circling the swollen and sensitive bud to send you over the edge.

Between the clenching of your walls closing around him from your high releasing and the thrusts continuing at full force, his orgasm followed suit. His beautiful, low moans filled your ears as he emptied his load inside of you, the thick liquid slowly coming out your hole and spilling onto the table as he continued to thrust slowly while he hit his high. Satoru stopped moving his hips eventually, leaning his chin to rest on your shoulder. You both were a panting mess and the library was extremely dark. He pulled out with a wince at how sensitive he was before pulling up his boxers and sweatpants. He helped you off the table, legs still shaking from the exchange. Yiu leaned into him, pulling your own sweatpants up and tightening them around your waist. You looked up into his eyes. They were nearly sparkling and still full of lust, but nevertheless beautiful. “Let me walk you to the dorms.” Satoru said, more of a statement than a question. You inhaled deeply and nodded, not having the energy to tell him you could go alone.

Satoru helped you pack your things into your bag before you both left the library, eyeing the one old lady sitting at the desk who seemed to be oblivious to everything happening around her. She had an old headset on and looked to be reading a very thick book. You both shook your head simultaneously, stifling laughs while heading out the front door towards the dorms.

After a few minutes walking in silence, you decided to speak up. “Y’know this doesn’t change anything, right?” You quizzed, looking straight ahead to avoid looking at his face. Satoru’s familiar chuckle flooded your ears as he nodded.

“I figured. You're very stubborn when it comes to me for some reason.” He joked, playfully pushing you to the side. You laughed in response and returned to your original position on the sidewalk next to him. “However,” He began, making your ears perk up. You looked over at Satoru who had a devilish grin. “You don’t always have to watch me on camera. You could join me, too…”

[phoenixyfriend]

Pirate au for star wars?

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

Going for that Golden Age Fantasy vibe that PotC runs on

Padme is a godly entity masquerading as a noblewoman. She pretends to be a fancy rich lady, corsets and panniers and lacy fans. She is not. She is some kind of god and only a very small number of people are aware of this.

Anakin snuck his way onto a pirate ship when he was nine for Reasons. Those reasons are that Qui-Gon's ship stopped by in a Certain Port for the first time in ten years and, all said, 'living on a pirate ship with the bio dad he's never met' was somehow still better odds on making it to adulthood than sticking with Shmi. Qui-Gon did not want to take a kid to sea, because he thinks being a pirate is understandably way too dangerous for a child. Unfortunately, Anakin.

Qui-Gon was actually a Law Man until a few years before Anakin happened. Specifically, four years before Anakin happened, when Qui-Gon kidnapped a twelve-year-old who'd been scheduled for execution for some insane, overblown crime in a town by Telos (turns out Xanatos is 100% willing and able to get preteen Obi-Wan murdered by the government out of pure spite), and was labeled a criminal when he left. Even after Xanatos and his father were removed from power, Qui-Gon's crimes were not pardoned, and so he and Obi-Wan just went full on Robin Hoods Of The Sea since it wasn't like they'd be safe on land anyway.

Ventress and Grievous run actual Historically Horrible pirate crews that do all the classically evil shit.

Mace is technically supposed to be trying to catch pirates, but if Qui-Gon, his apprentice, and his tiny child--what the HELL, Qui-Gon, what possessed you to bring a CHILD with you--escape from his brig rather more frequently than anyone can justify... well, it's not like Mace is the only one to lose them.

Bonus: Rael is a minor sea spirit who just randomly shows up, drunk as fuck, on Qui-Gon's ship every full moon.

[steddieas-shegoes]

just saw your reminder deadline for asks post and i had to put something in! first off i looooove what you’ve been doing with these requests and just with the writing in general

and i would like to humbly request should-you-see-fit, your take on a eddie recovery//eddie chronic pain or other lasting symptoms. i adore everything you do when steve is the one hurting and so i’m wondering what that would look like flipped?

Since this request came in, I have written one where they both have chronic pain and help each other through a bad day, so I did take some inspiration from that for this. So many people comment on the chronic pain ficlets/drabbles saying that it makes them feel so understood and it makes me feel so warm and happy to know that it gives you warm and happy feelings. This was a nice break from the first chapter of demon Steve, so thank you for sending this one in! - Mickala ❤

--------------------------------------------------

Eddie wanted to call Argyle, get the strongest strain of weed he had, and get so high he didn’t even feel human.

The pain he woke up with was almost as bad as when he first woke up in the hospital a few months prior, his bones aching and every breath sending sharp, piercing pains through his entire body.

He was used to dull aches when it rained, or being in a lot of pain when he stood up for too long or walked too far, but waking up like this was new.

Even worse, Steve wasn’t home.

He was already at work, a shift he picked up for Robin because her parents had insisted that she come with them to visit her aunt in Chicago.

Eddie could call him, but then he’d just feel bad about not being here to help.

He sucked it up long enough to call Wayne, who was at work, but no longer needed to be thanks to the government trying to keep them quiet with a large chunk of money.

As he waited for the secretary to get Wayne on the phone, he tried to take deep breaths like the physical therapist showed him. It didn’t work, but he was trying.

“Ed? You alright?” Wayne’s voice held so much concern, and Eddie was in so much pain, he started to tear up.

“It hurts,” he sobbed.

“You need me to call an ambulance, son?”

“No. Just hurts.”

He could hear Wayne say something to someone else, probably the secretary, then his voice was loud and clear in the phone.

“I’m on my way home. You call Steve yet?”

“No, he’s gotta work.”

“You know he’d wanna know anyway.”

“I know,” Eddie sighed. “I just don’t want him to worry.”

“He’ll be mad if ya don’t.”

“I know,” Eddie groaned. “I’ll call.”

“Smart. I’ll be home in 20.”

Eddie listened to the dial tone for a moment before hanging up.

He focused on the poster on the wall in front of him, said every color out loud as a distraction from the pain. He couldn’t call Steve if he was still ready to cry, he’d hear it in his voice and immediately try to come home even though he couldn’t just close the store.

Wayne was right though.

He picked the phone back up off the hook and dialed the number to Family Video.

It only rang twice before Steve’s voice answered.

“Thanks for calling Family Video. I’m currently watching Back to The Future. What do you wanna watch?”

“Back to The Future again? C’mon Stevie. You’re in a store full of movies,” Eddie said, somewhat breathlessly as he tried to breathe and talk through the sudden pulsing pain in his side.

“Eds? What’s wrong?”

“Just woke up in a lot of pain,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I can be home in 10 minutes, baby.”

“No, Stevie, it’s okay,” Eddie started to say, but Steve had already hung up.

“Fuck!” He yelled.

It felt good to do it, not just because of the situation, but because he needed a better outlet for the pain right now.

He closed his eyes and waited.

Steve was home faster than 10 minutes, which he would probably be upset about if Steve didn’t already look like he was panicking.

“Are you bleeding anywhere? Have you called 911? Did you take anything?” Steve’s hands were hovering over him in the bed, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looked at Eddie’s curled up body.

“No, no, and no. I don’t need a hospital, just pain meds and maybe a bath.”

“But the pain is so bad you’ve been crying. That’s not normal!” Steve finally rested a hand on Eddie’s arm.

“Sweetheart, you’ve seen these scars. You know what the physical therapist said about pain. This is normal. It’s just the first time it’s been this bad,” he tried to calm Steve down, but couldn’t quite level his voice out to be convincing.

Just as Steve was starting on his next round of questions, the front door opened and Wayne called out that he stopped for some extra strength Tylenol.

Wayne came into the room and held the bag out towards Steve.

“I’ll go get a glass of water so you can take ‘em.”

Steve started opening the bottle and took out two pills, glanced at Eddie, then shook out a third.

“Gonna go start a bath, okay? Yell if you need me,” Steve said as he handed him the pills and kissed his forehead.

Eddie nodded.

Wayne brought him water, helped him sit up more so it was easier to take the pills and start working on getting up to go to the bathroom.

He didn’t like Wayne seeing him in pain, but he couldn’t help but let out a small whimper as he got shifted around.

“Alright, let’s get you to the bath.”

Wayne helped him walk, slowly, with a lot of pauses to gather himself and remember to breathe in and out.

Steve was waiting in the bathroom, ready to help him get undressed and slip into the hot bath filled with peppermint and eucalyptus oil.

Eddie tried to smile, give some comfort to the two people who were somehow more stressed about his pain than he was. He knew it probably wasn’t enough to soothe their worry, but Wayne at least gave him a small pat on the back and a smile as he left the room.

Steve wordlessly stripped his shirt and pants off, took his time and made sure to pause when Eddie gasped from moving too quickly.

He helped Eddie into the tub, slowly lowering him down until he was settled in the hot water and closing his eyes at the relief from the heat.

“Need anything?” Steve asked from the floor next to the tub.

Eddie rolled his head along the back of the tub, opening his eyes and smiling at Steve.

“Might need a snack soon, but for now, just sit with me?”

“Anything you want, Eds.”

Sometimes it scared Eddie how much Steve truly meant when he said anything.

He knew whatever he asked, whatever he needed or wanted, Steve would find a way to do it or die trying.

And it wasn’t just like that for Eddie.

Robin and the kids got the same from him, which just made Eddie love him even more.

Steve’s hand rested in the water, ready to add more hot water the moment it no longer felt hot enough.

They sat in silence, Eddie’s eyes closed as he tried to forget about the ache deep in his bones.

He startled when he heard Wayne asking Steve if he wanted him to make them all some lunch.

He looked over at Steve and nodded.

“Yeah, lunch would be great! I’m gonna get him out in a minute,” Steve said before sitting on the edge of the tub.”You ready to get out?”

“Mhm. Just gotta be slow,” Eddie said.

The bath had helped, but he knew better than to think the pain was gone. He knew when he started moving again it would probably get worse.

He took it easy on his way back to bed, towel wrapped around him, almost his entire body weight relying on Steve to get him there.

Between Steve and Wayne, he didn’t have a moment go by where he wasn’t getting cared for.

Steve even gave him a massage, found every spot that hurt and made it turn to jelly with little to no effort.

He fell asleep with the heating pad under his back, the noise from Wayne’s tv show coming from the living room, and Steve’s hand in his hair.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Finals

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Glenn is the goofiest sexiest character there is and I will die on this hill! I will ride into battle for him! what Dndads created is truly unique and Glenn is a key part of that and for that he deserves to win. I said it before and I'll say it again - GLENN SWEEEEEP

Can we talk about how he says ‘baby’ casually? Like he just calls people that?? That’s HOT. THAT IS HOT!! He’s also bilingual and knows Japanese!!!! He’s a big dumb idiot with a lot of charisma!!!!!! HE WORKED AT A BDSM PLACE FOR TWO SEPARATE ONE SHOTS. HES SO SAD BUT PLAYS IT OFF LIKE HE’S CHILL ALL THE TIME!! HE DOESN’T THINK OF HIMSELF AS SINGLE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T DIVORCE HIS DEAD WIFE!!! He’s like.. the perfect guy. We need this win.

I’d also like to add the fact I made this. Which is the first 11 episodes edited to (almost) only have Glenn in them <3 which is a level of insanity I hope to reiterate. These took hours to make. I wouldn’t do that for anyone else.

vote Glenn I am asking with the biggest saddest eyes possible 🥺🥺🥺 he is so sexy it's pathetic and also so pathetic it's sexy, no I can not possibly adequately elaborate just trust me

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Gable (Campaign: Skyjacks):

7ft tall silver-haired thembo of a fallen angel. was the literal sword of god until they killed him! reasons slightly unclear but probably sure to forbidden queer love! super caring for their friends. has one friend they have known for hundreds of years who they HATE but are bound to by the red string of fate. their sword is a part of them, they can sheathe it into a tattoo. they start out indistinct at the edges but as they have continued on through the campaign they have become more and more distinct. they became a flaming engine of justice to kill their friends shitheaded older brother who was following him. they have learned enough necromancy to allow other fallen angels to die, even though they typically cannot. they fly giant birds in to battle.

7ft tall beefcake wielding a sword as tall as they are. vengeful sweetheart

Imagine now: a fallen angel with beautiful gray hair and very big muscles. Now imagine them with a 9 ft sword. Now imagine them as a helmsperson of a pirate ship in a flowy deep-v pirate shirt. Now imagine they're dumb as a fucking rock. And finally, imagine that they killed god. Here, you have made Gable Skyjacks: sexiest podcast character of all time.

7ft tall nonbinary/genderfluid thembo fallen angel sky pirate who wields a buster sword. silvergrey hair with black/gold streaks as they regain feathers/memories of before their fall. back is covered in tattoos that hide the scars of their shredded off wings. killed God. toxic exes with lucifer. they are the keeper of several giant war birds who occasionally crave human flesh. they enjoy getting rowdy/smoking rope with their boys. they collect rocks that they think are neat. When anyone admits they are attracted to them, Gable trips over their words and absolutely swaglessly ends up sounding stupider and sexier by the end of the conversation; the will they/won't they and teasing they dish out to these (un?)lucky few is palpable. Sometimes the buster sword is on fire. They are immortal, they are cringe, they are trying to atone because they believe they are the reason the world is ruined.

Okay so aside from all of the above (giant with a matching giant flaming sword, killed god, extreme dumbass), here's some more propaganda for Gable the Godkiller.

They've escaped death multiple times with their partner in... crime? Like literally they were about to be executed in the most brutal way possible and just. Escaped and killed all their captors in the snowy wastelands.

They are the helmsperson of the Uhuru and take this job very seriously and definitely haven't left it to Bowser (you know, like from Mario) multiple times. Can steer that flying ship in horrible weather and still make it to port safely.

Healed an entire fucking hospital by cutting their hair for someone they had the hots for who was also in the hospital. Imagine being on that level of myth making in some random port city because of a hair cut.

Giant bird caretaker and also took the giant birds out on their friend's bachelor party (this was like. his Xth polyamorous marriage at this point btw) and had a fucking blast getting high on some rope and fucking around. They've also flown these birds into combat and looked cool as hell doing it (see: killing their friend's shithead of an older brother in a joust).

Had a relationship with Lucifer the Morning Star before they fell as an angel and killed God. Literally the reason the stars fell was their love for each other. The world would not look the same without Gable and they are, at the very least indirectly responsible for the creation of the Church of the Slain God and everything it represents (fantasy Catholicism).

And also yeah they are regularly tripping over themself and saying very silly things. 10/10 character we love Liz Anderson and Gable in this house

I am seeing people say that this Nicky fellow is basically trans! That's very cool! Gable is actually trans. Pronouns they/them/any presentation whatever they feel like.

Gable held a bachelor party for a BFF where the attendees hunted from their sky birds, wore dresses, and still managed to keep their eyeliner on point!

Gable killed God because he wouldn't let them be queer. They should rightfully crush anyone in their path.

We are finally going up against a character I know. I can confidently say all sexy moments with Gable are much sexier than TAZ's largely off-screen romances. Mod Note: This was written during the poll versus Killian Fangbattle.

But seriously. Listen to Gable's most recent introduction. Unparalleled sexy thembo introduction! Context: The Captain's Council is at a magical tattoo/piercing parlor (which has a lengthy form and disclosure process), trying to stay below the radar, and the Captain and Jonnit are pretending to be father/son to keep up the ruse. And to let Jonnit get a tattoo, since he's technically sort of underage. Bonus: Gable's decision at the tattoo/piercing parlor and noping out of Orimar and Jonnit's acting. (You should check out the full episode! Episode 197 starts a new arc and a good point to step into the series!)

Nicky Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

One armed half-demon man with a sword (also a Dedicated, Involved, Loving Father). (Specifically campaign 2, where he is an adult)

Transmasc bisexual (or at least so widely accepted as such it's basically canon) dilf half-demon let's start with the basics

And by half-demon I mean the literal prince of Hell

But also simultaneously is Saint Nicolas get you a man who can do both specifically this man

Missing an arm cause his ex-friends tragically betrayed him and shot it off but he doesn't need two arms to show you a good time wink wink ;)

The betrayal in question forced him to be seperated from his also hot milf voice actress wife and their son which is sad but in like a way that makes him sexier

Uses his one hand to wield a flaming katana that he used to rescue his son from the FBI

Protects his family with his life very literally which is hot as hell

Big himbo energy couldn't come up with a good plan if he used 100% of his brain

When he does fail at things it's pretty cute honestly

Definitely played a variety of musical instruments before the whole arm thing happened! Maybe he still does idk he's a sexy mystery

2 in 1 deal! This man was born from the merging of two timelines! Kinda sick!!! Also two dads = twice the daddy issues

You'd think the whole being forcibly split from his family thing would mean he isn't very close with his son but nope! His son adores him! They get along great!!!

His mom is simultaneously alive and dead

His mom bagged fucking two different dudes (one of whom FOUND HER DEAD in a different timeline, both of which are demons)

HIS MOMS NAME IS MORGAN FREEMAN, HIS DAD’S NAME IS GLENN CLOSE, AND HIS OTHER DAD’S NAME IS JODIE FOSTER, AND HIS GREAT SOMETHING GRANDFATHER’S NAME IS MERYL STREEP

HIS SONS NAME IS TAYLOR SWIFT

Lifelong pot smoker 👍 (plus drug flower user!!)

CANONICALLY BOTH A POLO WEARER (and yes, has all the stereotypes of that attached with it — a nerd, which is hot) AND A LEATHER JACKET WEARER (which also has all the stereotypes attached with it — a rebel dude person, which is also hot) [<- all widely accepted as canon by the fandom even as he’s older]

A part of the SECOND BIGGEST ship of season two, (Nark) despite the two characters only having one-two canon interactions (one of which JUST happened last episode)

Man’s a himbo what’s hotter than that

So many fucking names. You try to tag him in anything and he takes up half the space. That’s probably hot. For someone out there

This was already mentioned but so very very trans. Like. It’s basically canon

Rock and roll(er)

Joined a group of thieves called the watermice when he was like 13

for a few minutes had a guitar called the Battle Axe of Hatred

definitely had an frienimies with benefits relationship with his childhood friend Lark (sorry ppl that don’t ship nark lol) (it’s canon after ep 44 hah)

Nicky also acts like his sons Pokémon! Taylor tells his dad to do things, and Nicky does it without thinking about anything else he could do!

I feel like the audio of the entire Nick-breaking-into-the-FBI scene should be propaganda, but I'm copying select bits from the transcript:

Anthony: Yeah, it kind of echoes up through the vent, like the beginning of Metal Gear Solid. You hear a voice that strikes you as ever so slightly familiar, Taylor. Saying—  ??: [a deep voice] [echoing in the vent] Where is he?  Anthony: You hear—  Will: Uh-oh, he’s hot.  Anthony: —a bunch of shouting voices.  [giggles]  Beth: Uh-oh! Anthony: You hear a bunch of shouting voices and people shouting for him to get down on the ground to turn off his flame. To fucking get his hands behind his back. You hear this rhythmic stepping forward— because his footsteps don't sound like anybody else's because it's almost like… y’know when you toss a little bit of water onto a really hot pan and it just sizzles like that? It's like every footstep he's taking, you can hear that— Freddie: Cool  Anthony: — and you can feel some of that heat coming up in this vent, even though you can't see him at this point. And he goes—  ??: [echoing] Where. Is. My. Boy? Anthony: You hear the FBI agent—the FBI in quotation marks agent—in the back going like—  Agent: [echoing] He's safe for now. If you want to go ahead and make sure that he stays that way, you feel free to go ahead and step inside the suite that we've prepared for you, my boy. Anthony: And you hear the hot guy voice saying—  [chuckles]  The Hot Guy: [echoing] I don't think that's going to happen.

...

[a powerful rush of air builds] Anthony: You hear—  [gunfire, and the air rush culminates in a burst of flame; from underneath the fire, metal music starts playing] Anthony: —plumes of flame exploding.  [a person’s pained shout, gunfire and bursts of flame continue]  Anthony: You can feel the heat radiating through this metal vent and it's actually beginning to hurt and burn your hands.

...

Anthony: And you hear blood—  [sizzling]  Anthony: —hitting the fucking ground and you hear sizzling and things boiling and burning. Taylor: That could just be coffee! That could just be coffee. Link, let's go. Anthony: And you are getting closer and closer to the elevator. And you hear that same hot voice say—  The Hot Guy: [echoing] Where the hell is Taylor?

Gable and Nicky Together:

We are on a joint ticket now! This is a truly unbeatable combo. Not even god can nerf it because Gable killed him. Vote for us. Nicky Close will watch your stuff and play with your cats while Gable gives you the night of your life.

Gable and Nicky can literally be yuor angle or ur bevil.

Art of Gable and Nicky from @slightlyhopefulromantic.

[dragonflylady77]

Mr Steve and the Monster Hunter

Here we go, the next chapter of my fic for @bigbangharringrove

Chapter 1

ch2 on Ao3

Steve gets some answers from Robin

Chapter 2 - You weren't even friends

Steve is still feeling a bit out of sorts when he arrives at Robin and Heather’s house. That dream has left him shaken. Not just that, but finding out Billy was alive was quite a shock to the system and he’s still processing.

He saw Billy die on the grimy floor of Starcourt Mall. The night is etched in his memory in vivid details, to the extent he still has nightmares about it sometimes. Steve shakes his head to clear the dreaded images and takes a deep breath.

“Fucking government and their stupid NDAs and their stupid secrets,” he mutters as he rings the doorbell.

Robin answers the door with a smile. “Stevie.”

“Hi.” Steve doesn’t have it in him to smile, not when he needs answers to so many questions he didn’t know he had. His life was simple until pick-up time yesterday. And now Billy Hargrove is alive and Steve wants to lick him everywhere.

He walks past Robin and heads towards the kitchen where Heather is getting a pan out of the oven. Whatever it is smells delicious, as usual. While Robin can cook basic stuff, Heather is the real chef between the two of them.

“Holloway.” 

“Harrington.”

Their relationship has always been on the frosty side and Steve stopped wondering why years ago. He reckons the bombshell dropped on his head the day before might have something to do with that, though he’s not sure what it has to do with him. 

Heather is busy cutting what’s in the pan and Robin stops in front of him. Her smile seems a bit forced.

“Sit down. Would you like a drink?”

“I picked up that white wine you like on the way over.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll get us some glasses.”

Steve hands her the bottle and sits down, a glance to the right catching the silent conversation Heather and Robin seem to be having by the fridge. He sighs and the crushing loneliness he normally keeps at bay rears its ugly head. Everyone has found their person, except him. 

“So…” He taps his fingers on the table, bringing the women’s attention back to him. They nod at each other and Heather goes back to dishing their lunch while Robin sorts out their drinks. Two wines and an apple juice. Interesting.

“Steve…” Robin says as she puts his drink down on the coaster in front of him and sits to his right.

“Robin.” He turns towards her and makes a show of looking around, like he doesn’t know. “Where is your daughter, the delightful Olivia, today?”

“You know where she is.”

“No, actually, I don’t. I know who she is with though. And it’s funny, I’ve been her teacher since the start of school in August last year and she never mentioned she had a father, not until he picked her up yesterday.”

“We don’t reall—”

“Don’t bullshit me. She was so fucking excited, she couldn’t stop talking about how she was going to be hanging out with her dad all weekend. Her dad that I saw fucking DIE fifteen years ago.” His fist hits the table as he shouts the last part of his sentence and he sees Heather flinch out of the corner of his eye.

“Steve!” Robin chastises as she gets up to hug Heather.

“I’m sorry. Fuck. I just…” Steve folds his arms on the table and rests his head on them with a sigh. “Why did no one tell me, Rob? That Billy wasn’t dead?”

“Oh please,” Heather’s voice is thready but it has steel through it. “Everyone knew you hated him, we had no reason to tell you.”

“Everyo—does everyone know? The kids? Dustin? All of them?”

“Well, Harrington, you know your kids, if one knows, all of them know. Billy says he gave you his card, and I’m sure you had a look on his company’s website so you know that four of them work with him.”

Steve nods.

“I don’t know about Dustin and Mike, from what Max said, they kinda lost touch after El broke up with Whiny Wheeler,” Heather adds, showing a familiarity with the kids that Steve was unaware of.

He snorts at the nickname and wonders briefly if Billy was the one to give it. “I never really hated him, you know.”

“You sure about that? Because that’s not how he tells it.”

“Heather!”

“What? Billy told us he apologized about the fight.” She glares at Steve, daring him to contradict her. “Didn’t he, Harrington?” 

“The-the fight?”

“Yes, the fight that night you lied to Billy’s face about where his sister was. You threw the first punch and got your ass kicked, before Billy got drugged and threatened, then beaten up by his piece of shit father for coming home off his face and without his sister. Surely you remember that?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You heard me.” Heather squeezes Robin’s hand. “Sorry, babe. I know that’s not why he’s here but I’ve been waiting a long time to get this off my chest.”

“It’s okay, sweetie, I understand.” Robin turns to Steve. “Basically, Billy told us that beyond his apology to you and Lucas for that night, he kept his word and stayed away like Max had demanded. That summer you and I met at Scoops, he got the job at the pool with Heather and he was… caught… one night on the way to a date. Then, after, um, after Starcourt, when he finally got out of hospital, Owens organized for him to move to California without anyone knowing.”

“I knew.” Heather sits very still, her hand holding Robin’s, her eyes slightly unfocused, like she’s trying to remember something.

“Yes, you did.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, feeling like he fucked up. It’s a feeling he hasn’t experienced in some time, his social interactions these days are usually limited to his students in class and their parents. “Do you want me to leave? It’s been so long, I’m a different person now than I was then, we all are. It doesn’t really matter.”

“It mattered enough for you to message me at midnight last night, dingus.”

“I was in shock, or something, okay? Give me a break. My favorite student got picked up by a guy I thought died fifteen years ago.”

“Again, not like you cared about the guy, you weren’t even friends.” Heather is glaring daggers at Steve and it takes all he has not to recoil in fear. He’s surprised when she gets out of her chair a second later. “I’m sorry. Babe, I’m gonna go lie down for a bit, okay?”

“Yep, sure thing.” Robin gives her a kiss then watches her go down the hallway before she turns towards Steve again. “The whole subject stresses her like crazy. She still has nightmares about it, you know. Being possessed and the stuff the Mind Flayer made her and Billy do. Therapy helped, of course, but some nights when it’s cold, she wakes up screaming.”

“He likes it cold. I remember. I guess that explains why you go to California for Christmas.”

“That and Billy lives there. Listen, he’s been nothing short of amazing as far as I’m concerned. He saved the world then got to leave Hawkins and his asshole dad. He built a good life for himself out there and then… then he gave us the most precious gift.”

“Can you tell me a bit more about that, please? The website was very vague. And the whole ‘he’s a dad’ thing.”

Watching Robin take a sip of her wine reminds Steve about his but he doesn’t feel like it anymore.

“Okay so long story short, the Upside Down is still a thing, there are portals in many places and Billy goes in and rescues people that get taken. El helps him find them, Will and Lucas go in with him to get them out, dead or alive.”

“Wow. That’s both scary and amazing.”

“Yeah. Max handles all the paperwork, NDAs and stuff.”

“There was someone else on the website, some guy with no last name.” Steve tries to remember.

“Argyle. Super cool dude. He was Billy’s friend before he moved to Hawkins and he took Billy in when he got back. Steve… I gotta ask, why are you suddenly so interested in knowing all this?”

“I, um, I missed him, I guess. After… you know. And I never really understood why. I mean, it’s like Heather said, we weren’t exactly friends, but he was always kinda in my face from the day he arrived in Hawkins, and then, I don’t know…” Steve trails off. “I’ve been not thinking about all of that for so long, and seeing him yesterday, hearing his voice, it, um…”

“Steve, what are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know. Tell me how you ladies ended up having his baby.”

He is grateful when Robin shakes her head and drops the subject.

“Oh, well, Heather does the baby growing. That whole pregnancy and birth thing, soooo not for me. Way too intense.”

“Yeah, that explains nothing.”

“Billy and Heather kept in touch and one day she let it slip that we were looking at sperm donors and he… he offered. We had a big long discussion about it, the two of us then the three of us and he came over and they did the thing and boom. Baby.”

“When you say they did the thing…”

“Oh, haha, no, not literally ‘did the thing’ because hello, gay, all of us, and you don’t need the details.”

“What do you mean, all of us?”

“If you tell me you still think Billy is straight, I might actually slap you. I know it’s bad form to out a person but it was obvious to me back in high school that boy was queer as hell. And I know for a fact you’re bi so don’t even try me, Stevie.”

“Fine. I guess I can see it now, even if I didn’t back then.”

“Really? Come on? If nothing else, the nicknames he gave you were a dead giveaway.”

“The nicknames? You know about that?”

“Steve, he’s my child’s other parent. We talk.”

“You kept very quiet about that, Rob.”

“Yeah, well, me and Heather raising a kid as our own isn’t exactly legal, dingus, so excuse me for not shouting it from the rooftops. You’re in the know because we’ve known you since high school and I trust you not to blab.”

“I’m touched.”

“Shut up. You keep derailing my story. He wasn’t gonna be involved at first, but we saw the look of wonder on his face the first time he saw Livi and held her, and we decided we wouldn’t keep them apart. Well, anymore than his job already does.”

“Aww. And now you’re going to do it all over again?”

“Huh?”

“Apple juice.”

“Ah well, yeah, we’re trying. And we’ve been talking about moving to San Diego as well so the kids can see Billy a bit more.”

“What? You’re leaving?”

“It’s too cold here, and too far from Billy and Elumax.”

“Elu-what now?”

Robin snorted. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll find out when you’re meant to. Don’t want your brain to bleed out of your ears from too much information.”

His stomach growling stops Steve from replying and the loudness of it makes them both laugh. Robin goes to get Heather while Steve sets the plates she prepared earlier. His mind is whirling with all the new information he is now privy to. He knows he needs time to process but he also knows he definitely wants to have a chat with Billy in the near future.

The end credits of the movie roll on the screen and Steve nudges Robin, who’s half asleep on his shoulder. Heather went for a nap halfway through the first movie and hasn’t emerged again.

“I should go home, let you get on with your evening.”

“Or…” Robin checks her phone. “You could wait another twenty minutes for Billy and Olivia to get home and you can take him out for coffee or dinner or whatever.”

“They’re coming here?” Oh crap. Oh no. Fuck.

“Um yeah, this is where Livi lives. And Billy lives in Cali so he stays in the guest room when he’s in town, duh.”

Steve starts to freak out. He’s not prepared to face Billy so soon, not after that stupid dream he had last night. Oh Jesus. 

“I, um, I need to go. I can’t… I can’t be here… I need to…” He knows he’s flustered and rambling and he knows Robin will pick up on it, but he can’t avoid it. 

“Steven Middlename Harrington.”

“That’s my name.” He gets off the couch but Robin pulls him back down.

“Steve…”

“Uh huh?” Steve keeps his eyes on the TV, totally ignoring Robin because he’s nothing but a mature thirty-something year old.

“Why are you suddenly so anxious to leave and why is your face all pink? What are you hiding?”

“No-nothing.”

“What did you… oh my God! Steve!”

“What? Stop it. I need to go. Now. Before—”

“Before Billy gets back and he sees the look on your face that will tell him you totally had a sex dream about him last night? That about right?”

“Yes. No. Fuck. Shut up.” Steve drops back onto the couch with a groan, hands over his face. He’s not sure what’s more embarrassing, the fact he had a sex dream at all or that Robin can still read him like an open book.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. I promise. But I know that Billy was keen to catch up with you and I think you should give him a chance.”

Steve lets his hands drop so he can look at her. “Rob…”She put both hands up. “You don’t have to. But you might regret it if you don’t.”

Chapter 3

[pr1soners-d1lemma]

More on Sigma since yall ate up the last post tysm guys (*´꒳`*)

Anyways as I was saying Sigma has done some shit that proves he’s not a UwU baby and here I’ll explain to you more. 

Sigma, unlike the rest of the DOA doesn’t want to just jump to violence, that’s not his thing since he knows his ability really isn’t meant for combat. Though he will still do it as seen multiple times. It also never once says he regret hurting/killing multiple innocent civilians. “Oh but Dazai said he didn’t see Sigma as a terrorist at all 🥺🥺 therefore-“ nope. Shut up 😍. Compared to Gogol and Fyodor, Sigma is not a terrorist. He hasn’t done nearly as much as they have, but he still is. Now I’d like to bring attention to the fact that the casino is actually Sigma’s REWARD for the use of his skill. Therefore, due to his part being over in the plan as Dazai said, he had no reason to fight on the frontlines. Yet he still did it to protect the casino, which was being used for terrorism and stuff. Hmmmm…. If he was an UwU innocent baby why would he do this? It’s because he’s not please shut up I’m actually losing in from people acting like that. Just note this past section is only from the first few pages of the 18th novel. We’re no where near close to being done!! Remember when The hunting dogs asked him to shut down that casino? Here is his reaction to that:

I personally don’t think this is how any UwU baby would act… idk just my thoughts. He literally yelled at them, didn’t even try to politely explain why he wouldn’t do that he just told them to fuck off. Now we have Tachihara and Teruko walking along just doing their job (stop hating Teruko for doing her job it makes me so mad) and just getting stabbed by a random civilian. Here we see Sigma, literally making stuff up as he’s using people as literal weapons whilst knowing damn well you’re not supposed to do that. He literally uses the fact that as police Teruko and Tachihara can’t hurt them as a way of ENCOURAGING people to harm literal government figures. He had no hesitation to do that to people, unlike when he hesitated to use the plane on the casino, showing that at this point he is valuing a CASINO over HUMAN LIVES (B-but the casino is his home 🥺, ok and? Would you manipulate innocent people into literal weapons to protect your house? I don’t think so) It’s important to note that this is the only thing Sigma really owns, so he is defending it in a state of panic. It still gives him no right to do such things though. No I’m not trying to make Sigma sound like a bad person he’s my favorite bad character and it physically hurts to see all the mischaracterization I cry myself to sleep bc ppl r like this. As Fyodor said: “You won’t find a scarier thing in the world than a common man who is desperate” and we know that bc sigma said “If it’s for the casino I’ll do anything” here’s a little reminder:

Now yeah he was having a little breakdown about it, like who wouldn’t. Can someone not show emotion without being called UwU soft? Seriously? If you were in that situation I bet you’d want to spring outta that room crying too. And yet here we are, he’s still using on and you know how? He’s shooting at Teruko with big ass guns. I don’t think owning those is legal in the slightest. 

(Pardon the fact its in Russian I got this off of Pinterest) 

This is not legal. Firing these is not legal. And here is the most important part. The sonic gun and this is gonna be in bold bc it’s one of my leading points He showed no hesitation to kill Teruko in one of the most painful ways for a hunting dog to be killed. He forced her to puncture her eardrums as a last result of survival, as he says “This is all apart of the plan” showing that he planed ahead of time to try and kill a hunting dog. This is not something someone who is innocent would do in the slightest. He is well prepared to kill someone without regret. He decided to save a casino instead of his self, and attempted to take Teruko down with him. 

And then we get to the part when he gets saved by Atsushi. He says he didn’t mean to stab the chief. Ok fine he didn’t mean to do that, but he still did it even if he regretted it. Can people not show regret for their actions? Goddamn ok. Also the way he spoke to Gogol- that’s not innocent at all he was downright hating on him. “I hate dealing with this decay member the most” bro even was like: Why didn’t you die man. In no way in his speech does he act soft at all I can’t see how you people got that. Maybe it was from his confused reaction? Or something. And just know this it only the 18th novel I’ve covered so far. I’ll do more in a later part :3 but anyways thanks for reading this I hope both sides of ur pillow are cold and I hope this helped you understand sigma better!! 

[sushisocks]

opinions on darragh macguire go 🎤

*grabs the mic with such fervency i almost topple off my soap box*

NO IDEA WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE AND YET I NEED THAT MAN CARNALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Imagine spending YEARS of your life, DECADES, fighting for the independence of your people. From activism to politics, some might call you extreme but if that’s what it takes to make them listen, then that’s what you’ll be.

AND THEN YOU HAVE A KID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! We know NOTHING about the circumstances of Sean’s conception and birth - whether his mother was a woman loved by Darragh who died in childbirth or when he was very young still, or a one-off who didn’t want anything to do with the child once it was born and nursed. 

What we DO know is that Darragh sure as HELL stepped up to the plate!! We know Sean LOVED his dad, that he has LOTS of memories of his dad. Darragh CLEARLY did his damn best raising Sean, sharing what he knew and making Sean feel loved. The fact that Sean is so clearly homesick, probably would not have left Ireland if given the choice, yet does not EVER insinuate blaming his father or carrying any sort of grudge for where he has ended up, speaks TONNES about how Darragh handled having to flee Ireland with his probably-still-rather-young son. 

That man was a GOOD father, who probably had emotional intelligence up the wazoo, and that’s truly NOT a large jump given that we see the same still cooking in Sean. I think Sean in many ways is the spitting image of his father, just younger and less weathered by the world.

“No politics is politics” is still one of the truest, most based, realest fucking lines in the game, and ITS SAID AS A QUOTED FROM DARRAGH BY HIS GODDAMN SON!!!! That tells us SO MUCH about not only where Sean comes from, but also who Darragh was. He might not have had the booksmarts or the means, but he showed Sean a love and sense of being that really did do him well in the long run.

And like, shit man, any Irishman being a menace to the British government at that time (and ever) is a goddamn hero in my book. That’s a man I’d have a fucking drink with, I’ll tell you that.

The BEST goddamn father figure in the entire franchise is a man who we don’t even have a picture of. Darragh MacGuire, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll die on that fucking hill.