#i had been making the joke that i was only brute forcing my way through the gyms so i could go to class but i finished all the classes today

[wolverinedoctorwho]

Hey did you know the Nintendo Switch lets you make memes with your images. Because I just found that out

Anyway. What the Gym Leaders and Team Star members see before I roll up with my barely-leveled team and demolish them with a non-optimal-typed Pokemon by using Earthquake over and over again

[nonotnolan]

Trial Period

"Harry, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Blake's voice rang out through the apartment, though I couldn't quite tell why my roommate was currently mad at me. Still, if I didn't talk him down from whatever ledge he was on, he was just going to get more and more pissy. I sighed, and minimized the spreadsheet I was working on.

"Blake, you know I'm working from home today. Whatever you're mad about, you can come in here and talk to me about it. I'm sorry I left some dirty dishes in the sink, or whatever." He must have been mad, whatever I had done-- usually he waited until after he showered to talk to me.

He stomped into the living room so that he could stare down at me. "Oh no. You are in way more trouble than that. I just had the most interesting conversation at the gym today. Some beanpole fairy came up started flirting with me, and when I told him I didn't swing that way, guess what he did?" He paused, clearly waiting for me to confess to something, but I still had no idea why he was upset. "He pulled out his phone, and showed me a whole-ass conversation on Grindr with someone using my photos!"

I couldn't help but laugh, which certainly did not help him calm down. "Okay, and? Look, I'm sorry you got catfished, but I don't know why you're mad at me about it. You're trying to start a modeling career, right? It's one of the unfortunate risks of the job. I'm sorry that one of your Instagram followers has no sense of chill, but I don't see why that makes it my fault."

He shoved his phone into my face. "You see this photo? I downloaded it for a scheduled post, but it's from a gig that hasn't released yet. I'm not allowed to share any of those photos on social media until the magazine spread drops. You're the only other person who could have gotten onto my phone and grabbed it."

Well, that was a complication that I wasn't expecting. I stared at him, trying and failing to think of a loophole that sounded plausible. There was only one thing left to do. "Seth, I know you're in here," I said, loudly projecting my voice. "I know you wanted to try out a few different guys before you committed, but that's not gonna work anymore. The trial period is officially over. You broke it, you bought it. If you don't take Blake, he's going to ruin everything."

Blake scowled at me. "Who the fuck is Seth? Harry, what in the fuck is going on?"

"You're so cute when you're confused," I said, pinching his cheek. He was already pissed at me, I may as well go all out. Besides, I needed to give Seth enough time to prepare. "I'm not actually Harry. I haven't been for the last two weeks, not that you noticed. I'm actually a ghost who decided that this apartment would be a great place to find some new bodies to inhabit. And let's be honest, this whole complex is jam packed with hot, young studs like yourself." I couldn't help but flash an excited grin, and I think I might have let my real eyes flash for a few seconds. Well, whatever. I no longer needed to worry about keeping secrets from Blake.

I had clearly spooked him-- he started creeping backwards toward the door. "Harry, you're scaring me. That's not funny. Don't joke about that sort of thing, Harry. Just��� fuck, delete that profile and promise me you won't do it again."

"Like I said, I'm not Harry," I said, grabbing my laptop bag and putting it in arm's length. I pulled out the mason jar that had Harry's soul in it, and placed it on the couch. "This is Harry. Or, what's left of him, anyway." Harry's soul fluttered around in a panic, banging into the glass walls as it tried to escape. Or maybe it was trying to warn Blake about what was about to happen next? It didn't really matter.

Blake had turned to run, but he didn't make it more than a few steps into the kitchen before he fell to the ground, as if something had slammed into his back. Seth hated possessing people using brute force, but his error hadn't left us with many other options. "Sorry for the close call, Phil," he said, adjusting his posture. Where Blake was constantly puffing his chest and arching his back, Seth had more of a forward slouch to his shoulders. It was a posture I was very familiar with-- regardless of the bodies we wore, we had been together long enough to recognize each other's presence.

"At least Blake has a good body," Seth said as he pulled himself up off the ground. "I was probably going to end up choosing this one anyway, to be honest." He started feeling up his chest, giving his nipples a few test pinches and letting out a soft moan. "Oh yeah, he's just as sensitive as I remembered. Do you have any spare jars in your bag? Obviously I didn't have time to put him to sleep before I possessed him, and he's just screaming non-stop in my head right now."

"Sounds like that's what you get for being careless," I said. "You know that helping you expel the soul is my favorite part. I'm not letting you rub one out in the bathroom, we're doing this the right way."

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on, babe. You're at work for another five hours. I already said I was sorry, please don't force me to put up with the flesh owner for that long."

I closed my laptop and started unbuttoning my shirt. "Who said anything about waiting for me to get off work? No one tracks my activity as long as I get my work done on time." I leaned back and started groping Seth's hefty bulge. "Besides, we both know that Harry is trapped in a shit job. I bet we can get him something that pays way better."

He leaned over to give me a deep kiss. "You know, one of these days you'll get tired of turning your new hosts into porn stars," he said, as I grabbed one of the empty soul jars.

"Maybe so," I admitted. "But that day is not today. This body is wasted on white collar work. Anyway, you know the drill. Time for lube-- I want you to ride my cock while I sit here." He placed the jar underneath his hardening cock, ready to catch his load.

The first time we fucked in new bodies was always my favorite. Seth came first, coating the inside of the jar with a layer of jizz in addition to Blake's soul. I wasn't too far behind, since Harry's body was new to gay sex and still quite sensitive. I rolled off to the side and basked in the afterglow while Seth sealed the jar and placed it next to Harry's soul.

"Part of me still wants to be mad at you for almost ruining everything with that 'trial period' idea of yours," I said, as he laid down next to me to cuddle. "Next time we need to pick new hosts, we're picking one and done again. None of this trying out multiple bodies rubbish, it's too much risk."

Seth just smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. "Fine, no more shopping around, I promise. But you know you can't stay mad at me." As we laid there, holding each other tight, I had to admit that he was right.

[shanksbaby]

Aokiiji\Kuzan x reader- Kidnapping you

you were part of a small village in the mountains, you were not born there though: you moved when you were only 5 years old because the marines had attacked your hometown. So together with your uncle you arrived in this small village, well hidden from the outside world.

your life has always been monotonous and quite predictable, every day the same routine until he arrived: Kuzan, the former admiral. Among the young people of the village he was unknown but the older ones and your uncle knew him, he was much loved by the marines but after a battle with another admiral he was forced to resign…or at least that's what they said.

he wasn’t wearing his Marine uniform and yeah he wasn't an admiral anymore butin your eyes didn’t make him any less a part of them...he still wore their weight. Make your hatred very visible by brushing off any time he approaches you, trying to avoid him as much as possible.

what pissed off you more it was that lazy manner: as if he were a simple traveler and not the one whose story was stained by the very organization that had destroyed your family and other people, those who allowed the celestial dragons to enslave people. Kuzan was always around, a quiet fixture of the town, his former life trailing him like a ghost only you seemed to see.

you even shouted insults in his face once, saying that he should be ashamed of what he and the marines did, and to your surprise he didn't retaliate but listened to you, and you could see a hint of shame in him.

he replied that he doesn’t know who he is anymore, that he’s lost his way, in short he’s not that marine anymore. And surprisingly you believe him, you notice his kindness hidden by that aloof manner, Kuzan wasn’t like the Marines you’d come to fear and despise.

and so over time you learned to appreciate Kuzan, to love him, to love his stupid jokes, his stupid flirtations. He got you out of annoying conversations with the cashier, kept you warm during the winters with his heat-emitting body, and kept you cool in the summers with his devil fruit.

you started dating, kissing and cuddling on your couch, you made love to him for the first time. He shared with you all his adventures and all the fights he defeated but also the beatings he received, and you couldn't help but be enthralled by his story.

yet, happiness frequently feels too proper to last, and someday he confessed that he needed to leave. You noticed the ache in his eyes, the reluctance in his stance. But you knew him sufficient through then to recognize he wasn`t leaving out of indifference. He feared bringing troubles for you.

the days have become united again for you and above all you felt a loneliness that you didn't feel before Kuzan, damned ex-admiral for making you fall in love with him!

one night your little village is attacked: chaos erupts as ships with black flags sail into view, and then you see him...Kuzan, your former lover. You freeze at the sight while everyone tries to run away from the pirates that have arrived.

before you can make a move to escape or reach him, you feel strong arms wrap around you, lifting you from the ground. You look up and see Kuzan’s face, filled with a fierce determination. “What the hell are you doing, you brute?” you ask angrily. “Leave me alone, and get out of my village. Stupid me for thinking even marines could change.”

he calmly replies “I can’t let anyone hurt you, now you will come with me…You will be safe.” and in the meantime he slowly walks towards the exit of the village while the pirates plunder the village.

"What about the others in the village? You let them get hurt like this?" you ask as you wriggle out of his grip.

he holds you tighter so that you can't leave "don't worry, they won't enslave them, my subordinates will just take something from them. After all I had to give Teach something in return" after five minutes he arrives where his crew's camp is and puts you on a wagon

"So you sold them in exchange of what?"

"In exchange of you being protected. I couldn't protect you alone, but now that i know the others will protect you, now we can finally being togheter" he tells you as he comes closer and hugs you tightly while placing his forehead on your shoulder

"That doesn't make it right!" you yell "You shouldn't have sold the lives of those people of yours, especially for someone like me."

"Oh sweetheart, for you I would do anything, I would even kill for you"

[snowdropluck204]

How They React to Their SO Getting Stalked - BNHA (pt 3) - LOV

This is part three of the stalking headcanons, the League of Villains version! Shigaraki won't be in this chapter as I have already done his headcanon in a previous part! This was requested by @supernatural-hunter1! If anyone has any requests or ideas, please send them to me and I will get to them as soon as I can! Xxx __________________________________

Kurogiri

I feel like Kurogiri would probably find out without you telling him, and rather than flying off the handle and using brute force, he would begin psychological warfare!

~ You had been quiet for weeks, Kurogiri began to get progressively more and more worried, you had never hidden anything from him, so something must be wrong. ~ You were meek and timid, not your usual bubbly self around him. As much as he hated the idea of violating your privacy, he needed to know what was happened. ~ He felt that if you were hiding something from him, he had the right to know. He was slightly paranoid that you were planning on breaking up with him, if you were, he didn't want to be surprised at the bombshell. ~ Searching your room while you were out did make him feel immensely guilty, but he knew something was wrong. ~ As he searched through your bedside dresser, he was shocked, you definitely weren't planning on breaking up with him, instead he found dozens of handwritten notes, if 'handwritten' was the right word. ~ The letters got increasingly scrawled, the words becoming more and more angry, the messages more perverted. ~ The letters started sweet, talking about your beauty and brains, compliment after compliment. But then, when the writer of the letters realised you weren't responding and throwing out their letters, they got vicious. ~ "I know you've read my letters, respond dammit! We were meant to be together! Don't make me force you!" ~ Kurogiri crumpled the letters in his hand, his anger rising quickly. ~ This was a chess match, and he was going to win. ~ Thus the match started, Kurogiri followed your stalker, changing things around and making them feel like they'd lost their mind. Eventually, Kurogiri decided to make an appearance. ~ Showing up behind the stalker, he grabbed him by the throat and pressed him against the wall, "I am only going to say this once, you stay away from my (y/n), unless you want your worthless, insignificant life to end in the most unfortunate way..." ~ Kurogiri growled, dropping the stalker and watching with a sly smirk as they ran, turning around, his smirk dropped seeing you standing there, a small smile on your lips as you giggled and walked off, Kurogiri hurrying to catch up with you.

Dabi

Everyone knows, Dabi is the 'punch now, ask questions later' sort of guy... He would burst in, quirk a-blazing (haha jokes) and demolish anyone he dares to hurt his sweetheart...

~ Dabi was there when you received the first note from the stalker, it wasn't all that bad, just a touch creepy. ~ Naturally, the first thing Dabi wanted was to hunt this guy (or girl) down and make them pay... But you insisted that it was probably a one time thing and they would back off. ~ Unfortunately, you were wrong, the notes only increased, eventually leading to you receiving pictures of yourself, not in any compromising scenarios, thankfully, but someone was still following you. ~ Following you to the store, to the library, to work and back to your home. ~ Dabi had had enough, and he was going to show this creep a thing or two! ~ It was no secret that the villain known as 'Dabi' had taken a shine to someone, the villain's sweetheart was a common news story, but nobody knew who it was... Until now. ~ Following the guy who was, in turn, following you from a safe distance, Dabi moved in for the kill. ~ Sneaking up behind the creep, Dabi covered his mouth with his hand, making sure to use a painfully strong grip, dragging him away from you and towards his car, letting his hands smoulder and burn the stalker's flesh if he tried to make any sounds or sudden movements. ~ Bundling him into his car, Dabi drove the stranger out into the middle of nowhere. ~ Letting him out of the car, Dabi had a twisted grin on his face as the man began to run, knowing he wouldn't get far. ~ Blue flames lit up his face as he followed in pursuit. ~ This was gonna be fun, all for his darling. ~ (And a bit for himself, let's be honest.)

Toga

Honestly, I feel like Toga wouldn't do much to help in the case of the stalker, if anything she would take notes! She loves you, don't get me wrong, and she intends on giving this creep the world of hurt, but she has her own agenda!

~ You sat in disbelief, watching as your girlfriend had a jaunty conversation with the person who had been stalking and harassing you for the last month or so. ~ You weren't too worried about this weirdo (the stalker, not your girlfriend), they seemed relatively harmless, you were surrounded by a group of notorious criminals after all... ~ What you were worried about, was the fact that your girlfriend seemed to be trying to make friends with your stalker... ~ "Look at how many pictures you've got of (y/n)! They're so cute aren't they!? How did you get such a good image from outside their work? I've been trying for ages! They come out all fuzzy!" ~ You sat shaking your head and pinching the bridge of your nose, Dabi was stood behind you, watching the scene in amusement, Shigaraki was just annoyed and Kurogiri was ignoring us all, as usual. ~ "Would you let me pick your brain? Obviously I don't want the most recent advice, I mean... You did get caught... But anything else would be great!" ~ Unfortunately for the creep. ~ Only Himiko was allowed to stalk you! ~ She would up draining the stalker of their blood, it wound up being quite useful, she was able to follow around the Class 1-A students without them being suspicious and even managed to frame the guy for a bunch of crimes before they found his body!

______________________________

Hopefully this was okay! This was all I could come up with honestly, but I hope you guys liked it! Xxx

[lowkey-loki245]

So i saw your post and reblog about the time god au and i was thinking that maybe it was a way for vaugardian to rationalize the king take over?

The idea that Time itself sent one of its saint (loop) to guide the savior of Vaugarde throught the house and to fight the king. And that when that wasnt enough time froze the king itself in time to punish it for tampering with its flow

It would also means that Siffrin has access to more time craft like « slow » from Odile « pretty moving cure » from Mirabelle and create tears like the king

Im guessing it would also be an oportunity for Loop to gain more information about wish craft and time craft since even before the king shenanigans they look to be mostly associated with culture outside of Vaugarde (siffrin, the king getting access to time craft with a wish and odile brute forcing craft by research)

also question do you accept fanart of this au?

First, I'm absolutely accepting fanart, I'd love to see what you draw!

Second, absolutely love this idea. People seeing Loop leading the saviors of Vaugarde would definitely be a big deal. It would probably lead to people connecting the Time God to stars. (Thank to this person ( @misty-is-a-dragon ) who gave me this idea.)

Siffrin would definitely want to correct people on who froze the King, but Mirabelle probably wouldn't mind since she already had so much pressure on her before Vaugarde was saved, people knowing she was the one to freeze the King would probably put a lot more pressure on her.

As for the Time Craft stuff. Sif would have unlimited control over Time Craft, but he'd have to ease into his powers first. He'd probably practice on basic enemies (do Sadnesses still exist after the King got frozen, or are they all gone?) or on random objects. (Btw, when I say unlimited Time Craft, I mean he can be as creative as he wants. Too much Craft in a short amount of time will still hurt him. I feel like too much Craft hurts because of the mental strain, not just physical strain.)

Now I'm wondering how different Sif would look in this AU? I think most of the time, he'd look normal (aka, his "mortal" form), but something similar to his big form would be his god form. Just a little less mentally unwell, lol. But if anyone thinks of something cooler, run with it, I wanna see what cool ideas you guys have!

I think it'd be funny if Sif had some one-sided beef with the Change God in this AU. Considering that conversation in the House, I feel like it'd be understandable for Sif to not like the Change God that much. Too bad for him, the Change God is the only one giving him advice on how to be a god.

Also, how do you guys think this whole god situation will affect Siffrin's and Isabeau's relationship? Sif would probably be so scared that being a god now will ruin their relationship, while Isa's just like "my boyfriend's a god, he's so cool :3."

Odile and Mira would not know what to do at first. Should they treat Sif like the god he is, or like the friend he's been? They decide on the 2nd one because Sif is already going through a lot, they don't want to make things worse (though Odile will occasionally joke about treating Sif like a god. I feel like that's her sense of humor).

As for Bonnie, Bonnie would just be hyped about having a super powerful friend. Plus, Siffrin's Time Craft could speed up cooking if they need it. No more waiting a whole day for beef to marinate!

Also, as Siffrin's saint, Loop would probably have really strong Time Craft. It's not unlimited like Sif, but it's still super strong. They'd totally brag and joke about being Sif's saint, too. Sometimes, when Mira or Odile wanna talk to him about something, Loop will be like, "You may now speak to the Time God" as they reveal Sif to them like he's royalty. As you can tell, Loop got their humor from Odile.

Honestly, I'm loving the ideas you guys have been sharing for the AU, this is fun.

[zayray030]

Whipped until he's not

Summary: The redhead glared deeper at his boyfriend and harumphed, crossing one pretty leg over the over, the only thing covering them was a pair of panties that Trey had a brought as a joke and an oversized shirt that belonged to Trey.

“I really am sorry, Ace. I really don’t know what came over me.” he apologized again, trying to seem more genuine, however he knew exactly what happened. He had been thinking with his dick. And his mouth.

OR Trey is a pervert and forgets himself. Ace suffers (and likes it)

Ace tugged at his restraints which kept his arms locked together to the frame of Trey’s bed, however, no matter how harsh he tugged, there was simply no escaping from his position. Even though Trey had only used his tie to restrain Ace, he had also added a spell to make sure that the knot couldn’t be undone. 

Speaking off, said junior watched in amusement as the first year struggled beneath him, letting out an ever so slightly mocking chuckle when the ginger turned to pout at him indignantly with teary eyes. 

“I don’t know why you’re trying to escape.” asked Trey as he reached for the can of whipped cream from the bedside table. “You asked for this, didn’t you?” He shook the can and raised a brow at Ace. 

“Maybe, people feel nervous and second thoughts about other people eating whipped cream from...from down there.” Ace flushed and looked down, pausing from finishing what he truly wanted to say, feeling ashamed at what was about to happen. 

Too bad that he wasn’t going to have shame in his dictionary by the time Trey would be finished with him. 

As Trey popped the cap off of the whipped cream, Ace began struggling anew, this time crossing his legs, as if in a feeble attempt to block his boyfriend from reaching his cunt. Trey shook his head at the attempt of defiance. He could brute force his way through it, however he much preferred if things happened how he wanted it, instead of it being because Ace was a brat. 

He set the whipped cream down next to him, almost hidden from view, in an attempt to distract Ace and turn his mind away from what was about to happen, sooner or later. He gently rubbed his boyfriends' bare thighs, massaging the area around his inner thighs ever so slightly and bit back a smirk when he saw Ace’s eyes flutter shut at the gentle treatment and the way his thighs trembled ever so slightly. 

“Ace, baby,” he began, never taking his eyes of his boyfriends naked figure, taking note of the pebbled nipples and the way his fair skin flushed at the endearment. “Won’t you let me do this? You did promise me, and i would never do anything that wouldn’t make you see stars.” he reassured, hands travelling to his boyfriend's waist and giving a reassuring squeeze, taking delight at the quiet whimpers his boyfriend was letting out. 

“It’s embarrassing.” Ace mumbled, still not looking at Trey, and still not spreading his legs, however his body has untensed and his pout was looking less bratty and more flustered. “And it could get messy!” he looked up at that, almost as if thinking he had managed to corner Trey. 

However, of course that wasn’t ever gonna stop Trey, poor excuse or not 

“I could just use my mouth.” Trey brought his mouth to Ace’s ear and continued whispering. “I could lick and suck, make sure not an inch of you is left untouched. Trace all over you, having a taste of both you and the cream. Make sure that you can only feel my mouth on you after I’m done.” as his mouth spoke those dirty words in Ace’s ears his hands wondered to Ace’s chest and he gave little pinches to the defenseless pink nipples, delighting in Ace’s gasps. 

He moved himself away from Ace’s ear and moved his hands to cup Ace’s neck and used his trump card. “Do you not trust me Ace?” he made a show of looking sad and depressed at the thought of Ace not trusting him to fulfil a fantasy. 

At the question, Ace jumped again and would have wrapped his arms around him an attempt to comfort Trey had they not been bound. “I trust you!” he argued, face honest and truthful. 

Frankly, if Trey had a bit more morals, he would feel ashamed at having taken advantage of Ace’s clear trust and naivety, however when his dick calls, he answers. 

“That’s a good boy.” he praised, cupping Ace’s cheek gently and pressing a loving kiss on the tip of his nose. “Now, let me do this. It will make the both of feel good,” he reassured Ace. 

Ace nodded, eyes a little watery, but still agreeing to what was about to happen. Trey hid another smirk by pressing another kiss to Ace’s neck and trailing the kisses down the bare skin, leaving bruising kisses whenever Ace hasped at a particularly sensitive spot. 

Finaly, he made in to in-between his boyfriends' legs, no longer blocked by his pretty thighs. Oh, and what a sight it was. 

Ace’s pussy was a thing of wonders. Pink and pretty, with a pretty little clit. His folds were soaked and it was clear that Ace’s earlier complaining was simply to save face and so that he won’t admit that the thought of Trey eating off of Ace turned him on. 

This time, Trey didn’t bother hiding his smirk. He looked up at Ace, a brow raised in mocking question and idly traced over Ace’s clit, making sure not to give too much stimulation, taking pleasure in the increasing whining. 

“I thought you didn’t want to do this?” he asked, pinching Ace’s clit harshly when the boy didn’t respond. Ace’s hips bucked and tears welled in his eyes.  

“Didn’t want you thinking I-I'm a s-slut.” whimpered Ace trying to escape Trey's cruel pinches but he couldn't go anywhere. His hands were tied above him and Trey had made sure that he couldn’t snap his thighs shut. 

Trey’s eyes softened and he gently released Ace’s clit, making sure to rub it gently in an attempt to soothe it from earlier punishment. 

“Baby.” Trey cooed, enamored by how cute Ace was being. He supposed he could reward the younger for being honest about his feelings for once, couldn’t he? “I would be so happy if you were a slut.” he reassured, increasing the speed in which he was rubbing Ace’s clit, delighting in the little noises that Ace was letting out. “Come on now. Let go, come on.” Trey encouraged watching as Ace rocked his pussy into Trey’s hands, eyes closing and drowning in the pleasure. 

It wasn’t long before Ace reached his peak and he squirted over Trey’s hands, his body twitching, the pale skin flushing. Trey gently removed his hand from Ace’s socking cunt and brought his hand to his mouth and licked it. Delicious. 

Trey looked down at his boyfriend after he had finished licking his hands and allowed himself to admire the beauty before him. 

Ace’s eyes were dazed, truly not thought behind them, all taken away when he had squirted over Trey. His mouth was agape as he drooled slightly, not registering what was going on, too far gone with what just happened. His nipples were bruised and red from when Trey had entertained himself by playing with them earlier.  

There were marks and bruises all over the redhead's body as well, clear sign of Trey’s possessiveness. Some were from past sessions and he couldn’t help but feel proud and a smidge smug over still having his ownership over Ace displayed Ace’s thighs twitched and trembled, unable to contain themselves, due to Ace always having a powerful climax. And then there was Ace’s pussy. 

His cunt looks red hot, clit twitching, almost as if trying to escae from another torture session. Ace’s folds quivered, the poor things looking like they were struggling with the stimulation. The whole pussy looked sopping wet and Trey knew if he ran his fingers through the folds his fingers would come back drenched. 

He looked back up at his boyfriend's face and was pleased to see him still dazed. Using his boyfriends lack of cognitive ability, he grabbed his whipped cream can and shook it, preparing it. 

One more look at his boyfriend's face and he knew that there was not time like the present. He took hold of one of Ace’s thighs and spread the younger open, making sure to keep a tight grip on the thigh, to make sure that his boyfriend couldn’t squirm away and so that he could enjoy the view. He would later kiss the thigh in apology as Ace pouted and blushed at the attention layered over him. 

Ace let out a confused whimper as he felt pressure on his thigh only to let out a startled gasp followed by a wail when he felt something cold spread on cut and then inside him as well. He thrashed around, tears streaming down his face, attempting to move away from the cold. However, with both his hands tied up and with his boyfriend (Who is almost twice the size of him) it was impossible for him to escape. 

“Shhhh.” Trey cooed down at him, as if he was a petulant child who was misbehaving and not as if he was having cold whipped cream shoved up his cunt. 

“No!” he protested still only to go still when Trey slapped his thigh roughly.  

“Ace.” he scowled firmly, brows furrowed and mouth set in a disappointed line “What did we talk about?” 

Ace sniffled and kept quiet but another slap to his thigh had him opening his mouth. “T-that I trusted you to do this to me.” he whispered out, refusing to look at the upperclassmen. 

“Exactly. So, what happened.” he asked, even though he had a good idea. 

“I-i got scared when it happened so suddenly.” Ace told him, looking embarrassed, almost ashamed for going back on his word. Ace looked up at him and Trey felt his heart slightly melt at the sight of his big red eyes, filled with tears and guilt at not trusting Trey.  

How could he ever stay mad at him? 

He relived some of the strength he had been using to spread Ace’s thighs until he was just gently holding them apart and got himself situated between Ace’s legs. He gave a kind smile to the younger boy that had the redhead whimpering in fright. “Bon Appetite.” he said before he dived into his meal. 

He traced his tongue over the clit, collecting whatever whipped cream he had squirted in it and had to suppress a groan as he felt the taste from Ace’s natural juices and the whipped cream combine into something truly delectable. 

He couldn’t hold himself back. He had tried, he really did. He had tried to start of gentle, as a way to account for Ace’s clear sensitivity but that taste...oh that taste. There was now nothing holding him back.  

He dove straight in; his mouth essentially glued to Ace’s pussy and ate him out as if his life deepened on tit. He thrust his tongue in, to scoop some of the whipped cream and groaned everytime he felt Ace’s clit twitch in his mouth or his pussy contract around his tongue.  

Fuck, this was his best idea so far. 

Meanwhile Ace had been reduced to a blushing, crying, wailing mess. Whilst Trey may not have realized it, Ace could feel every time he squirted and came into the older boy's mouth, and how much he released. He was currently to overstimulated to really make sense of anything, all he knew was that if Trey kept eating him out like this, he would end up passing out. 

However, no amount of attempting to kick away or squirm did anything, if anything it just caused Trey to tighten his hands around him and bury his head deeper, completely refusing to be parted from Ace’s pussy. 

Eventually, Ace gave up and went limp in Trey’s hold, only letting out hiccups and whimpers every time he felt Trey nibble on his clit cruelly or thrust his tongue in too deep. Eventually Trey removed his mouth from where he engulfed Ace’s cunt, however his hands had travelled in replacement. “See cherry pie?” oh, if Ace still had his sensibilities, he would have kicked Trey’s head for that “Like I said, all the whipped cream is gone.” 

Ace could only whimper as Trey thrust his middle and ring finger into his cunt and angled them so he could see stars. In fact, that was the last thing he saw. 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

  “I’m so sorry, Ace.” Trey apologized, kneeling on the floor Infront of his bed.  

The redhead glared deeper at his boyfriend and harumphed, crossing one pretty leg over the over, the only thing covering them was a pair of panties that Trey had a brought as a joke and an oversized shirt that belonged to Trey. 

“I really am sorry, Ace. I really don’t know what came over me.” he apologized again, trying to seem more genuine, however he knew exactly what happened. He had been thinking with his dick. And his mouth. 

He itched closer to Ace as he continued apologized, the other boy alternating between glaring at him and harumphing and sharply tuning his nose at him, not even sparing him a word. 

“I am sorry.” he tried again, placing large hands on the thighs in front of him. Ace jumped slightly at the sudden choice and glared down at him with flushed cheeks. 

“My boyfriend is an animal.” the redhead finally mumbled, pouting as he dragged Trey up by his collar so he could kiss him Trey let out a laugh between their mouth much to Ace’s indignation. 

“Well, you’re just going to have to put up with this animal.” he said, matter of factly as he stared lovingly down at his boyfriend. Ace pouted again, before sighing and cuddling up to Trey as said upperclassmen pulled up the sheets to cover them up. 

Ace supposed he could deal with his boyfriends' perversions. 

[messinwitheddie]

Have any tutorials of how you draw your tallest? (Or irkens in general?)

If Cini could wear any human casual clothing, what would he wear that is comfortable?

If he had it his way, would Cini change the life of Irken society?( you know with the whole tall and short thing.) or change everything with the empire expansion. We know their people must have many enemies with other alien races but if there was an alternative to that and not concur or go to war with them, would Cini be that one Tallest to break that cycles? I mean he looked tired of being tallest.

I'm not the best teacher. My drawings are pretty inconsistent. The best I can explain my process is, make a mark, erase a mark, rinse, repeat until it looks like a figure.

These were drawn super quick. Not sure how much help they'll be, but I tried to leave in as many reference lines in as possible.

These are some sketches on how I approach drawing a tallest with the typical JV bone-skinny body frame

The torso is where I struggle the most. I probably draw them too tall, but that's how it comes out.

It's fun to experiment with different body types;

From left to right; Tallest Spittle, Greezee and Blitz

From left to right: Tallest Miyuki, Dava and Kii

I have a tendency to draw women tallests with big hips (because that's fun for me), but Irkens really don't have gender dimorphism, and their fashion/ clothing styles are all unisex, so there's no need to follow that rule when you design your own ocs.

I would have to look through my blog to find any posts about how I draw smaller Irkens. Mostly same advice.

As far as Cini's choice in comfortable human clothing; his robes are very uncomfortable, so anything would feel comfy by comparison.

But I imagine he would immediately gravitate towards those flimsy tie dye sun dresses you see in those little hippie boutiques at the mall. Tie dye is something he would never have seen in the empire plus so many swirls and colors!

He would have a field day dress shopping. Most human male clothes would be too lacking in flair.

And to address the third question; Irkens are brainwashed at birth into believing their height based hierarchy is the natural and correct way for their society to operate and have been brainwashed into believing this for MILLIONS and millions of years.

I'm not sure if it's within the limits of his imagination to conceive a reality where Irkens did not serve a tallest who carried out the will and executed the design of the control brains.

BUT Cini wished from the moment he was measured someone, ANYONE else had been measured taller than him. His favorite partabout being tallest was lounging and smoking record breaking amounts of pipe amber.

His passion was his trapeze act and watching performances at the civilian theater. No "important" occupation really appealed to him when he was a cadet; too boring, not enough fun music and visuals. He only served in the military because all Irkens are required to go through basic training. His stats were a joke as far as his height bracket went. He stayed the same rank for almost 200 years.

Cini tried as hard as he could to be a good tallest, as much as his imposter syndrome made it for him. MOST of his reign was actually spent improving infrastructure within the empire's existing territories. He was a generous patron of the arts and sciences (beyond military research). Service drones legally received more off time and better medical benefits. Cini avoided brute force unless absolutely necessary. He loved to play ambassador. The Vortians, the Space Bees, the Inquisitorians, ect all became official allies of the Irken Armada during Cini's rule. He genuinely took the time and effort to listen to their concerns and compromise.

Cini was wise enough to know it's better to make friends than enemies in the long game, especially unnecessarily. The empire wasn't perfect, but Irkens and alien citizens alike enjoyed a higher quality of living under Cini's leadership methods.

It wasn't until the very end of his reign did he declare a war. He did so because of pressure forced down on him by the control brains, who were intimidated by the corrupting freedoms the lesser drones seemed to be enjoying and deeply concerned by the lack of new conquests that have been made over the centuries.

The Irken/ Planet Jacker war was bloody from the very beginning.

Cini would not live down the shame of his decision. Too many casualties on his conscience.

Every drone is worthy of dignity; Cini believed that. He would change A LOT about Irken society if he could. He tried. He wish he had tried harder.

[rei-caldombra]

Mashle- The Surprise Hit of Spring 2023 Anime (for me)

I was very pleasantly surprised with how much I enjoyed this show. I had not heard of it at all before it aired and just checked it out because the premise sounded fun and very appealing to me. For anyone who doesn't know, short summary is that it's basically Harry Potter but Saitama from One Punch Man is the main character.

I went into this expecting it to be a parody where it just craps on stereotypical H.P style magic school stuff, which I did want to see. Not because I hate magic (I don't), but because I think the premise of a physically overpowered character entering a magic school is a great way to parody it. I also am into fitness so I enjoyed when it indulged a bit in that area. These points have their appeal but likely would not keep me interested for 12 episodes if all it did was make "lol magic sucks" gags. What really made me get into the show is how it still takes magic seriously for the other characters and world as a whole. Characters with powerful magic are not treated as jokes or made to appear weak. To me the comedy feels less at the expense of magic and the characters and more so just laughing at what Mash can do to circumvent it. I feel it does a good job of poking fun at magic while also appreciating what it can offer.

I must mention the most insane and truly noteworthy thing about this show. It’s absolutely bonkers. This is a fantasy anime that not an Isekai. Someone remembered you can do fantasy without an Isekai and still do “fish out of water” elements! Joking exaggeration aside, this is genuinely a breath of fresh air. In case you did not see my last post on Vending Machine, I do not inherently dislike Isekai. But as you likely know the anime space is oversaturated with Isekai and has been for years now. It's nice to not have the thought of "real world" stuff taking away from the fantasy.

The show is actually pretty funny. I don't think the gags about Mash overpowering magic ever got old or overplayed. What helps with this is my point before about how the other characters were allowed to have magic on magic fights that were taken seriously. This broke up the routine of waiting to see what funny way Mash brute forces his way through things. And in these fights the other characters were genuinely capable of defending themselves for the most part. If Mash always had to come in and save them, or if Mash always felt completely invincible, I would have liked it less. But towards the end we do see that there is genuine danger.

I do have some criticisms, the biggest being some of the characters. Mash, Dot and Lance are solid characters with fine characterization and likeability. Mash and Dot in particularly are a bit more memorable. None of them are outstanding but I genuinely like them and think they bounce off each other pretty well. On the other hand... I'm sorry but Finn is such a nothing character. After his introduction he does not do anything of note other than talk with the characters. He does not directly participate in any fights and his presence offers very little other than reacting to the main 3's strange personalities. Lemon is also not very interesting or memorable and sadly is a very stereotypical female character in a group of male characters. Like Finn she does not really get to do anything and ends up being a damsel in distress at the finale (just remembered that he did end up needing to be saved too). These two largely have the same problems but it's a little more notable for Lemon since she is the only relevant female character and gets relegated to not having any genuine role in the story until she needs saving. I personally do not think her crushing on Mash is as offensive as her treatment in the story, but it is again very stereotypical and does not give her any unique identity. The main 3 all have clear personality traits but I really can't think of anything for Finn and Lemon. Both these characters to me have nothing really to them and lack agency in the story.

To end on a positive note, the OP and ED are both bangers. The action scenes are also solid, with some very interesting magic powers and ways that Mash combats them. I really enjoyed the fights as a whole. The presentation of the show is pretty solid.

I think it's a pretty good show. Putting aside my issues with Lemon and Finn, it has a lot of good jokes, great action scenes and interesting concepts on how magical and physical capabilities can collide. I'm looking forward to getting the next set of episodes next year, and I'm really hoping we get some redemption for Lemon and Finn.

But keep in mind that what comes later does not always affect what already happened and imply there was foreshadowing or hidden depth. Their characters can be improved, but it won't change how mediocre I feel they were here. I don't like when people try to use hindsight from future content to say, "they were actually great characters all along" when it's clear from the writting that it was not intended from the start. Sorry, I won't buy that with this lol. Thanks for reading!

[adultswim2021]

Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law: “The Death of Harvey” | July 22, 2007 - 11:45PM | S04E07

Well, I’ve made my way through all of Harvey Birdman. At one time it seemed like essential viewing, even though I found it to be my least favorite of the OG Adult Swim line-up. I turned on it by the time season one ended, and watched most of the series for the first time through this blog. And I’m gonna level with you: I don’t even really wanna talk about this episode all that much. 

The final episode actually follows the events of the previous episode; Birdman has to try all of his cases again, so he does in a very short amount of time. It’s just an excuse to call back nearly every episode of the show’s run. This show was already lousy with callbacks, imagine an episode where that’s the main thing? Anyway, turns out one of the villains he tried before the series began has also been set free; he’s a big giant monster guy who begins destroying the city. Birdman must return to his superhero roots and fight him with brute force. 

Meanwhile, Phil is revealed to be alive, and is taking a speeding cross-country trip in a bus, driving it entirely in reverse. He refers to his own situation as “final episode stunt casting”. Phil’s story literally collides with Birdman’s when his bus finally shows up moments after Birdman's moment of triumph; striking Birdman and killing him in the process. There’s also a subplot about X the Eliminator or Exterminator (I don’t feel like looking it up) finally maybe getting Birdman’s crest. 

Look, were I a fan of the show, I could imagine this being really pleasing. It’s a fangasm of the highest order. The only way it could possibly be better is if all the characters on here were portrayed as funko pops. I can at least appreciate the animation, which I’ve lightly praised in the past. The show does look pretty good, and the comic action is executed well. But nothing in this made me laugh, really. The show mostly trades in unmotivated silliness and flighty characters behaving foolishly and characters talking at each other but not really having real conversations. It all feels so meaningless.

That said, I guess this one is one of the better episodes. This one has a funny Cheers reference at the end. I’d call this one above average I guess. Okay, that’ll do. I’m done thinking about this show! BYE BYE BIRDMAN BITCH

Oh, yeah, I forgot I sometimes like to present my top ten episodes of each show whenever it ends. This might be revised when I get to the special years from now. Oh yeah, there was a special. Anyway: This is my top ten, in chronomalogical order (not ranked): 

S01E02: Very Personal Injury

S01E04: Death By Chocolate

S01E06: The Dabba Don

S02E06: Back to the Present

S02E08: Peanut Puberty

S03E03: X Gets the Crest

S03E04: Bird Girl of Guantanamole

S03E11: Sebben and Sebben Employee Orientation

S03E12: Identity Theft

S04E07: The Death of Harvey

EPHEMERA CORNER:

Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law: Volume Three DVD (July 24, 2007)

Holy crow, now THAT’S turnaround time, baby! Season three of Harvey Birdman came out the following Tuesday. Imagine how thrilling it would have been to work at a video store and have your shipment from Ingram show up on Thursday. Why, you’d have access to the finale in stunningly crisp DVD quality an entire day before the show debuted on the Friday Night Fix, and three days before it’s television debut. Maybe there’s commentary! 

…There’s no commentary. Oh well. There are extras, though. One of the more memorable extras is a montage of various running jokes on the show, presented in chronological order. This show sure loved its running jokes. Somebody had to.

MAIL BAG

is it too late to make a better call saul joke about saul of the mole men? you know, better call saul? it's bob!! bob is saul!!

It is too late and I’m pissed off about it! Knock it off!

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

After spending hours this afternoon trying to work on something only to end up:

Breaking two tools I can’t afford to replace

Injuring myself

Having made the problem I was trying to fix worse instead of better

Realizing that this happens to me most of the time

Well, I think I have been avoiding facing this far too long. I am simply utterly incompetent!

Not joking.

Sometimes I know what to do, but I lack the skill or the strength or the money for parts or…but a lot of the time I don’t know. Maybe the vague idea, but not the specifics, and my situation is always just enough off research just points me wrong.

Maybe I’m just an idiot.

What really sucks is that my father was ultra capable, and because Pop and I thought alike everyone, including me, expects me to be ultra capable too.

That’s not fair! I mean, Pop was a genius.

I mean literally a genius in the classic IQ way (IQ is bullshit though, remember that!) but also in what he could do. Tell him build a bridge without modern tools, and he’d design it, cut down the trees, run them through a belt saw mill, and construct it himself so well you could run a tank over it. He was making a submarine from scratch. Where I just daydream stories, he would design sterling engines in his head for fun.

He was so good at stuff, constantly building and making things, using every tool imaginable. He seemed skilled at everything. Construction, electronics, survival skills, actually pretty much anything but musical instruments. TBH I think that’s mostly because he expected to be good at playing without spending time. Oh, and sports. He just hated sports! LOL (and Mom LOVED sports and had been an athlete!)

Pop’s head was overflowing with stuff. Ask him about his favorite areas of science (geology, physics, climate, actually just about everything but human biology) or history or politics and he could go off on it for hours.

I miss that, us out there fiberglassing on layups that could take hours, and talking the whole time. I miss talking to someone that’s interested in everything and never having to worry about being misunderstood or losing or offending the person.

I miss his brain soooooo much! I used to call him my external hard drive. Mom was our calculator and spell check (which is AMAZING since I can neither spell nor do math in my head…and yes, she was extremely smart too), but Pop was everything else. “Hey Pop, quick question about nuclear physics….”

But this is a major source of my problem. I was his side kick. He was The Doctor and I was the companion. I was good at that. Very good. Trouble is I don’t know quarter of what he knew. I don’t have him to ask what to do or how to do it. Every single day I realize how much I took being able to talk to him for granted.

I also certainly don’t have his magnificent, big, strong hands capable of both brute force and the most delicate of detail work. My hands just fumble.

Pop and I did think alike. It never occurred to me he was all that unusual because we got each other. Heck, half the time I acted as a kind of translator when he’d get too frustrated trying to get someone to understand. **

I’d certainly have never called him a genius (and only recently discovered in old papers that he actually technically was…’cause like I said, IQ is bullshit) and TBH, it feels weird to use. I can say it now that he is dead, but to say it about the living sounds like ego stoking crap.

I just thought he was interested in everything and he cared about everything and everyone. All curiosity and intense emotions. This seemed normal.

Pop was a sweetheart and I loved him dearly, but the loss of that wondrous mind of his felt like an extra tragedy when he died. I’d lost my father, my best friend, and my boss….but the idea that that brain was gone from the world was devastating.

Only later did I realize how much I’d lost. Yes, I’d helped him with everything, but I’m not him.

Frankly, compared to Pop I’m an idiot. I flail about cluelessly. My brain doesn’t record things. Once a task is done it gets erased, and so everything I did with Pop got deleted long ago. Just vague shapes of jobs, but the skills are gone. Forgetting means I have to reinvent the wheel all the damn time.

When Pop was alive I felt we could do anything. For too long after I’ve expected myself to be able to continue that indomitability. If I just kept trying, working at it, never giving up, thinking things through, I should be able to do anything too.

But I can do nothing.

For months it has been failure after failure, my world crumbling to dust around me. Not one thing I have tried to repair or create has worked. I make things worse, break things, ruin things. even things I had a modest ability at I no longer seem able to do (just look at all my sculpting, or better yet don’t).

For the first time in my life I really feel worthless, useless, pathetic…I almost even hate myself. Of course I have no one, no friends or family left. Why would anyone be able to care about someone with nothing to offer? I can’t even coast on being cute or funny when I’m ugly and no one gets my humor.( Is it really humor if no one else laughs?)

Today’s task turning into a disaster I don’t know how to fix was like a final nail in the coffin any sense of self respect, pride, and hope that I had. If I couldn’t do this, not a simple job of fitting some beams, drilling some holes, and pounding some nails…..

I dunno. As a little girl I was good at everything I tried. Now I’m good at nothing at all….not even sleep obviously! LOL

** “It’s in my head!” **He’d mime reaching into his head and throwing it at yours** “If I could just get you to see!!!” And then I’d sigh and find the words for it since I could see it too.

[barksback]

@frfld said: i'm too certain that you can do better. i want you to do better.

GRIMY FINGERS LEAVE BLOODY PRINTS ALONG THE EDGES OF THE REPORT, reagent scowling down at the red B- tucked into the upper corner. subject shows true skill and demonstrates innate survival instinct, but brute-forces through obstacles. resourceful, but relies heavily on stun rig to navigate through the environment. had he taken longer, been less efficient, that glaring red mark would likely be much lower. like i give a damn.

glare is now pointed at mr. fairfield, sitting at his desk with his hands clasped on top, head tilted, green eyes forever probing, searching, waiting. ‘ you want me to do better than this? ‘ subject scoffs, waving the report now, resisting the urge to tear it in two, or to crumple the pages and lob the ball at fairfield’s head. you don’t need another reason for the pencil-pushers to call for security. ‘ it’s all i can do to not get fucking killed in there, fairfield, and you want me to improve upon my performance? you want me to do better? ‘ i’m not even supposed to fucking be here! they want to shout, desperate for someone to believe them, but his insistence upon never signing up for this sick joke always falls upon deaf ears, doing little more than getting them sedated and thrown back into their cell room. for his own good, of course, it’s all just apart of the therapy. let us help you. the doctor knows best.

his head is full of cotton.

he sees the way fairfield tenses, only slightly, as their voice raises. am i making you nervous? is this uncomfortable for you? boo fucking hoo. still, he chooses his next words carefully, cornered animal growling through gritted teeth, voice now strained and low; ‘ what i’m doing now is my best. i don’t give a fuck about the therapy, i‘m just trying to survive. ‘

[smiletimeisrunningout]

"Good luck, he's a giant," she chuckled, but her smile had a touch of bitterness, "He's the only man who scares me. I mean, among the ones that physically hurt me. He was just... I was just a girl, I wasn't-didn't have experience yet, you know? I didn't have a chance." She still has nightmares about that one, which is interesting. She'd have expected the emotional betrayals pre-stabbings to earn that spot. But no, good old brute force it was.

"Is it truly so surprising?"

She nodded, but the rest of his explanation and confession wasn't any less dumbfounding. He had fantasized about a future teaching kids in her kingdom? Had he just admitted he also had intimate fantasies on top of it? She feared asking him more would offend him, because it would be the same as admitting she hadn't thought she would occupy her thoughts for more than second, besides of course crossing his mind as a friend and as a woman to bed. Because she should have known. She had chosen to look away out of cowardice and hadn't noticed, but she should have at least expected it from someone so innocent. "I'm learning so much about you today," she chose to say instead, still flushed from the earlier revelations. "I admit I'm not... the most perceptive woman in matters such as... this. Friendship... friendship is far easier."

"I would fall upon my own sword before harming you"

"That's too much," she retorted with a tremolous smile, letting him know how much she still appreciated it. And even so, she couldn't even joke about him being hurt. "Well... I got... I fell in love of course, and that's... that's when he started being... mean." There was no better word for it, her eyes filling with tears of humiliation at the thought of it - how many times she had been offended at the idea of being mean to anyone? It was just wrong. "It was never... direct at first, it was more like... letting me know he... was disappointed in the way I acted, rolling his eyes, telling me I spoke too much, I was too loud, too... arrogant in the way I acted, like I could fight better than anyone... and I loved him," she repeated weakly, "So I-I tried. I tried to be... a little better, and he rewarded me with praise and then... I don't know how it came to be, but he could tell me just how annoyed he was at me for just... being me and I'd apologize and try to be better and... I'd bet for a chance to do better, you know? I was just... so scared he'd leave me," she wiped a tear and attempted a smile, but that one didn't quite work.

"I tried... so hard... to make him happy, to... make him proud... I... wore the prettiest dresses and... did what ladies did, and learned how to be more proper, but I could tell he was still distant... so I thought I'd spend the night."

"Because I knew we were going to marry and be happy, I just knew I'd be... I'd have what my parents have, and I wanted to prove how much I loved him, I hoped... he'd be happy," she couldn't have sounded more judgmental, more bitter, at the thought of her stupid, stupid dreams. So blind to the fact that the boy was trying to get away from her. "And I did, and... the next morning... the next morning is when he told me the truth." Her voice wavered more, turning smaller and smaller, "He told me... it was a bet. They had made a bet, the boys. That he'd... tame the princess." She let go of his hands to wipe her face, but then had to keep her hands on it, to hide, even only for a couple of moments, "And he did. Because I would have done anything... But that's not the worst part, the worst part..." she let out a sob, but forced the words through, now or never, "Was how sorry he was, because-because he realized-he said he realized how nice I was... how kind and loving I was, and he felt bad. And he tried. He tried to love me. Can you imagine?" she let out a horrified small laugh, glancing at Ben, "Someone pitying you, pitying, and telling you how bad they feel for you, so much that they tried so hard to love you... and they couldn't? He had to tell me the truth even if he risked his neck, because of how bad he felt for me. I gave him... everything and I couldn't-I would rather he hated me. I would rather have him delight in the pain than..." Pity. She could never, ever, accept the humiliation behind it.

Benjamin blinked, both horror and revulsion shadowing his pitying gaze. The more Emma spoke, the angrier he became; not at her -- no, no, never her -- but at the faceless man who'd somehow been capable of trying to tear her still-beating heart from her chest.

Swallowing back his nausea, he released a shaky exhale as Emma's hand found his own.

"I'm thinking that if I had told you the stories behind my scars you would have probably understood me better," she said, "but maybe it will kill the rest of you more."

"Perhaps," he lowly agreed. "But I'm definitely adding this man to my kill list." He flashed a feeble smile to show his jest, though there was certainly a modicum of truth to his words. If he ever met the people responsible for her pain, her hurt, he would slay them without another thought or regret.

To his surprise, Emma appeared genuinely startled by his admission. "You can't-we can't-would you? Wh... Wait, give me a moment."

If this were any other situation, any other topic, Benjamin would have laughed. Instead, he tensed up at her side, uncertain if he'd enchanted or upset her with his words.

Once a deep, rosy hue entered Emma's cheeks, it soon became mercifully clear that she felt a certain shyness over his confession. "You have... thought of that? Of... of coming home with me, of... being... together with me?"

The corner of Benjamin's mouth turned upward, equally shy and boyish as he shrugged. "Is it truly so surprising?" he asked. "In wartime, a man has very little to sustain himself, but...that fantasy, rest-assured, has sustained me for many a lonely, restless night." The pink in his cheeks deepened. "And I don't just mean in an intimate way. I've thought of meeting all the orphans you've spoken of so fondly...of teaching them how to read, and play games, and yes, maybe even how to cheat at said games." He grinned. "Teaching was once a solitary daydream for me, but every time I've pictured myself with those children, I realized my mind had conjured you right there by my side."

Emma once more seemed unsure of herself. She finally wasn't running -- no, if anything, she was pulling him closer -- and Benjamin wordlessly obeyed, drawer nearer while their hands remained entwined.

"When I met him, when I met Arian... I acted like a boy," she softly began.

Benjamin listened, his heart tight with the fear for her inevitable heartbreak, and the more she spoke, the more his features softened with fondness. She was remarkable, resilient, a beacon, and he ached from seeing her light scattered so aimlessly.

Seemingly oblivious to his observation, Emma continued, "He told me I was strong and beautiful, that I'd be a warrior like my mother, and he started courting me with sweet words and gifts. He trusted me with personal matters, made me feel needed and even stronger and... I started seeing him after curfew. Innocently, I was just a girl, but so that we could spend hours talking. And we did. And..." She paused, a serious look lancing her features. "You cannot tell anyone what I'm about to say."

With his heart jangling between his ribs, Benjamin gently took Emma's chin between thumb and forefinger, encouraging her to meet with his gaze. "You have nothing to worry about with me," he softly encouraged. "Nothing. I would fall upon my own sword before harming you...I swear it. Not one word exchanged between us will ever leave this tent."

[straighttohellbuddy]

midas {Ghostbur}

Summary: Two ghosts find each other. Death has made them gentle.

Need to Know: They/Them. based on the headcanon that ghostbur's touch stains things blue, but that you can only see it when you are a ghost, or have been revived.

A/N: 3286 words. lol probably ooc its 5am i have work in 5 hours and this is very unedited AND written on my phone lets go. thoughts? idk. also because im wanky i want to point out now that it bookends. the deadly sin of wrath is most often put against the heavenly virtue of patience. have fun. i don't think i know enough about the actual lmanberg arc to have written this but oh well. again, thoughts?

{ masterlist : 1 / 3 }

Warnings: reader-death (non graphic), implied mild suicidal ideation, self-doubt

Loyal to fatality, your deadly sin was wrath.

You lived and died for the birth of a nation, fighting for its independence, fighting for its citizens, dressing up your love as patriotism to hide the truth. The truth, the overwhelming truth, was that this ragtag bunch of rebels were the first people with whom you truly felt understood.

Everyone would look back on your choices, on your life, and wonder what had inspired your sudden vitriolic devotion to a cause like L'manburg of all things. Stuck with self imposed blinders, all you'd wanted was that warmth of belonging, that approval, their respect.

Your people won your land's independence, lead by a diplomat, but you never had the same way with words, the same grace; you'd earned your place in this nation through displays of force, of gnashing teeth and brute force. This war had taken lives from you; you didn't know how earn your place in this new world of peace.

But they smiled at you, mirrors of warmth and understanding among them, assuring you that if you wanted your place to be defending this nation, then no-one would take that from you.

But they told you to rest, to pick your battles carefully; with stubbornness you ignore the genuine concern in their voices, can only twist it to some kind of question of your capabilities.

"I - we - L'manburg is better with you in it," Wilbur tells you as he checks over what you're pretty sure is a broken nose over another petty fight with another party's supporter.

"I don't want them to think that they can speak about you... or L'manburg," you add quickly, "like that."

"Don't die defending my honour," he says it like its half a joke, lips twisted into something you think is adoration in the right light, though you don't want to get your hopes up. You huff a faint laugh, and hope he doesn't notice how you don't make any promises.

Loyal to fatality, you lost your last life in service of the walls you'd already perished protecting, and the man whose words inspired them. And you. You'd picked the wrong time to be incensed by someone badmouthing your land, and the people set to lead it, if all went as planned with the election. The election, already tensions had been running high, your nerves alight with something jealously protective at the idea that anyone would even dare to usurp the nation you'd help build from its rightful leader.

So maybe you'd been looking for a fight.

And maybe you'd picked the wrong one.

Something is decidedly not right when you wake up in the land of the living once more. You have awoken with a new clarity. Every memory you have is stained with a strange sense of detachment as you realise that the land you fought for was never the thing you cherished.

But you hadn't thought to tell anyone that, so scared that it would be perceived as weakness, that putting their individual lives above the nation you'd so loudly defended would be some kind of treason. Your memories don't feel like yours; looking back, all you feel is regret.

More than just your physical form had died that day.

You've changed in ways you can barely comprehend.

Time has passed, the election that had sent you spiralling, terrified of being robbed of your sense of belonging, your place in the world, if your friends did not pull through to victory, was now only days away. But the part that you'd missed for your blinders was that you weren't the only one spiralling because of this all.

But how can you face them again?

How can you find the words to tell them you finally died for a nation you no longer care about?

How can you tell them that all the fighting you did was to protect them, that it's the only way you knew to say I love you?

But you realise you can't. You become a spector on the horizon watching the big moments in your nation's history, watching the people you care about lose elections, spiral into their own guilt and rage as they lose their home to its new leader. You can't say that it never mattered, that you shouldn't have made them think it did to you, since the companionship was the real thing you'd been fighting for. It's not the time.

Even at a distance, something about the man who'd started your nation is clearly falling apart. Part of you aches in a way you can't put into words, heart cold and still in your only vaguely corporeal chest, but somehow still breaking as the thing he'd worked so hard for is stripped away.

He can't know you're still here. You'd died for that nation. He can't know you knew it was in vain.

So you fill your time and fill your thoughts with anything but your nation and your people and the love you can't help but hold for them. You watch sunsets, and find out water stings but for some inexplicable reason trying to pick up any weapon burns. Perhaps it's irony. Perhaps it's always burned like this, but you'd liked the pain when you'd justified it to yourself.

The things you can touch, can pick up, can hold, you realise quickly that they turn gold. Terrifying at first, your touch stains gold that you learn that no-one else can seen. Or, at least, no-one has indicated that they can see it. But you can. It shines in torchlight, in moonlight, it's beautiful in its own way.

On quiet nights, you sneak around the nation you'd once loved, reclaiming it, silent and unseen, for the people who deserved it.

You can't see it, but we're still here.

Those words written across buildings, along tunnels underground, you find the room with the button, the room with the national anthem plastered on the walls, and as you find yourself reminiscing on better times and terrible singing, you trace the letters with your fingertips, each one personally guilded. The people were the best parts of those memories, you regret letting them believe you thought any different.

I was never fighting for the nation, your confession written in gold letters only you can read along the wall of the tunnel, I was fighting for its soldiers.

You don't want to be seen, afraid of what people would think if they saw you trying to preserve the legacy of a now-crumbling legion. Each night trip you take to spread your personal graffiti was broken up by days, even weeks of solitary travelling, or watching from afar as the people you cared for prepared to stage a siege for the land they'd called home.

Before, you would have been desperate to join them, chomping at the bit for a fight for your nation, ignoring how all you really wanted was to bring them joy, and that you didn't know how else to do that. Now, however, again your heart aches; so much had already been lost, how much would this siege cost them? How much were they willing to lose?

Everything, everything, everything.

When the dust settles, when your post-mortem throat still somehow stings from your scream of despair, you can see how some of the debris at the bottom of the crater glitters gold. Your gold. You feel ill.

Your land and your leader, gone one right after the other.

Phil sits in the tunnel for a long time, buffeted by the wind from the sudden hole in the rock face where the button room had been. He stays there long enough that when you finally make your way down there, horrified and distraught, he finally sees you. The first person in months. The first person since you'd died.

He doesn't say anything, his expression doesn't change from where it's almost eerily neutral, and then, he's looking back at the wall.

"You're everywhere," his voice is strangely hoarse, but his words are the thing that truly take you back.

"You... can see my words," for a moment, his gaze flicks to you, still without expression, but right now it feels like fucking obviously is written all over his face.

I was never fighting for the nation, in gold, Phil reads it again and again.

"I'm sorry you couldn't see that sooner," Phil says gently, and his eyes fall closed as he leans his head back on the wall behind him, the second half of your message, "we all loved you," he tells you, "and they missed you."

In this moment, the excuses for your absence that you've been working on for just this moment, leave your mind. All that's there is the sound of the wind whistling through the tunnel. And an apology. It's almost lost, stolen by the rushing air, but you see Phil's lips quirk into a faint smile. He'd heard.

Heading past him, to the hole he'd left in the world, Phil calls out that his body won't be there, like he's anticipating your intent. Still, you scale the wall with little care, not that you had anything to lose from the fall.

The rest of the people you care about are safe; their furious and terrified and confused, but they are safe. For now, and for now is enough. Tomorrow you will worry about them, will find them and tell them you love them like you should have months ago, before any of this happened, but tonight you sit in the ruins of the land you'd fought and killed and died for. Not hallowed ground, nor close to holy, this debris is simply dirt and stone and the remnants of what you built it up to be. The echoes of your past golden touch are the only thing proving this place to hold memories too.

The others hug you with a force that overwhelms you, each and every one, and your tears at the compassion they still held for your burns your own eyes, though you don't even care. The surprise comes with how tight they all hold you; the way they tremble you chalk up to the shock of seeing you there, at least until you hear Fundy's unsteady apology murmured from where he'd perched his chin on your shoulder as he'd held you tight.

For all he's glad for your return, he's sorry it can't be to a place you'd be proud of. You tell him you've returned to company you are proud of, company who tried their best despite the odds. Whether or not he believes the decisions be made were right in hindsight, he made the decisions, he didn't run from his responsibilities.

There's gold stains, invisible hand prints, where you'd held his jacket tight in the hug.

"I did my best," he murmurs, tremble still in his voice, "but I can't fight like you."

"And you're alive for it," you point out, stepping back though you're wearing a warm smile, "your best is enough. I'm sorry I haven't told you that sooner."

The look he gives you, the way he regards you, it's quick but you can see a moment of gratefulness. After all he's lost, you endeavour to make sure he knows he's loved, and that he always has been by his family.

But perhaps you'd at least have some help.

"Phil told me you'd been the one painting the town gold, I didn't believe him at first," a familiar voice echoes in a way similar to your own nowadays. There's a smile in that tone but still, you're on your feet and tense; as your hands curl into defensive fists, something about the intent makes them burn unbearably until you open your hands to flat palms, shaking out the pain.

"Are you okay?" Wilbur, concerned this time, asks. Looking away from your hands, and finally up to your fellow spectre, you can't seem to find your voice. Then, slowly, as if he's afraid to spook you, Wilbur steps forward to gently takes your hands; you let him, let him look down at your palms for signs of something wrong and finding nothing. But his fingertips on your skin, even gentle, stain blue, like you stain gold.

"You're everywhere," tone reverential while he's the one haloed by the sun sinking below the sea, he gives you a moment to process his newfound appearance as a gentle ghost.

"I was given a chance to make sure we were remembered," you tell him. He's still holding your hands. Your think you feel the phantom beat of your heart quicken in your chest, and suddenly remember why it was easier to fight wars than look Wilbur in the eye.

As he was capable of words that could inspire the birth of a nation, it felt selfish for you to want him to grace you with what you felt was any kind of unearned praise. So you earned your praise, you earned your place in the nation and by his side, and learned to write I love you with the blood you spilled from others. Here and now, distinctly post-mortem and physically unable to take up any kind of arms, all you had left was yourself. Long dead self-doubt began to flare up in your chest.

"Everyone dies, but I will not let the same happen to our legacy," you're trying to keep your tone earnest and even. The smile is gives you is so fond it hurts. This is not the man you'd watched spiral, at least, not quite. Then, almost without you meaning to, the words spill from you - "every time something is rebuilt from the rubble of the nation we'd built, I will write all our names upon it."

"That's very sweet of you," he says gently, fondly, almost endeared by your seriousness. Something about it makes you feel strangely seen; something about the way he says it sounds like love.

And though he doesn't remember what happened in the end, still doesn't quite believe when people tell him what he did, he sits in the tunnel and gazes up at the words you'd written there.

I was fighting for its soldiers.

Back to the wall, he smiles up at the letters still pristine and golden. Beside him, you still with your eyes closed, unsure of what to make of this moment. He's tracing a pattern on your knee; if you looked down, you'd see a flower stained in blue.

"We knew," he broke the silence with a quiet reassurance, "we worried you'd die for us."

"And then I did," your voice was barely more than a whisper, so shakey with apology and guilt.

"And then you did," he agreed faintly. He stops tracing on your knee. You don't open your eyes.

"I love you, I always have," you tell him, frank but terrified.

"I love you too," he responds after a moment, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before I died."

"I wouldn't have listened," you rest your head on his shoulder.

You learn to confess your fears like sins, begging for forgiveness for your absence and foolishness because of them. The person you'd been before your death had put all their worth into their capabilities; to them, losing the election was losing their nation, and their cause.

Wilbur tells you that that's where things start to go missing in his mind; he doesn't remember your death or his reaction, only that it happened. It's bits and pieces; you wish you'd been closer, been around so you could help him remember now, or at all. Maybe if you'd been there, he wouldn't be a ghost beside you, he just be beside you.

You want to tell him that you saw what he became in your absence, but everyone sees fit to remind him of who that was, so you tell him that you're just glad he came back. And he smiles. It's worth it.

The only thing better is his smile dusted gold as he kisses you quick, and you pull him back in.

"I'm making up for lost time," you tell him; you hope he hears I love you, and not I still wish I'd told you sooner. Both are true, but you can't dwell on the past if you can't fix it. He always obliges you with a smile, though sometimes you catch a faint sadness as he pulls away, a hint of it took us both dying to get here.

Everything he touches is stained blue, regret bleeding from his fingertips, messy and sombre and invisible to everyone but you. But he paints distracted masterpieces on everything he touches, walls and trees and flowers and friends. Hands held and hugs given, he smiles at Tommy and pets his hair and tells him he's a good kid. While Tommy had been wary at first, he'd thankfully warmed up to you both, though the overt fond affection was vaguely unnerving given recent memory.

"So he finally got around to telling you how he feels?" The begrudging tone Tommy was using gave you cause to frown, though the kid just rolled his eyes at that, pausing where he was rifling through Technoblade's chests while the man of the house was out, "we all cared about you, you know? For more than just the fighting you did, but none of us knew how to say it in a way we thought you'd believe," he shuffles over to the next chest, opening it, "old mate Wilbur was bloody lovesick, and the more you threw your support behind him, the worse it got. Vicious cycle. Glad he finally found some courage."

There's a flower stained in blue on his forearm, and despite being washed, the hand prints from where you'd hugged him tight after coming back shine gold on his back. He can't see either. You hope he never will. You thank him for his time, and look for Wilbur.

"I- lovesick is a bit of a - I mean-" he even blushes blue. In the forest you ask him about what Tommy had said, and finally apologise for dying to protect his honour, just like he'd asked you not to. Flustered, like his lips aren't already stained gold, he gets quiet as you step up to him.

For all the worlds he could weave with words, something about you always left him speechless and searching. Back then, all he'd needed was three, but in a way you'd understand. Now, he's grateful for his own silence, grateful to take in the sight of you, the way your features were traced with blue, trails down your arms from his gentle, distracted touches, your hands covered in the colour just as he knew his own all but bled gold for you.

Your hands, now, on his cheeks, were warm. Perhaps not to others, but certainly to him.

Each day you lament your past less and less; living, or existing as the case may be, in the moment did wonders for your poor heart, each day spent assuring the people you'd cared about, and the new people you're growing to care about, that they have your love.

Even Fundy hugs you tightly, but still can't seem to forgive Wilbur, despite the clear reform he's had since death. But there is time. There's always time.

Despite still having a way with words, it's here that Wilbur comes to understand that the right words will evade him of its not the right time. Like with you, despite the circumstances, the right time eventually came.

With you by his side, he would as long as it takes for his son.

Loyal even through fatality, his heavenly virtue was patience.

[hunterofthemist]

Strength of the Meek

Carrying a paper bag Dave walks into the cafeteria. He looks around the room and sees Kotzal waving him over. He walks over to him and sits down with Kotzal at a noticeably empty table.

"Hey Dave, how are you?" Kotzal asks with a grin. "You dont have to rub it in, I had no idea you were a natural," Dave grumbles.

"It's just that when you showed me the rules I realized how similar they were to a game I used to play on Geon. Thrum If I remember correctly." Kotzal and dave talk for some time, the topic changes quickly from poker to physical ability.

"How strong are humans anyway? I've seen your movies but you said they aren't a good representation of human strength." Kotzal asks intrigued.

"Were strong enough. Enough to take down something bigger than us, at least with some planning that is." Dave answers. "I mean back when humans still dwelled in caves we took down wooly mammoths, which were beasts around three times the size of a human."

"Oh, I didn't know that. It's pretty impressive to hear." Kotzal says more than intrigued at this point.

"What about when a human has to do something impossible, just to keep the ones they care about alive. What do you do then?" He asks, his face getting a bit more solemn.

"We push on, do whatever it takes, even if it means we tear ourselves apart doing so," Dave says with a look of sincerity. He then breaks the look and smiles warmly. "What's got you asking a question like that?"

Kotzal laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head. "I dont know, I just heard stories over the Ether."

The conversation ends as the buzzer goes off on everyone's watch. "Shit thought we had more time for lunch break. That blows." Dave sighs.

Dave and Kotzal start walking down a hallway towards their respective stations. Halfway towards Dave's station, the alarm sounds, as well as an explosion in a nearby hallway.

"What was that!" Kotzal panics, immediately hiding behind dave and shaking. Dave reacts accordingly, not to the explosion but to Kotzal hiding behind him. "Woah dude, you good?"

"Oh sorry, my species is a prey species on my home planet. We get jumpy when stuff like this happens."

Dave chuckles at the thought, "you know if you did this around the others im pretty sure they wouldn't be able to see you." His attention focuses back on the sound. " We should go check out what happened, we're engineers after all."

Kotzal steps out from behind dave nervously and agrees. They walk down the hallway towards the commotion. Smoke billows out of the walls, embers pour out of the holes as well.

A hulking beast pulls its way out of the hole, it had to be around 8 and a half feet tall. Just as dave gets a look at it, several more come out of the walls. Kotzal grabs dave and pulls him around the corner, away from the beasts.

"Get down! Those are Tarvok pirates. We need to go, we do Not want to pick a fight with those." Kotzal is freaking out, likely having a panic attack. He tries to pull Dave with him. Dave doesn't budge, instead, he stares at the wall and puts his hand on it. "I cant."

Kotzal gets more anxious and frenzied, pulling harder on Dave. "No We have to go, David dont do this." In response, Dave grins and puts his head on the cold metal wall. "I said I cant, This station is my baby. I've fixed her more than anyone else. I can't leave her."

Dave turns to Kotzal and continues. "Not to mention the number of people these guys could hurt. You know how far the nearest guard post is, and how understaffed it is. If I turn tail and run countless people will die. But If I distract them, buy us some time. Maybe I can save a few lives."

"But you'll die! You'll get killed, I can't have you do that. I can't lose you, You're the only one who even respects me, let alone is nice to me." He says as tears start to form in his four eyes.

Daves grin breaks and he pulls Kotzal into a hug, Kotzal's small stature causing him to look like a small child not wanting their parent to leave. "That's not happening. I ain't gonna die." Dave thinks for a moment and goes on. "How about you help me, I dont buy this scared child Schtick. There's something there, something strong. I can see that."

Dave breaks the hug and pulls a knife from his belt, and hands it over to him. Kotzal stares at the blade for a second and takes the knife and nods in agreement. "Use your speed and stature to your advantage. there's a lot of smoke, try to use that."

Dave and total talk for a minute discussing plans and strategies after they're done he grabs a pipe on the wall and rips it off, but not before speaking to the station itself. "Sorry about this."

Walking around the corner Dave bangs the pipe on the wall, getting the army of Tarvok's attention. "Hey you brutes, eyes on me." He says, resting the pipe on his shoulder.

One of the Tarvok's starts walking over to Dave with a look of hunger and anger. Dave grins, this being a part of his plan, and stomps on a jagged and sharp piece of metal, launching it into the air. To which Kotzal leaves cover from behind Dave and grabs the piece of metal and throws it into the eye of the Tarvok.

"See, I told you no one would be able to see you back there." Dave jokes. He takes a step forward and inspects the now corpse of the Tarvok. "Oh damn, straight into the eye." Kotzal meekly responds to the compliment. "Thanks, it was heavier than Im used to so I didn't think it hit where I wanted to."

"You're a good shot, keep it up." Dave compliments. For a split second, Dave swore he could see Kotzal's cheeks turn blue.

Dave starts walking forward towards the rest of the army, beckoning them to come to fight him. One soldier takes a step forward to fight. The hulking beast throws a punch towards Dave but he sides steps it and slams his weapon into a pipe next to the Tarvok.

The soldier notices this and started to laugh but a second later the pipe bursts and hot steam starts to burn the soldier and causing it to fall to the floor.

The next one rushes Dave and throws a punch at him, he absorbs the blow into his shoulder and uses the force to spin himself around and slam the pipe into the soldier's skull.

At the display of force, the rest of the Tarvok's take a step back from the carnage. "Hey Kotzal, I think I fucked my shoulder up. It's your turn. " Dave says quietly so the brutes in front of them won't hear. "Yeah, let's do it." He responds, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

Dave starts to run towards the group of Tarvok's with Kotzal following. Before he gets too close he ducks down and arches his back and Kotzal jumps off his back and launches himself toward the enemy.

With one hand he throws a sharp piece of metal in the neck of one of the soldiers and with the other he stabs another with the knife Dave gave him.

The last one is in front of them, he's bigger than the rest. Probably the leader. "Let me handle this one," Dave says as he blocks Kotzal from moving forward with the pipe.

Looking at the pipe in his hand, Dave realizes that the pipe is way too damaged to continue to be useful. He takes a step forward and throws the thing as hard as he can. The pipe flies through the air and when it's about to hit, the leader catches it.

As soon as he threw the pipe Dave started running towards the beast but only noticed that he caught the pipe when he was too close to do anything. The Leader propels his knee into Daves's gut, the spike on it spearing into dave.

"Oh fuck!" He screams as the spike goes through him. He falls back and tries to stop the bleeding. Another scream is heard, not of pain but rage. "You Fucker!" It's Kotzal, with the look of pure rage in his eyes.

"I'll kill you!" He screams as he starts running towards him. As he reaches him he jumps at the leader to get a clear shot at him. In retaliation, the Tarvok grabs him by the neck and holds him in the air. Kotzal doesn't seem to notice, the anger blinding him. He starts slashing wildly at the beast in front of him, a good majority hitting their targets.

Kotzal gets a good stab into the arm of the beast holding him, causing him to be dropped.

While on the ground he stabs the blade into the back of the knee of the Tarvok leader making him fall to his knees, lining him up for a stab to the side of his head, killing him.

He keeps stabbing the now dead Tarvok, more out of rage than him being unsure he's dead. After a few dozen stabs he stops and takes a second to breathe and remembers Dave. He turns around and sprints towards Dave.

He starts trying to help him staunch the bleeding and stabilize him. "No, no-no-no. Dont do this, you cant." He starts tearing up trying to help him.

"It's okay, you did well. Didn't expect the fucker to catch the pipe. I think this is it" Dave says as he rests on the wall, trying to do whatever he can to stop the bleeding.

"Dont say that! You'll be fine, I know what im doing. I can help you." Kotzal says frantically.

Dave looks at him and puts his bloodied hand on his shoulder. "You can't save me, an injury like this is impossible to fix up."

"Shut up!" Kotzals shouts as he slaps dave. "We aren't in the medical dark ages, You know how strong modern medicine is." a grin forms on Daves face as he shrugs. "Whatever you say," he says as his vision fades to black and passes out.

Daves eyes open and the bright light blinds him, "hey your awake." a familiar voice says. His eyes adjust to the light and he sees that Kotzal is sitting on the chair next to his bed.

Dave groans in pain as he tries to sit up. Kotzal puts a hand on his shoulder and stops him. "Dumbass, you can adjust the bed." He laughs, handing him the switch.

"How long was I out?" He asks as he raises the head of his bed. "About two days. You had us worried for a little while." Kotzal responds with a smile.

"You can't kill me that easily, its gonna take a lot more than that, I still have work to do here." He smiles back.

"Oh yeah, like what?" Kotzal asks. "The engines been making a thunking noise for the past week, I still figure out what the hell the problem is." They both start laughing for a minute and after they stop a silence is formed between them, which is promptly broken ten seconds later by dave. "Hey after they discharge me, do you wanna go to the bar and get a few drinks? I'll buy."

"Sure thing, I'd love to."

[acanthodii-phobia]

hey sorry if this is so sudden but i’ve been feeling so down lately and can i just get the turtles comfort reader (they/them pls) bc they think they can’t do anything right? rottmnt as well pls

Of course! :) And I'm sorry you haven't been in the best place recently.. I hope the turtles and I can help ease your thoughts a little. Things will get better, and many things in your life will change over time - the bad is only temporary that way, even if it doesn't feel like it. Right now you're at your strongest, and I now you can and will get through it!

We believe in you. 🐢🐢🐢🐢

(RoTTMNT) Comfort Oneshots X GenderNeutral!Reader PT. 1

Each turtle bro. will focus on something a little different, but overall still what you requested. I hope that's alright. ^^ These are slightly longer than my other posts, so these oneshots will be split amongst two posts. Leo and Raph are in pt. 1, Donnie and Mikey are in pt. 2!

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Content Warning: The topics discussed won't go into graphic detail, but if you feel like you would get upset by reading about topics dealing with depression or negative thoughts, please do not read for your own care.

•

One-shots will contain:

Y/N - Your Name

Leo:

[Comfort for feeling inadequate, worthless, uneeded & request.]

- They were crying in Leo's bedroom.

- The perfect place, they thought, for some time away from everyone. Y/N knew they were supposed to just be enjoying themselves and having fun; but they couldn't stop that irritating feeling.

- Those reoccurring thoughts of not being needed. Or wanted. The possibility of screwing everything up, and losing everyone they cared about... and it would've just been a waste of their time. Y/N just wasting everyone's time.

- The last thing they wanted was to bring down everyone's night only because of the terrible mood they were in.

- So here they were. Tucked away in the corner of Leo's bed, hugging a pillow and crying. In the dark. While the others were out there completely clueless.

- At least, that's what Y/N thought.

- Leo comes in a few minutes later searching for Y/N, while making unintentionally insensitive and boastful comments about him being better (nothing directed specifically at Y/N, though).

- Hearing Leo's comments makes Y/N cry more, and the moment he sees them he immediately rushes to their side, trying to comfort them and apologising profusely.

- He had a full grin before, expecting Y/N to reply back with another joke, but seeing them like this hurt him in a way he hadn't really felt before.

- "Hey, hey," he reaches out and holds Y/N face. He doesn't force them to look at him though - he just wants them to know he's there. "I'm so sorry, please don't cry. You know... you're just as good of a player as I am - I didn't realise you were taking Mario Monopoly so seriously."

- They shake their head, breathing deeply as they try to calm down.

- "I'm not upset over Monopoly, Leon, but thank you."

- He's confused. "Then... then why are you crying?"

- "I've just been having a lot of... uh, negative thoughts recently."

- Y/N explains how they feel inferior to him and his brothers, but specifically to Leo. They see Leo as this 'flawless, charming, and a jack-of-all-trades' kind of guy. Even though he can be occasionally rude without realising it, he's still so loved by his family and friends.

- "You're just," their breath is shaky as they push their hair back. "...so perfect. You do everything right, and even the times when you do mess up... no one hates you. I feel like I can't do anything right - I'm awkward and can't tell my left from right occasionally. You're important and valued by those who care about you, you're talented and..."

- "...I feel like I can't compete. I'm nothing like that, and I'm so envious of you." Y/N confesses, wiping their face with their sleeve.

- Leo is stunned - he didn't know they felt like this at all. His eyes never leave Y/N - his hands slowly drifting from their face - contemplating on his next move.

- He's not really 'good' at this sort of thing, but because it's Y/N, he wants to do more than just listen. Leo cautiously takes hold of the pillow that Y/N was gripping onto, and places it beside him.

- Leo then pulls Y/N closer to him, hugging them tightly.

- "You're valued by me," he whispers to them. "What you can or can't do... doesn't define your worth. Nothing can really define that. You existing and doing your best is worth enough." Leo leans back and smiles reassuringly. "...And I mess up a lot, too. I'm imperfect just like you, and that is always okay. And you know I'm never wrong~"

- He chuckles as he presses his forehead against Y/N's, reaching up slightly so his snout touches their nose and rubs them together affectionately. Y/N smiles.

- "Thanks... Leon."

Raph:

[Comfort for feeling insecure about vulnerability, thinking they should be stronger/ move on & request.]

- Y/N was watching Raph train in the dojo, admiring his strength and skills from the sideline, perched ontop of some extra mats. They had to admit, that despite his size he was very nimble and fairly noiseless on his feet. His brute force was more than expected, though.

- The guy's built like a tank - It's a very dangerous combo.

- But compared to him, Y/N was pretty clusmy and much weaker than him.

- They do their best to ignore the thoughts that come to their mind, but it was of no use. They weren't strong enough to protect themselves, nevertheless them... what were they supposed to do if they needed Y/N's help? They felt inferior to him.

- But Y/N keeps smiling as Raph shows off.

- However, he caught on quickly - he's able to tell that Y/N's smile isn't 100% genuine. He stops what he's doing immediately and faces them.

- "Hey, Shorty. You got somethin' on your mind?"

- Y/N is caught off guard. "Oh, uh... no. It's nothing."

- Raph looks at them doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

- They nod, denying it in fear of being vulnerable and being shunned away for saying otherwise. Raph gives them one last look before going back to his training.

- Eventually, Y/N quietly retreats from the dojo and runs just a bit outside of the lair to clear their mind. Everything is good for a moment, but they soon start hyperventilating and panicking.

- "What am I doing? Gosh, you look so stupid right now, why can't you control yourself? Calm down... breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe you idiot." They grip onto their shirt, breathing deeply, but it only works them up more.

- It wasn't long until it became difficult to breathe - their chest was tight and their lungs felt shriveled up and blocked off, like they just couldn't get any air in no matter how hard they tried. Tears start falling down their face.

- Raph tracks them down quickly, thanks to his brothers. Deep down, he knew Y/N needed someone right now. Anyone.

- But he really wants it to be him.

- "No, no, you guys just stay here! Everything's fine, I just need to find them. We'll back in a minute!"

- The moment he sees Y/N, his heart stops. There's a deep, weirdly empty feeling of dread that washes over him. He runs to their side without another thought, and does his best to guide them through it. He holds their hands in his, and rubs the back of them with his thumbs, whispering to them.

- "Y/N... it's okay. It's okay." He lets go of one their hands and holds the side of their face. "You're doing great... can you try some breathing exercises with me? Everything will be okay, I promise."

- They're still gripping onto their chest, crying, heaving deeply and erratically as Raph asks this, but the only thing Y/N does is nod.

- "Good," he assures them, smiling. "Now... do your best to follow me, okay? First, pinch your nose and close your mouth, bite your lip if you have to. You're going to hold your breath for a few seconds to start."

- "Perfect - you're doing great, Y/N! Now, breathe in deep through your mouth," Raph does it with them, nodding. "Good, and release through your nose."

- Once Y/N was back to a regular breathing, Raph asks them to explain what was going on, and he wasn't going to take "nothing" as an answer this time.

- Y/N stares up at him, wiping their tear-soaked face, and reluctantly states that they were scared of Raph seeing them being weak and vulnerable, and wanted to be seen as "cool" and strong like Raph is.

- "I didn't want you to hate me..." they lower their head, avoiding as much eye contact as possible. Almost immediately, they start panicking again. "Wait, oh gosh," they heave in deeply as they try to focus on anything, raising their arms instinctively - their surroundings blurring together as their mind races. "No, I'm sorry... you can't see me like this, I'm going to mess things up again like I always do, I-" Y/N tries to run away as the tears build up again, but Raph grabs their arm and pulls them back.

- "Y/N".

- He is very, very gentle with them, talking to them in a low voice. But he wasn't going to let them keep running off and avoiding him.

- "Please look at me." They try, with some struggle. "You are not messing anything up. It is okay to cry, to be vulnerable, and openly express how you feel. I'm... worried to find out who made you scared like this. You don't ever deserve to feel like that, Y/N.

- And you are strong, Y/N - your worth is never going to be based on how much you can lift or break with your fists. Your strength may or may not be in physical strength, but you being here with me - right now - your existence proves you are strong," He brings them into a hug, embracing them snugly. "In a lot of ways, that is much stronger than any physical strength I have, and I am so proud of you."

- He holds their head against him, reveling in the feeling of having them so close to him. He closes his eyes, gently leaning some of his weight onto them.

- "Thank you, Raph."

•

Thank you for requesting. :) I hope you enjoyed!

[ezrasarm]

You want Paz requests? I’m in love with the man, I think of him all the time.

Did you ever experience someone telling you they like you as a joke when you were a kid?? I definitely did.

I can imagine big strong thicc man Paz telling me he has feelings and would like to court, and me just getting upset because I think someone put him up to it as a joke. I’d legit cry. Little bit of angst, some fluff when they talk it out, the whole nine yards

Real Love, Baby

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Mandalorian!Reader

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: Bullying, kids are cruel, probably some emotional trauma, a smidge of violence, angst, a sprinkling of fluff, a lack of proof reading because I’m ✨impatient✨

A/n: Oh man I had my own brand of emotional manipulation back in the day but that’s the worst, I’m so sorry that happened to you but we’re gonna turn it around in here! Hope this is what you were looking for! Cue “Real Love Baby” by Father John Misty!

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Having grown up in the covert alongside him it felt like you’d known Paz forever. You didn’t get the chance to speak much or work together often anymore but you had always thought those formative years together had given you somewhat of an understanding of one another.

Believe it or not Paz wasn’t always as popular among the covert as he was now. He was big and clumsy as a child and didn’t know how to control his emotions. You had both been made laughingstock in all the school yard games, the butt of every joke. You doubted he even remembered it now, how you two had been forced to look out for one another back then. There was still one time you couldn’t get out of your head when after being humiliated in front of just about the entire class he had beaten up the kid who had asked you out only to laugh in your face the moment you stuttered out a yes. He had endured the punishment for once again losing his temper and starting a fight and he’d done it for you. You had never known how to thank him properly for it.

Since then he’d been deemed useful by the tribe. He’d gained their respect through brute strength and growth of character and now he practically ran the place. He was compassionate and strong willed, brilliant with children, a provider if you had ever seen one and a surprisingly good leader. He was everything the tribe needed and more which was why you were so taken aback by the words tumbling out of his mouth now.

You paused, unable to control the quiver to your jaw or the way tears had begun to blur your vision as the memories came flooding back to you.

He was supposed to be different. He knew better. And here he was telling you he loved you? No.

“Kriff, Paz I know you’re popular now but I thought at least you would have the decency not to pull this old stunt on me.” You managed to choke out, thankful for the helmet which now at least helped you hide the hurt that felt like it was ripping you up from the inside. The hurt because what he thought of you actually mattered. The hurt because you had worked so hard to push yourself past the phase in your life where you let peoples words cut you deeper than any vibroblade and here he was knocking you right back into it. The hurt because you wanted him to mean those words more than you had ever wanted anyone else to and instead here he was making some kind of sick mockery out of how famously unlovable you were just like all the rest of them had back then.

“And to think I spent all this time trying to figure out how to thank you.” You scoffed, turning on your heel to escape back down the hall.

Paz’s mind reeled. What had he done wrong? He made the mistake of reaching a hand out to grab your wrist—any attempt to get you to stay, to let him figure out what to say, to explain—Bad move.

In the blink of an eye you’d managed to twist out of his grasp and quite literally sweep him off his feet with the collapsible spear that lived on your person at all times. Jabbing it towards him as he attempted to recover from the breath that had been taken from his lungs upon his impact with the floor, you leaned over him, the crown of your helmet almost touching his when you spoke again.

“Who put you up to it?” You managed to grit out trying your best to maintain the upper hand but your voice gave out and you knew even through the vocoder he couldn’t have missed that pitiful gasp of a sob that managed to sneak past your lips.

Realization struck Paz almost as hard as your foot which came to press his chest plate back down when he tried to sit up.

“No one, mesh’la”

“Bantha shit,” you spat out and he felt the words slap him across the face and truly sting despite the visor in between you at the thought that you believed what you were saying. The idea that some stupid little kids back in school had convinced you you were unworthy of love or warmth or affection. For a second he was seeing red all over again. It was like he was back in school watching them poke fun at you for being compassionate and kind and wearing your heart on your sleeve in a way he’d seen no other mandalorian do. You were so strong, and so brave and so real and they’d forced you to bury it, hide it all away so they wouldn’t pick it to shreds. He could see it now, still there, scratching at the surface, bursting at the seams to be free and it made him all the more confident of the words that were falling out of his mouth.

“Don’t let them win.” He said softly, remembering the words you had told him when you were young and the same kids who tormented you kept trying to taunt him into fights they knew he would get in trouble for. A sudden wave of guilt flooded over him at the thought that the only reason they gave you such a bad time back then was to get to him. “You can’t let them control your happiness like this forever.��

“Paz…” the words failed you as the spear went limp in your hand, your shoulders falling and a heavy sigh rattled through your chest. “You can’t seriously want me…” you shook your head, staving off another wave of tears but you didn’t resist him this time when he moved to sit up, nor when he tugged you down to sit in his lap, a large gloved hand guiding your chin so you were forced to look straight at him.

“See that? Those are their words, not yours.” He hummed, a low warm thing full of softness and care that made your heart ache. “And I’d really like to hear your words when I ask you this question.”

A second stretched into another as you grappled with the idea of what was happening. With the reality of what he’d said earlier and the weight that he had actually meant it despite all that you had been convinced of. You allow yourself a hesitant nod, ready for the laughter to start booming from all around you but instead a large warm hand slides beneath the lip of your helmet to brush a gloved thumb against your jaw line.

“Would you please allow me to show you what it’s like to be loved for real?” Paz asks and he can feel the smile that tugs at your lips beneath his hand before you speak in a voice that is yours and yours alone.

“Yes.”

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