#i just made him more of an asshole than he was

[muscle-gods-only]

I was always the fat kid in school. In college people made fun of my huge and growing belly. I just got used to the idea that I would never have a husband. Truth be told, I never put myopic out there out of fear of rejection. Then, one day at work this older, conservative, Christian guy that I thought was a bit of an asshole and never told that I was gay, came up and asked me, “So why don’t you ever mention a boyfriend or husband?” I was shocked. I just patted my belly and said, “Who wants a man that’s nearly 500 pounds?” He looked at me and said, “I bet there are a lot of people who would fall over themselves for a big boy like you. However, you can’t attract anyone if you don’t feel attractive. Meet me two hours before work at the employee gym tomorrow. We’ll build you a new body and a new attitude. Then you will know what my wife and I have!” He showed me how to workout and he built up my confidence. Now I feel hot and hunky and I have a guy who worships me. I asked him why he went out of his way to transform a gay guy and he said, “All of God’s children are special. Not just the ones that agree with me. I have learned more from you than you will ever know. Now, just keep building up those muscles so that loose skin doesn’t return!”

[g0at0ad]

so I was rewatching some clips of fantasy high S2, and I got to the iconic "it's gorgug, keep going" scene, and I'd like to focus instead on the part just before he says that. it's that intensely claustrophobic scene where gorgug drags himself through an underground tunnel of roots and dirt and skittering bugs.

maybe I'm overthinking it, but there's something here about gorgug seeing a space that's not made for him, that's too small and makes him uncomfortable, and instead of changing that space (there's a moment where Zac says gorgug briefly thinks about cutting down the trees, but decides against it) to make it more comfortable for him, he instead forces himself through it to his own detriment. kind of like how through his life, he has been moving through all these spaces that were not made for him and do not suit him and he has never asked to be accommodated for fear of being inconvenient, and instead quietly forces himself through the discomfort.

i think this is why being an artificer works so well for him. in conjuction with gaining his confidence, he is also choosing to pursue a path where builds and invents and changes the world to accommodate, because he deserves to be accomodated, rather than suffering in silence. this is why I was so insistent while s3 was coming out that porter was being an asshole not encouraging gorgug's foray into multiclassing into artificer. gorgug wasn't stubbornly making things harder for himself, him choosing to be an artificer was his way of making things better for himself, accommodating himself. being an artificer means inventing things, altering the world, and for gorgug, that meant altering this to suit himself, rather than trying to force himself into a space that didn't fit him.

[gojodickbig]

sub!choso x dom!female reader.

(i just know that choso loves having his ass fucked!!)

anywoooo, get the strappppp😝😝

conts: nsfw!! MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

wc: 2,3k.

Choso sat on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with his fingers, his dark hair framing his flushed face as he avoided your gaze. His cheeks were burning red, his entire body tense with nerves, though the way he shifted slightly in his seat told you he was more than just nervous—he was eager. His hands gripped the sheets tightly, trying to calm the flood of anticipation coursing through him.

"You don't have to be so tense, baby," you said softly, your voice soothing but laced with playful amusement as you stepped closer. The strap slung around your hips made his eyes dart toward it, widening slightly before he quickly looked away. You tilted his chin up with your fingers, forcing him to meet your gaze.

"I—I'm not tense," he muttered, though the way his knuckles tightened in the sheets said otherwise.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Choso," you murmured, your lips brushing against his with teasing softness, "you trust me, don't you?"

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah. I do. just... I've never done anything like this before."

You kissed him fully this time, your lips soft but insistent, coaxing him to relax as his hands slid up to your waist, gripping you like you were his anchor. When you pulled back, his lips were slightly parted, his breath coming quicker.

"It's just me and you," you reassured him, your tone softer now. "You're going to be fine, baby. If it's too much, all you have to do is tell me, and I'll immediately stop, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered, his voice shaky but resoluted

"Good boy." You kissed him again, this time a little deeper, your fingers tangling in his hair before gently guiding him to all fours.

He obeyed, his shoulders trembling slightly as he shifted into position. You ran your hands down his back, your lips brushing over the nape of his neck. His breath hitched when he heard the snap of the lube bottle, and you caught the way his toes curled against the sheets.

"Relax for me," you murmured, rubbing small circles over his hips. "You're gonna feel so good. I'll make sure of it."

Choso nodded quickly, his forehead pressing into the pillow as you slicked up your fingers and gently spread him open. The first cool touch of lube against him made him jolt, and when your finger pressed into his asshole, he gasped loudly. his body going rigid.

"Shhh," you cooed, pressing a kiss to his spine. "You're doing so well, baby. Let me take care of you."

"It feels... weird," he admitted, his voice muffled by the pillow.

"That's normal," you said, slowly working your finger deeper. "It's just because you're not used to it yet. I'll go slow, promise."

You took your time, stretching him with patient, deliberate movements, until he started to relax into the pressure. By the time you added a second finger, his hips twitched, and his cock hardened, a soft moan escaping his lips. "Fuck," he whimpered, his voice trembling. "It's... a lot, but it's n-not bad.”

"You like it," you teased, curling your fingers slightly and grinning when his moan turned sharper, his hips rolling back instinctively. "See? You're already opening up so nicely for me."

Choso's breath stuttered, his hands fisting the sheets even harder now. "I—I didn't think it'd feel like this," he admitted, his voice breaking into a whimper.

"You've barely felt anything yet," you said, withdrawing your fingers and grabbing the toy. "Are you ready, baby? You want me to fill you up?"

"Yes," he gasped, desperation creeping into his tone. “Please…”

You pressed the tip of the strap to his entrance, teasing him by pressing it against his clenching hole, making circles against it. When you put it in, he whimpered. You started with shallow thrusts, letting him adjust to the stretch. His body trembled as you eased in slowly, inch by inch.

"Fuck," he choked out, his head dropping forward onto the pillow.

"Breathe, baby," you cooed, your hands gripping his hips. "You're taking me so well. Just relax and let me in."

When you finally bottomed out, you paused, letting him adjust as you leaned over to kiss his back. "How does it feel?"

He turned his head slightly, his voice muffled but needy. "It's so much... you're so deep," he whimpered. "But it's so good. I didn't think it'd feel this... full. You're—fuck. Stretching me so good."

"That's because you were made for this, Cho," you purred, pulling back before sinking in again, your hips rolling with slow, deliberate thrusts. "Made to take it. Look at you, baby, moaning like a whore for this cock."

His moan was loud and shameless, his back arching as he pushed back against you. "F—fuck," he gasped, his voice breaking into a whine. "It's... it's so good. You're— ah!—ugh! Stretching me so good. I feel you everywhere—Fuck!”

You smirked, gripping his hips tighter as you picked up your pace, the sound of skin meeting skin filling the room. "That's right," you murmured, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "You love it, don't you? Getting fucked like this, stretched out by this cock. Such a good boy for me, you're so perfect, baby."

"Yes," he cried out, his voice cracking with pleasure. "I love it—fuck!—I love it so much. I love you so much."

"I love the way your body reacts, Cho. You're so sensitive." His moans grew louder as you shifted your angle, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. His body trembled beneath you, his thighs shaking as he clawed at the sheets.

"Please—please don't stop. I—I don't care how sensitive I am, just keep—ah!—keep going, please." Choso begged, his voice breaking into a desperate whimper. He pushed himself back against you, seeking more. Every nerve overstimulated, his thighs shook as he buried his face in the pillow, muffling the moans spilling uncontrollably from his lips.

You laughed softly, your nails grazing his hips as you picked up your pace. "So greedy, baby. You want me to ruin you?”

"Yes," he whimpered, the word spilling from his lips before he could think. "I want you to fuck me as hard as you want. I'll take it—I'll take anything from you."

"You're such a good boy," you praised, reaching around to wrap your hand around his aching cock. He let out a scream, his hips bucking into your hand as you started stroking him faster. "So hard for me, baby. You're gonna come for me, aren't you? You've been holding back this whole time."

"I—I can't, he whimpered, his voice desperate and high-pitched. "I'm gonna... ah!, I—I can't hold it." He shook his head, his breath coming in ragged pants. "I'm sorry—hgh—fuck!, it feels too good! I can't help it! I need to cum, please!"

"You don't need to hold it, baby," you purred, stroking him in time with your thrusts. "Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you fall apart on this cock."

With a broken cry, Choso's body tensed, his cock twitching in your hand as he came hard, spilling over your fingers and the sheets below. His entire frame trembled as he moaned loudly, his head dropping forward onto the pillow.

"Yes, baby, let it all out." you murmured, slowing your movements as he rode out his orgasm. His body went limp beneath you, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his shoulder, carefully pulling out and tossing the strap aside before laying down beside him. Choso turned his head, his eyes dazed but full of warmth as he gazed at you. "You did so well, Cho."

"T-Thank you... it... felt really nice.." he whispered, his voice hoarse.

You smirked, brushing the hair from his sweat-dampened face. "Mmh, I told you you'd like it, baby," you murmured, leaning in to kiss him deeply.

Once he pulls away from the kiss, he looks at you, his cheeks flushed and his eyes half-closed.

…

"Can you sit on my face now, pretty please?" he asks, his voice low. "I miss eating your pussy."

© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[northern-passage]

I really don't get how Lea could ever think they and the Hunter were a team, when apparently they knew about the collar thing while the hunter didn't even know??? They are the literal embodiment of the Hunter's alienation and dehumanization. Will Lea (and the narrative) ever acknowledge how fucking despicable the order actually is??? They're a bunch of child abusers who prey on poor families and practice human trafficking. On that note I actually deeply despise the Hunter's mentor. That fight scene with him forcing us to stand up again and again? I don't care that the same was done to him and he did it to make the Hunter stronger or whatever. That was the same logic my grandmother had when she hit my mother, and she would have done the same to us if my mother hadn't cut ties with her and broke the cycle of generational violence. I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't play this game right now as it very clearly trigger some things within me that I should address elsewhere than in your ask box, but I guess I needed to express how helpless the Hunter made me feel. Especially with Lea. My character (and myself I guess) couldn't sit down and have a normal conversation with them given how blind they were to the Hunter's situation, and that was even before I understood what the collar thing truly meant after replaying the demo and reading the last snippet you published. Lea comes from a powerful family with ties everywhere, they are literally called our 'handler', and they know what the ladder does to someone (both short term and long term, mentally and physically)... And they truly think them and the Hunter are the same??? Equals??? The only explanation I can find is that they grew up their entire life within the order and never knew anything else, and so this is a case of great ignorance and deep denial. They need a good wake up call and a lot of character development, but when I see Noel's reaction and Lea's behavior during their rival route, I'm kinda worried.

well... i mean most of what you've mentioned here is The Point. Lea is a hypocrite, and the hunter can argue with them and refuse their partnership because of it. Jorah is an asshole and treated the hunter poorly at times, to the point that him and Rodrick argued about it frequently, and is why Rodrick attempts to intervene when they spar. the Order does cause harm and coerces people into their ranks, usually children or those that are more vulnerable and lack other options; and this is always true no matter how the hunter tries to justify it and convince themselves otherwise. all of the people and institutions in this game are complex, none of them are righteous, and they exist as they do because i have something i want to say-- all of these are choices i've intentionally made when writing this story.

and we're only on chapter 1 right now (and even before the rerelease, only on chapter 2), all of the characters need character development, none of their arcs have even started yet.

this story is supposed to make you Feel, big feelings and little feelings, my goal is for people to connect with the characters or at the very least just empathize with them and have a desire to see their stories through. i'm not out to trigger people but this game is intended to be a dark fantasy that explores heavier topics. i'm always open to discussing my thoughts behind certain characters/narrative choices and i will always welcome suggestions if you feel i need to add something to the content warning list, but i really don't like asks like this, and i'm not really sure how to respond as a stranger on the internet. you can either trust me and my intent as the author, or maybe it would be better to not continue with the story if that's what is best and safest for you. only you can know and make that choice, not me.

[atoriv-art]

what are your thoughts on the hyuga siblings and their relationship

OOF now thats one of my favorite naruto dynamics lmao. i think neji and hinata have a very interesting relationship and i say that as someone who really didn't (and tbh still doesn't) love how that relationship developed in canon

i really like the hyuga fight in the chunin exams because the way it's perceived is sooo interesting to me.. neji comes off as an outright bully and i don't even blame the kids for calling him an asshole after all of that, but from reader's perspective it's really obvious that his animosity only exists because of a larger issue...

neji shouldn't treat hinata the way he does, but he does so because of her unique position as a scorned heir. she still benefits from everything that makes his life awful - her life is still valued more than his - but hiashi hates her enough that he won't care if neji dishes out verbal abuse on her. it's an awful dynamic and definitely contributes to hinata's terrible self-worth, but it's a symptom of the life they have been forced into by the man who the manga is intent on letting escape all of the blame for this situation lmao

(hiashi himself can be a really fascinating case honestly. i think he fully means everything he says, which is what makes him so grating but fun to me LOL. his apology to neji is entirely sincere AND it completely misses the point of all of the issues, but neji is young and deprived of acknowledgement enough that he accepts it wholeheartedly. hiashi thinks he's the best uncle of all time.)

hinata herself has so little belief in her own worth that she just sits there and takes whatever abuse people throw at her... i don't actually think neji's anger towards her was a constant - i think some people interpret it that way - rather i feel like it was something that came up whenever he was pushed too far. in more normal circumstances where he's not being made to fight her directly, he was likely more detached than anything. he wanted nothing to do with her.

in one of the filler mini arcs ive mentioned before (i think. the one that focuses on hanabi and hinata) there's a scene that rang very true to me (and im gonna recount this without rewatching it atm so sorry if i get details wrong,): neji was being made to train with hinata, asked to be allowed to leave because he felt his time was being wasted and correctly noted that it doesn't have to be him here, was told no by hiashi and then he started getting vicious and violent. towards hinata, of course, not hiashi. he then got horribly punished for it LOL i think that's the general dynamic they were living in, neji reaches a limit of disrespect that he can take and explodes on the nearest most acceptable target (we loove a boy with no emotional regulation <3), goes too far and suffers the consequence of it while nothing else changes. to him interacting with hinata at all is just asking for pain, either emotional or straight up physical

But, for hinata, she saw herself and neji as similar (the black sheep of the family i suppose), and would have liked to bond over that fact; theyve known each other since they were very little and she outright refers to him as a brother. it's clear to me she's always cared a lot about neji and imo feels responsible for what happened to his father (something that hiashi doesn't help with. Dad of the year), so she saw their match in the exams as a chance to close the distance between them and get neji to see her as a person, an equal instead of a symbol to lash out on.

but, you know, she was 12 LMAO so she ended up pressing all of his buttons instead and it led to his famous outburst, which led to the famous moment of Every Single Jonin (other than asuma.) coming to stop him and further cementing his belief that her life is seen as special. i think (and this is a mix of Shit I Made up, and Me trying to make sense of the manga's insane mishandling of their plotline) that despite her trying her hardest to reach neji she didn't really grasp the horror of his situation. that's the tragedy of neji's life really LMAO, no one really tries to grapple with the severity of what having that curse mark does to a person. she thought of his fatalism as more of a psychological, metaphorical way of dealing with hurt and not like... "my life literally does not belong to me no matter how much i try to fight it"

this is loooooong take this readmore.

i think hiashi-hizashi were hoping that the cousins could have had a better relationship than they did... letting them hang out often and stuff, introducing them early, hizashi not discouraging neji from being friendly with her, to me it all reads as very "ok well this didn't work for Us, but what if it works out for them... even though literally nothing has changed". they were proper family once and hizashi wanted to die for his brother, not his leader, so that just makes sense to me.

i do nautttt like the naruto vs neji fight so to keep the post positive i will gloss over it <3 but hinata and neji's relationship post-chunin exams to me is peak like. God i wish this was done better because it could have been soooo good

neji realizes that his anger is consuming him and adjusts his behavior accordingly, getting a lot of his kindness back, and he becomes intent on fixing his relationship with hinata... i don't hate that premise at all, it's just the way it's executed that bothers me!

the impression i got (and i could be mistaken im in the process of rewatching the anime + rereading the manga) is that their relationship getting better is done exclusively through like. neji repenting for being mean to her. which, don't get me wrong, he SHOULD apologize (AND THAT WOULDVE BEEN A COOL THING TO SEE ONSCREEN, BTW) but you CANNOT divorce his behavior from the hyuga system in general. from the way they act after the exams you would think their issues were born solely from neji being a bully for no reason, and not, like... him lashing out on her because his uncle is literally the devil.

i don't think hinata has the power to change a lot in her clan on short notice (she did get disowned. did that un-happen offscreen? we will never know. Hiashi gets to be a grandfather to her children btw.) but i certainly would have liked to see her standing up for branch members and in the stuff i draw that's the story i have in mind LMAO. like, her gaining a deeper understanding of neji's situation and trying to work against her father trying to make her cousin's life better? i think that would have been really sweet and even show her gaining more confidence in herself and her beliefs. you can still have neji fussing over her and being protective because he feels bad for how they used to be, i actually really like that because neji IS a very sweet person, i just reject the idea that it's his sole Moral Obligation to put everything aside and make things better by the power of I Will Die For You Now, But This Time, For The Right Reasons

as for hanabi i wish she had more screentime soooo bad because i'm obsessed with how she gives off Haunted Child vibes lmfao. talking abt her requires me to expose myself a little bit and have to admit hiashi is kind of a blorbo to me because of how much he sucks ass, but like. Essentially his insane resentment of hinata was born when hizashi died, it doesnt matter it wasn't really her fault, he needed someone to blame and he would never blame himself, at least not outwardly lol. hiashi did genuinely love his brother, it just didn't stop him from being a monster to him, and he is certainly not gonna grapple with that now that he's dead!

(and, you know, the whole "sorry we sent a guy to kidnap an heir. you do need to die for killing him though" thing is really dumb but if we stop at every single stupid thing in naruto we will be here all day.)

with all that being said i think hiashi tries his best to make hanabi everything hinata isn't, and he has very little interest in having her and hinata have any bond at all. he just left neji and hinata to fester in that god-awful dynamic with no supervising, and took hanabi as the best direction for the clan to head towards. but, you know, father of the year is very demanding and doesn't seem to be very fatherly to her at all from the little we see of them. she's just like. a good soldier, and that's what he needs.

i think hanabi growing to resent her sister for the situation she's been put into (if hinata weren't 'weak' she wouldn't have so much responsibility) is very interesting! by the time we meet her i think she's learned that the best thing to do wrt her sister is to just ignore that she exists. as for neji he barely registers as a presence to her; neji has no reason to interact with her and hiashi has no reason to incentivize it. it's very fun to me!

in general i really like all of their dynamics can be used to explore how hurt and trauma drive people apart, i could talk about them for hourssss LMAO i love the suna family for the same reason!

[nikalaeva]

Feyre's Imaginary freedom and Wrong way Evolution

It will be a long speech, get ready 😅

I remember how Feyrе dreaming that her sisters would get married and she would stay with father and paint. It's pathetic dream, actually, but considering Feyre spent most of her life in poverty, it's more or less valid, 'cause she just couldn't imagine anything more. And if you forget that SJM made Feyre a hunter 'cause it's "cool", then I understand why Feyre chose hunting. She had options other than marriage: learn her father's work, get a job in some workshop (sewing, weaving, pottery), or, at worst, become a thief. But Feyre chose hunting, probably, 'cause it gave her a sense of control over her life. More than other options could give.

This brings us to the topic - Feyre's need for freedom. For her, freedom equals power, and this is logical - no one decides what is best for her life and future, only she is. When I read ACOTAR, I didn't see this. SJM just wrote that Feyre hunts to feed her family. But if you keep in mind that everything Feyre does is motivated by a desperate need to control her life, then her actions doesn't seem so idiotic. You would understand that for Feyre enduring the company of her family seems to be worse than freezing to death in forest. You would feel that being imprisoned in UTM and isolated by Tamlin hit Feyre harder than trials or anything else. You would believe that this is a girl who would rather die free than live in chains.

This is a post about Feyre, so I won't write much about Rhysand. But if Feyre herself had said that sitting in a cage for her (I emphasize - for her, not for reader) was worse than dancing naked for Rhysand, It would be a little easier for me believe in ACOMAF. "A little" better than nothing.

But the need for freedom alone is not enough. Eventually, there has to be a limit where Feyre will think: "I guess I can endure a little bit of captivity 'cause I don't wanna die such stupidly." So, in my opinion, good option would be to give Feyre an adrenaline addiction. For example, if you're a fan of Doctor Who, you've probably asked yourself why the Doctor's companions, despite the fatal dangers of traveling, still return to him. From my own experience I can say this: I worked in an ambulance and afterwards it was hard for me get used to another job. I missed unpredictability and thrills. Maybe people who love extreme sports will also understand these feelings. So, if we add Feyre's need for freedom to her adrenaline addiction, it becomes easier to understand why she constantly gets into trouble. Even if she understands that she can get hurt or die, it doesn't stop her 'cause of these weird, kinky sensations. Moreover, having become a fairy with magical abilities, Feyre could afford to take even more risks. By the way, adrenaline intensifies all the senses, while fairy wine depresses. Feyre could seek danger just to forget how wine made her helpless.

Or SJM could have written that all fairies have a strong need for cruelty, cheating or lying (she made them capable of lying - use it! 😡). That would explain why Illyrians constantly train, why in the CoN most (but not all, that's bullshit) fairies are assholes, why civilized fairies actively use sex and drink - these are substitutes so as not to harm others. Hell, it would explain Tamlin's outbursts of rage - he was fighting his nature but not drinking or fucking like crazy. And EVEN Rhysand's behavior - Amaranta turned him into a junkie, getting him high on violence and cruelty. So Rhysand knew he was tormenting Feyre, but the 50-year addiction was too strong. And not the crap that he (or rather the author) told me in ACOMAF.

Sorry, I'm got off topic. So now Feyre's story with the changes you read above is a tragedy. She's trapped in Velaris with IC, with Rhysand. In ACOSF, she's literally trapped in a magical bubble. It's sad and disgusting. But even that could be fixed if Feyre had healed in the ACOMAF and ACOWAR and decided that she wanted a quiet life, not dangers and adventures. The sisters' transformation into fairies and war with Hybern could have changed her like that.

If SJM had written that Rhysand actually gave her freedom, unlike Tamlin, and helped her understand that freedom ≠ throwing herself into danger, then I would have believed that he loved and cared for Feyre. He could helped her love the feeling of safety and peace. Feyre could understand how to get along with her sisters through Rhysand's relationships with Cassian and Azriel. And she could helped him overcome the addiction for violence that Amarantha had forced upon him. In that case, sex literally would be a cure, not just "spice."

But none of that was in the books. Other characters change at the snap of SJM's fingers too, but I'm talking about Feyre 'cause we spend three books in her head. She doing what the plot demands with such poor explanations that reader's brain explodes, trying understand her.

I don't hate Feyre. I hate that SJM has turned her character and story into hopeless trash. And the fans, whose brains have obviously melted from this shit, convince me that everything is okay.

[luciferanalyzestar]

I was cleaning and reorganizing my room, but I am taking a break to watch this. Also, what is going on with the thumbnails? Since Full Moon, they are getting more and more cluttered. Less is more.

Live reaction time, sad yippee.

That moment when you realize you have a WHOLE ASS DAUGHTER!

She is so real for this. Stella's VA always slays her lines, love her performance.

My new favorite background characters!! In love with the waiter imp's design. The background characters always look better than the main/speaking characters.

Okay, Moxxie and Millie are just yapping and being horny for each other, and I am just confused. What the fuck is happening? Visual noise. The M&Ms are my least favorite canon couple. maybe I will like them when Millie gets character outside of her husband.

Me when I buy too much stuff.

The joke is: She is homophobic. Since this sinner's situation is similar to what is going on with Blitz/Stolas/Stella? Is Stella going to be reveal to be homophobic? /lhj

Yes Via, your father is horny fetishizer who is a liar. Stolas is a bad father for not caring about his daughter and her wellbeing. He only cares about Blitz and his sexual desires. If my father or mother pulled something like this, I would not talk to them again. This is straight up abandonment.

When a stan sees a negative opinion about the Hellaverse.

Finally, Stolas says what we all been thinking, HE IS FUCKING STUPID. I guess being poor help wake up Stolas' braincells.

What in the fanfic? Anyway, the guy is a cheater, but they would have to kill the kids too. This does not seem like a Murder Family situation where the whole family was sick and twisted.

You are pregnant. What in the double fanfic?

Blitz throwing the sinner out the window made me giggle. Love jokes like that. See, it is possible for this show to be funny with swearing up a storm.

I hate Andy more than Stolas. Andy deserved that shit. Stolas beating the brakes off of Andy made me laugh. Why wouldn't Stolas be cool instead of being a UWU gay man?

What in the yaoi?

Loona is like a Dragon Ball character, how many forms does she got? This is for all the middle school wolf kids. The multiple eyes look dumb though.

I no longer like men. I'm homophobic now. Helluva made me hate men. /j

YES, VIA TELL HIS ASS OFF!!!!!! GET HIS ASS!!! RIP HIM A NEW ONE!!!! On an off note, Via's lines sound weird. I'm listening to the show via a Bluetooth speaker, and it sounds likes her VA was recording her lines in a closet to something. Especially the "chance to leave" part, I do not know I would be tripping.

Anyway, there is nothing wrong with cutting out toxic family members. Stolas was too busy getting his asshole tickled by Blitz to spend time with his daughter whose life was crumbling around her. I am tired of Stolas' bitch ass crying. Shut up. You should have drowned in that bathtub.

Loona has friends!!!??? I wish that was an episode of Loona finding friends instead of cringe episodes for people who have not grown out of the fujoshi middle school phase.

This show is jumping the shark. You know the writers are running out of ideas when they make one of the characters pregnant. At least make a male character pregnant, SWITCH IT UP!

Omg, this hellhound is like me for real, I own a pair of cheery earrings. Her design is peak like the other background characters. Someone please save her from this show.

YEP! :D Blitz misses Barbie so much that she has not made an appearance since. She really hates his ass that she removed herself from the show. I hope Blitz trips, taking Stolas with him and they both die and go into a better show with better writing.

RATING TIME: 4.5/10

I had more time cleaning and reorganizing my room than watching this episode. I felt nothing watching certain parts. The only moments I cared for was the ones with Via because of the leak storyboards of this episode. It seems like nothing was changed unlike what happen to Ghostfuckers.

Will I be watching season three? Viv said that season 3 take a while to be released and it is going to be 15 episodes long.

That would be around 2026. I do not know if I want to be watching this show when I am 25 years old. The writing choices of this show are baffling. I think (do not quote me on this) but Viv said season three will focus on the Ars Goetia in an interview which sounds boring. I do not care about their rich classist society. Is Helluva going to be Bridgerton but in Hell?

I can see myself watching Hazbin when I am 25 because there are AUs that I can indulge in when the show's writing gets worse and has like 1000 plots going on, if I do not care for one, I can pay attention to another one. Helluva's main plot point is just Stolas and Blitz, and I am bored of them. I dislike both of them as characters and as a couple/

I don't care for the rest of IMP, Fizz, Ozzie, Bee, Sallie Mae, Striker, and etc and their storylines. The only character I like is Mammon and Via and they do not appear that much.

Talking about this show is a chore. I had fun watching this show back in 2022 (I'm late to the fandom) but now, it is just a chore to sit though. The main plot is boring, and the side plots are the same recycle stuff. I have more fun reading the back label of shampoo bottles than watching this show.

[voidsturn]

title: no. 1 party anthem

pairing: stranger!chris x stranger!fem!reader

plot: while suffering with the consequences of unprocessed hurt, loneliness and self-hatred, chris is forced to yet another party. he finds himself in a conversation with someone new, which proves to be weird, comfortable, stupid and real.

type: fluff (maybe hurt/comfort), strangers au, close proximity, open ending

warnings: this fic does touch on some sensitive topics but i’m not sure it qualifies as angst. mentions of anxiety attacks, alcohol, smoking/vaping and sex

author’s note: ahhh my first fic on this blog! i’m extremely excited and nervous cuz it’s somewhat longer than i expected but oh fuck. yes, i know this song isn’t actually a happy love song but i just couldn’t bring myself to give them an unfortunate ending. i might in the future but i didn’t want my first fic here to be completely angst (there will be in the future tho, no worries about that) for now, i really do hope you like this!

chris - orange | the girl - pink | nick - purple | matt - blue

“chris, are you making your goddamn piss in there?!” screamed nick, while almost breaking down the bathroom door. he was getting on chris’ nerves, probably more than the thumping bass of some party song or the loud moans of some hookup next door. he was still breathing weirdly but told nick to just leave him alone. nick shortly after, gave up and ran towards the dance floor once he heard the first few beats of some charli xcx song.

while getting out of the bathroom, chris got stopped in his tracks. it was some idiot who couldn’t hold his fucking liquor better than a toddler. he was on the verge of punching that same idiot in the face. “jeez, can you walk like a normal human you fucking moron?” chris realised the asshole spilled some of the disgusting drink on his previously crisp white shirt. he couldn’t believe the theme of this party was ‘classy’. in a matter of thirty minutes, chris almost had an anxiety attack, was caught squatting in the bathroom by his own brother, heard some really unfortunate noises next door, and got his only formal shirt ruined.

chris was stuck replaying the last few moments in his head when the drunk idiot dodged chris and basically threw himself into chris’ safe space - the last empty bathroom. muttering a string of curse words, chris decided to give up on this ‘stupid fucking party’. he thought, or was hoping, that at least matt might be having a bad time as well. in a borderline ritualistic way.

once he saw some familiar faces, chris interrupted a discussion about pokémon between matt and sam. “chris, is it okay if we leave in an hour? i’m finally having a nice time at a party”. matt just said the words he thought would never leave his mouth. sam and colby along with matt tried to calm down the clearly uneasy chris. all he wanted was some fucking peace. chris was getting so goddamn overstimulated, he was fully ready to accept the jail time of a few murders. he wasn’t ready to take an uber either so he just basically ran towards tara after colby told him where she was.

while walking towards tara, chris was so fucking done. doomed actually to be at this party. the big hall felt endless with the maze of sweaty, icky bodies of completely wasted people on the dance floor. this, coupled with the strobing led lights and almost deafening party playlist, proved to be the final boss of overstimulation for chris. he finally reached tara, who was hosting the ‘stupid fucking party’. tara immediately knew chris wasn’t feeling good once he started to frantically ask if there was someplace less chaotic. she said that there’s a rooftop where she saw people go for a smoke.

tara made it seem like the rooftop was a chimney when in reality, there were only three other people. two of them were on their phones, editing pictures taken hours ago, occasionally taking a hit of something bubblegum flavoured. the third was looking at the city skyline. the rooftop was dimly lit with a few fake lamps, streamers and rogue balloons from the loud party downstairs. it was pretty small in size so chris was basically forced to go near the third girl. she had on a sparkly dress. her hair was up in a ponytail with bangs. chris thought she looked pretty but was in no mood to chit-chat cause the environment still reeked of alcohol, pretend and bubblegum. the alcohol smell was probably cause of his ruined shirt. chris walked towards the edge of the rooftop and leaned against the edge, slyly looking for a ‘fucking place to sit’.

he questioned why he was feeling way more sad than at the previous parties he had been forced to. sad wasn’t the word. more like left out. numb… lost even. yeah, his brothers and friends were all present downstairs, having the time of their fucking lives. but why couldn’t he? maybe he wasn’t in a good place mentally. he hated himself and his fucked up predicament for that while the others were just living it up, talking to other excited strangers, dancing, enjoying the ‘stupid fucking party’.

thoughts of self hate started their inevitable projections onto others. in a weird way chris felt almost betrayed. he hated coming across as a complainer but on the way to the party, matt was quick to say shit like leaving in half an hour, while nick was ranting about hoping tara didn’t invite the same morons from two weeks ago. all that bitching and moaning and praying and hating and now nick’s probably dancing his heart out to some ariana grande remix while matt’s chatting with people about fucking pokémon. just pokémon actually, that was phrased really weird.

it wasn’t always like this. all three of them were supposed to be in LA for business and pretend to like this. but at this point, nick and matt were getting a bit too good at pretending and chris just wasn’t. hence the shocking betrayal. now chris knows that entire cycle of thoughts started okay and just spiralled. completely outta his hands. now, he hates that he thinks like this about his two favourite humans in the world. thus began the voices in his head.

“you’re such a loser, useless without your brothers, and still you’re thinkin’ shit like this. fucking pathetic. don’t even have a fucking driver’s license? scared of having a girlfriend? again, you’re fucking pathetic. stop crying and whining and complaining like a stupid baby and suck it up for the love of-”

chris was quick to pull out his nearly dead phone and hence began his doom-scroll during moments like this. he wanted to avoid this shit, at least till he was in the comfort of his own bedroom. he heard the ‘sparkly’ girl behind him muttering and breathing? if anything, he thought she was staring at him cause of the two burning holes he felt at the back of his head. ugh, the one time he doesn’t have a hat or beanie on. he hoped ‘taylor swift doppelgänger’ took the hint that he wanted to be left to his own goddamn devices.

she didn’t. of course she didn’t cause that’s just who she is.

“you should sit down. that glass railing isn’t as strong as it seems. wouldn’t wanna witness a-”

“i got it, thanks” snapped chris as he finally made eye contact with the girl. she had wide eyes, really big hoops and glitter on her face. her dress resembled a disco-ball.

“fine by me, more room on this… floor” chris let out a soft chuckle. can you blame him, he needed it. well to her, it sounded more like a scoff. “sorry, things are just harder to process tonight and i don’t know why” chris didn’t know why the girl was saying things that someone closer to her should hear. ‘maybe she’s drunk’ he thought, while thinking of something weird to ask so she’d go away.

“are you a disco-ball? i’m asking this to see how shit-faced you might be”

“i’m not a disco-ball, i’m a mirrorball… see that’s funny because they’re the same goddamn thing. and, this isn’t a fucking halloween party. and no, i’m not drunk, i’m pissed”

“oooh mirrorball’s got some lip on her huh?” shock wasn’t the word chris could use anymore. more like glad. glad that he wasn’t the only one pissed, again, in a borderline psychotic way. nick had tara to dance with, matt had sam to catch pokémon with. maybe chris could just talk to this girl. it wasn’t completely unrealistic, right?

he walked towards where she was sitting. getting comfortable on hardwood floor was no joke but once he saw her gratefully smile at him for a change, it was weirdly comfortable. she began talking yet again. “any good shows you’ve been watching?” wasn’t the question chris thought he’d be asked. maybe his name or something, but decided to roll with it. “nah, more of a music guy. matt’s the crazy binge-watcher”

“excuse me, more like matt’s the fun one. and yes, i took that personally cause i love shows” the girl was fully ready to defend her slightly insane ways to finish a series. “okay, well i love breaking bad, what about you?”

the girl shook her head “sadly, breaking bad is currently rotting on my watchlist but hey, you’re motivation to finally start it” chris was still hoping for something in common between them. not in a romantic way, of course but it did make talking to a complete stranger easier.

“so what about music?” the girl’s eyes lit up when she said taylor swift. chris was quick to speak. “okay but i don’t get why she’s so popular music wise? she’s cool don’t get me wrong, but-”

“because… she makes us feel seen dude” the girl continued. “the fact that someone as awesome as her can go through some of the same shit as me, makes me feel validated… seen. but then again, i won’t try to make you like something if you just don’t wanna. i do fuck with r&b and rap though if that’s what you listen to”

hoping this is the overlap between them chris asks “you heard of lil skies?” “i have, but i’m a local. more on the chill rap scene”

“so you like drake don’t you?” “say what you want but the guy’s got some hidden gems and his old stuff’s pretty awesome” chris couldn’t agree more. “totally get it, matt and i used to always jam out to the motto and she will-” “is matt your brother?” chris is in disbelief. egotistic disbelief but still. he widens his bright blue eyes. “oh my god, you have no idea who i am don’t you?”

the girl shakes her head “i mean i don’t know which one you are? are you one of those who refers to themselves in third person?” “please say something other than that. you’re making me feel like an idiotic species with that sentence. see now that’s funny cause that’s pretty weird of you-”

“i got it, thanks” the two couldn’t help but laugh. chris was feeling light and it was all thanks to this ‘mirrorball’ he found. he thought he could ask why she was previously pissed, hoping she didn’t take it the wrong way.

“oh i saw my drunk ex downstairs. he said some really weird shit and i got super mad at him and almost punched that bitch in the face” chris let out a wheeze which was promptly stopped by the girl’s pissed face. he couldn’t relate to her, yet he tried to understand. “how did it end?”

“whoa. you just made a taylor swift reference! you’re learning. see that’s funny cause-” “not funny dude. and you’re dodging the question so i’m sorry i asked” chris knew he overstepped the pretty thick boundary with someone he met only twenty minutes ago. after a long sigh, the girl began her explanation. “i just lost feelings. and it sucks cause i didn’t wanna string him along. downstairs he made me feel like i was a monster”

chris completely respected her decision. “you aren’t. you’re already better than people who choose to cheat. how long was it?” he thought people like that are very rare to come by. “barely two months? i don’t really remember but thanks for saying that whole thing” the girl smiled and felt understood. she added. “i tried, but my commitment issues kinda got in the way” chris knew all about that. he really did. even though he was curious, he wasn’t sure if he should go any further. something between the two had changed. one could hear a spark of lighting a firework in the silence, that kinda silence. not the awkward kind at all. peaceful and understood, yet troubled by the past.

both were left thinking about what could’ve been if they didn’t just push people away. maybe chris would’ve had a girlfriend, or an ex by now. maybe she would’ve still been in that relationship. unfortunately, the need to be free and invulnerable overpowered the two’s want of romantic love.

the girl was first to break the silence. “i love how i just said that to you, yet i don’t even know your name”

“the name’s chris” she hummed “name matches the looks”

chris had an involuntary red tint spread across his face while he widened his eyes. “did you just say i literally look like a chris?” “yeah basically” said the girl as if he asked her the dumbest question of the week. maybe of the month. chris agreed and continued, “hmm yeah, we did just trauma bond, yet we met barely an hour ago”

the girl was taken aback. “excuse me, trauma bond where? you still haven’t told me why you’re sad.” chris thought the hard part of finding someone was over. maybe just saying this to a complete stranger was harder. ‘fuck it’ he thought.

“look, i can’t even begin to think why cause every time i do, i ignore it cause i just don’t wanna get into it, and it all just builds up-” chris stopped himself but the girl nodded, showing that it’s okay and safe for him to go on.

“i know i should be happy. i’m young, healthy, well-off… but i feel so lonely, now more than ever. i blame my brothers for finally finding fame and LA actually okay and i know i’m such an asshole for saying that. y’know every single time some fan asks, ‘oh who’s least likely to live without his brothers or who’s least likely to be in a relationship’ they always instantly say it’s me. and i get it. i’ve built an image like that and yes it’s partially my fault but it still hurts. it’s like… people just expect me to be attached at the fucking hip to my brothers, and scared of women. i’m still definitely not ready for a relationship, but when someone says something like that again and again, it fucking pisses me off even more. in a way, it just stops me from pursuing anything cause everyone just always has something to say, and i just can’t help focusing on the bad shit. now i’m here, troubling you. someone i’ve known for two fucking seconds with my shit. i just really fucking hate it”

the girl took in all of his words and hurt and inhaled sharply before she spoke. “it’s okay to feel that way. the whole thing about you just blurting this out is valid. sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger than a loved one because they don’t know anything about you. and i’m weirdly proud that you said all that. it takes real guts”

chris felt the way he thought the girl feels when listening to taylor swift. seen. the girl continued. “and at the end of the day, you’re not gonna fucking end up cranky, sad and alone. as long as you have hope, faith and most importantly, love. not only for others, but really for yourself. if you feel hurt, you’ll hurt others and push them away. so it’s best to take care of yourself first, try to find a way you can open up to people closest to you. then you can definitely find whatever it is you’re looking for” chris didn’t take her words lightly and knew they were gonna be stuck in his head, regardless of his shitty memory.

he resumed the quip-off, feeling much better after letting all that out, and not being blindly judged for it. “so, we’re even now right?” the girl just knowingly smiled and chris couldn’t put a finger on why he just really liked a smile on her face. “y’know, i got all that from a taylor swift song”

“no fucking way. taylor’s songs give you wisdom?” the girl nodded but was quick to add. “more than wisdom, it’s clarity. and advice. honestly, she’s like the older sister i never had” chris wondered which song and as if the girl read his goddamn mind she answered, “well, it’s actually a combination of three songs. one’s the archer by taylor swift, the other’s escape from la by the weeknd-”

“did not think you fuck with him as well. they’re so different from each other” chris says while the girl just blinks. chris immediately apologises. “sorry, i have a habit of interrupting my brothers. my brain’s just really fucking weird and fast”

letting out a chuckle she says, “nah its all good chris. i can personally relate to that” to ensure he didn’t commit a fucking crime. chris lets out a sigh of relief while pulling out his phone, opening apple music in the process. “what’s the third song?”

as if right on cue, the five percent battery warning invades his screen. “ah fuck, phone’s almost dead” his panic continues. “i hate to say this but i have to go. otherwise my brothers will think i left already and my phone will be dead by the time i can call-” “it’s okay chris, go. i’m not mad at all”

chris hurriedly tries to find an outlet on the rooftop but there aren’t any. even the other two people who were previously there are gone, leaving their trace behind with the sweet smell of bubblegum. the girl’s eyes kept following chris, who was spastically still searching for a goddamn power bank or something. anything. “i’m pretty sure there’s no chargers here”

he turned his head towards her so quick, whiplash never felt more real. “okay then tell me your number, your name. anything” he was so out of breath from running around like a hooligan. yet, chris was determined to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating that entire conversation. the girl smiled yet again. ‘that damn smile’ he thought. “i hope you’re coming to jake’s party next weekend. i’ll be there”

chris really liked that answer. of course he did. he liked the chase and was finally excited to come to the next party. his phone started buzzing, messages from the triplet’s group chat appeared on his lock screen asking chris’ whereabouts. they were dying to leave but he wasn’t. he bid his ‘mirrorball’ goodbye and started to run down the stairs. just before chris could go he asked. actually… screamed.

“what was the third song!”

the girl turned around and screamed back the third songs name.

she blushed and looked away while chris’ signature grin took over his features. he saw the rooftop one last time. the battery on the phone was low but his spirits were high. he somehow managed to take a really shitty picture of that very ‘shiny’ rooftop.

the downstairs scene still felt like a thick and claustrophobic fog of pretend, but chris knew that if he really wanted to, he could find something real and grounded.

in their car, the triplets like after every ‘stupid fucking party’, talked about their individual experiences. nick as always began. “tara really needs to invite better people cause what the fuck. why’d they all look so judgy when i told them my favourite genre’s pop? after that whenever i tried to talk to them they’d just ignore me, like a bunch of goddamn high status judgmental uglies. like hello?! the music was loud but you’re not fucking deaf!”

“nick, i thought at least you were having a nice time. sam and colby had to leave five minutes after chris asked me to leave. honestly can’t believe i’m saying this but i should’ve listened to the kid. after that, i locked myself in one of the bathrooms and fucking played cheese escape. that’s right.. CHEESE ESCAPE. chris, where the fuck were you?”

before nick could answer, he saw the slight red tint on chris’ face as a cheeky grin was plastered his face. “oh my god, did you fucking hook up with someone?” the shock value was a bit too high for both matt and chris. the car slightly wobbled on the road. “no you fucking idiot i didn’t. i just went to the rooftop after tara told me it’s quiet up there and just scrolled on my phone. that’s why my phone was dead”

“well since you could’ve called me, i say bullshit. but it’s fine. i won’t ask further” said matt as he partially believed his story. nick was weirdly proud that chris finally talked to someone he didn’t know at a party, all by himself.

after a short thirty seconds of quiet, chris started blabbering about playing a song before he forgot the name. “oh my god, stop saying the fucking name of the song and just play it you brain-dead moron” scolded nick cause kid was morphing into a monkey while matt was on a highway.

chris finally opened apple music on his currently charging phone. he started playing a song called, ‘no. 1 party anthem’.

[millidew]

random list of v3 opinions after experiencing all that again:

the death road of despair segment is the pre-trial highlight of ch1. so damn good. just a perfect microcosm of the game and kaede's flaws and conflicts

maki is funnier than i remember. but she’s at her funniest when she hits shuichi with a devastating insult, usually completely unprompted

ouma and maki parallels and foiling forever and ever. they HAAATE each other. but also it’d be cool to see them get along. the whole point is that they don’t see through the other and believe the other’s lies but still

maki saying she’ll work hard to make people trust her and her talent and that she wants to survive with everyone…ough…

ouma is so mad. he wishes that were him. also that moment where everyone ignores him and tries to comfort kaito after gonta's execution. he also wishes that were him but unfortunately he's been an asshole to everyone and no one likes him so

the only way i can enjoy saio/uma is one sided ouma->shuichi where shuichi is just not invested in the cop/robber dynamic ouma wants at all. it’s funnier this way + saimota inspires a visceral upset within him. he NEEDS to fumble both kaede and shuichi.

on that note i’ve been hcing ouma as bisexual for years partially out of spite

kaito’s obnoxious charm can’t be ignored. if you think you’ve successfully done it, it means it’s just entered an asymptomatic form. it'll hit you soon enough

ch2 pre-execution >>> KIRA BUCKLAND THE VOICE ACTRESS THAT YOU ARE. EVERYONE WONDERING IF THEY MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE BY VOTING FOR KIRUMI. KAITO GOING “IDC I WANT TO LIVE, OUR LIVES ARE IMPORTANT TOO!” KIRUMI INSULTING OUMA <3 EVERYONE CHEERING FOR KIRUMI TO RUN!!! TO LIVE!!!!!!!! GAHHHH SO COOL

kaito and himiko just blatantly lying through their teeth during their ftes. the liars who suppress their true problemsssss. also him shouting that he is NOT GIVING HER A PIGGY BACK RIDE!!! EVAR!!!!! is so funny

himiko I LOVE YOUUUUU. i love her getting overly familiar with people post-development and just accidentally completely overstepping boundaries by insulting kiibo and calling maki "maki roll." she's trying so hard you guys

KAITO IS SO FUCKING DRAMATIC. HE SHOULD’VE BEEN THE MALE LEAD IN A HIGH-SCHOOL THEATRE PRODUCTION AND ANNOYED EVERYONE IN THE CREW!!!! STOP BOTHERING MAKI SHE HAS A POWER DRILL

shuichi and maki doing sit ups and the camera slowly panning to show kaito laying there hands behind his head saying his usual bullshit is one of the funniest moments of the game

tenko and himiko agree that shuichi should transition into a woman. this is true.

I don’t accept tenko slander unless it’s specifically about her obsessiveness over himiko in ch1-2 in which case I can’t defend her

if kaito shaved he’d look 13. for this reason he is legally not allowed to do that.

tsumugi and the background of v3 are SO GOOD. ABSOLUTE PEAK. in execution there are lots of weak points but after thh, sdr2, udg, and the anime series, tell me a meta story about consumption, lies, and depression that ends with the cameos from entire main games’ previous casts doesn’t go hard

don’t deny that tsumugi loved her little ocs. do you not enjoy torturing your blorbos, putting them into situations, and giving them nice things just to take those away?? shipping them and dressing them up??? making silly aus (salmon mode, utdp, arguably dr:s)?

i just wish the writers utilized her more bc i love that so much. she should've wanted to get to get more involved with everyone (giddily see her ocs up close). she should've made even more thh/srdr2 references. players assume the writers are making for cheap nostalgia points, and they are, but it's true in-universe too...she should've been so overconfident that she'd get sloppy with the situational irony... tsumugi you little freak ily

she and rantaro were 100% s52's survivors and you can pry this from my cold dead hands. her dr fangirl self can be her pre-game personality

speaking of pre-game personalities, pre-game content is at best boring to me. how they write ouma is my litmus test. if he's not enough of a nuisance, just in a different way, then it's gotta go

maki is down for a training trio polycule, shuichi is in denial about everything and fears becoming an awkward third wheel, and kaito has been trying unsuccessfully to wink-wink nudge-nudge shuichi and maki into “realizing their feelings for each other” for ages

i still think maki should have short hair. initially I thought just shorter pigtails would be ok but I’m now in the firm camp of a pixie cut with one of her scrunchies on her wrist, with her orphanage-age flashback self maintaining the pigtails. she had to cut them off for practicality’s sake but one of her hidden desires is to be able to regrow it one day. another show of her loss of identity and past life, and how every aspect of her is controlled? such a simple desire at first glance but because hair is such a simple show of autonomy…even more tragic… maybe her doomed childhood friend yuri used to do her hair …hrm…

ultimates are public, influential figures. maki’s had to assassinate friends before (rip her yakuza friend that I didn’t know she had up until recently). maki went back to being an assassin in utdp after graduating. the hope’s peak class roster MIGHT just be a hit list

for someone who includes miu in her top 3 I haven’t talked about her at all huh. it’s been maki central up in here

miu is AWFUL but when her jokes hit, they hit good and hard just like she’d want them to. she’s completely insufferable and deserves to hit ouma (also insufferable) with 3000 hammers. kiibo too but he wouldn’t want to

look just because ouma said he was doing everything for a good reason, do NOT forget that at his core he is a little dipshit. he’s a JERK!!!

brief dip into maki time again. one of my favorite aus is that maki’s doomed childhood friend is actually miu. i'll expand on this in another post

once again: drv3 and rgu are shaking hands about exiting the narrative and the follies of playing hero. read my utenanthy!kaemugi post

v3 is FARRRR from a masterpiece, but it's a solid and fitting Ending to the main games, plus it's got an insane cast with infinite dynamics and a premise which i love to bits <33 and it was the game that got me into dr, so it'll always be special in my heart. also kaito momota luminary of the stars debuted in it which gives it 5/5 stars

[tricksh0t]

★ rock and salt

☾ theon greyjoy x top m reader

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 1.37k words

cw: mentions of r*pe but no actual r*pe because this is the Ironborn we're talking about, corruption, very subby theon, cunt as a name for asshole, spanking, begging, mean reader, edging (once), cheating

"My love." A man takes Yara's hand, kneeling down before her to kiss her knuckles, a suspiciously courtlike gesture.

"Betrothed." Yara returns a smile.

Theon eyes the union suspiciously. Yara's smile is too sweet, and the gesture as well. His father moves to make an introduction, bitter as his voice is, "Theon, this is your sister's promised. You'd do well to–"

To be like him or be nice to him, Theon doesn't know, for he doesn't care to listen. Over the table, the two of you lock eyes.

It is said that Iron men are so thirsty for cunts that they pillage and rape just to gain another salt-wife. Not even that, it's a well known fact that they pillage and rape just for the chance of having a new cunt.

You know well, though, that the Ironborn wouldn't be nearly as much a threat if they learned to have a taste for their brothers-in-arms, and that is the tamest thing about you.

Theon Greyjoy, below you, is someone you're about to share your knowledge with; and by the looks of it, he's already taken by the idea.

His eyes are rolled back, oh, what a sight.

Where you don't rape, you do pillage, and alongside that, you corrupt. You're still Ironborn, and this right here is your Prince of the Iron Islands, almost the heir, if it weren't for his disappearance and also for your betrothed.

He was fun to break in, and really, it wasn't much of a fight. You've broken in larger men. Only goes to show just how Stark Theon's blood is.

Although, that only makes him much more fun to fuck.

You pull out, to which Theon whines, only to spit on his hole and watch it gape. "You've such a pretty cunt, Theon."

"'S not a cunt." Theon slurs, and despite that, he spreads his legs wider just to make it easier for you to play with him.

You click your tongue, turning the prince over and splaying him over your lap. Theon gasps, and the breath turns into a wail as you splay your hand over his asscheek in a spank. "It's a pretty cunt."

"Yes." Theon concedes breathlessly. He's not a very persistent, is he? So pliable, but perhaps only for you.

You shove two fingers roughly inside him and he moans. You wonder how prettily he'd groan if they scissored him dry, but alas, he was already stretched and oiled. His cunt almost gurgled and leaked with how much oil and spit he'd begged you to use. Soon enough, he'll learn how to take you the way he was born.

Your fingers curl into his prostate, and Theon moans so loud it's almost a screech. "Say, prince," it's mocking, on your tongue, "how fares this to cunts?"

"What?" Theon asks weakly, he pushes his palms against the bed, but you push the top of his back down, turning his intentions half-accomplished as his ass is pushed up into your fingers. He chokes back a moan.

"Cunt or cock?"

You hadn't expected any less from him as he replies, "Cunt."

You click your tongue anyway, as if he's truly upset you. The flinch you get in return is proof enough that he's fallen for it.

"Yours–" He says, before you can speak, "yours is better than any cunt."

His pitiful attempt at pleasing you is only rewarded with a spank from you, followed swiftly by a caress to his prostate. Pleasure and pain mingle. "My what?"

"Your cock." He says in a gasp.

"Yeah? Tell me why."

"It's–your cock, it's big." It's not enough of a compliment, evidently, as you deliver another swift spank. "It's good! Fuck, you know how to use it. It's thick, and fuck, I love the vein."

You haven't, thankfully for him, made him suck nor jerk you off, so then that only leaves the shape of it in his ass as a method to know the feeling of the prominent vein on your dick. He's got a tactile cunt. How hilarious.

You can't help but laugh.

Theon whimpers. Between the laugh and your still fingers, you don't know why he whimpers until he whines about it, "Why are you laughing?"

A third finger makes him lose that thought. "Don't worry about it."

"'Bout what?"

"Yeah, that's right." You shake your head, working your fingers in and out of him. He's already loose, you've already stretched and fucked him open, but you can't get over the sight of your fingers getting sucked into his virgin cunt.

Theon, on the other hand, knows better things. Really, he'd just described it to you. "Please."

"No," Another spank, less harsh. You can't blame him for desiring your cock. "no, Theon, that can wait."

He goes down without a fight, chest slumping into the bed while his ass only rises higher. It's rather pathetic, really, that he doesn't fight for it; though it only goes to show how much you've tamed the spoiled, in your perception, Prince of Winterfell. "Not going to fight for it, Theon?"

Theon swallows back a whimper, shaking his head against the sheets. "You're only goin' ta hit me."

"Aw," You coo, tracing your free hand down his spine. You can almost see the way his body racks with shivers. "tell you what, prince. You beg well, and I'll let you cum."

You can see him hesitate. His legs shift, and his fingers let go of the sheets at the sides of his head.

"Please." He finally says, but it's too short and not sweet.

He earns a spank, and that has his next words gushing out like blood spill. "Please, I wanna finish so bad, please, let me cum."

You never told him how you'd get him off. Your hand wraps around his dick, and though it's not what he wanted, who's he to complain?

Your fingers and hand work him up in tandem, but just once isn't enough. "Keep talking."

"I want it so bad." Theon's quick to beg, practically wails. "Please, please, please."

He's cute when he begs. You imagine tears might be welling up in his eyes right now.

You work him up as he blabbers continuously. The fingers in his cunt curl and scissor, while the hand around his cock jerks him off; both are steady, consistent. When your hand pauses, your fingers continue. It's an assault of pleasure, never giving him pause and never working him down, only up to his peak.

He's ready, legs trembling, knuckles white as they grip the sheets. He really, really, wants to cum.

"Please."

Aside, or perhaps complimenting, his begging, his moans are pretty too. They grow louder. Perhaps if the Iron Castle wasn't segmented or instead one whole, you'd be found out.

What a sight, hm? The King Consort-to-be and the long lost Prince, all in the same day they're introduced.

Perhaps you'd have sought him out and brought him home yourself if you knew just how pliable he was.

His next moan is prolonged, his hips instinctively bucking into your hand. He's close.

But you're cruel.

"Fuck! Fuck." Theon hisses, pants, as you deny him, pulling both your hands away from him. "No, no, no, please."

"You're going to have to do a whole lot more than that, prince."

In his mind, he asked nicely. He deserved it. Of course he wanted nothing more than to cum—despite his Stark upbringing, he's Ironborn through and through. That's something you learned easily: Ironmen are ruled by their cocks. "Please, I'll do anything."

"What do you have to offer?" You reply with a scoff. As far as you know, you're the first man who's graced Theon Greyjoy with his cock. "You don't know how to ride nor how to suck cock. You've nothing but your blood in the Iron Islands. You have nothing to offer."

"I'll be yours." Theon presses his forehead against the mattress, you can see it. He's rearing back the ugly head of his pride. "This...cunt will be yours."

"Are you supposing I take you for a salt husband, Theon?"

Theon turns his head, laying the side of it on the mattress to look at you. "Yes."

The two of you lock eyes.

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ is this a bad time to admit i wanna fuck the onion knight?

[christinebloodwrittings]

Die in your arms #4

Alastor x Fem!reader

Taglist: @littlebluefishtail @maxlynn17 @vxllys @modifiedmonster @sirens-and-moonflowers @qardasngan

Warnings: Implied SA, imprisonment, trauma, mentions of blood.

Masterlist

Proofing made by: @littlebluefishtail

March 1914. New Orleans, Louisiana.

Seven am to seven in the evening, Mondays and Thursdays. Tuesday and Wednesday he gets up at six anyways, but prepares breakfast for both before he leaves. He calls around eight A.M everyday, to check in before the show starts, then he comes back at ten pm, sometimes eleven. You had his steps studied. Well, almost. 

After three months, you discovered that Alastor is very unpredictable. His mouth says words but his eyes show the opposite. He keeps his body language at bay as much as he can, but there are times when he betrays himself. When he’s in pain for example, he’s bad at hiding stress and headaches.

In the dead of night, he returns from ‘work’ reeking of watered down blood. He does that every single Thursday, but the frequency has increased every week since Christmas.  

What kind of trouble can a scrawny radio host like him get into? 

One Saturday morning, a day in which he only writes the scripts for his upcoming week, he was more tired than usual. “Morning” he saluted you without taking his eyes off the semi-blank pages, taking occasional looks at the newspaper. 

He also had your steps memorized. Decisive but soft steps, he also noticed how you walked on your toes instead of putting the weight mainly on your heels, and you don’t like using shoes. 

He only had seen your routine when he’s - obviously - inside the house. It goes without saying that you act way more ‘at home’ or ‘comfortable’ when he’s not around. He was more than aware of that fact.  

He detested your ‘tiptoeing’ or ‘walking on eggshells’ attitude around him. Not in a controlling way, but in a ‘could you please acknowledge that I'm not a threat?’ way, otherwise he felt like his bastard step-father who caused his mother to behave in much the same way. 

Within the first three months he realized he hated your careful demeanor, in an absolutely selfish way, because he wasn’t doing much to atone it, other than avoiding being too ‘present’ or ‘involved’. But then he realized that was exactly what he needed to do in order to create the home atmosphere he started craving.

So, that Saturday morning, after breakfast, he sat nearby as you added a compost of your own making to the soil. Although he thought he was making a good move towards you, he was so difficult to read that you felt as if he was going to pounce on you at any given moment.  

How fucking invasive! You thought, adding more and more strength into the hole making for the tulip bulbs. Why was he staring at you like that? A normal wife would be more than flattered to have her husband’s attention like you do, but you have seen the passive yet menacing stare of a tiger at some point. The feeling is exactly the same as how you felt under his watch, like a prey preparing itself to run for their life.

That, until you decided it was enough…ten minutes after he sat down that is. 

“What’s going on?” he opened his eyes to your strong tone of voice. Which, by the way, has improved quite a bit compared to the dry, hoarse voice you had in November. “I can’t have some coffee in the yard of our house?” He avoided saying ‘my house’ on purpose, - avoiding being an asshole -.

You stabbed the small shovel hard into the dirt and turned to look at him. “The fact that you’re there doesn’t bother me, the staring is the fucking problem” alright, point strongly taken, but the “What about it exactly?” question was bugging him, and unconsciously slipped past his lips. 

You closed your eyes, swallowing a lot of words to just say, “I feel your stare burning the back of my head”, then another deep breath for the following, “If I have to be honest, it does make me angry”, among other feelings. It did feel strangely formal to talk like that, but Rosemary did scold you for the excessive use of foul language, and you really wanted to avoid that from happening again.

“I just…I like watching you work the dirt” he was tongue tied, he had literal goosebumps of excitement. “Do…You want to help?” he nodded, like a kid being offered to lick the frosting off a spoon. It felt off, wrong, but you weren’t going to get more information off the distance. 

If you were going to live in the lion’s den, you might as well get some ways to crush him. 

“Then come here and make yourself useful” you hand-motioned him to get closer. 

It came out harsher than he intended, but he felt like he'd taken a good step. He made you say ‘I feel’, which in the few psychology books he had read, was a way of communicating what your body couldn't. 

You took a quick glance back at him, that turned into a solid minute, just to watch him rolling up his sleeves, realizing that he was not as scrawny as you thought. But of course the suit hid all of that. 

“So, what can I do, boss?” He chuckled as you shook your head. “Your fingers are larger so make a hole deep until the brim reaches your second finger joint, not your knuckle” Your hands were considerably smaller than his, he found that adorable. 

Bossy, he thought. 

On the other hand, you weren’t going to lie, Alastor is a very good looking man. The mustache was a bit much, but the smart look his glasses gave him, his chocolate skin color, light brown eyes. And his hair! He had a haircut where the left side was kept gel smooth towards his nape, while the right side had a fringe of curls hanging down over his glasses. The side without gel looked fluffy and soft.

Damn you, good looking monster. You bite back. 

“Is there a way to predict what color they will turn out?” you heard him, far away, echoing in the distance. Which was odd considering he was just a few feet from you. “No, you just plant them, with the green tip up, and just wait” the sunlight flickered above you, but you figured it was just a passing bird.

“What color are you hoping for?” his voice was suddenly close, his side of the dirt already done with what you had asked. “White or maybe pink tulips” you answered softly. 

He didn’t want to push his luck, given that you eyed him up and down, “You also gave me roses and mint, I planted the seeds separated because they do not like each other, they compete for nutrients like leeches” you made worm fingers near your face, just to show him how nasty they were. 

He seemed to listen intently to what you were saying, not in a ‘I’m forced to do so’ way, but really interested, he saw you turn your eyes away from him, light shining and fading just as quickly. “How do you know so much?” he copied the way you tucked in the bulbs with dirt, as he wondered. 

“My mind is a little foggy, but I just know” you lied, it was from the first book your father gave you, an herbology book to put some color to the garden. Oh how you missed the vines with tiny pink flowers growing outside your window.  

“Where I grew up there was a big cinnamon tree. I never developed a taste for tea, but my mother loved her black tea with a stick of cinnamon.” He once called it sock water in front of his mother, when he was a very young boy, she tickled those words away. The memory brought him a tender smile.

“How wholesome” memories slipped off your mind, especially your mother’s face and voice. “You don’t remember anything from your childhood?” you suddenly heard him from in between the void, “Not much, but I do remember smells, lights, and the taste of apple pie…” crunchy crust, soft inside, the lovely taste of cinnamon. But then, there was just darkness, where could everything else be? “Other than that, it’s…pretty blank”.

“I’m not a fan of sweets, but my mother had a recipe for apple pie, I can try and take a crack at it, if you wish” In contrast with his brown skin, he had lighter coloured marks going upwards into his forearms. “Your mom liked sweets?” you wondered, feeling his eyes following your stare up his arms. “Baking made her happy” Him eating them was the thing that made her happy, you thought, and you weren’t wrong.

“I think it wouldn’t hurt to try”, success! He had made a good step forward. 

Soft jazz played from the gramophone near the stairs, a cheerful tune with no lyrics, just the drums, bass, and the occasional trumpet solo. When the high notes were struck but the pace never fastened, he heard you humming in repeat, softly, just for yourself. Truth be told, he noticed that any tune that carried enough feeling through the bridge brought a smile to your face.

When the needle moved to another song, he started humming as he kneaded the dough. The piano was his favorite, you could tell by the way he made the movements of the keys against the marble of the counter, and his feet moved to press an invisible pedal. 

“Cinnamon and a splash of lemon” he added to the filling, your hand flinching away a little when he tapped the bowl, prompting you to move it more to the space between you.

He was so close.

He gave off a smell of tree bark, freshly cut grass and rainwater. Very pleasant, charming, and dangerous. But you remembered every poisonous stench of the men that attended the brothel, he not only was a threat, he was a true rose. Beautiful and inviting, until you get too close and get caught by its thorns. But, somehow he didn’t smell of sweat off alcohol, like other men. 

You gave off a smell he couldn’t adequately describe. He couldn’t get close enough to try, either. Though, he was quickly distracted by the sight of your bare hands, a knot tying a noose in the inside of his throat.  

He remembered having your hands in his, but he had never seen them without gloves or bandages. Your right ring finger was crooked, a cut where it was obvious it had been sliced ​​like a ham and glued back onto your right middle finger. Both of your hands had healed scars on their knuckles, and what looked to be cuff scars on your wrists.

Despite the time, there were parts of your skin that would not return to their original color, nor any amount of cream and ‘regenerative’ treatments would help either. Your knuckles were forever disfigured, no wonder you were still using bandages despite them being already healed. It did caught his attention.

He wondered, what the hell happened that forced you to fight to that extent?

He swallowed a lump of saliva, then pointed to your right hand, “Does it hurt?” then moved down to also ask for your wrist. You looked up at him wondering what was the purpose of the question, if it was pity or just curiosity, but you couldn’t tell by the look on his face only. 

Shrugging your shoulders you turned back to the bowl, mixing the filling, “Not anymore” you limited your answer to a half told truth. “You don’t have to answer, but, is there a reason for the bandages?” You thought about his question for a minute, not paying attention to how his eyes scanned your up and down.

“Comfort, that way I avoid unwanted friction and looks” the way you shot him an accusatory sideway eye, made him choke down a scoff. “May I?” he took a deep breath trying not to laugh, to ask for your hand. He had his over yours, with the intention to simply touch, but you ended up putting your hand over his knuckles.

‘So, not touch but look, I can do that’ he thought as he pulled a little to get your hand closer as he adjusted his glasses. He hummed, inspecting the variety of reliefs and depths. Definitely the result of a crude fighting style, yet strong.

The wrist lines though, those weren’t made by the police handcuffs. He mentally noted that it had to be a bigger and thicker kind of cuff to make such a damage, and also a lot of resistance. 

Thinking about that just made his knot worsen.

He gently motioned his hand down, your hand shakily coming back to the side of the bowl. “I noticed you were looking at mine earlier” from the corner of your eye you saw him roll his sleeve higher, “If you wish, you can do the same”. You put the spoon and bowl aside, with one hand you grabbed hold of his index and middle finger, pulling down gently yet no less tensely. With your other hand you touched the pale streaks of skin upwards. Causing all sorts of chills up Alastor’s spine. 

Alastor didn't know if he regretted his offer or if it was a good idea to begin with. You looked like a blind person reading braille as you touched him. There was the amusing way you made sure he couldn't grab you if that was his intention, that took his mind aside from his nerves. In the position he was in, Alastor recognized that you could easily twist his fingers if he did something wrong. 

'So cautious, I like it' he thought now seeing how you simply observed the skin he was so mocked for.

He heard you humm and set his arm to his side, then your attention went back to the mixing bowl. Just like that. So it was okay for you to invade his personal space, but not the other way around?! Perhaps he could see how far he could push that boundary.

“Did it hurt?” you spoke softly, but he couldn’t tell if it was out of concern or curiosity. “Yes, but I don’t regret it” another humm, this time in understanding.

A deafening silence was created. To alastor the music of the gramophone seemed so far away, echoing in between thoughts and questions. 

“Can I try something?” He bit his tongue as soon as he spoke, but he couldn’t take his words back when they already had caught your attention. “Another recipe?” you could hardly believe you sassed him, how did he get you so comfortable?

“No” he laughed, “I’ve never been fond of physical contact, but-” the feeling of his skin that had lingered on your hands began to burn, had you done something wrong, will he do something to punish you for taking such liberties? He offered, how could he be mad?! doesn't matter you were going to make sure to block anything he was thinking of doing. 

“Oh, then I overstepped, I’m sorry” Alastor felt as if you had shut a door straight against his face, “No, it feels odd but, unlike others you don’t do it…with bad intentions”. He saw you eye him up and down sideways, would that mean you opened the door again, just a smidge? “I just want you to know, that you can touch me whenever you feel like it” he was probably shooting himself with that invitation, but he wanted to know if you’d take his hand or grab him by the arm - so to speak.

One motion, you made one downwards with your finger for him to move a bit to your level, given that he’s taller than you. But he had to be ridiculous, instead of bowing down, Alastor knelt down in front of you again. Just like the night after the wedding. And with a fucking shit-eating grin, definitely enjoying your confusion/flustered mix of emotions. 

Before your peripheral blind spot, you spotted a knife, if you were quick enough you could grab it and slit his throat. End this whole farce once and for all. It had become oh so annoying, his smile, his confidence, and his false sense of chivalry.

He was mocking you, with every smile and soft, considerate touch. He's a fucking monster, just another pervert of the bunch, he'll be quick to take advantage of the slightest spark of trust you give him.

'But still...' you brought your hand to his face, running down his jaw to the Adam's apple on his neck. 'What a nice sternocleidomastoid, how would it look skinned and open?' under your hand you felt him swallow. Was he nervous? How shameless.

'You're studying me and you're not ashamed to show it’ Alastor mocked mentally, his eyes locked on yours. His mind was alert and yet his body surrendered to your warmth. While having your hand on his neck, it was like looking at himself in a mirror. What a depraved look you had, he felt as if you were visually making your way between every strand of his muscles, perhaps seeing how many ways to make him scream in agony.

"Soft," you whispered unconsciously. As soon as he appeared, your predatory gaze disappeared, your hands moving up to his hair, enjoying his well-defined curls between your fingers.

Where did your blood-hungry look go? It was a drastic change, almost as much as going from one song to another. From a dull and sadistic one to an innocent and happy one, how interesting.

Both of your hands were in his hair now, drawing his face to your collarbone. Now that he was close enough, he tried to decipher, what was your smell? Dirt, dried blood, burnt skin, alcohol and bandages, what a sad aroma. He was suddenly so depressed, he couldn’t enjoy being so close to you. 

“May I?” he put his hands up, aiming for your arms. "No…unless. If I put your hands on a specific spot, do you promise not to move them from there?" how about giving him the chance to slip and give you a reason to harm him? A fake image of trust to feed his ego.

Your heart started pumping loudly inside your ears, as you put his hands up the sides of the unmarked sides of your waist. Unmarked, but not untouched. He felt how a shiver went up your skin, even through the thick layers of fabric. 

An image of brown and red leaves flooded your mind, warm sunlight and a swing, your legs swinging back and forth, the momentum making the wind lift your hair. Oh how you missed not having to feel invisible hands touching your skin, eyes on the walls, mirrors and dark corners. Just living under the warmth of the sun and the spring breeze, sweetly and innocently.

The sound of the needle hitting the end of the record pulled you back to reality. You took a deep breath, and notice just how close you were, your unmarked cheek pressed against the crown of his head, arms around his neck.

As soon as Alastor felt you move back, he immediately removed his hands from your waist. Reluctantly closing his eyes as he was kicked down by the cold again. Couldn't you stay for five more minutes? But he just silently turned to watch you walk around the kitchen island and change vinyl records, with an inevitable longing stare you never caught sight of.

“What language is this?” you muttered to yourself, attempting to read the burgundy cover. “It’s French” his face was so close, you could smell his shampoo again. “Mon coeur s'est envolé, it means ‘My heart flew away’” Since you’ve never heard French before, you couldn’t tell if he was being truthful, he might as well be just speaking gibberish to impress you. 

“You speak french?” you looked up at him. “A variety. I speak Cajun, after all I’m creole” You hummed again, this time an ‘oh’ he couldn’t decipher. “It’s a waltz version of the original, would you like to play it?” he moved the needle up for you to put the A side up. 

He had you almost caged inside his arms. His right one down the level of your eyes, the other out of sight. But how come you didn’t feel so threatened? Still possibly in danger, but…how come?

To Alastor you seemed so tense, hesitant. He really wanted to hold a steady pace with you, but somehow he kept going backwards. What drove you to be so extreme with your emotions? 

Most of the time you look at him like a pest, others you don’t even look at him at all. That bloodlusted stare was the most sincere sight he had of you since he met you, and he couldn’t settle with just those crumbs, he wanted more. 

“Could you say something else in French?” oh wait, were you actually interested? Alastor smiled and got his face as close to your ear as he could without pressing himself at all to your back. “What would you like me to say?” his breath and velvet voice tickled your ear, “Anything”.

He took your hand, raising it so he could softly kiss your scarred wrist, “J'aimerais t'embrasser” he whispered against your ear, as if he was telling you a secret, something for your ears only. “What does that mean?” he softly lifted your hand, turning you around on your heels. “It means, you owe me a dance” his hand pulled your back from the same height you allowed him to touch, just so your chest could be closer to his, “Would you do me the honor?”.

‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ Alastor slapped himself internally. In his way of thinking, there were two possible options that could explain what was going on with him. 

The hug you gave him made him go too far out of his comfort zone where he felt in control and he tried to counteract it by making you feel uncomfortable. Or he was actually enjoying your company.  

Utterly preposterous.

He put the pie to bake, then started the song again.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Secret Santa with the Jackass Guys HC’s!

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, crude humor, dildos, sex toys, porn, lingerie

An: Thank you so much for the request, @rainydayz-nstuff, and happy holidays! I couldn’t reply to your request directly, so I attached it to the post :) I think that’s a very interesting tradition, and when I read your message I just knew it would suit the Jackass guys well! Thank you for sending it in, and please keep sending requests! :D

The giddy smile on Knoxville’s face as he stood on your doorstep did a great job at distracting you from what he was holding

“Merry Christmas!” Thrusting the wicker basket into your arms before he shimmied past into the warmth of your place, “If it ain’t colder than Frosty’s jockstrap out there…”

It took a bit of silicone grazing your cheek to realize what you were holding- dildos. So many dildos.

All different sizes and colors with a couple fantasy ones thrown in there, little pink ribbons tied below the heads. Cute…

As everyone got ready to draw names, you realized that you had nothing to draw out of so you settled for Bam’ beanie.

“What the hell’s on your hand-“ Ryan reached for your wrist as you clutched a slip of paper. Eyes going wide with realization, he sputtered out between laughs, “Dude- that’s Bam grease!”

That earned him a stiff punch in the shoulder.

Examining the Dumbest Asshole in Hip Hop CD and the coupon code to Steve’s website you received, you really had to go out on a limb to guess who brought it…

But he didn’t have much shame, holding up his hands in faux guilt before diving into the package in front of him.

Bam was eager to brag about what he brought as Steve shuffled through a stack of dvds,

“Yeah- I did this interview with Hustler, an’ I asked if they’d pay me in videos!” Grinning, Bam gloated like this was any sort of thing to brag about, “Asked for the craziest shit they got…”

More surprising than the weird, kinky porn was the year long subscription to American Grizzly that came with it.

“Hey, Knoxville! I think I got your birthday present covered this year…”

Looking at how Chris was beaming as he unwrapped it, there was no question who gifted Ryan the black banana hammock

Cocking your head, you examined the shimmery rhinestones as he held it stretched between his thumbs, “Y’know, I thought this kinda thing’d be more Bam’s ballpark…”

Dunn replied, “No, yeah- he’s gonna love it tonight.”

But some of the presents were more typical. Take, for example, the oversized bottle of liquor in the shape of a nude woman that Pontius received

As he ran his fingers over some of it’s more, ahem- detailed assets, he chuckled in that sweet, dumb way that made you forget he was lusting over blown glass,

“Woah…she really is my kinda lady!”

With how Bam reacted when he got his gift, you would’ve thought he was just handed a puppy for Christmas.

“Are the- holy shit! I got ‘em!” Grinning eagerly, he clutched the basket of dildos.

Immediately, the question on everyone’s tongues was what one person could ever do with that. In all likelihood, he’d probably end up stashing them around his friends’ homes like some demented prank,

But he smugly replied with a wink that a gentleman never tells.

“A gentleman? Since when were you a gentleman?” you asked.

But nothing would compare to the reaction your gift elicited,

Proudly displaying the sexy little leather number you picked out at the local lingerie store in all it’s lacy glory, Johnny got that glint in his eye like whenever he was about to do something awful,

“That reminds me- I still gotta take those Christmas card photos…”

And sure enough, he did.

[starry-nights-17]

Just wanted to say Happy Christmas to you all and leave this here. A short festive story, set in the canon world but sort of AU (in that Ian is living with Clayton).

*Mickey breaks into the wrong house....but maybe it was the right house after all 🤔

(Some derogatory language ahead, not mine, all Mickey!)

----

Christmas was just around the corner, meaning Terry was working them harder than normal. And by work, he meant stealing. Breaking and entering.

Mickey was the perfect burglar. Quick, quiet and small enough to squeeze through tight windows. Tonight's target, a fancy West Side house, which featured a large expensive looking tree in the front room. At the base of it, was a pile of exquisitely wrapped presents. Jackpot.

Mickey jimmied open a window at the back of the house, expertly so, given the practice he had. He crept into the connecting living room, eyes darting around and ears on high alert.

Confident that the house was vacant, considering the car that was usually parked out front was gone, he started tossing the packages into a large holdall he brought with him.

"Mickey, what the fuck"

His blue eyes blinked into the darkness, until he eventually made out a shape and spotted familiar red hair and freckles. The Gallagher kid had moved away a year back. His sister Mandy had whined about missing her BFF for weeks, droning on about how he discovered his mom's affair and that the man who raised him wasn't his real dad.

He made a run for it but the kid grabbed his arm, "I can't let you take it Mickey, not all of it anyway".

His voice was soft, those green eyes even softer, an understanding there. Gallagher picked out a few packages and held them out to him.

"Your dad's an asshole".

Mickey felt his eyebrow pull up and his face scrunch up in confusion, "What's it to you, carrot top?"

Ian, that was the kids name, chuckled and took a step back, his face lit up in amusement.

"Just know what he's like, what will happen if you return empty handed. Just take them, I can replace them tomorrow".

"This a trick, you gonna call the cops on me or something?"

"Course not, South Siders don't snitch".

Mickey gestured around and caught Ian's eye, "in case you haven't noticed freckles, we ain't in the South Side".

"Whatever, I'm still fucking South Side Mickey and more than that; I'm still a Gallagher".

Mickey nodded slowly, feeling the kid was being genuine. "Well now I really can't take this shit", he sighed and dropped his bag, "fucking tainted or whatever".

Ian laughed again, a sweet and bright sort of sound that had Mickey's lips curving up at the corners. He didn't know why he was still standing there, hovering, loitering. And at the scene of a crime, although technically he hadn't stolen anything.

"You want a beer or some hot chocolate or something, Clayton, um I mean my Dad and his wife are out, won't be back for hours".

Mickey snorted out a laugh, "you fucking serious, you like retarded or something? I just tried to rob you and now you're offering me hot chocolate?"

Ian grinned and shrugged casually, "not like I haven't stolen shit before. I get it. I know you haven't exactly got a choice Mickey. And," he paused and looked away, almost shyly, "miss the South Side I guess, don't see my family as much as I'd like. Figured you could catch me up on shit, on Mandy".

"That annoying bitch," he joked, "she's still a pain in my ass and a huge slut. There, all caught up freckles".

He turned to leave, feeling awkward now and feeling his cheeks flush with colour as the goofy kid smiled confidently back at him. It was as though he actually liked Mickey's abrupt manner or some shit.

"C'mon Mick, I'll even toss in some marshmallows. I remember you have a sweet tooth".

Mickey raised his eyebrow in a question, "the fuck you know that?"

Ian laughed and started towards what he presumed was the kitchen, "you think I didn't know about all those snickers you swiped from the store?"

Before he registered it, he was walking forward, following him, as if he was a magnet being drawn in that direction.

"You fucking stalking me or something, watching me, kinda creepy man".

His tone was easier and lighter than intended. Shit, he almost sounded like he was dangerously close to flirting.

Ian cocked his head and studied his face for a second before replying, with a wide devilish grin.

"Kinda my job Mick, to keep my eyes on you".

Mickey tried to hide an emerging smile with his hand and was forced to look away, from that intense green gaze. His skin felt electrified and he was sure his cheeks were glowing.

"Well it's not anymore, guess you don't need a job since you moved up in the world".

Ian set a large mug down in front of him, complete with mini pink and white marshmallows floating on top.

"Not so sure I did," Ian paused and seemed thoughtful, "kinda miss it, working, earning money, even miss the fucking ghetto".

Ian laughed dryly and Mickey shook his head at him in disbelief.

"I just mean it's different here, fucking boring and like dad's just trying to make up for lost time so he never yells or says no. Its weird".

"Oh poor you, shit, you don't know how lucky you have it man. Complaining like a spoilt princess about being rich and living in a place like this, where you don't get a black eye every other day".

"You think I don't hear myself Mick. Course I know I sound like a prick. I just don't feel like I belong here. I don't fit in. I don't know how to live this fucking normal life".

"Well, I'd swap places with you any day," he muttered, blowing on the hot chocolate before talking a long satisfying sip. Damn, it tasted good, like proper expensive shit, not that crappy dollar store stuff that masqueraded as "chocolate".

"I'm sorry, I know I suck. I go to a great school and have everything I want. Meanwhile the rest of the Gallaghers are still living in that shithole, with fucking Frank".

"Actually, heard he's shacked up with some rich bitch over on the North Side. Never stops bragging about it in the Alibi".

Ian laughed and shook his head, "course he is. Frank always manages to land on his feet".

"Looks like you take after him in that respect Red, even if he's not your real dad or whatever. Suck it up, you got out. You can make something of yourself. Mandy always said you were smart, so don't waste that education. Go cure cancer or whatever the fuck".

Ian settled down, sitting opposite him, as they both smiled quietly around their mugs. The situation was weird but only in how it wasn't weird, not really. Mickey felt at ease, like he was naturally able to talk with Ian, his usual shyness not present.

"Not really a science geek, believe it or not," Ian joked, an attractive smile on his face again, "more of an English Lit geek".

"You mean like books and shit. Rather you than me pal".

"Wait, you can actually read, Mickey?"

Mickey sat up straight, ready to knock the fuckers teeth down his throat. That was, until he caught sight of Ian's cocky smirk. He flipped him off and felt a smirk of his own creeping up.

"Fucking comedian over here," he muttered, "course I fucking can, dickhead. Might be a Milkovich but doesn't mean I'm a dumb fuck".

"Never thought you were," Ian replied with a gentler smile now and a fondness in his eyes. "Always figured you were smart. And, funny too".

Ians eyes darted away, his lips lowered to the mug again, his cheeks faintly pink.

"Funnier than you anyway," he teased in return, "not that it'd be hard".

"I meant it, I want to help. Don't want you getting into trouble or whatever...with Terry".

Ians eyes appeared sincere and possibly full of concern too. Mickey was surprised, wondering how this kid, who was almost a stranger to him, was genuinely worried about him returning home empty handed.

Then again, he probably witnessed Mickey's battered and bruised face on numerous occasions. Perhaps at the Kash n Grab or at the Milkovich House when he hung out there with Mandy. Likely his sister confessed some harsh home truths to her BFF too. Fuck.

"Can't take your shit Gallagher. It's fine, I'll hit some other place up on the way home".

Ian rose to his feet, taking out his wallet, offering a wad of cash to him.

"The fuck," he stood and swatted his hand away in offence, "don't want your money either; not a fucking charity case. And just cos your whore of a mother fucked some rich prick doesn't make you better than me".

Ians face grew red with anger and he stepped forward, invading his space, "don't fucking talk about her like that Mickey. I know I'm not better than you, never fucking said I was. Just don't want you getting punched in the face, or worse, by that evil psychotic prick. Fuck me, for giving a shit".

Ian shoved him and Mickey shoved him back. Both of their chests heaved up and down, both clearly emotional.

"Shit, I shouldn't have said that about your mom; not like mine was much better. Not cool. I know she had fucking problems or whatever, " he thumbed his nose, stumbling on his words, "just don't like handouts alright, I can take care of myself".

Iam nodded and his expression softened further, "I know you can take care of yourself Mick. Just nice sometimes to let other people help. Not like I can't spare some cash. Please, just let me help, let me feel like all of this," he gestured around, "means something. If it means saving that pretty face from getting another pounding, then its worth it".

Mickey's eyebrow pulled up and a sharp breath left his mouth, "did you just call me fucking....pretty....think its you thats looking for a pounding pal".

Ian smirked and approached him, head cocked to the side, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"Generally I do the pounding...but I'm always open to trying new things".

As if Ian's bold words weren't having enough of a mind-blowing affect on his body, the asshole winked (actually winked) at him.

Mickey opened and closed his mouth like a fish, rendered utterly speechless. Not only was the kid gay but he was openly flirting with Mickey, implying shit; not just about himself but about Mickey too. The giant sized balls on Ian. He was pretty impressed though, considering Mickey could easily be kicking his ass right now. Talk about a risky move.

"I uh, better go"

He mumbled and pointed vaguely in the direction of the door, "Terry...you know...fucking schedules or whatever".

Ian chuckled and stepped forward again. His hand reached out, trailing down his chest; smoothing out the creases on his shirt, and then he was stuffing something in his pocket. Before Mickey could argue, Ian was shutting him up in the most unexpected and unsettling way. By pressing his warm lips against his.

Naturally his reaction was to push him away, which he attempted to do but Ian was stronger than he looked and held his hands at the wrists. Green eyes locked on his, questioning, searching. And somehow Mickey relaxed enough to nod up and down.

There was that predatory smirk again before those lips were on his once more, firmer now, with puprose and determination. But it was a brief and tame kiss, which he was grateful for. Because if Ian tried to take it further, put his hands on him or slipped him the tongue, he wasn't quite sure what would happen. Could end up in a fuck or a fight, Mickey wasn't certain. All that he was certain of, was that his skin was on fire, his heart was thumping wildly and he was breathing harshly.

"Think of it as an advance payment...or a loan," Ian said next, waking him from his haze.

"Huh?"

"You can repay me"

"How the fuck do you expect me to pay your pampered ass back. Piss poor here, remember".

Ian laughed, once again causing an unfamiliar flutter in his chest and Mickey smiled automatically upon hearing the pleasant sound.

"There's other ways to pay me back Mick," Ian replied with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck off, you think cos you kissed me I'm some sort of prostitute...I'm not even gay man".

He almost choked on the lie and judging by Ian's amused expression he wasn't buying it either.

"If you say so. Besides, that's not what I had in mind....but now that you mention it...."

Mickey scratched his eyebrow and flipped him off, barely containing a smile.

"Fine. No sexual favours, got it, " Ian joked, his hands held up in the air, "I just meant you can pay me back by maybe hanging out with me once it a while, that's all".

"You just want me to hang out with you...and you'll basically pay me for it...the fuck is wrong with you man?".

Ian cackled and shook his head, "nothings wrong with me. I just fucking like you or whatever and I already told you; the moneys insurance, protecting that pretty face of yours".

Mickey's middle finger was raised once more while his face was busy heating up, "ok fuck, fine, i'll take the cash. But not promising you anything. You're fucking weird man, not sure how much more of you I can handle".

Ian's face lit up and he cocked his head in that boyish, mischievous way again, "pretty sure you can handle a lot Mick," he paused and hummed, "hopefully".

"The fuck," he whispered, the word coming out in a shuddery breath. "I'm outta here. Good luck with being rich now or whatever".

He waved at him, clumsily and awkwardly, before swiftly heading towards the door.

"Don't be a stranger Mickey".

He didn't even need to turn around to recognise the grin that cocky redhead was undoubtedly sporting. Ian Gallagher. Of all the houses. Of all the situations. This night had not turned out like he had expected. He paused at the door, his fingertip tracing over his bottom lip, somehow still feeling Ian's lips there. Fuck. Mickey already knew it. He needed to kiss him again.

"Whatever. See ya later, firecrotch".

❤🎁🎄🌈

[justanothersanjilover]

One Piece Modern Gym AU Wip (Part 23)

Sanji thought he was going to die on that motorbike. He knew Zoro wouldn’t and couldn’t slow down. But it was frightening nonetheless!

“Next, turn right!” He yelled against the wind and hoped Zoro would understand him.

He actually turned right…and ignored a red light, which led to multiple cars honking at them. Sanji pressed his head against Zoro’s back and closed his eyes. They needed to be faster, he knew that, but he wanted to jump off and never get on a bike again.

“Curly? Which way?!”

Sanji lifted his head at the question and looked over Zoro’s shoulder. They were standing on a crossway.

“Straight ahead and then left. We should see the house by then,” Sanji yelled again and grabbed Zoro tighter as he started to speed down the street again.

“There! It should be the fourth house!” Sanji managed to point in front of them to a grey skyscraper.

Zoro made the best use of the breaks and came to a rumbling hold in front of the house. He kicked the stand down and got off of the bike.

“I’m here, which floor?” He asked over his headphone.

“Right, sixth floor, room 47. Stay were you are! Don’t panic!”

And with that he ran up the stairs and into the building. Sanji hadn’t even time to catch his breath. His legs were wobbly and his whole body shook all over. But he wanted and maybe needed to help Zoro. So he got off the bike, hung the helmet on the handlebars, and followed him as fast as possible.

They met by the stairs - Zoro actually took the time to wait for him.

“Sorry, Curly, for driving like a mad man. I usually don't do that. You okay?” Zoro asked while taking two steps at the same time.

Sanji saw how much Zoro was thorn between waiting for him and running off. That dumbass would really go slow just because he had shaky legs.

“It’s fine. I understand. Go, you don't have to wait for me. I heard the floor and apartment.”

“Thanks!” And off he was.

Zoro made a mental note to make it up to Sanji for bothering him so much. But now he needed to be quick. Perona sounded so fucking scared and he didn't know her like that. Traveling the world, she knew how to stand up for herself. Being trained by their stepdad also helped a lot - even if the training wasn't as hard as his own. So the guy he mentioned must be a lot more difficult than the usual asshole she encountered sometimes.

He opened the door to the fourth floor and walked past the apartments counting in his head.

“43, 44, 45, 46, ...”

At 47 he stopped and started banging against the door. He could hear a man scream from inside and Perona cursing in all colors.

Another hard bang at the door, inside it sounded like another door was busted open, Perona screamed and Zoro saw red. He eyed the door handle, took a step back and thundered his foot a few inches away from the lock against the wood. The door thundered against the wall as it flew open - behind it a short hallway. At the end he could see another open door. From the room behind he heard the screams and curses.

It took the blink of an eye for Zoro to cross the distance. A quick look and he accessed the situation - at least as much as his worried mind would let him. Perona was lying on the bathroom floor, a man kneeling above her, fist raised to punch her.

“You little shit!”

Zoro grabbed the guy by his neck and pulled him up like he weighted nothing. He pressed him against the wall with all his body weight. The man didn't even know what was happening. He tried to free himself as Zoro twisted his arm behind his back and pressed his own forearm against his neck - effectively preventing that asshole from moving in any kind of way.

“Let go, bastard!” The man growled.

“Zoro! Thank god…” Perona squealed and crawled backward, away from both of them.

“Out…” Zoro barked in her direction.

“I…”

“Now!”

“Zoro?” That was Sanji.

“Over here.”

Sanji appeared in the door and looked at the scene in front of him. His eyes threw daggers toward the man struggling in Zoro’s hold. Then he saw Perona and his face softened.

“Sanji, can you take my sister outside, please?” Zoro growled with barely contained anger.

“Sure,” he held a hand out for Perona.

She let him pull her up and walk outside the apartment - she just went with him because Zoro asked him to take her outside. Otherwise she wouldn't really trust him right now.

Zoro waited until they left the apartment and then kicked the bathroom door shut. He guy in his grip started to struggle again.

“Now, what did you want to do to my sister? Hm?” His voice a low grumble in his throat.

“That little bitch…”

Zoro raised his arm until he knew the guy would feel like his shoulder would pop out of its joint. He could hear him whine and whimper and felt the struggle die down.

“Try again.” Zoro’s voice got dangerously quiet.

“I let her crash here for free and then she wasn't even willing to give me a blow…”

Sanji had brought Zoro‘s sister outside and made sure she was okay - a little shaky, but okay. He went back inside just to see the man, Zoro had previously held against the wall, flying (through a broken door) out of he bathroom into the hallway. His nose was bleeding, his lip seemingly split and he had a nasty looking laceration on his forehead. Zoro was standing over him in no time, just to pull him up and throwing him against the next wall. He held him there, whispering something into his ear which made the man tremble like a leave in the wind. Zoro’s whole face was a dangerous mask of anger.

„Do you understand?“ Zoro barked, a hand on the man‘s throat.

„Y…yes…yes…s…sorry…I…“

Zoro let go of him and took a step backward. He watched as the man slid down to the ground. He looked up with fear in his eyes.

“I hope for you, that you’ve understand what will happen if to you if you ever touch my sister or any girl - scratch that - if you touch anyone like that again.”

The man nodded and Zoro turned around, just to see Sanji standing in the entrance. A shocked look on his face. He forced himself to ignore it, but his mind was eased when Sanji smiled at him as they walked outside.

Perona was sitting on the floor beside the broken down door and had her legs pulled up against her chest. Zoro kneeled down in front of her.

“How often do I have to tell you to crash at my place when you’re in town?!” Zoro barked, but his careful hands on her face betrayed the harsh tone of his voice.

“You had a date…I didn't want to be a burden or interrupt something. I…He was nice…”

“Until he wasn't anymore.” Zoro gave her a quick but careful look over.

“I’m sorry…”

He shook his head and turned around.

“Come on…”

The unvoiced offer hanging in the air for a moment.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Zoro,” Perona said, but grinned.

“And I don't offer piggyback rides every day. Get on.”

Perona followed his offer, pressing her head against Zoro’s neck after she was safely seated on his back. Sanji could see how her lip was shaking and how she pinched her eyes shut, like she wanted to stop herself from crying.

“Let’s go,” Zoro had one arm under Perona so she could sit on it - with the other he grabbed Sanji’s hand and pulled him along as he walked to the stairs.

“Is the police getting involved?” Perona asked quitely.

“Do you want them to?” Zoro threw a look over his shoulder.

“No…”

“Then no.”

“But he…”

Zoro barked a dark laugh.

“He won’t do anything.”

“Okay.”

Sanji listened the whole conversation with a strange feeling. It was like he shouldn't be there - like he shouldn't listen to them.

“So…you are Sanji, right?” Zoro’s sister asked as she turned her head toward him.

“Yes. I…”

“Zoro couldn't shut up about you,” she started to kind of whisper but just quiet enough, that Zoro could also hear what she said. “He’s down bad for you.”

Sanji opened his mouth, but Zoro was faster.

“Perona!”

“I’m just saying…also he doesn't look stupid. Bet he already knew.”

“I hoped so…but I wasn't sure,” Sanji smiled down at his and Zoro’s hands.

They fell silent for a moment, then Petrona’s stomach started to grumble. Zoro came to a hold immediately.

“When was the last time you ate?”

She didn't even answer right away. Zoro’s grip on Sanji’s hand tightened as he started to walk again. Sanji was a bit confused, but didn't say anything. When the silence stretched, Perona couldn't take it anymore.

“I…Yesterday morning…”

“We gonna eat something, right now.”

“But…”

“Right now, Perona.” Zoro didn't need to make clear that he wouldn't take no for an answer, his voice did the job quite well.

She sight and nodded, letting her head sink to his shoulder.

“I know a place, just around the corner. We can go there.”

Prev/next

First Part

[to-the-stars8]

Home for the Holidays

Jason Todd & Dick Grayson & Tim Drake All Chapters Ao3

December 21, Salt Lake City, UT

They made it to Salt Lake City by sunrise, Jason having pushed the pedal til the car was practically begging for gas, where they stopped for breakfast. Dick bought them breakfast with ten of the thirty dollars they had, while the rest went toward the car.

When Jason returned from the gas station he sat in the booth next to Tim where he began to take his designated hashbrown and sausage biscuit.  

“Jesus Christ, this is good! I think I might spend the rest of the money on another biscuit,” Jason said with his mouth full. That caught Dick’s attention and he ordered Jason to show him the money. Once Jason threw two twenties on the table, far more than they had before, he demanded to know how he got it. “Relax, I didn’t steal it. What do you think I am?”

“Just be careful, Jason, we can’t be screwing around,” Dick said in a low tone, taking the money. 

Tim knew that was a bad idea, and it was only confirmed when Jason reached across the table to grab Dick’s arm. People in the restaurant turned to look at the two of them, which made Dick easily give up the money. 

“Fuck you,” Jason seethed before getting up, grabbing the money and Tim’s sausage biscuit before walking off. 

“Asshole,” The youngest boy called after, leaning over to take Dick’s food. “Consider this payment for acting up.”

“Shut up,” Dick said, looking around at the people now watching them. It made him antsy, and, if Bruce were here, he’d be getting a look for not having better control over the situation. “Give me half, at least.”

“No, you shouldn’t have pissed him off,” Tim said, holding the biscuit close.

“He shouldn’t have stolen that money,” Dick whispered-yelled back. 

“Did you hear what he said? He didn’t steal anything. Money-wise.”

“And you believe him?”

“What if I do?” 

Dick reached over and took a sip of his soda. “Then, how about you go join him in the car.”

Tim looked out the window next to the booth to see the back of Jason’s head through the truck’s back window. He was mid-sip of a soda before he turned it to look toward the busy road, and, after staring for a few seconds, Tim began to slide out of the booth.

Dick was shocked his little brother actually followed through with the suggestion and watched as he walked across the parking lot, hugging himself as he did, before hopping into the car. 

With a grumble, Dick went through his pocket for the five bucks he had hidden away to buy himself another sausage biscuit. 

*** 

Jason hadn’t expected Tim to suddenly hop into the car with him, say nothing, and start munching away on food. He tried to act like the boy wasn’t there, but couldn’t help but to glance at him every few minutes or so. The air between them felt awkward considering their history. 

“Rockin’ around the Christmas tree, at the Christmas party hop,” The radio played. 

Tim groaned before harshly beginning to change the radio station. “I fucking hate Christmas.”

Jason wanted to say he was surprised by that, but with the black clothes Tim was sporting it was obvious. The kid, while not overtly edgy, did have a sort of angsty teen phase going on. Jay would have related to it if he hadn’t died at fifteen. Suddenly, a rock band was blasting through the car speakers before Tim slowly turned the volume down. 

“So, you hate Christmas…why?”

The kid sat back and shrugged, picking at his food. “I wouldn’t say I hate it. The holidays always felt like a chore– My parents wanted to get Christmas over with, so I never really got to have the fun parts.”

“Oh,” Was all Jason could say. 

“Don’t get all emotional on me now,” Tim joked. “Don’t want it to end up like last time, ya know?”

Jason wanted to be angry, but he had to admit it was a bit funny–He even let out a little snicker before offering Tim half of the sausage biscuit. There was hesitance, but eventually, it was slid across the seat and onto the dashboard to save for later. After a minute or two of silently eating, Tim finally asked about the money. 

“There’s a senior living home right around the corner, I told them I’d clear their walkway of snow in under an hour for twenty bucks. Did it, but then an old lady asked me to help change her tire. She gave me the money even though I said no,” Jason said like it was just another day for him. 

“Why didn’t you just tell Dick that,” Tim quietly asked. 

Jason shrugged before telling him it wouldn’t have changed Dick’s mind about anything. Tim stared down at the road in front of him as he thought. He recalled Bruce telling him that Jason died because he was reckless and angry– The opposite of what a Robin should have been. Robins were meant to be obedient. Loyal. Even Dick had mentioned that Tim’s predecessor didn’t have the same control he did, and his disobedience cost him his life–sounding a little too much like Bruce rather than the kind, funny brother he usually was. 

Tim’s first impression of Jason had been exactly what he expected. The man who showed up at Titans tower a few years ago was angry, and he had become an outlet for Bruce’s neglect. Jason had quietly and awkwardly apologized, but that didn’t erase the memory for Tim. Even Jason had admitted he knew that. 

“Maybe you should mention it to him,” Tim said as he noticed a snowflake fall onto the windshield. “He won’t be on your ass as much.”

Just like the Devil’s name was spoken, Dick had appeared at the passenger side window. Opening the door, he leaned in to see if anything was amiss before snatching the biscuit off the dashboard. 

“Hey!”

“Move over,” He said, mouth full, and pushed Tim toward Jason. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jay said. “You’re driving. I want a nap.”

Dick groaned before switching places. Starting the engine, they pulled back out onto the highway. 

They hardly got a mile down the road before Dick mumbled under his breath, “The hell is playing?” And promptly changed the station to Christmas tunes again.

[annabelle-creart]

we listen, we don´t judge

Moroco in season 4 was kind of stupid, I get it, but guys, it was an AI, and all AIs in TFRB are kind of stupid, the only one that does exactly what everyone needed was the baby, and is a fucking baby!

the time travel to get Moroco out of the equation was cool and everything but kind of stupid for the plot, to have the real him would be even funnier and better (at least they didn´t fix everything with time travel, that would be shitty, but if that happened, Chase should definitely be the only one who remember, the rest would make it hard to deal)

Cody is a cutie and a potato, but he and Boulder should get angrier more, and not just upset, like, angry (goddamit, let the kid swear, and Heatwave and Boulder too)

Boulder and Heatwave would be a cute pair but only as possibility, is hard for me to admit but Heatwave has more chemistry with Quickshadow and Chase (especially with Chase) (which is shitty for me each time I rewatch the series but I must admit instead of deny to enjoy, I just made peace with the fact)

Nonetheless, as I´ve seen in Arcane´s fandom, platonic mlm also exists, people, I know you love your gay ships (including me) but friendship and other type of relationships also exist, is okay if you ship the bots with the humans or the bots with the others but remember romance is not the only type of relationship that exist (I just say it because ALL the transformers fandom likes yaoi too much, and that´s okay but platonic also deserves to be highlighted)

even if the TFRB staff wanted to make BumbleBlades real, the mothefuckers are sooooooo dumb at making romance, and having in mind Bee even dissapeared from Blades´ life for LONG TIME... well, is more benefit for the fandom that they wrote it like it´s just admiration

guys, I love BumbleBlades too, but we´re forgetting Bee DISSAPEARED from Blades´ life WITHOUT SAYING A WORD, HE DIED IN TFP, HE GOT A NEW VOICE BOX, A NEW TEAM AND BLADES DIDN´T KNEW UNTIL THE IDIOT CRASHED ON MAINLAND!! we have to respect more our helicopter boy, he deserves more and better, just take that on mind

Charlie and Chase are better as father and son than as boyfriends

we deserved more T-rex OP in screen, and also more of dinobot Bee, same with the cadets

Blurr and Salvage are traumatized teens, and none of them (specially Blurr) were qualified to train other cadets (or even get on field without supervision that easily)

Quickshadow needed more development, I don´t get how she passed from spy to rescue bot in less than a season, and no, to say she maybe was a rescue bot before doesn´t solve the problem, she Had been a spy for Optimus too much time, she´s out of practice

WHERE IS MY EPISODE OF THE TEAM PAST???? I KNOW IS FUNNIER AND EASY TO JUST MAKE LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED SO WE CAN FILL THE VOID WITH FANFIC BUT DUDE, HEATWAVE WAS THREE TIME LOBBING CHAMP?? BOULDER DIDN´T KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT PAINTING? WAS BLADES A PROTECTOBOT BEFORE THE RESCUE TEAM??? WHAT MADE CHASE THINK HE NEEDS TO BE USEFUL ALL THE TIME????? we were denied more lore, never forget that

High Tide deserved a better redemption arc, the asshole treated the team too hard and it wasn´t even for them to be good, he didn´t liked the team and that was obvious

Heatwave is a great father? I don´t know, he´s a great support for Cody and the robo-baby confirmed he likes kids but he´s also too proud, and I think we should explore more why Heatwave, despite he likes younglings, is so damned rough with himself about it

I think we all recognize which person is which here on this fandom by the ships they like, we recognize Gelu because of Priss and Cody, we do recognize Sugar because of HeatShadow, Lipgloss with BoulWave and Bagel with Graham x Katy, Frost with Graham and Boulder (at least I started recognizing who did or reblogged the thing by the ship even before I did because of the art style :,D)

I think is cool to theorize about Cody´s mom, but the series is way better cool without her, I´m glad for it (and if you don´t like the comment, let´s pretend Heatwave is Cody´s mom)

and I think that´s all I have to say :v if you made it this far is because you´re my real and I love you, good night

I've made a post like this some time ago on twitter but decided to take it here

We listen and we don't judge: transformers rescue bots edition

Mine is that graham burns is super hot and sexy and that he should marry me 😁😁