#i guess it could be considered one when it's just me rambling about how he actually needs to rest and recover after main patch ew

[joltiion14]

II episode 18 spoilers, BUT HERE'S A HUUUUUGE RAMBLE

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

PAYJAY IS CANON PAYJAY IS CANON I'M FLIPPING THE FUCK OUT YAOI WHEN CAN I HAVE WHAT THEY HAVE

ahem anyways

episode 18 had me and my sister at the edge of our seats HOLY SHIT I LOVED THIS EPISODE... KNIFE X MEPHONE4S GUYS GUYS WHO'S WITH ME... ALSO KNIFE'S SACRIFICE TO SAVE MARSHMALLOW CAME FROM SOME FUCKING PEAK CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. THEY COULD NOT HAVE KILLED KNIFE OFF IN A BETTER WAY THAN THAT. SPEAKING OF SACRIFICES, my boy mepad... MY BOY MEPAD AHAHGSHSHAGHH rest in peace I LOVE YOU MEPAD....

I wanna quickly point out how emotional I got when cobs started threatening and beating mephone4, as a victim of child abuse this hit haaard. they did great writing the dynamic with those two, it felt realistic even in a fictional world. I FELT SO BAD FOR MEPHONE THAT ENTIRE TIME I JUST WANTED TO HUG HIM FUCK YOU COBS.

also I may or may not be a box kinnie now. I GOT SPOILED THANKS TO A THUMBNAIL I SAW OF A LEAKED II18 VIDEO, SO I KNEW BOX WAS GONNA BE IMPORTANT, but holy shit I did not expect them to be one of the most relatable characters the SECOND they came on screen and started explaining their story.

I might get blocked by multiple people for saying this, but since the last 2 episodes, I've been shipping tacophone. HEAR ME OUT. microphone and taco talked things out some, mic forgave taco and understood her and gave her a chance to improve, and so she did, thanks to microphone willingly giving her a chance even after everything. sure, a relationship between the two would be toxic in the previous episodes, and I fully agree. But toxic or unhealthy relationships CAN be fixed if both partners are willing to try and repair their relationship. AND PLUS, THOSE TWO ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER I JUST AAAGHHHH.... I can't get over the fact that soap pulled the "if you hurt her, I will hurt you" kinda thing on taco, once microphone introduced soap to her. I developed a headcanon that mic and soap are like sisters about a year ago and I guess that goes to show some more now

anyways, I CANNOT leave out the fact that SUITCASE FUCKING WON. I FULLY EXPECTED NEITHER OF THEM TO WIN, BUT OH MY GOD DID SHE DESERVE IT. Her and knife both deserved it actually. It's hard to truly decide LMAO

anyways, mephone4 in that episode... I love him your honor he's my new son FUCK YOU COBS. anyways, just like mic and taco, he tried to fix his mistakes with everybody. he apologized to... EVERYONE. Even toilet , who genuinely was someone mephone4 didn't deserve as an assistant considering how much of an ass he was towards him in the earlier season. Even then, toilet stayed with him to the bitter end, and stayed loyal to mephone. And in the end, he got to see mephone4 turn into a better person. Even bad people with the worst backgrounds or childhoods can become better, and that's what Mephone4 did. he apologized, then made the decision to stay away from everybody and give them space after what he did to all of them, and I think that was amazing on his part. He didn't tell them what to do next, and let them all know that they were free, they always were. AND THEN WE GOT THE MASHUP BETWEEN ALL OF THE SONGS IN THE SHOW YEAAAAAAAAA

overall, id rate this episode AND THE ENTIRE SEASON AS A 49/40 (reference heh). Inanimate insanity has been my favorite show for many, many years and I'm so glad it got an ending as good as this one. I will forever be grateful for the show Adam, Brian, Justin and all the rest of the cast managed to create for us. Thank you. PLUS ALL OF MY DREAMS CAME TRUE

except for the fact that lightbulb and paintbrush didn't kiss when can we have that

[teecupangel]

Tags from @crispybureau

#*hums SO happily at more incidentally-trans desmond* #other people's writing #teecupangel #desmond #and once again i star wars on main so you can imagine how enamoured i am by this #have just thought about desmond meeting quinlan throigh obi wan and oh the CHAOS #i like to imagine quinlan drives des up the wall and loves doing so #so theyre not exactly FRIENDS #but i also think quinlan being a nightsister magnet hilarious and fascinating #ALSO i think desmond would be SO interested in psychometry #especially with the caveat of relief that he DIDNT experience bleeds from touching things #oh but i bet he calls psychometry visions Bleeding and people think it's weird and maybe something from dathomir #and im torn on if quinlan would pick it up or not #WAIT ive just had the thought of if phantom menace happened without qui gon #where it's one of obi's last senior padawan missions and as part of that is taking a younger jedi in a supervisory role #hmm probably unrealistic considering im pretty sure Valorum asked for Qui specifically but #fish rambles

(Honestly, I think Desmond uses words or phrases that he’s more familiar with for certain abilities that he ‘acquire’ as a Jedi and as a Nightsister. Like, this is a 21st century human male that would deliberately continue to call Force Lightning as Chain Lightning)

It would be funny if Quinlan thinks he’s cursed when he meets Desmond. ‘Meeting’ nightsisters out in the field during certain circumstances could be explained as their interest intersecting. Something that was bound to happen because of their lifestyles.

But actually being introduced to a ‘Nightsister’ Jedi???

Someone who looked like he could stab Quinlan with a lightsaber on one hand and use Nightsister magic to slice his neck off?

Yeah, Quinlan was cursed to forever have a link to the Nightsisters at this point.

Desmond just tilts his head, wondering why this dude was staring at him so intently.

.

After Quinlan leaves…

“I think your friend has a crush on me.”

Obi-Wan swears Desmond decided to drop that bomb while he was drinking just to make him suffer.

(Counter offer: Obi-Wan is officially Qui-Gon’s Padawan but Qui-Gon is also the only Jedi Master who can actually sorta ‘rein in’ Desmond so Desmond tags along as a kind of ‘intern’)

From @krzys2000

@teecupangel what if Anakin Becomes Desmond padawan not Obi?

Considering we have free reign, we’ll probably make sure Qui-Gon wouldn’t die in this one so he’d be in charge of Anakin. Desmond and Obi-Wan would be the ‘older brother’ who visits regularly and teaches things.

From @siofreed

Quigon's maybe lol XD Poor poor Obi, guess your our new long suffering chewtoy (affectionate) now

Desmond, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan all pass around a single morality compass and it’s usually always with Obi-Wan XD

OK, I know we got a few Star Wars crossover AUs here already, but like

What if Desmond gets reborn into Star Wars as a Zabrak? Specifically a female Dathomirian Zabrak. I say female cause the female Dathomirian's learn force stuff while the males are little more then slaves and do not learn force stuff- they're more warriors though.

Let's have Desmond be younger the Obi-wan but Older then Anakin here.

Desmond was old enough to have remembered his time in Dathomir, learning the very basics of Nightsister's magic and culture before, for some reason or another, he was taken off planet, and not long later, gets taken in by the Jedi due to his force Sensitivity. So about older then 3 but younger then 6 cause, if I remember, 6 years old is the oldest they may take a child in or af least the species' equivalent to 6.

I mention Desmond learning basic Nightsister magic cause, among the things Nightsister's are able to do, they can conjure up spirits of ancestors and other night sister's and such. And with Desmond being Desmond, despite only being taught basics, let's say he's oddly adept in spirit conjuring without even needing the Ichor Dathomir has. Meaning, Desmond summons his ancestors from his previous life, and their presence in general would cause confusion and chaos among the Nightsister even, maybe warrant Desmond being sent away? Unsure how or why he's away from Dathomir.

Least to say, the Jedi having to deal with a child born with Dark Side influences with their clearly Force Ghost they can summon- which, none of them can even understand them but can see the fact they are a good influence and, very reluctantly, do not do anything about Desmond's ancestors as he calls them.

Just- The Force pushing Desmond to interfere with the future events of the galaxy, first being him befriending Obi-Wan around the time Obi-wan is still new to being a Padawan and Desmond's on his way to obtaining his first lightsaber. Maybe they meet at the Archives cause Altair insisted Desmond to read as much stuff as he can.

We might have to mess up the timeline a bit but the reason Desmond was pushed out of the clan could be because the current Mother, Talzin, realized that Desmond is too rigid in certain ways.

They have no qualms with a sister who prefers to be called ‘he’. He was more gifted than most and, whatever he lacked, he makes up through sheer willpower and guile.

His moral compass isn’t black and white but there are certain aspects to it that do appear… impregnable.

It’s because of Desmond’s moral compass that the mother knew he would never agree to siding with Darth Sidius.

In fact, Desmond would absolutely lead them to a civil war if he learns of what Darth Sidius had done just to stop the clan from assisting the Sith Lord and then he’d definitely try to kill Darth Sidius himself.

Talzin knew the child enough to know that he would destroy the stability she was preserving if he remained with them.

But…

Desmond was also one of her most precious students. An orphan she had taken in and nurtured, answered every questions and trained personally.

She cannot kill him even if she knew that it was better than he died here, before he could reach greater magic than she herself could.

So she banishes him, made up some pathetic excuse.

And he didn’t call her out to it.

He didn’t try to plead his innocence.

It was unnerving.

The child knew that he was being banished by the one person that raised him as her own.

And it was like he was expecting it.

No.

That wasn’t right.

It was like…

He didn’t know it was going to happen but, now that it did, he wasn’t surprised by it.

As if it was a given that his mother would leave him.

They sent him in a merchant ship that would tell him about each planet they’d visit and he can leave at any time.

If he wanted to, he can work for the merchant ship and learn the trades.

Talzin believed that he would do well, whatever he turned out to be.

So when she heard of a nightsister wearing the robes of a Jedi…

When she saw a hologram of Desmond, older and composed…

Melding the Force and their magic fluently to destroy all who stand before him with the calmness of a Jedi and the merciless of a Nightsister.

She knew…

It was only a matter of time before he returned to them…

To pass judgment upon the people who abandoned him.

[kokuycku]

as i keep writing little tidbits for dark's ffxiv verse, at least the one where he isn't sharing the title of wol, i always go back to post-endwalker. where dark takes like. a few years or so to fully recover from all the things he had to go through.

sure, he's awake sometimes, but for the first year he's mostly asleep because his body's so worn out that it's required to recover.

the second year is where he has to rehabilitate/relearn everything because he was bedridden for the first year. he can still talk, move his arms and stuff-- but walking, running and doing all his cool tricks? he has to regain the strength, stamina and flexibility to do that again. and that takes a while. probably more than a year, because he has to train his body back to that point.

thankfully, his recovery takes place in radz-at-han. the alchemists there are hardworking and have made multiple medicines to help dark as he recovered from the battles at the edge of the universe. the people are kind and he has a room in the palace itself because he's aided vrtra more than once and helped out during the final days. ect ect msq stuff

i think it takes dark about seven-eight years to be back to normal in solo verse. in dual-wol verse, it takes one because he isn't as worn out as he is in solo verse. like, he's exhausted and stretched to his limits again and again. there's never any proper rest, so it all catches up to him once he's finally able to rest after defeating the endsinger and getting rid of zenos once and for all.

aka: i put dark through hell. oops.

[obstinaterixatrix]

my memory’s pretty spotty but surprisingly I remember a fair amount of lyrics from a song I haven’t listened to since… at minimum 7 years

[odoraful]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

wanderer would prefer not to be stopped on his way home, especially when he's had a hard few days

content: wanderer x gn!reader; established relationship; 'kuni' nickname; pure fluff; just wanderer lowkey being a pathetic lover boy for you; 1.9k words

a/n: nothing else to say here besides i had a lot of fun writing this !! pls enjoy clingy wanderer !!

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“Hat Guy! Do yo-”

“Nope.”

Wanderer deadpanned, not even sparing a look at the scholar who addressed him as he walked past. It was at this point where most people would give up. Students of the Akademiya found that you had to catch the snarky scholar on a good day to strike up a casual conversation with him outside of the classroom. Unfortunately, this person was tenacious enough to not even let such an outright rejection faze him. Wanderer walked faster, only for his peer to match his stride.

“Hold on!” They cried out, slightly breathless from having to speed up. “You’re really not going to let me finish what I’m saying first?”

Wanderer scoffed. “What gave you that impression? My visible irritation? Or the fact that I’m actively trying to outpace you?”

“Hey! You don’t have to be so rude…” They frowned, voice trailing off in disappointment.

Finally giving the person a side-eyed glance, he recognised them to be a fellow Vahumana scholar named Mir. Whilst Wanderer could acknowledge Mir’s intelligence, he was far too soft-hearted for how stubborn he was. At that deflated comment, Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks. Mir wobbled, skidding on his feet to stop as well.

He considered using his flying abilities to leave Mir in the dust. However, this plan was only a fleeting thought as he recalled a stern meeting he had with staff at the Akademiya. They scolded that he wasn’t allowed to use his powers to avoid interaction with his peers. Something about misconduct and lacking etiquette that Wanderer half-remembered, choosing to nod along rather than actually listen to the prattle from the professors.

“Mir.”

He perked up. Wanderer could see his self-esteem reassemble at the mere fact that his name was remembered.

“What do you want?” Wanderer seethed, each word punctuated through gritted teeth.

If Mir felt intimidated at all by Wanderer’s ire, it showed little on his face. He only brightened further, seizing his chance to speak.

“I wanted to see whether you wanted to go to a social event later tonight at Lambad’s! There’ll be free drinks and food, and it’s really just a friendly get together to boost morale. It’s meant to be for us Vahumana scholars to catch each other up on the work we’re doing, and on what’s been going on in our lives,” he rambled.

What could simply be said in a few words Mir incredibly managed to do in multiple sentences. Wanderer let out a loud sigh.

“Mir,” he began, folding his arms. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you’ve just returned from a long and arduous trip from the desert where you’ve used all your energy up to explore ruins. Would you want to spend what little time off you have for the day going to a crowded tavern with people you only barely know?”

Mir stuttered. It was the most Wanderer had spoken to him in one go.

“W-well, that’s a good question! I guess it depends on what kind of-”

“Just answer it.”

Wanderer interrupted, dismissing Mir’s frivolous technicalities with a wave of his hand.

“Alright! Probably not! I’d just want to go home and relax.”

“And there it is,” Wanderer opened his arms wide, like a magician revealing their latest trick, “my response to your invitation.”

He turned smoothly on his heel and walked off. Mir opened his mouth to protest, but none came out. He stood there slack-jawed at his own words being used against him. Fortunately, he didn’t follow any longer.

Wanderer would probably short circuit if he bumped into anyone else right now. What he had told Mir was the truth. He was on his way home from the Akademiya just after returning from a 2 day trip in the desert. He would have enjoyed the expedition far more if his professor hadn’t dragged him out on such short notice. Most likely, she had seen that his schedule wasn’t as busy for the next few days and roped him into a project of ‘great academic importance’. Time that would have been spent doing whatever he wanted to at home had been replaced by sweltering weathers and endless scribing of ancient tomes.

Fate was a truly cruel force. Especially so when it separated him from you without warning. At the thought of his partner, he recalled how he announced his departure. He had to leave that same day, and you had already left for work, so he scrawled a note and left it on the table for you to look at when you returned.

My professor has taken me on an research expedition last minute. I’ll be back in 2 days time. I’ll make it up to you.

Kuni.

Perhaps he would come back to see the same annoyance he had when dealing with Mir on your face at such a lukewarm message.

There was an inexplicable weight in his body when he walked. A dragging emotion that humans would probably label as tiredness. He needed to get home and fast. If he did arrive to a grumpy partner, he wouldn’t mind it. You were the only person who was actually worth dealing with in his eyes.

He looked around. The sun had retreated behind the horizon, and there were only a few people mingling around the street he was on. Perfect. It was empty enough for him to not cause a spectacle. Wind kicked up around him as he swiftly launched upwards, flying high above roofs. This would certainly cut his commute time in half. Quietly, he navigated the familiar streets towards home.

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Dots of yellow emerged below from hanging lamps across the city. The residents of Sumeru were preparing for the night, whether in revelry or idleness. The latter suited you more, as you began to unwind from a day of work and waited for Wanderer to arrive. The news that he needed to leave had surprised and saddened you a little. You were looking forward to spending more time with him over these few days when he wasn’t so busy with classes. If he kept to the words he wrote on that note, however, he would somehow make it up to you.

You held onto that hope as you folded clothes to be put away in the bedroom. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice movement outside as Wanderer approached the window on the second storey. Putting his face closer to the stained glass, your figure was rendered in an orange hue as he peered in. He tapped against the window with a finger.

You jumped with a yelp, turning towards the source of the disruption.

Honestly, you would have welcomed his arrival more warmly if the sight before you wasn’t so unexpected. Now, you couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh. Your boyfriend was hovering outside your bedroom window, staring at you like a rain-soaked cat waiting to be let inside.

You hurried towards the window, but didn’t reach out to open it just yet. Instead, you placed your hands on your hips, cocking your head to the side.

“We have a front door for a reason, you know.”

Even though your voice was muffled, he heard how you spoke in a sing-song manner.

“Well, I’m not at the front door now, am I?” He replied, matter-of-factly. “Mind opening up?”

Gesturing for him to step away a little, you unlatched the window and swung the glass outwards. Cool air immediately washed over your face, tickling your skin. He could hear the mild offense in your voice crystal clear now,

“I cannot believe this is how I’m being greeted after such a sudden departure-“

Your sentence cut off short as the wind got knocked out you.

Your boyfriend crashing into you mid-flight was a quick way to shut you up.

The force caused you to stumble back, falling to sit on the edge of the bed. Only then did the surprise settle in at what he was doing.

Wanderer had you in a tight hug.

Somewhat awkwardly, he was half-sitting in your lap, half-sitting on the bed. Shaking out of your stupor, you encircled your arms around his shoulders. Wanderer let his body fall limp, his feet now on solid ground. He buried his face in your neck.

“A-are you-”

“Don’t say a single word.” He said, voice low in warning. Though, the threat had little weight behind it with how he nuzzled into the hug.

Wanderer didn’t need to breathe to survive, but he had learned to inhale and exhale largely so that others wouldn’t gawk at him for his lack of breathing (he had honestly stopped doing it because of how bothersome it was to keep such a façade. However, after some convincing from Nahida about the necessity to get along with his peers, he begrudgingly adopted the habit once again). For you, it served another purpose. Clearly something or someone had riled him up earlier because his breathing had initially been huffed and short. Now, as he settled against your body, you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, breaths slow and intentional.

“It’s only been 2 days, Kuni,” you pointed out with a soft chuckle.

His violet hair tickled your skin as he shifted his head, propping his chin up on your shoulder. Perhaps it was intentional that he kept his face out of your line of sight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, “I know.”

“Then why are you acting like you haven’t seen me in months?”

Wanderer scoffed loudly. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

It was a shame you couldn’t see his face, for the way he closed his eyes and scrunched his nose in embarrassment at his own clinginess would’ve given you weeks of material to poke fun at him for.

“I think you do because I haven’t the faintest idea why you’re acting like this.”

There was no way he was falling for the fake, sugary innocence in your tone. You were an unstoppable force and he an immovable object. He chose to remain silent as you continued,

“Oh well, I guess I should go and finish folding these clothes if it’s nothing important.”

Abruptly, you removed your arms from him and went to stand. However, the grasp Wanderer had around your waist meant you could barely even move. Even bending over proved to be fruitless for you.

“Those chores can wait,” he muttered, interlocking his fingers together to hold you in place.

Despite knowing that you were messing with him, a small part of him was irritated that you even considered putting such a menial task above him.

You giggled at how touchy he was being. Your boyfriend could hardly come up with a word of affection without looking like he was going to combust, but would stop at nothing at the chance to hold you. You raised a hand to pat his head, smoothing his hair down. Every grievance he had over the past 2 days melted away with each pass of your hand. Archons, he even started to feel like he went a bit too harsh on Mir.

“Don’t worry,” Wanderer could hear the smile on your face as you began gently combing his hair between your fingertips. “I missed you too.”

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[sigilcatt]

your recent seb fic was so cute!! could i request some general sebastian dating headcanons :3?

☆ Sebastian dating hcs ☆

• The fact that you managed to get him as a boyfriend is a win in itself.

• I mean, at first you figured Sebastian hated you, considering the way he would constantly taunt you for your errors, blaming any failure on your incompetence followed by a snarky remark.

"I'm sure the door with breathing behind it is completely safe to open...Urbanshade must be very lucky they have you."

• But despite this, one thing lead to another aaaand now you're dating a 10ft sea monster! Lucky you!

• How did he even fall for you? His guess is as good as yours.

• He lets you stay in his shop as long as you'd like. Tired? Use his tail as a pillow and he'll gently wrap it around you, as if trying to shield you from the creatures outside.

• sometimes you don't even realize you've fallen asleep on him until you wake up to him glossing over a file before smiling down at you. "Sleep well?"

• He'll listen to you rant about whatevers on your mind, a few "Mhm"s and "Really now?"s being his only responses. It's not that he isn't listening, he just finds your rambling endearing and prefers to watch your face practically glow when talking about your interests.

• Petnames aren't too special- He'll randomly throw a "Hun" or "Sweetheart" your way when conversing. I dunno, he just seems like the type to prefer those.

• Prepare to be picked up and placed on his shoulder at least once when around him. He hardly ever gets to be eye-level with you due to the significant height difference, so randomly snatching you up without warning is his best way of doing so.

• He tries to be as gentle as possible, knowing his claws could easily hurt you. Sometimes he'll run a single claw softly down your back. Or maybe he'll use it as a gentle hook to pull you close to him.

• Don't expect the constant teasing and banter to end so soon-in fact, now that you're dating, it seems to have only intensified. But thats a mutual thing between the two of you.

"Give me that flashlight, I need it."

"Ask nicely, then maybe I will."

"Fuck you."

• Blind him with that flashlight of yours if he gets on your nerves, that usually shuts him up.

• But he does secretly get concerned when you leave the shop. He doesn't enjoy the lingering possibility that you could get hurt.

• He might even use a few excuses to get you to stay longer.

"You don't have to work yourself so hard, y'know."

"That crystal isn't going anywhere, why are you rushing?"

"Take your time, hun."

• If you do return to him looking insanely beat up and in desperate need of a medkit, he'll scold you out of concern.

• He can be a huge flirt, loving the reactions he can fish (ha, fish get it?? I'll shut up now.) out of you.

• More about that height difference, since I love that way too much:

• Sometimes you'll find that one particular item you need just out of reach so that you have to ask Sebastian for help.

• It's possible to get him a little flustered, too! Call him pretty/handsome/whatever, that'll do it.

"Yeah, yeah, you're cute. Quit looking at me like that."

• Overall perfect partner.

I'm sooo normal about him. Hahahah lollll *twirls hair* I'm so normal about this guy

[pathologicalreid]

home run | s.r.

in which Spencer and jareau!reader finally get the opportunity to take the next step in their relationship

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: sex bro idk. the sweatshirt. smut with a lot of plot, glasses!spencer, dostoyevsky, paulo coelho, ur crazy if you think i proofread this, flirrrrrrting, protected p in v sex, fingering, heavy petting, post coital dysphoria (why can't i let them simply have a nice time) word count: 4.01k a/n: next on my quest to give fanfic readers realistic sex to read, i give you this! as always, tell me how u feel, my inbox is always open.

“Will you unzip me?” You asked softly, pulling your hair out of the way and turning your back to Spencer, who paused his own disrobing to undo the zipper of your dress.

It’d been a long day, the light hours spent in the BAU, and the evening spent at Rossi’s, who wanted to get at least one more cookout in before the weather turned. You’d finally reached the end of your day, and for the first time, you were spending it with Spencer.

Facing away from him still, you let the fabric drop to the floor, taking your sweatshirt from your go bag and tugging it over your head. Spencer hummed from behind you, “I can’t believe you still wear that.”

A small smile formed on your face as you turned around. “It’s comfortable,” you justified, the old FBI Academy sweatshirt had previously lived in Spencer’s apartment, but you’d claimed it for yourself nearly two years ago. It had the perfect amount of wear, making it one of your favorites—among other reasons.

You tried not to let your eyes linger while Spencer changed, instead focusing on details in his room that you’d never seen before and making note of what books he kept on his nightstand. “It’s old,” Spencer responds plainly, putting on an old MIT t-shirt and reaching out for you, grabbing your waist and pulling you close.

Before being with Spencer, you wouldn’t have considered yourself the kind of person to take things slowly, but with him, that was the only option you were willing to consider. You were so scared of things being ruined with him that you only made moves when you knew you were absolutely ready. Maybe that was why it took you nearly two years before the two of you started dating, but he was willing to walk the tightrope with you.

You walked around the bed, sitting up on the mattress and watching him go into the bathroom, “So, what do you want to do tonight?” He asked from the bathroom, coming back out with his glasses on and leaning against the doorframe.

Humming, you look over at him, “Didn’t think that far ahead?” A teasing lilt carried through your question, cocking your head as he made his way over to you. He’d asked you on Monday if you’d like to spend Friday night at his place, and he had seemed surprised when you accepted his offer.

“I have a few ideas, but I wanted to see if there was something specific you had in mind. Since you’ve already interrupted your usual schedule to stay here, I wanted to give you a choice,” he rambled. He always rambled when he was nervous.

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “Spence?”

With him standing in front of you, you studied his eyes. His contacts had a blue tint to them, so seeing him in his glasses was really your only opportunity to see his eyes as they truly appeared. “Yeah, baby?”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, “We don’t have to do anything special. What would you be doing if I weren’t here?”

“Reading,” he told you unabashedly.

Honestly, you should’ve guessed that. “Okay, then we can read. Do you have a book I can borrow?”

Spencer nodded, “You’re welcome to anything, but are you sure? We could find a movie to watch instead.”

“We don’t have to do anything special just because it’s our first night together, and besides, reading side by side sounds nice,” you told him, waving off his concerns about entertainment and walking into the living room, scanning over his extensive collection. Plucking one off the shelves, you return to Spencer, watching him pull the covers down on the bed, preparing both yours and his side.

You set your book on the nightstand and climbed up on the mattress, his box spring causing it to be almost precariously high. “The Alchemist?” He questioned, reading the title of the book that you had selected.

Tracing the title with your fingertip, you shrugged, “I’ve never read it. Should I pick a different book?”

He shook his head in response, “No, and I don’t want to influence your opinion with mine.”

“Well, what are you reading?” You peered over to look at the book in his hands, reading the cover, “How many times have you read that book?” Since you started dating four months ago, he’d read Crime and Punishment at least three times.

Flipping the book back open, Spencer went back to the pages, “I’ve never read this version before, the editor decided to publish his thoughts along with the translated text.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “And what are your thoughts on that?”

“I think his translation of the original Russian is perfectly adequate, but his comments read like a high schooler who was forced to read the book for a class,” he explained, his hand absentmindedly resting on your bare thigh once you settled into the bed.

Humming, you opened your book, reading the foreword and trying to ignore Spencer’s hand placement. There was no reason to lose your mind over a little thigh touching.

Once you made it to the beginning of the actual story, you became vaguely aware of Spencer’s thumb rubbing small circles on the inside of your thigh, leading to you closing the book and setting it back on the bookshelf. Taking a deep breath, you rolled onto your side, leaving Spencer to move his hand from your skin, and you rested your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at him, watching his lips move as he read the words on the page, you felt very lucky to have this part of Spencer. The Spencer who let his glasses slide to the very bottom of his nose and had an affinity for reruns of cartoons from the eighties. “Are you alright?” He whispered once he finished his chapter, reaching an arm up to ruffle your hair affectionately.

“Mhm,” you murmured, “Don’t feel like reading.”

Gently, Spencer craned his head to drop a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose, eliciting a small smile from you. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said softly.

As odd as it seemed, you liked watching him read, at the very least, it was impressive to watch. You kept your eyes on him, watching how intently he focused on the book despite having read it several times before.

He looked back down at you, catching you staring, “Can I kiss you?”

The question took you by surprise, but you nodded in response, looking at him as he ducked his head down and pecked your lips. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, putting his free hand in front of his mouth as he went back to reading.

In his defense, his resolve lasted for one more chapter, turning the page before snapping the book shut and resting it on his nightstand. Spencer turned his head to yours again, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you responded, unsure about where he was headed with this. Opening your mouth to ask him a question only to be met with his lips on yours, he took his time now, resting a hand on the side of your neck, the pad of his thumb at the hinge of your jaw as he held you close.

Tentatively, he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, and that single motion drew a small moan from the back of your throat, causing you to pull away from Spencer.

Your eyes were wide in surprise, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

Spencer shook his head, pulling at your waist, “C’mere,” he said, encouraging you to straddle him, your knees on either side of his hips, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, leaning forward and resting your hands on his chest, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “This is okay,” you whispered against his lips.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t made out before, it was usually just on the couch, or in Spencer’s reading chair, or one time when you were the only two on the jet. This—making out in his bed—it felt different somehow.

Coming back up for air, you looked up at Spencer, a giggle escaping your throat as you tried to meet his eyes. “Oops,” you said, his glasses had fogged up while you were kissing, so you leaned back while he took them off, resting them on his nightstand.

Spencer rested his hands on your hips, his thumbs gently massaging over your hip bones as you studied his expression, “Honey,” he said, suddenly serious, “I want you to know that I didn’t invite you to spend the night with this in mine.”

He was drawing the same conclusions as you, but still, you looked at him doubtfully, “Do you mean to tell me that the prospect of sex didn’t even cross your mind when it came to inviting me to spend the night?”

A soft pink bloomed across his cheeks, you found yourself wanting to kiss them, “Okay, maybe it occurred to me that we might find ourselves in this position.”

You straightened up slightly, “So, I trust you have a condom.”

Nodding, Spencer reached a hand up and smoothed your hair back with the kind of tenderness that made you want to cry. “I do, but we don’t have to have sex tonight, okay?”

“But I want to,” you responded, maybe a tad too quickly. Your face warms, “I mean… I’d like to. If you want to.” With an air of finality, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, one of your hands found a home in his hair while the other rested on his collarbone.

As if on cue, the phone started to ring. An incessant blare designed to wake you up in case you were being called in in the middle of the night. Spencer chuckled as you dramatically dragged yourself off of his lap and dug through your bag for your phone.

If it were Penelope or Hotch, you’d answer without a second thought, but the caller ID showed your sister on the other line. You declined the call, texting her an excuse before leaving your phone on the nightstand.

Spencer dragged his fingertips down your arm, “Who was it?”

“JJ,” you told him leaning back over his torso and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I’ll call her back later,” you continued, kissing the other corner of his mouth.

He hummed in response, settling his hands on your waist, “Tomorrow?” He proposed, gently guiding your back to the bed.

Nodding, you looked up at him, “Tomorrow,” you confirmed, sighing contently as your legs fell open, giving him the room he needed to rest his body between them. You’d never felt so at ease in bed with someone, no one had ever touched you so carefully before.

“Good,” he whispered against your lips, gently parting them with his own as you looped your arms over his shoulders, “Hold on,” he said, pulling back and climbing off of the bed.

Your eyes followed him intently as he stopped in front of his go bag, unzipping the side pouch and pulling out a familiar-looking box. “You’ve been keeping condoms in your go bag?” Your question is succeeded by a fit of giggles, any nervousness disappearing at the realization that Spencer’s been carrying contraception with him all day.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer lobbed the box at you, but you were still laughing too hard to be bothered by the lightweight box hitting your arm. “Excuse me for wanting to be prepared,” he teased back, climbing up on the bed and finding a spot right next to you.

“No, you’re right,” you said, continuing to giggle despite your best attempts to stop. “Okay, I’m sorry, let me put on my serious face,” you pressed your lips together in a thin line, holding them together with your teeth as you tried to stop any giggles from escaping. “You would make a great boy scout,” you told him, failing to keep a straight face.

Sighing, Spencer kissed your smiling lips, giving you a soft peck between every word he said.

“You’re.”

Kiss.

“So.”

Kiss.

“Cute.”

By the final kiss, you’re ready to ascend into the heavens. Knowing you can die happy because you’ve known what it’s like to love him. You’re not even worried about the fact that he chose to call you cute as opposed to hot or sexy. Spencer’s never let you consider the idea of being someone other than who you are.

“I love you,” you whispered, looking at him as he positioned himself between your legs again, taking your lower lip between your teeth because this time you could feel his length. Even through three layers of fabric, his hardness pressed against your core in a way that made your head spin.

Spencer hummed, “I love you too.” His tone was careful as his hands slipped up your sweatshirt, a totem to show where the two of you started and where you are now. His fingers wandered over your skin, an exploration of your body as the hem of the sweatshirt started riding up your waist, “your heart is racing.”

You sat up, trying to encourage him to take your sweater off, “You have that effect on me.” You took a deep breath as he followed your cue and pulled your sweatshirt over your head, once he tossed it to the hamper, you pushed at his t-shirt, whipping it off his body without a care in the world.

He was just looking at you, just studying you in the way someone would look at a piece of art. Feeling encouraged, you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting the fabric fall off of your chest before dropping it just off the side of the bed. “Pretty,” he breathed, leaning forward to kiss you again, his lips making their way along your jawline, along the column of your throat, and just below your collarbones. “Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmured, rendered uncharacteristically at a loss for words at the sight of you topless.

You gasped as his lips attached themselves to your chest, sucking at the soft skin and leaving little love bites behind. He moved his hand to gain better balance, leaving one at the side of your head, “Ow, Spence,” you yelped.

Spencer’s head snapped up, “Are you okay?” He asked, more fear in his voice than was strictly necessary for the issue.

“Your hand is on my hair,” you said, moving your hair behind your head when he instantly moved his hand.

He dropped a kiss to your forehead, oddly domestic for the state of undress you were in, “I’m sorry, honey.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay, c’mere,” you whispered, placing your hand on the back of his head and guiding his lips to yours. Slowly, you extend your free arm between your bodies, slipping your hand between the elastic of his briefs and his stomach, wrapping your hand around his shaft.

He moaned into your mouth at the contact, his lips faltering against yours as you ran your thumb over the tip, gathered his precum on your finger, and withdrew your hand, bringing your hand up to your separated mouths and sucking the liquid off of your thumb. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, reattaching his lips to your neck, bringing his lips further down your chest until he took your nipple in his mouth, nipping at it gently with his teeth while his fingers wandered up to play with your other breast, massaging the flesh.

“Oh,” you breathed, looking up at the ceiling fan and trying to stop your hips from bucking up as his mouth separated from your breast with a wet pop, his hand skimming down your torso and stopping just above the hem of your underwear, looking to you for permission before he exposed your core.

Slowly, he hooked his fingers in the sides of your panties and dragged them down your legs, leaving them on the mattress for you to find easily as he pushed your knees apart. His hand made its way to your pussy, fingers dragging lazily up and down your slit, “Is this okay?”

Nodding, “Yeah,” you answered, bracing yourself for the intrusion of his fingers, but you were surprised when it didn’t come yet. Instead, his index finger pressed gently against your clit, softly rubbing at the bundle of nerves, trying to prepare you. A soft whine escaped your lips at the sight, “Will you kiss me?” You asked, your eyes wide and pleading with him.

Obliging your wishes, he left his hand in its place while he pressed his lips against yours, you slid your tongue into his mouth, running the tip of it along his bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth as he played with your clit, need growing in your core as his fingers moved.

“Ah,” you gasped against his mouth when he slipped a finger into your hole, separating your lips while you tipped your head back against the pillows. “Oh, wow,” you breathed at the feeling of him knuckle-deep in you, his finger remaining still while you adjusted to the intrusion.

Spencer hummed, bringing his head back down and resting it on your tummy while he curled his fingers in your cunt. You brought your hands down to rest on his head, tugging at his hair while he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, wet squelching sounds emanating from your core as he did.

A moan was ripped from your throat when he added another finger to the mix, stretching your pussy even further while you felt your walls contract around his hand. “Spence,” you breathed, moaning again at the sensations that were coursing through your body, “Spence, baby.”

He tore his eyes away, looking up at you while his hand slowed slightly—just in case, “What do you need, honey?”

Honey. The sweet pet name plucked at your heartstrings as you propped yourself up on your elbows, “I’m— Can we...?” You started, not sure how to proposition him. Can we have sex? Seemed like too little too late. Will you make love to me? Made you want to throw up in your mouth a little bit. “Will you fuck me?” Was what you settled on, albeit a bit crude, but it was your best option at the time.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, eliciting a whimper from you at the emptiness, he reached over for the box of condoms that he had previously thrown at you, handing the box to you so he could shed his boxer briefs.

Staring at the way his cock stood at attention, you considered wrapping your mouth around him, just for a moment, but Spencer didn’t seem interested in anything other than doing what you’d asked of him. Instead, you reached out your hand and wrapped your fingers around the base. He was already plenty hard, but you felt the need to reciprocate pleasure, which is why you were surprised when he moved your hand before you could even start.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, and you nodded a response, telling yourself you’d remember to return the favor in the future. Maybe in the morning.

Handing him a lavender packet, you watched as he carefully tore the package open, pinching the tip and rolling the condom over himself. “Is this good?” You asked, lying on your back as you watched him settle back between your legs, your breath hitched as his cock lined up with your entrance.

Spencer nodded, “You’re perfect. I’ll go slow, okay?” He rubbed at your thigh comfortingly, waiting for you to give him another okay before he started pushing into you. Between your wetness and the added lubrication of the condom, he slid in with little resistance, but he took it slowly, just like he had promised.

He watched you the whole time with the knowledge that you hadn’t had sex in years, the last thing he’d want to do was cause you any pain.

Once he was fully sheathed in you, you buried your face in his neck, pressing little kisses to his soft skin as you focused on anything other than the pressure in your core.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, he didn’t even have to ask you for the reassurance. “I’m— fuck,” you cried out, unable to help the way your walls tightened around his cock. “You can move,” you told him, your voice muffled against his neck.

He inhaled sharply as he pulled his hips from yours before slowly pressing them back together, “I love you.”

You nodded, “I love you too,” you murmured, muffling your moans in his neck as a courtesy to his neighbors, unable to control them as his tentative thrusts turned into a steady rhythm. Carefully thrusting into you while he moved one of his hands up, intertwining your fingers with his at the side of your head—minding his hand placement.

Hooking your ankles together behind his back, you squeezed his hand at the same time as your cunt clenched around his length. He continued fucking into you, pushing your legs open even further until he hit a spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Spence,” you cried out, trying to warn him about your impending orgasm before it washed over you. Your walls uncontrollably clenched around him as you fully muffled yourself against him, soft squeaks escaping your mouth as he kept going, the pulsating of your pussy driving him even closer to his own orgasm.

His hips stuttered in their movements as you pulled your face from his neck, breathing the cool air as Spencer spilled his cum into the condom. His head drooped, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone as the both of you caught your breath. “I’m gonna pull out,” he warned you, carefully slipping his softened cock from your hole.

A slight panic came over you as you felt tears well up in your eyes faster than you could process them, hiccupping for air as they fell down into your hairline.

That got Spencer’s attention, lifting himself and looking at you, “Hey,” his voice was so soft, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Bordering on babbling, you shook your head, “No, I’m fine,” you cried, more tears falling from your face. “I don’t even know why ‘m crying,” you told him, resting a hand on your chest.

“Shh, hey,” Spencer cooed, “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Gingerly, he laid down on his back and pulled you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest as he smoothed your hair back comfortingly. “There are just a lot of emotions going through you right now, and that’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me.”

You nodded slowly, “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, having ruined a perfect first time by bursting into tears immediately after.

Spencer pressed a tentative kiss to your hairline, “It’s okay, there’s no need to be sorry. It’s completely normal,” he murmured, one hand in your hair and the other rubbing circles on your back. “You’re alright. Hey, it’s called post-coital dysphoria, and it happens to about forty-six percent of people,” he told you.

Despite yourself, you gave a breathy laugh, “I feel like you’re making that up so I’ll feel better.” You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with your fingers.

“It’s a real thing, I promise,” he reassured you, continuing to comfort you until tears stopped falling. “Hey, what do you say we get cleaned up and we can watch something in bed.”

You hummed in response, “You don’t like screens in your room, you say it messes with your REM sleep.”

“It does mess with your REM sleep, but I’d be willing to make an exception for you tonight,” he said, smiling softly when you lifted your head from his chest. “Come on, honey. I’ve got you.”

[anniflamma]

So I’ve received a couple of anonymous messages telling me that they were really disappointed in me for liking Elian's Antinous fanart. Instead of answering them individually, I’m just going to make an angry rant post instead. Most of if probably won't make sense anyway.

This post have talk about SA, and homophobia. Be aware. I don’t ship genuinely Telemachus and Antinous, if that’s what you’re wondering. I didn’t even consider the possibility that ship could even exist. At the end of the day, I don't care about that ship.

And do you want me to explain that I know SA is bad? Or that I’m aware Telemachus/Antinous is a toxic ship? Do you think I’m dumb and don’t know that? You don't have to explain to me either, I know that SA is bad, I have experienced it, you don't have to explain to me, trust me I know.

I like Elian's art because it’s really beautiful. Her work is a huge inspiration and encouragement for me when making animatics. But do I REALLY have to spell out, word for word, that I know Antinous is an antagonist and tries to do bad things? Does it mean every time someone draws Antinous and I like it, I have to explain that I like the drawing because it’s well done, not because I support Antinous’ intent toward Penelope and wants to kill Telemachus?

I mean, I’ve seen tons of thirsty comments like, "I hate how Zeus treats women, but your design is really hot" or "Even if Poseidon SA Demeter, this Poseidon I'd go down on all fours for!"

I have seen some stuff….

I guess I could just imitate something like that????

But I know it’s a joke and I know its a fantasy that someone is expressing. Its not real, its fictional. I know all those thirsty ppl who simp over Poseidon, Zeus, or even Antinous aren’t supporting hatred and violence toward women. And yes, I am expecting that you should already know this too. Because if we gonna assume the worst of ppl… Then everyone who likes Greek myth/Epic the musical are pro SA. "Do you like Crice from Epic the musical? That means that you support her actions, you support SA!" "Oh you like Odysseus?! He killed a baby and all of his female slaves cuz they got SA by the suitors! You support infanticide, slavery and SA!" Do you hear how dumb that sounds? To be honest, I wouldn’t be that surprised if there are some who think like this. I mean, this discussion wouldn’t even be a thing, right.

And if you don’t know, I literally make thirst art of Poseidon (and that includes Zeus and Hermes), and you don’t see it as a bad thing??? It’s Poseidon… Do you know what he has done to women in the myths?!

Im going to ramble here and I will bring up stories from greek myth that have SA in it. So be aware.

One example is the story of Caeneus. When Caeneus was a woman, his parents left him to take care of the house while they were out running errands. Poseidon took that as an opportunity to break into the house and sexually assault him. This is probably the only myth where Poseidon actually feels bad after what he did, so he grants Caeneus a wish. Aww, how sweet~~~ /sarcasm.

Do I need to give an example of Zeus? We all know what Zeus does. But hey, I’ve made Poseidon/Hermes ship art. And guess what? There’s a story where Hermes breaks a woman’s leg so she can’t run away from him, and then he sexually assaults her. Isn’t that cute~~! /sarcasm

Heck, I can even go on with my biblical ships. David/Jonathan—David, a serial assaulter and murderer, and Jonathan, a mass murderer. But do I support their actions? No, I do not support mass murder, and its really dumb that I have to spell it out for you.

Daniel/Darius is even questionable too! It's literally a king and his servant, and that power imbalance is so big I don’t know what to tell you! Do I have to spell it out that I know that, in real life, king/servant relationships aren’t cute at all?!

All of these characters that I’ve listed have done or represent horrible things. And I have to tell you that I don't support their actions?! Really? You really can't think outside the box?

But do you see what I’m trying to tell you? We can simp over other ancient mythological figures but Antinous is the red line that we can never cross??? It’s hypocritical and immature, that’s what it is.

Right now, ppl loves the Ody seduces Zeus art I made. And that "ship" is well really questionable too! But nobody have called me a witch and tries to burn me at the stake yet. 😐

And the thing is, I can separate these fictional characters from the real world. I can also separate the fictional material from other fictional interpretations. Exemple, I like The Song of Achilles, in it, they are the same age, but I am also aware that in the Iliad, Achilles is 16 and Patroclus is 26. But do I automatically assume that Madeline Miller likes teens? No! Do I assume that everyone who likes The Song Of Achilles like that shit? No!

But we still can have a disscussion about it without making it into a witch trial.

As long as we can separate different fictional materials, then everything is fine. It only becomes a problem if a person can’t separate them. Then we have a problem. I can acknowledge that my depiction of King David from the bible is not the same as from the original story and that he is horrible person towards women. If I couldn't acknowledge that, then its bad! The same goes for Antinous if someone makes an AU or headcanon about him. If someone want so make AUs about Antinous, my first thoughts isnt "Oh they like to SA ppl!". At the end of the day, this is just a group from tiktok who didn’t like a toxic ship and decided to bully an artist while acting like they have superior morals.

And I get this type of shit from christians when I make my queer bible interpitations, both from those that don't like the queer stuff but also those that points out that David and Jonathan were horrible ppl.

So I rarely answer comments like this because they usually end up spewing beliefs filled with homophobia and Islamophobia. Heck rasism sometimes, apparently, Christians don’t know that the Bible takes place in the Middle East, and they are angry at me for drawing them looking like Arabs! I just delete their comments before they gets there. Making queer biblical animatics on TikTok that go viral on the Christian side is not fun at all guys....

And hate to say it but tiktok Epic fans sound really similar. You are acting like you’re on a pedestal, holier than thou. Its just a different font.

+ I haven’t forgotten all those homophobic comments I got on my David/Jonathan animatic that I posted right after my Ruthlessness animatic. Epic fans were saying they didn’t want “that gay shit” and wanted to see more Epic stuff. Hate to break it to you all, but the Epic fandom isn’t that innocent.

[feefivefoe]

I guess I'm unintentionally working my way up the age ladder, so Jason next-

This is the first part that contains backstory stuff I gave my reader, so unfortunately this is where a lot of the "they can be anyone" immersion dies, sorry y'all.

Genuinely, he thought he might hate you at first. Even at the preteen age of 12, where children were usually trying to start striving to independence, you had been so...bland.

It's not that you didn't stand out. Quite the contrary. Anywhere Alfred could be found, you were just a step or two behind him. A leech. Only ever speaking in a hushed voice, making the old man strain himself to hear you, surely.

He doesn't think you've ever even looked him in the eye.

It isn't until that summer he starts connecting the dots. You still cling to long sleeved shirts, pants over shorts, even when it's clear you're struggling to not overheat.

Then he catches you in the kitchen in the middle of the night, t-shirt and pajama shorts.

Burn marks, healed yet gruesome, decorate your arms and legs. Based on how they're positioned, he'd argue they probably exist on the rest of your body, too.

And yet, despite his invasion of what you clearly(?) wanted kept hidden, you merely bow your head in shame and offer a meek apology.

That's when he stops seeing you as a problem, but as a victim of consequence.

Not a bratty child who doesn't care enough about the lower class to speak to your new 'sibling,' but a lonely child who had never even once considered he might want to speak to you.

"Mister Wayne and Mister Grayson are very busy." You had said once, matter of factly rather than bitter or sad. "I'm sure they'd spend time with me if they weren't. But they have two lives, so they have less time than anybody."

He doesn't have the heart to tell you that they make time for him. And the rest of Gotham.

As you do with Alfred, you begin to shadow him. Meandering behind him without a care as to what his plans are, happy to receive the barest of acknowledgments.

You hesitate when speaking about yourself, as though taking up his time with mentions of you is an issue. He's starting to understand why.

Jason isn't sure if it's pity or growing affection that keeps him around, at first. For a while, he sees you as more of a sad, wet dog than as his family.

But you begin to connect with peers at school, finding validation outside of those that feel forced to give it to you. You mature, grow up more than you should, and realize the reality of your home life.

And Jason is thrilled! ...and...a little sad? He's happy for you, sure. Having friends is probably what you needed. People who want you around, genuinely. Who choose to make time for you.

But he'd be lying if he said that the way you used to stare at him didn't make him feel like a hero. Like he was doing so much, changing your world, simply by existing.

You still speak, of course. You're friendly siblings that get along well. You give him various foods you've tried making, courtesy of Alfred inspiring a desire to learn to cook and bake on your own. You talk about books you've read together, and listen intently while he rambles about his favorites.

You even peek in after particularly rough patrol nights, just to make sure he's gotten through it okay.

But it isn't...quite the same. No, but it's...it's for the best.

And he is still a hero! As Robin, he's protecting the whole city alongside Batman!

So he's still a hero.

He's still your hero.

"Jay? I was wondering if I could ask you for some help. The show my club is doing is one of those old books you like-"

"They aren't that old."

"-and my character doesn't show up much in the movie-"

"You watched the MOVIE before reading the book!?"

"-so I wanted to ask if you'd help me with characterization!"

He remembers groaning at you and rolling his eyes. "I'm busy tonight. Go watch the dumb, BAD, movie again." He pauses. "Uh, but I can tomorrow. I'll make sure I don't have anything planned, promise."

He saw you pause, and sees the constant same promises pass through you.

"I...have other arrangements. I'll make it up to you next time."

"Ah...sorry, kiddo! Big kid stuff. But next time! You trust your big bro, yeah?"

But this is Jason. Jason doesn't lie to you.

Jason keeps his promises.

You smiled. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

...

Then he died.

[yulin-pop]

⤷ ✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲

order 84 | Scenario | Cater, Jade, Idia, Silver | gender neutral

❀ NOTE: PRETTY BOYS AHHHH, I wonder if all the characters are canonically attractive or are some characters like Ace considered mid?

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so…”

➺ Cater Diamond

There’s a reason why Cater has so many followers on MagiCam. It’s because he has a cute face!! You’re not sure if he’s aware but he just has to be.

He does these tiny things like brushing the hair out of his face or slightly turning his head when he laughs. You didn’t really realize how pretty he was for a while. Sure, you got nervous just staring at him but now you can’t even look him in the eye.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so hot…”

He blinked for a moment. He was in the middle of drying his hair when you said that. All he could think is “Oh wow?” He noticed that you’ve been staring at him so intensely for the past few days— maybe weeks.

But you said it straight to his face? He thought he misheard you at first but you definitely said that.

“Wow, I didn’t know you fancied me that way MC!” Admittedly it did fluster him, he was flattering in the best way possible.

“Don’t get it twisted, it’s not in the way you’re thinking!”

You’re in denial.

⊱Jade Leech

He has that certain look to him. It’s different than Floyd even though they’re identical twins. Maybe he’s not aware how MMMMMMM he is but he has to.

Just the way he looks at you can get you weak on the floor. His eyes… You noticed how his eyes squint ever so slightly when he’s focused. He’s calm under any circumstances yet so amusing in his own way. He’s the type of person you’d want to follow around just for the fun of it. And in his own way… he’s just so damn cute too.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so cute…”

He quickly turned his head to stare at you. He’s not sure what you mean or why. It was so out of the blue. You’ve been stalking him for a while. Of course he knew and allowed it and treated it as if it was normal.

“Pardon? In what way am I… cute?” He turned his head curiously.

“Cute!” You said again.

He wasn’t sure how to feel, the last time someone called him cute was when he was a little kid. Most people would think of Jade as alluring or handsome, cute is something he hasn’t heard in a while.

“If you’re talking about my appearance, you must think Floyd is cute as well.” He says while smiling at you.

“Eh I guess so. But he’s not as cute as you.”

He moved closer, “Tell me, what else do you think of me?”

You put your hands out in front of you, as if to say stop. “Why do you have to be so close..?!”

*ੈ Idia Shroud

It’s already canon that Idia is very attractive from the character archives book and the ghost marriage event while being complete oblivious. He’s charming in his own way.

It’s hard to believe he’s so oblivious to his good looks. His smile is nerdy yet… attractive. His personality is rough but that’s what makes him so fun. Teasing someone like him is hilarious.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so hot.”

He immediately cranked his head your direction with a baffled expression. He shook his head and let out an irritated squeal.

“Wh-who says stuff like that to somebody’s face?! Online I get it but this is IRL! Why does someone like you even think that?”

He just gets really flustered and ends up rambling about how it doesn’t make sense. But when he looks back on it, it gives him an ego boost for a few minutes and then he’s embarrassed because— it makes him happy that you think of him that way.

-ˋˏ Silver

Unintentional or not, Silver has been seeing you around a lot. He doesn’t think much of it since you’re in the same school so it’s not anything crazy but when he does see you, you’re always staring at him with this… funny expression.

Did he do something wrong? He tries to wave at you when he can but as soon as he turns his head you run away or start acting like you weren’t the one staring first.

But what were you suppose to do? Whenever you saw him, all your attention was diverted to his gentle yet sharp expression. His resting face was already so deadly, you couldn’t imagine if he were to smile.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re so pretty…”

He froze with a puzzled look on his face. This was one of the times you actually started a conversation with him instead of staring and running away and you say something so flirtatious?

“Ah…” He blinked as you gazed into his eyes nervously, “Thank you I suppose.” But in what way was he suppose to take that?

[strangerstilinski]

𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; stiles lets it slip that he hasn't had his first kiss yet and, as his friend, you're more than happy to remedy that.

warnings; no use of y/n, fluff, established friendship, some pretty intense kissing, one instance of reader being referred to as a girl

word count; +3.5k

a/n; no smut here, but i am currently planning a couple nsfw pieces to work on between bouts of writing my ongoing (long suffering) stiles fic.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! it would actually mean the world to me

“-And it was just.. So wet. Way, way too much spit, y’know? And there was entirely too much tongue on his part considering the fact that his hands, like, never even left his pockets-”

You’re not entirely sure how, nor at what point, the conversation devolved into a mostly one-sided and incredibly detailed analysis of Mark Hagan’s kissing technique, or lack thereof, but by the time your eyes fall to the boy sitting in the driver’s seat, you realize that you’ve been rambling for at least a full minute in the patchy darkness of the parked car.

“-And I’m not saying I wanted to be groped or anything but, I mean, it’s a little awkward when a guy just-”

You falter suddenly, when you notice the awkward slump in Stiles’ posture, and your words taper out without warning. He has one hand white-knuckled on the steering wheel and the other gripped tightly on the back of the seat where he’d turned to face you when he first asked how your date had gone the night before. And- God. That had been minutes ago, now.

“Sorry,” You apologize immediately with a grimace, “Was that, like, way too much information? Sorry.”

“No, I, uh,” He releases the steering wheel and shakes out his hand as if only just realizing how tight his grip had truly been. Your eyes are embarrassingly distracted by the long line of his fingers as he continues, “I guess I just didn’t realize how many things you could do wrong, y’know? I assumed it’d be more straight forward than that. You lean in, press your lips together, kiss, done. Right?”

You laugh softly at his rushed response, “I mean, I guess. I’d like to think there’s a little more skill that goes into it than that.”

“And, uh, Mark..” Stiles has been seemingly overwhelmed with reasons to dislike the other boy since you’d announced your upcoming date the week before, and he nearly spits the name with disdain when he says it now. “No skill, huh? Not quite, uh.. Not up to your standards?” He’s fiddling with the straw from his long-finished milkshake as he speaks, eyes downcast and determinedly focussed on his fingers, “Considering the overabundance of tongue, the lack of groping, and the, uh.. All-around wetness-?”

Another small huff of laugher escapes you as you drop your own empty cup into the greasy paper bag the diner had stuffed your to-go order into a half hour before, your socked feet returning to the Jeep’s dashboard only a moment later.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You fight back a cringe at the mere memory of the drool that coated Mark’s chin when you’d finally decided you’d had enough and pulled away.

“What about you?”

His question catches you off guard and your brows furrow as you meet his gaze, “What about me?”

He twists and folds the straw of his drink with more vigor, nose crinkling before he elaborates, “What would you say your, uh.. Your skill level.. is?”

You pitch forward to grab one of the few remaining curly fries from the container perched by your feet on the dash, falling back into your seat and munching slowly as you genuinely ponder the question.

“I think I’m probably alright,” You shrug after a moment, “I mean, it’s hard to say, right? But I’ve never had any complaints. And considering Lydia is, like, the queen of complaining-”

You’re caught off guard by the entirely inhuman squawk of disbelief and surprise that escapes him. He’s scrambling in his seat with no real purpose before he slowly comes back to a standstill, now sitting just a few inches closer to the passenger side than he was before.

“Lydia? You.. You and Lydia have-?”

You shrug again as you wipe your greasy fingertips on the leg of your jeans, “Yeah, like, twice. Maybe three times?”

“Three-?”

“What about you?” You interrupt.

You tip your head against the backrest to look at him in the dim light of the parking lot as you await his response. The Jeep is barely getting hit with the residual light from the windows of the diner, but the bright neon sign on the roof of the building casts a pretty red hue over Stiles’ face. His mole-dotted skin is flushed with it, the only bits safe from the red-tinted glow are the shadows beneath his brows and the tiny divot in the tip of his nose that extends up from his cupid’s bow. You want to trace the darkness on his skin with the tip of your finger — with your lips.

You find yourself getting lost in just how gorgeous he is, not for the first time.

“Huh?” Stiles asks dumbly.

“Skill level,” You elaborate with a grin, lifting one foot from the dash to poke your toes into his knee, “What about you? Are the girls positively swooning? Melting under your touch? ‘Oh, Stiles. You’re the best kisser on this side of the Rockies-’”

Your teasing is silenced when his hand comes out to cover your mouth, long fingers trapping the words beneath your lips. Your knee is squished awkwardly between you, but he’s so warm you can feel the heat of his body seeping into your own, and the scent of his body wash fills your nose now rather than the lingering smell of grease from your shared dinner. You can hardly focus on his words as the smell of teakwood and pine invades your senses.

“No one in their right mind would ever say something like that after being kissed,” He tells you, face pinched in a cringe, “Like, not even something remotely along those lines. Not even in those weird old-timey romance movies you make me w-”

You grab ahold of his fingers to pull his palm from your lips with a small giggle, “Oh, c’mon, the suspense is killing me! Are you a good kisser or not?” Your mind is reeling a bit as you think about it. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to kiss Stiles, to feel his lips on your own, his hands on you. “I feel like you probably are. Just the right about of enthusiasm but you’re also a total perfectionist so it’d-”

“I don’t know!”

His exclamation is entirely too loud for the confined space of the car, his voice ricocheting sharply off the metal shell of the vehicle and causing you both to flinch a little. Stiles looks as if he wishes he could stuff the words back into his mouth and try again. You’re simply looking him over with a more critical eye, searching for the reason for his recent outburst as if it might be written plainly on his face, like you might find big emboldened letters of explanation etched across his skin.

“What’d’you mean you don’t know?” You scoff in amusement, “Y’know what? Fine-” You shuffle closer as an idea pops into your head — a brilliant, glorious, heaven-sent idea. His fingertips are still trapped within the palm of your hand and your knee slips over the top of his thigh as you slide closer and move into the center seat, “C’mere. I’ll give you review-”

Your face edges closer and closer to his own until your noses bump and the delicate touch seems to zap Stiles into alertness, sending him jolting back as if he’s been electrocuted.

The sourness that erupts in your belly at his reaction isn’t wholly unexpected, but a small flicker of shame joins it and burns like acid in your chest.

“Well, shit..” You murmur with an awkward chuckle.

It’s difficult to bite back the nagging feeling of embarrassment that swirls through your veins in response to being shot down by your best friend — your best friend that you’ve desperately been wanting to kiss since middle school.

You swallow harshly before continuing with a self-deprecating laugh, “I didn’t realize the thought of kissing me was quite so.. Horrifying. My bad.. I.. I’m sorry. You don’t- I didn’t think and I just- Sorry.” The last bit comes out quieter, the sound of it buried beneath the sudden tightness in your throat.

You find yourself avoiding his eyes, but that only means that your gaze is drawn to the smooth expanse of his neck — and there’s that glow from the diner’s neon sign again. His skin is cast in that red hue, smooth expanses of scarlet broken up by the speckles of dark moles and beauty marks scattered here, there, everywhere. You can almost make out his jumping pulse beneath the hollow of his throat, the dark crimson shadow twitching nearly imperceptibly with each too-quick beat of his heart.

They’re all spots that you’ve only dreamt of having your lips touch.

On rainy days when he shakes his hair out like a dog with the sole purpose of hearing the way you squeal in surprise, the drops of water finding their way down his temple and filling you with the urge to kiss it away.

When you slip into daydreams from the desk behind him during class, your eyes stuck on the exposed curve of his shoulder where his shirt collar is stretched just a little too loose, your lips tingling with the all-too vivid phantom feeling of his skin beneath them.

Trapped in his embrace, his height just enough that your face is smushed into his collarbones, nose crushed against him and pulling in the woodsy scent of his cologne, your mouth pressed limply to the soft cotton over his chest but aching with the desire to pucker and leave behind a gentle peck.

“No! No, it’s not that!” Stiles denies immediately. He’s already reaching out to drag you closer again, hands curling into your waist the moment you attempt to slip backwards into a bubble of shame in the passenger seat. “Kissing you would be the opposite of horrifying! It would be, like, a dream come true or- Or-”

Your eyebrows creep up your forehead at that, the barely there curve of a nervous smile pulling at the corners of your lips as his words seem to tumble out faster, growing increasingly difficult to understand as he rambles in a way that you’re all-too familiar with.

“-Because if I was going to kiss anyone, I’d want it to be you, but if I do kiss you and I’m horrible at it and you’re, like, repulsed-”

You’re still trying to piece things together despite the jumbled bits you seem to have missed. Your lips part in astonishment and his fingers tighten where they’ve begun to anxiously dig into your hips as he continues.

“-What if I’m worse than Mark? What if.. What if I’m so bad that you kiss me once and then you never, ever want to kiss me again because I was so unbelievably-”

“Stiles!”

You cut him off, already scooting closer until your left thigh is practically in his lap. His words cut off, a sharp inhale tearing past his lips as your hands find his shoulders, your thumb dragging over the freckled skin of his neck. You can feel his pulse jumping wildly against the pad of your finger as you finally voice your question.

“Are you telling me you’ve never kissed anyone before?” You ask the question as delicately as you can manage, but he still winces as an embarrassed flush colors his cheeks further.

“Not.. Not technically.” He admits quietly, big brown eyes still tinted beneath the crimson glow from outside the Jeep.

“Not technically?” You repeat slowly.

“I don’t know why I thought saying it like that would make it sound better,” He says weakly, “It didn’t. It was still just as mortifying. And so, so lame.”

Your heart flutters, cracks, and then ticks up in quick succession as your flooded with a wide array of conflicting emotions. You can’t quite believe what it is you’re hearing.

“You haven’t had your first kiss?” The words come out a bit more heartbroken than you intended.

Stiles looks horrified at the bluntness of your statement for a moment before he’s swallowing harshly, eyes dropping from your own for a fleeting second.

“No,” He says in a quiet voice, nearly a whisper as his eyes flick back up to yours, “But, um, if- If you’re still offering.. I mean-”

Your heart is positively hammering in your chest, so hard you worry he might be able to hear it, but then your thumb drags up and brushes over his own racing pulse again and his nerves seem to somehow calm yours. Your lean forward until the tip of your nose catches on the bridge of his again, eyes not leaving his as you move achingly slow, giving him time in case he decides to change his mind.

“You’re sure?” You ask softly, the whispered question little more than a breath of warm air against the bow of his upper lip.

“Uh huh.” He just manages the quiet sound of affirmation, a small nod of his head has your lips brushing lightly and the barely-there touch pulls a sharp breath of anticipation from him.

“Okay,” You say quietly, dragging one hand to the back of his neck so you can guide the angle of his head just a touch to one side.

His grip on your hips readjusts and tightens further, one of his clammy palms slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, and the warmth of skin on skin has you breathing out harshly in the sliver of space between your lips again. Your eyes flick slow between his, wide pools of scarlet-tinted whiskey watching you with rapt attention. Your mouth curves up with the hint of a smile, a soft breath of laughter falling into his parted lips as your fingers dig into the thick muscle of his neck.

“Close your eyes, weirdo.” You whisper fondly.

“Shit, fuck. Sorry, yeah. Eyes closed.” He rambles off quickly, eyes pinching shut immediately and hands squeezing your hips as if silently promising that he’s ready.

Endeared. You’re so fucking endeared your organs feel as if they’ve gone warm and syrupy beneath your skin.

Despite your admonishment of his eyes being open, you find yourself unable to pull your own away from watching every small tick in his features. Your hand on his shoulder tightens as you brush your nose across his and when the tight pinch of his eyes slackens and he takes a small nervous breath of anticipation, you finally press your lips to his.

It starts with just a small peck as your brain whites out for just a second. His lips are soft and chapped and plush against your own. You linger for a brief moment before you’re separating just enough to slot your mouths back together a little better.

His lower lip finds itself between yours and he gravitates toward you when you make like you’re about to draw back a second time, his mouth blindly searching for yours. He applies more pressure as he seems to become more sure of himself, one of his hands sliding to the base of your spine to drag you closer.

Impressed, you guide the angle of his head to tip just a hair further, your lips parting to exhale a hot breath into the gap between his own. A small sound rumbles from his chest as he tries to replicate the heat of your kiss on the next meeting. His lips fall open just enough that his breath mingles with your own and your brain goes a little heady with it, thighs tensing as blood rushes in your ears and heat pools in your gut.

You draw back and you’re forced to tangle your fingers in his hair to hold him in place when he tries to chase your mouth again. His eyes crack open to meet your own when he finds himself unable to catch you in another kiss and his pupils are blown a little wide, black overtaking brown until only a small ring of rich chocolate remains. You’re sure you don’t look much better, with the way our chest is threatening to heave with excitement, your fingers trembling where they’re gripping onto the muscle of his shoulder and woven into his hair.

“That was.. That was good.” You tell him after a moment, voice embarrassingly shaky, “What.. What’d you think?”

“Good.” He returns just as weak, “Great. That- Mhm. Awesome.”

His eyes are on your lips again and he looks downright hungry, but then, so are you.

“You’re a natural,” You praise breathlessly, eyes flicking between his rapidly as your fingers unconsciously tighten in his hair, “I’d never guess that was your first kiss – It was.. You learn fast.”

“We- You should probably show me more,” He insists, already leaning back in until his forehead finds your own, “That way I won’t end up like Mark, y’know? With pretty girls complaining to their friends about how wet and gross and bad it-”

“You think I’m pretty?”

He blinks at you as his lips curve up at the corners, the tip of his nose catching against yours to shoot sparks down your spine when he replies, “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Oh.” Is all you manage to get out as a smile tugs at your own lips.

“You want to maybe show me how to use tongue without, being completely repulsive and, like, drowning you or whatever?”

“Mhm,” You agree easily through a breathless laugh. You can’t quite help the quick press of your lips to his and you feel the relieved exhale that falls from his nose and fans out in a warm puff against your face. “Just for the record, though-” You feel the need to elaborate, “There is a time and a place for wet. When things are really hot and heavy and you’re in the throes of passion or whatever — a little too much tongue is great. It can be really, really hot. But- Like I said, time and place.”

The information leaves Stiles looking mildly overwhelmed and severely aroused, but he’s nodding dutifully, “Uh huh. Got it. Noted. I’ll remember that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

His mouth is claiming yours again before the word is even fully out, the sound of it lost in your lips and what remains is smothered by your gasp of surprise. You let him control the pace for a moment before remembering that you’re supposed to be the one guiding him.

You bring one hand up to his face, thumb catching his chin so you can guide his jaw to drop open a bit further as your tongue teases against the inside of his lip. His groan meets your ears, the sound of it sending a shockwave through your body that you’re still reeling from as he repeats your action with truly startling ease. The warm wetness of his tongue has you feeling hot all over, and when it catches against the tip of your own before retreating, you nearly whimper in protest at the loss.

He effortlessly settles into the pattern of give and take, hot brushes of tongues broken up by soft pecks against slick lips. His fingertips dig into your skin like he’s afraid you might slip away into nothing if he doesn’t hold you tight enough and you find your own fingers scraping at his scalp in response.

You’re both making soft little noises between the quiet smack of lips, the leather seats creaking every time your weight shifts in an attempt to get closer.

The lack of oxygen has your head a little fuzzy at the edges when you finally pull back and each of your exhales mingle warmly in the small sliver of space between your mouths as you both fight to catch your breath.

“I, um. I don’t think you have to worry about your kissing technique.” You tell him breathlessly just to break the silence, “You’re all good. A, uh, a great kisser. Eleven out of ten.”

“Cool. Cool. That’s great, I, um-” He coughs quietly, nervously, as he leans back to put a bit more space between you, “Would you maybe want to do it again sometime?”

He’s looking at you with pretty brown eyes blown wide and bleeding earnestness. The hand around your back has fallen to your upper thigh, the grip of it tightening as if punctuating certain words as he speaks. It’s entirely possible that your brain sort-circuits, because a moment of silence passes before he’s barreling on.

“-because I, for one, would really like to do that again sometime. Maybe.. Maybe after a date? Or during a date — that part doesn’t really matter. I just really like you and I have pretty much since forever and now that I’ve kissed you-”

“You like me?” Is all you manage past the heavy thumping of your heart in your chest, your ears — Shit, you’re pretty sure you can feel every pump of it in each trembling twitch of your fingers.

“So much that’s borderline embarrassing, yeah.” He admits, throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.

A breath whooshes past your lips, filled with relief and surprise and elation.

“I like you too.” You say after a beat too long, “Holy shit. Stiles, are you kidding me? I’ve liked you since the fifth grade.”

“Really?” He looks mildly shocked.

A giddy laugh escapes you as you drag him forward again to bring your lips back together. The kiss is chaste, but filled with so much emotion it makes your head swim a bit.

“Damn,” Stiles mutters suddenly, the frustrated curse puffing out against your cheek, “Does that mean we could’ve been doing this the whole time? Like, years of kissing-?”

His words cut off when your lips find his once more and he gives in easily, his train of thought thoroughly derailed.

“I guess we’ve got a lot of time to make up for then, Stilinski.. You up for the challenge?”

Stiles nods wildly and he’s pulling you back in before you can say anything else.

[hinatiny]

crazy ੈ✩‧₊˚ akaashi keiji

in which akaashi is so crazy for you, he barely knows how to cope with it. getting you flustered is one way though.

w.c: 0.6k

akaashi loves you. so much, so dearly, that he’s convinced he’ll die if you ever slip away from his fingers. he’s convinced heaven and all that is holy is wherever you are, and that he’ll be denied access if he ever does something atrocious enough for you to leave him.

akaashi loves you. so much, so deeply, that it hurts, as if loving you equals diving into a vast ocean of emotions where every wave carries the sweetest currents of affection.

akaashi loves you. so much, so intensely, that he feels like he could cry.

of course, he doesn’t. at least not while you’re sitting in a study room - doing anything and everything but studying. he knows that if he were to suddenly tear up and sniffle and sob out of nowhere, it would only worry you, and what is he supposed to say when you question it? “i just love you so much and it sometimes scares me that i’m able to love someone to this extent, i genuinely can’t see a future where you’re not part of it and if there is one like that i don’t want it because maybe we’re just some goofy college students right now but i can’t wait to move in with you in our new apartment next month because there’s nothing i want more than to spend the rest of my life with you and all of this is so overwhelming but i wouldn’t change that for the world.” is that how he feels? most definitely. will he express that? nah, not really.

akaashi doesn’t say much, for now content with listening to you ramble on about your day, your yesterday, your tomorrow, your new plastic plants you’d bought for your apartment, your storage of gossip newly stocked from some of your classmates, and everything between heaven and earth as you munch on pocky every now and then. he doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s still attentive to every word you say by the way he nods, hums, occasionally comments something or asks for further details. more than anything though, you know he’s listening by the fondness in his eyes and the small but true smile that lingers on his lips.

“so i’m not crazy for wanting to clock her that day, am i? i mean, obviously i didn’t do it or i would probably get expelled but with her attitude i clearly wasn’t in the wrong for at least considering it, right?”

now, akaashi doesn’t condone violence, and he would stop you had you ever decided to act on that option, but he nods in the palm of his hand, puffs an airy chuckle before expressing that you weren’t in the wrong. if that’s enough to make you laugh at him for even agreeing, he’ll make such exceptions any day of the week.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t agree like that,” you grin.

“you know, normal people wouldn’t consider clocking a classmate for something like that.” akaashi raises a playfully judgemental eyebrow at you.

“well, guess i must be crazy then.” you giggle at the sigh he lets out, following up with how you have to stop saying such things so proudly, although his smile widens the slightest bit. you tuck a chocolate-coated stick between your lips, speaking past it, “but you still love me.”

he blinks at you, once, twice but soon gets up his feet, hardly rushed but fast enough for you to not properly process how his palm shortly after goes from his chin to fall flat on the table; the one of his other hand finds your jaw, holding your cheeks so gently, just barely squeezing them between his fingertips. 

akaashi does love you, so so so much, he doesn’t doubt for a second that he might be the luckiest man on earth. he doesn’t express that either though, and instead hides his overflowing emotions behind a sly smirk as he tucks the other end of the stick between his own lips. “guess i’m even crazier then.”

[wayfayrr]

hey uh. if requests r open. would it b possible to request a follow up to that self-aware-twi fic. if not thats ok i just wanted u to know i havent stopped thinking about it since i read it. altered my brain chemistry, touch-starved twilight princess link my beloved, etc etc. ur writing is top-tier <3<3<3

I think the best part about this ask is - I've had this written since early January. I actually wrote part two as a birthday gift for a good friend of mine @glowyskull <33

So this is more just me finally posting it sfbgdfbgdb. it's also funny to think that the twilight fic is my most popular fic now considering how the self aware au really started as just a really guiltily self indulgent fic - something fun to write that I didn't think could get as big as it did on my blog. and I'm glad that you liked it so much <333 whimpery touch starved twilight princess link is just so AUGH love him so

[masterlist]

“Oh you’re finally wakin up then darlin’.”

“...hmm?”

“C’mon darlin’, you can’t have forgotten what happened earlier already? Can you? Your fever - cold isn’t that bad so you can't have…”

Who’s rambling… and why does it sound so familiar?  Wait does that mean - is everything that happened earlier all real then, did link really crawl out of my tv just because he was lonely. Because I left him there, left him all on his own to rot in his own solitude. 

“Link? You - that - everything was real then? All of it?”

“All of it darlin’, from how I got out to how I’m never gonna leave ya.”

“Huh..? I could’ve sworn that you didn’t even mention anything like that…”

“Mhm, well you’re ill and still a little out of it darlin’ so you probably just forgot, you did agree though.” 

It does sound like something that I would agree to, I mean I’m the reason that he’s sentient. It would be cruel of me to throw him to the other wolves, he isn’t from here but besides even that, he isn’t from here. He doesn’t know how this world works, it would be worse than sending a dog to a shelter. It would be his death sentence for certain, and after all that I put him through for a simple pause in playing. The way he’s petting my hair like this though, it’s enough to simply just wash the rest of my worries away, if I could I would spend the rest of my life right here easily.  

“About your illness though, do you have any red potion anywhere?” 

“No, no things like that don’t exist here link and the painkillers I have aren’t worth moving for.” 

“If you’re sure… I’ll go and get them for you the second you change your mind.”    

“You don’t even know where I keep them.” 

His hand paused at that, causing me to let out an involuntary whine. I couldn’t even think to stop it with how it slipped out instantly, which he seemed fond of. Cuddling me closer to his chest and resting his head on top of mine, with what felt like a giant smile on his face. 

“I can look for them, It’s not like I won’t need to learn where everything is now that I’m living with ya… besides I’ve already put you through so much stress when you’re not well.”

“You didn’t mean to link, how could you have known I was sick?”

“...I don’t know - I just - it shouldn’t have been hard to know with how you looked when you opened the game. I’m sorry love I just wasn’t even thinking I just wanted to be out, but I should’ve been more considerate to you.”

With how silent he is in the game you could never have guessed how much he likes to ramble, it’s the second or third time it’s happened since he crawled out of the glas- the glass. Are his bandages holding up, he seems fine but he’s not from here, any infection could be deadly. He wouldn’t even see it coming with how much he’s fawning over my comfort right now. 

“Link?” “Yes, darlin’?”

Oh wow, he - well he’s whipped already. Is it real love or has all that time trapped alone twisted him into this. I’d look into getting him therapy but… if he mentioned the truth then it would be a matter of seconds until he’d be diagnosed with something inaccurate. No one. No one at all would ever believe that a video game character actually broke out of their game - especially not someone like Link falling for an exhausted student like me.

“Are you feeling alright? You have so many cuts and wounds right now.”

“It’s nothing that’s worse than anything else I’ve ever had. They do feel more real though.”

“...real?”

“They feel like real wounds, not something that could be healed away in seconds and they’re just tiny scrapes.”He sounds so giddy as he’s talking about being hurt - it’s unnerving when he starts holding me even tighter when he’s saying it. I don’t think I’m ever going to be getting away from him ever again… if I wanted to. Why shouldn’t I take a chance at having a relationship though. He cares about me - he really does even if it’s unhinged - it would be so nice to come home to him, to be able to spoil him and be spoilt by him. Even being held like this feels so unreal, so impossible that I shouldn’t be here with him. So much so that I want to stay here and fall back asleep without any argument. Didn’t he even say he wanted to be my lover? Why look over a gift too closely?

[librarygarten]

#2 Chain x Isekai! Reader - You Play Their Games

Part 2 includes Legend, Four, and Wild Slight trigger warning for Wild's part? He grabs your wrist harshly Part 1 ✿ Part 2 (you are here) ✿ Part 3

When you first met the chain, it had quickly come to everyone’s attention that you already knew them. At first, they thought perhaps you had somehow heard tales of them, passed down through the generations. But you knew things about their adventures they hadn’t told anyone. You knew the names of people and places that surely wouldn’t have survived the thousands of years the stories would have taken to reach you.

You tried your best to explain to them how you knew what you did. Thankfully, you had your Switch, which made explaining what a video game was to them a bit easier.

Legend

Oh this is seriously pissing Legend off. He’s glaring daggers at your Switch like it just insulted his entire bloodline. His adventures? Games? Children’s games? It’s disturbing. It’s degrading. His uncle died! Zelda was imprisoned! He had to fight Ganon in the freaking Dark Realm! And that was only his first adventure! You apparently had ALL of his adventures as games on that device. His life wasn’t some cool toy! (He is slightly smug about having the most games of the chain though.)

He knows you’re not the one who made the games. He understands that you had no reason to view his adventures as anything other than some story a person in your world made. But the fact that until recently, you viewed him as a fictional character? That before you met him, you had seen him as a toy? That hurts. 

Legend starts avoiding you. When the group walks somewhere, he’ll change his pace to make sure he’s not next to you. When the group settles down for the night, he keeps himself busy rearranging his items. He tries not to make it too obvious, always having a reason ready if someone asks what he’s up to. Eventually, though, the others catch on to his behavior.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“You know, you can’t avoid them forever.”

Legend looked up from his bag, which he had been reorganizing for the last half hour. Warrior was standing next to him, arms crossed in the “I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed” dad stance. (How he had snuck up on Legend without him hearing was a mystery).

“I’m not avoiding them.”

“Yes you are.”

Legend sighs. He’s not getting out of this conversation, is he?

“It’s just…How are you not bothered? They have all our adventures on a little device. They went on our adventures from the safety of their couch! Do they even see us as people? Are we just a game to them?” Legend snaps his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to start rambling. Warrior raises an eyebrow, considering the younger hero.

“Go ask to see one of your games. Watch them play for a bit.” Warrior puts up a hand to silence Legend when he begins to protest. “I can’t have you treat a teammate like this. Go.”

Later, Legend begrudgingly found himself sitting next to you. The group had come across a town, so most of the chain was off exploring and gathering supplies. Warrior had practically dragged Legend over to where you were sitting, but you were just happy Legend was finally okay being near you.

“So,” you smile, turning on your Switch “I know Wars is kind of forcing you to do this, but which game do you want to see? There’s A Link to the Past, A Link Between Worlds, Link’s Awakening…”

“Are all my games puns?” he scrunches up his face, cringing at whoever decided on these names. He could guess which pun correlated to each of his adventures, except for one. “What’s Link’s Awakening?”

“Oh! That one’s probably my favorite. It was actually so popular they re-made it a few years ago.” You open the game, and begin moving the game Link around the world.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Legend asks, “Why is my head so freakishly big?”

“It’s not that bad! It’s just the art style! Everyone looks like that. See?” You tap the screen, pointing to another character. Legend recognizes her immediately. Of course. Of course you had Koholint in your device.

“So, how much of my adventure do you see in this game?” Legend asks hesitantly, a blush creeping onto his face.

“From talking to the others, all of the enemies and places are the same,” you explain while moving game Link up a staircase. “But the things you guys say to other people aren't. Links don't talk in games, like, ever.” He nods, and watches as you enter the Wind Fish’s egg. When you finish the final boss fight, you hesitate to walk up the stairs.

“Sorry, I always get a bit emotional at this part.” You give him a half smile, “If I go up the staircase, the Wind Fish will talk, and then the game ends.”

“Isn't that the point?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, but I’ve never liked this game’s ending. It’s… frustrating. And sad.” You throw your hand up, clearly frustrated. “Like, I get that the stupid fish needs to wake up, but what about everyone else? I hate that I can’t get a happy ending for everyone.”

“Why do you care? Isn’t it just a game?” Legend crosses his arms, but his expression softens.

“It is- er… was.” You blush. “I don’t know. Even before I met you guys. Back when I thought none of this was real. I still wanted a happy ending.”

He lets his bangs fall in his face. You can’t see his expression when he talks again.

“I wanted one too.”

Four

(I know Four Swords is on the Switch now, but before that it was so ATROCIOUSLY difficult to play that I had to include The Struggle)

Games? About him? That's… concerning to say the least. It's not that he minds. He's honestly a bit flattered! But also. That means you know about the colors. Which he hasn't really told anyone in the group about.

He's preparing himself for an awkward conversation, but it never comes. Whenever another member of the chain asks about his games, you either only talk about his adventures with the Picori, or go on a half hour long rant about how hard it is to play the games.

Then during one of these rants you mention that Four Swords is your favorite game, and he nearly chokes on his own spit. He had thought you hated it from how much you complain about getting it set up. Something about emulators and linking cables? He doesn’t understand most of what you say, but knowing that he’s your favorite (well, his games are) makes him break out into a huge grin.

He watches you play occasionally, mostly out of curiosity. He usually has other things to be doing, like fixing Wild’s sword. Again. But on the rare occasion he has free time and is feeling especially bored, he’ll watch you.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

Four finds you and Wind buried in a mass of wires. Your Switch, another box, and several smaller devices are scattered around the ground. You curse under your breath as you attempt to untangle the cords and plug them into the box.

“That’s it. I’m out.” Wind gets up and lets the wires that were in his lap fall unceremoniously to the ground . “Four’s adventure can’t be worth this much trouble to see.”

Wind walks away, and Four takes his place next to you.

“So… what is all this?” he asks, picking up a mass of wires and attempting to undo some of the knots.

“This, my friend, is all the equipment needed to play your game.” You say exasperatedly, trying yet again to plug the still-tangled wires into one of the devices.

“Are all your video games this complicated?” Four grimaces at the mess in front of you. He’s inclined to agree with Wind on this one. His adventure can’t be worth this much effort to play through.

“No, just yours.” You scowl and jam the end of one of the cables into one of the devices, hoping it will stay put this time. You have no such luck. “Four Swords is only a multiplayer game, and each person playing needs to own a copy of the game, plus have a way to connect to the other players. Hence… this mess.” You motion tiredly at the pile in front of you.

“Multiplayer?” he tilts his head questioningly.

“It means you can’t play it alone,” you stick out your tongue as you concentrate on finally putting the cords in their proper places. “You need to have multiple players.”

He nods. It makes sense, he guesses, considering how much focus he had to put on teamwork during his adventure with the Four Sword. He watches you try to boot up the game, then curse again as you fiddle with the wires again. Finally, you get it working.

“Sweet!” You clap your hands together, and Four smiles at how happy you seem to finally be able to play his game. To his surprise, you hand him one of the controllers. “Want to play with me?”

“Uhh… What about Wind?” He’s not sure he wants to actually play his adventure. Doing it once was enough, thank you very much.

“He ditched me during setup. Now he doesn’t get to play,” you say. “That’s been the rule at my house since we started playing this game.”

“Seems fair.” Four reluctantly takes the controller. He doesn’t want to seem rude and say no. Then who would you play with? “So, how do I do this?”

“It’s basically just a contest to see who can collect the most gems in the level. Not much story. Fastest wins.” you explain.

“Wait, really?” He's a bit surprised. He was expecting his game to be a bit more complicated. He suddenly doesn’t mind playing so much. “That sounds… really simple.”

“Yeah, it’s an older game, so it doesn’t seem like a lot of your adventure actually transfers over to the game.” You pick up a controller and smile mischievously. “Ready to lose, Smithy?”

“As if!” He grins, matching your enthusiasm. “Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

Wild

Wild isn't sure what the feeling that's settled in his chest is. He's not thrilled at the idea of you playing games about his adventure. He’s been through a lot, and the idea that it was all just a fun game to someone? It hurts. It’s upsetting. He’s honestly a bit annoyed at you for a while. You also seem to know something he doesn’t? What’s that about? Why won’t you tell him?

He decides that if you won’t answer his questions, he’ll trick you into showing him. He watches you play Breath of the Wild while he cooks, or while the group is walking, or really any chance there’s downtime. He quickly realizes that most of what you do is just run around killing monsters and finding Koroks. Nothing very noteworthy or interesting. Certainly, nothing worth hiding from him.

Then, you let it slip that his games are your favorite, and oooh boy is he smug. For about a day. After the initial ego boost, he realizes you said games. Plural. He’s only seen you play the one, though? What’s that about? He’s not getting answers, and it’s starting to eat at him. Eventually, he just steals your Switch and tries to find out for himself.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

Wild throws the Switch at the ground next to where you’re sitting. You look up and see that he is absolutely fuming. Anything you could have said dies in your throat. Without another word, he storms off.

“What was that about?” Twilight asks, watching Wild walk away. You shrug, completely bewildered, and pick your Switch up off the ground. There’s dirt in the headphone jack, and a corner of the screen is cracked. You turn it on, testing how much damage has been done, and all the color drains from your face.

“Oh.” Is all you can think to say. Tears of the Kingdom is running. It looks like Wild started a new save file on your account. He’s still in the underground area at the beginning of the game, so he must have just finished watching the opening cutscene.

Before Twilight can ask any more questions, you drop your Switch on the ground again, probably cracking the screen even more, and take off sprinting in the direction Wild went.

“Wild? WILD!” You yell into the forest as you run, trying your best to follow which direction you think he might have gone. “WILD!!? LINK?!”

You stumble into a small clearing, and stop dead in your tracks. Wild is furiously swinging his sword at a tree, each strike is less precise than the last. After what feels like hours, but in truth was only a few minutes, he drops the weapon and falls to his knees. His breathing is ragged as his fingers claw into the dirt beneath him.

“Wild?” you whisper his name, tiptoeing to his side. Hesitantly, you kneel down next to him and place your hand on his shoulder.

“You knew.” His hair hides his face from view, but his voice has an edge you’ve never heard before. He sounds ready to murder you, but he doesn’t move from his place on the ground, only digging his fingers deeper into the ground. “You knew I was going to lose everything again. And you didn’t tell me.”

“I…” you gulp. What can you even say? What comfort can you offer? “I was planning to tell you… sometime.”

“Oh! Sometime!” Wild grabs your wrist and his face is suddenly inches from yours, eyes dark with anger. “And just when was this sometime going to be?”

“I don’t know!” You twist your wrist, attempting to escape his crushing grip, but are unsuccessful. “I was trying to figure out a way to tell you! Or to stop it from happening in the first place!”

“Stop it? Just how do you expect to stop that from happening?” Wild releases your wrist and combs his hands roughly into his hair, pushing it away from his face angrily. You take a moment to rub where he had grabbed you. It aches, but there isn’t even a bruise.

“Well,” you speak softly as you stand up, taking a few steps away from him. “I figured, if we ever passed through your time, all ten of us could go wail on him before he even breaks the seal. There is the chance of him escaping and wailing on us instead, though.”

“THAT’S your plan?” He laughs as tears roll down his cheeks. “Sure! Let’s just go in, guns blazing, and all die of gloom poisoning!”

“That’s why I was waiting to tell you!” You throw up your hands. Your words sound louder than you intended them. Are you yelling now? “I have a couple design plans in the works for the Purah Pad and Sheika Slate, depending on which one is available, but none of them are finished yet!”

“Design plans?” Wild’s anger melts off his face, replaced with hesitant hope. “What are you designing?”

“Three words: Weaponized. Spinning. Top.”

[robinbuckleyluvr]

⊹˚˖⁺ dating robin buckley headcanons #2

masterlist | requests

Pairings: Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

Summary: headcanons on how i think robin would be as a gf: asking out edition

Warnings: none

Notes: decided to do a part two on one of my old works while i wait for this fandom to revive fully

⸻⊱༺

robin would be awfully nervous before asking you out.

she would ramble on and on to steve... (who is fed tf up at this point)

for the sake of the post, by now its assumed you and her are aware of the romantic feelings you have for one another, just... neither of you have made any moves forward.

robin would come up with a plan to ask you out, planned down to the time of the day

therefore, when every day at 12:00 pm she approaches you as you're doing your job at family video & then randomly brings up something silly, you begin to get suspicious

12:00 pm on the dot for days straight.

robin would get her courage up, but at the moment of 'impact', she would freak out and burst out whatever she could think of.

"Hey! Hi! Nice... restocking you got there!"

steve would call her out for it as he drives her home, earning nothing from robin other than a few eye rolls here and there.

robin would go over her plan with steve over and over, to the point where steve can finish her sentences perfectly

"Seriously, Robin, all you gotta do is go for it man!"

"Wow! Really, Steve? I hadn't realized all I needed to do was go for it."

and finally, after 3 weeks of awkward 12:00 pm interactions and uncomfortable car rides, she 'went for it'

she approached you at 12:00 pm for a final time, her voice quiet and shy making sure no customers were around

she would begin by rambling about you, and how fun she found it to be around you as they worked, and even outside of work

she would then apologize for rambling, and then would begin to ramble again as she tried to explain why she was doing so

finally, she would pop the big question

"I guess, all I'm trying to say is, I like you. Yay! Right? And I hope you still feel that way for me too! If not then thats... cool. Kind of sad. Cool with me! I think. But either way, if you do feel that way, then maybe you would consider going out with... me?"

[psychesalcove]

who knows how long i've loved you, you know i love you still

♡ leo valdez x fem. reader

synopsis. request!!

tw. nothing i think, just not proofread at all

guess who finally is writing again!! this past month has been soo packed with school and work things—this year is also a hectic scholarship one, so i've been doing that lol. i'm sorry that i haven't been active, lifes just been crazy 😓.

"hi."

you saw leo jump a little from where he sat at the ledge of the fire escape. he turned his head slightly in your direction, but his eyes stayed put on the streets of manhattan. "hey."

the seven were meeting up at sallys apartment—a tradition that had been going on for some time now. you had just come from the kitchen, were everyone was chatting away, minus leo. that's what brought you out here. you somehow always had a nack for knowing where he was; a longing, some said.

you walked over to him, silently asking him if you could sit. he nodded silently, the opposite of how he usually is at these gatherings—talking to anyone and everyone about whatever came to mind. you sat down at the approval nod, mimicking his position by draping your legs over the edge too.

"whats wrong?" you asked, getting straight to the point. leo never got this quiet unless something was wrong, you learned that from your time on argo ii with him. he shrugged his shoulders, eyes following a person walking their dog down the street.

"hey, cmon." you said lightly, bumping your shoulder with his. "i wanna know how to help."

he shrugged again, but this time started taking. "i don't know," he mumbled. "i just, feel weird–i guess, i don't know." he shrugged his shoulders again; must be his favorite gesture right now.

"i think you do know what you feel," you mused, eyes flickering from the across the street apartments to leo. "what's happening in that smart head of yours?" you prompted, ears picking up on percy singing horribly from somewhere inside.

you saw leo smile lightly at your wording from the corner of your eyes, but didn't mention it. "i think it just feels different now, i guess." he started. "i mean, everyone here seems to be figuring out their life. percy, annabeth, you and jason are at college, piper already has a business starting, hazel and frank are doing great at new rome, and then—" he stopped with a breath, shoulders slumping down.

"then i'm here with nothing to talk about. what do i even say? that im just doing nothing cool? i haven't even really starting applying to college, how do i talk about that and sound interesting?" he rambled, hands starting to gesture mindlessly.

you considered this. you haven't even realized that leo felt like this; he always seemed like the most interesting person to you. "you can talk alot about applying to college," you said finally, watching as he looked over and made eye contact with you for the first time since you came out here.

"talk about the collage, what you're thinking of majoring in, stuff like that. gods, you can even talk about joining a frat house; piper would joke about that for hours with you." as you talked, you watched as leo took in your words, though you didn't know if it was helping.

"remeber when i was applying to college last year? i talked about that with you for hours, and you didn't get bored, did you?" you asked. leo shook his head in response pressing his lips together as he thought.

"and, i promise you—i ever swear on river styx—that everyone in there would love to talk to you about anything, especially me." you said, hand coming up to hold his. you don't know where this gesture came from, but it almost seemed natural to you. you squeezed his hand, smiling as he reciprocated.

"thank you." leo mumbled, his free hand coming up to quickly rub at his eyes.

"leo, you better not start crying on me now," you joked, hand still in his. he laughed lightly at your statement, his arm now rubbing at his face instead of just his hands.

"can i hug you?" he asked. before he could even finish his question, you were removing your hand from his and instead embracing him fully. he mumbled something you couldn't pick up, but he quickly hugged you back tigher.

"thank you so much." he repeated, head resting on your shoulder.