#i just wanted to draw big knockers

[mammaryjamboree]

I drew my witch Eloisa from @rotting-ink's game the rot of witchwood bc it's the only thing giving this bitch(me) a brain tickle

[marvelobsessed134]

Bloody kisses

Based off the request above by @rocklive44

My first time writing for Dracula, so excited!

Pairings: Dracula x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, biting and blood (obviously cause hes a vampire), somnophelia, my attempt at writing old timey smut 😭

You had gone looking for your brother, Renfield. Now it’s no secret he’s gone mad these past few months having taken up a residency at the local asylum. But he escaped again and you wanted to find him and make sure he’s okay. You learned he tended to frequent a castle of all places. One that seemed to be abandoned but well kept at the same time. Like some lived there but not a human.

You walked through the draw bridge and towards the two large front doors. Using the big knocker, you knocked, waiting for an answer. A few seconds later the two doors opened on their own. Which did set you back a bit, but you were determined to find your brother.

Taking a deep breath you stepped inside, your heels clicking against the floor. The castle was very grand, tall ceilings, a grand entryway and staircase. A prefect gothic fortress. After you got done looking around the entryway you jumped when you saw a man standing at the top of the stairs. He had skin as white as snow, slicked back black hair, a long black cape, white dress shirt underneath with some black pants and loafers. He looked so peculiarly handsome. Dangerous, even. But not dangerous physically. Dangerous in the way he made you feel.

“Um…hello. I’m here looking for my brother, Renfield. I heard he escaped the hospital again and I was told he frequents here a lot. Are you a friend of his?”

A smile spread across the man’s face, “Ah, he’s told me lots about you, Y/n.” His accent was thick and you couldn’t figure out where it came from.

“Oh! Well I hope they’re all good things.” You chuckled nervously, “is he here?” As you spoke you stepped closer to the staircase.

“He’s not here at the moment. But may I show you to a nice meal?” The raven haired man stepped down till he reached you, offering his arm for you to take.

You blushed, “Sure…I guess I don’t see any harm in that.” Oh, how oblivious you were. 

you let him lead you up the stairs into a large room with a fire place, bed, and table & chairs. There was already food on the table with two glasses of wine. The liquid in one of the glasses seemed so much dark than the other but you didn’t pay any mind to it.

“Wow, you must’ve already been expecting someone.” You said.

“Yes. But they seem to have abandoned our dinner plans.”

“Oh.” You gave a sad look, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s quite alright now I have a beautiful lady in my presence.” You blushed at his words.

After you sat down you dug right into the meal, not realizing how hungry you were. “Say, I never got your name.” You asked.

“Dracula.” He responded.

You lifted your eyebrows in surprise at the exotic sounding name, “Very interesting name. Are you from somewhere other than here?”

“I’ve lived in Transylvania my entire life.” He responded.

You watched as he drank his wine, slowly. It seemed like that was his meal. Odd.

After you finished your food you saw the grandfather clock in the corner, “Oh, my! It is getting rather late, I must head home!”

When you stood up to head towards the door Dracula gently grabbed your arm, “It is too dangerous out there for a little girl like you. You can sleep here for the night.”

“Oh, why, I couldn’t be a burden!”

“You would be the opposite, actually.” Oh, there you go again blushing at his words.

“Okay then…I guess I’ll just head to bed.” You pulled back the covers and hopped into bed, relishing in how comfortable it was. You pulled the covers over you and called out to Dracula, “Goodnight Mr-“ but he always already gone.

Late in the night, you swore you felt a presence by you in your sleep. Dracula loomed over you admiring the rise and fall of your chest. Your plump lips as you snored softly. Your hair splayed out on the pillow. Carefully, he pulled back the covers, exposing your body to him.

The vampire undid your blouse and pulled off your skirt, along with your underwear. Your nipples hardened at being exposed to the cold air of the castle. He lightly touched the sensitive buds, pinching them slightly. He didn’t wanna taste you-not yet-because he’d be too tempted to draw your blood.

So he rid himself of his clothes and let his hand wander down to your core. You were already soaking wet which made him grin from ear to ear. His fingers entered you expertly, pumping in and out at a steady pace.

You squirmed and moaned in your sleep, your brows furrowing as he worked his magic. “Sweet little lamb.” He whispered, just as you shot awake. You were embarrassed, scared, and turned on.

“Mr. Dracula! Why, what on earth are you doing?” You asked, making no effort to move out of his grasp as he continued to finger you.

“You’re too sweet for me to ignore, little one.” The man responded, his accent making you even more turned on.

You moaned as he sped up his actions, sending you to orgasm before you even knew it. “Oh!” You cried out, echoing amongst the stone walls.

He quickly lined his cock up to your entrance and pushed himself in, wasting no time to thrust into you over and over again. His calloused hands found their way to your hips, keeping you still while he plowed into you. You moaned and cried out. He groaned and rolled his eyes, muttering praises.

It was so sinful, oh so sinful. You weren’t married to him! But you didn’t want him to stop, it felt so good.

“Fuck!” You huffed as he repeatedly hit your special spot. The vampire found himself getting closer to the edge and right as he came, he lost complete control and bent forward to sink his fangs into your neck. You screamed in both pain and pleasure, the stabbing feeling in your neck and his seed filling your womb.

You should’ve known something was off about Dracula. He was a creature of the night. But part of you let yourself fall victim to him, letting him consume you in anyway he wanted.

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 324: A Date with Her Chest, Epilogue

“Jay….” came a soft, singsong voice, rousing me from slumber and into a dream. I knew it was morning, and I knew I’d been sound asleep. For a long, long while.

“Jayyyyy…”

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was that I wasn't in bed alone. Melissa lay on her side next to me. She was staring at me with a dreamy smile and watched as my eyes immediately drifted down, pulled by the gravity of her big breasts, one atop the other and forming a vast amount of cleavage in a brief black bra. I blinked several times, as if still a bit asleep and barely believing what I saw. Those tits! They looked more enormous than ever, and she’d obviously posed to accentuate their size and softness, right in front of my waking eyes. Immediately I began to get hard. She was so beautiful,  bathed in the gentle morning light that came filtered through honeycomb shades and gauzy curtains, and her skin was perfect, perfectly smooth, her cleavage more than deeply inviting. Warmth poured from her; I could feel it as strongly as I could the magnetism of her chest, a bountiful bosom that seemed to want to draw me in on this quiet, sunlit morning and smother me in peace. It was a good long moment before she spoke. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead,” she finally purred, as I slowly woke up, “Enjoying the view?"

Bashfully I closed my eyes, just now really realizing I’d been staring this whole time, as I’d been coming back to life. 

“It’s okay, open up,” she giggled, and as I did I watched her roll a bit towards me, her left breast now squashing voluminously into the mattress, her right arm and shoulder pressing both her huge boobs together to bulge like big balloons.

urk. “oh my god,” I peeped, bringing another giggle from her.

She was so big and so tall that with her proportions it was a dramatic sight. I felt their mass occupying most of the morning, their weight pressed into the mattress aside me. “They’re hard to ignore. I don’t mind if you look,” she said, with easy tolerance as my eyes settled once again between her knockers, “Did you sleep well?”

As she and I had become more comfortable around one another, I did less and less to hide my amazement at her figure. Any prevarication that I wasn’t utterly mindblown by her body was lost in the wake of our love affair. We had gotten, apparently, beyond me having to have any sense of propriety. This was,  by god, the woman who was calling herself ‘Mommy’ in bed with me last night and to my chagrin I’d eaten it up like a starvling. How did I even try to salvage dignity from here? Once again: urk. 

“Well, I don't know if I've ever slept so good in my life,” she answered herself, reaching out with her right hand to stroke my face tenderly, “I woke up so, like, completely refreshed and rejuvenated. I normally don’t sleep much, but last night I felt like I slept for a year.” Her eyes glittered with deep, satisfied affection. “And I think I know why…”

Melissa allowed herself a mischievous little smile, and I couldn’t hide mine either. She’d rocked my world last night - three times! And the look on her face made it clear that she’d enjoyed herself too, immensely. 

“I…I slept well too, I think,” I said, starting to notice details. Her makeup had been done fresh this morning, her hair. She wore a bracelet, earrings…and this bra. When I passed out under her last night she’d been basically naked, and I had, too. Now it was just me. She’d been awake and out of bed for a while, obviously. 

“Well good,” she smiled, pleased, “I’m glad you slept. I’m sorry but I had to wake you up, to see you.” She saw the questions start to come to life on my face. “I just wanted to talk to you about things before I left. But you can relax, you can close your eyes again if you want and just listen,” she said, “Or you can keep them open, if you like. Look at me, look at my body. I don’t mind. Relax…” Her hand had drifted down to my left shoulder, began idly stroking my arm. 

“You look nice,” I complimented, choosing option number two and letting my eyes drift down again to her bulging breasts, where they got stuck. I caught myself, after a moment, and looked back at her face.  “You’re going somewhere?”

Yes, she told me, she’d been getting ready already. She had a meeting at a TV station downtown. Apparently one of the local channels was going to be doing a piece on the grand opening of the new office wings and they wanted to do a pre-interview. With her. 

“I’m kinda going to be late already,” she said, biting her lip in some embarrassment. She’d taken my hand, and began playing with the fingers of my left hand with those of her right.

“Yeah huh,” I answered, my greedy ass already half-disappointed that I wouldn’t be spending the morning in bed with her. Of course I couldn’t say that; that’d sound needy. We’d clasped fingers, now, were holding hands. “I maybe should get home.”

“Oh sweetie so…I don’t have time to drive you home,” she apologized, “But I’ll have someone come pick you up and get you back? Is that okay?”

“Yeah that’s okay,” I replied, recognizing my helplessness. No car to my name, I couldn’t drive, and couldn’t afford a taxi or an Uber or whatever. The twinge of my pride, though, was not as strong as it might have been a week ago. I got a gentle whiff of her perfume; man, it’s so lovely.

“I could text Josie now,” she continued, “Is a half-hour enough time for you or do you want to nap more?” 

Suddenly I was, actually, feeling a little groggy again. Or maybe just really relaxed. Compared to the meager little bed I had in my apartment her sheets were so soft, everything so comfortable. There was no rush for me, right? What did I have at home to do, anyway? “I could sleep some more?” I answered. 

She smiled, apparently pleased. “Omigod you’re adorable. Okay well when you get up just text me,” she said, “and I’ll get in touch with Josie. Your clothes are in the dryer, should be done soon.”

“You did my laundry?” Our hands still played together, casually. 

“Mmmmm hm,” she answered proudly, “Anytime you come over you should bring it, your laundry. I’ll do it for you. I know it’s tough to do, no machine at the office yet.”

That would make life easier. “You wouldn’t mind?” And what did she mean by ‘yet’?

She giggled again. “No, I don’t mind you making yourself even more dependent on me.”

“uh, c’mon M-”

“Hey! I didn't say you could have your hand back yet!” she playfully scolded as I’d tried to unlock our fingers, “It's mine." At that she wriggled closer, causing my cock to surge. Good god, down boy! Didn’t you have enough last night? She’d maintained a good grasp of my hand. 

I shook myself back, and laughed a little at her joke. 

“What're you laughing at, shorty?" she giggled, our faces now just inches apart. 

“You don't own my hand, ma’am," I smirked, a playful twinkle in my eye. I was proud at myself for not bristling at the casual diatribe about my height.

“I do now!" she stated, sticking her tongue out at me and suddenly placing my hand, palm and fingers, onto the bounteous bulge of her right breast. I quivered, feeling the softness of her skin and firmness of her swelled-out bust. She held it there, possessively, using her own hand to make me squeeze her intumescent flesh a bit. “MINE,” she stated firmly. 

“Okay okay, oh my god yes,” I chuckled, my own hand nearly lost between her larger one and her bosom.  Some thoughts were definitely going through my head, how proprietorial she was becoming with me…but I chose to ignore them. Especially when, after a short moment, she brought herself closer to my face, gently placing a kiss on my forehead - treating me to a truly spectacular view of her breasts - before then kissing me on the lips.

Oh jeez this never gets old. She’d brushed her teeth already.

“Now, we’ve decided you need me,” she said, after breaking our first morning smooch, “You need me to protect you.”

Yes yes yes, I remember, I remembered. We’d talked about a lot last night. I began to try to speak, but was stopped mid-blurt.

“It’s okay, Jay, depending on me for things,” she said, a bit pensively, “I know you’re trying to be cool about all this, but you don’t have to pretend around me. I know the elections made you feel upset and confused, and then there’s this whole shrinking thing…”

I tried, again, to speak. I wasn’t ‘shrinking’, I was just-

“I mean, you’re getting so adorable but it makes me feel nervous for you too, just seeing you getting smaller and smaller every day…” she continued, and I felt my brows furrow.

For real?

“...but I want you to know that I’m here to take care of you, okay?” she spoke, with a tenderness I was not used to hearing from a woman, any woman, “You’re my boyfriend now…maybe more than a boyfriend, and I want to do everything to make your life easy and as stress-free as possible. So, any problem, let me know. I’ll handle it. If the girls are bugging you too much I’ll have a little talk with them. Or…if they’re a distraction from everything, a nice distraction and you like that…that’s okay too.”

I gulped, flushing a little. This was not new, this wasn’t much different than what I’d heard yesterday. But here, in the light of the morning, it sounded much more sobering, more real. Not ‘bad’, necessarily…in fact, there was a lot I was starting to see that was actually appealing. She was painting the prospect of me living my life as a coddled thrall; Melissa and her harem of girls could pamper me all they wanted, and who was I to complain. Would I actually be giving up some independence? Maybe? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It was just, like I said…sobering.

And so I sighed, and laying there as best I could I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t quite know what it was that had suddenly made me feel this way.  I mean, the remnants of my masculinity were still calling out from the far recesses of my mind, warning me with impuissant cries against submitting entirely to this new world. But I was, yes, in love with Melissa, and I wanted a life with her in it. Plus, look at those tits. They - and her hair, and her eyes, and her smile…and that insanely sublime perfume - made it hard for me to do anything aside from exactly what she wanted. I’m such a sucker!

“I…uhm…well…thanks for…uhh, for saying that, Melissa,” I said, after my few moments of reflection and trying to gather my thoughts, “I mean, haha…uh, I’m definitely still getting…getting used to the whole thing.  And, heh, the girls are, uh…have sure been hitting me up a lot recently.” Did she know about the time in the waiting room, with Marisela and Randi and Amelia? Or the times with Morgan, with Vida, all the rest? In fact, now as I tell this story to you, was I remembering it all right? Those times - and there were a lot of them, now that I think about it, seemed distant, as humiliating as they were. “But, yeah…it’s okay.  I mean, it doesn’t really bother me. And I know they’re just all being friendly, helpful.” Jesus I really was drunk on this woman!

“You sure?” Melissa asked searchingly, her eyes gazing deep into mine, reading what they could, seeming to see more about me than I knew myself. That makes me laugh, when I think about it now…of course she did. She was scrutinizing my facial expression, deep in thought herself.

“Yeah…yeah, it’s…it’s all good,” I nodded. It was true, it was. I felt good about it, and I made a point to smile broadly after my words, to show her the ease I felt with the situation. She continued to peruse my face for a few long moments, treating my words with the proper skepticism. But I could also see the growing excitement in her. I was saying exactly what she wanted, even as she gave me the chance to speak otherwise. There were many times I had not been able to help but feel smaller under her gaze, and this was one of them. But, I felt not only smaller but safer, like I was in her hands. Plus, I felt that the fact that she was deciding for herself how to take my words just served to accentuate the growing power difference between us. She was, already, very much my emotional caretaker now, and despite my assurances she needed to examine me closely before feeling completely satisfied. I knew she didn’t mean it, at least at the moment, but she was making me feel even more like a little kid. “I trust you, Melissa, I do.”

“Omigod thank you Jay,” she said tremulously, as if she was ready to burst with emotion, “If you put your trust in me, let me protect you, I promise I’ll never let you get hurt.” This was uncharted territory for her, too, I could hear it in her voice. But then she began to settle herself, and I could see it in her face: it was as if she was taking a step forward into something new, with a new strength. “I’m going to talk with them, the girls. They’re all going to become your protectors too, your little superheros. And…it’s okay by me for other girls to comfort you, be affectionate with you. In faccccct…” she continued, with a new brightness to her voice, “how about this for an idea? You can stay here all day while I’m gone and we can hang out when I get back. I had asked some girls over to see the house. We can have a little party tonight? Try it out?”

“Try out w-what?”

“Try out them being your superheroes,” she giggled. Her voice had changed a bit, become playful again. “Hmm? Would that be nice, have a party with all the office girls? Let them treat you right?”

”Uhhh…” This Friday-night date of ours was was suddenly starting to change into something quite a bit different. .

”I mean, what else do you have to do today?” she asked, smiling sparkles into my eyes.

”Yeah, I mean, nothing, I mean…s-sure,” I agreed, picturing a pig-pile of them, me in the bottom, “that sounds fun.”

”Omigod cool,” she tittered, biting her lower lip in anticipation, “The girls would love to see you tonight, help me take care of you.”

“Oh my god Melissa,” I said, unconsciously echoing her, half-incredulous as to what was happening to my life. I’m sure she heard it in my voice.

”You like that idea hm?” Melissa giggled, “All of us here tonight? We can talk about us all protecting you? Have a little meeting, some drinkies. We can play games, you can get closer to the girls? Would you like that?”

”Sounds like I’m going to be surrounded…”

“If that’s what you like..!” she replied, giggling again, “I don’t mind sharing. As long as what’s in here -” She tapped my chest with one finger. “ - and in here - “ She then tapped me on the forehead. “Is mine.”

“It is,” I said, without delay.

“Is it? Your brain is all mine?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” she said with a new twist to her smile, “I want to make it squishy.”

In a sudden move, Melissa scooted herself up the bed a bit, still on her side, so that her big breasts were right in my line of vision, inches away from where I lay my face on the pillow.

“You told me you loved me last night, didn’t you?” she asked.

Faced with her massive right boob, her left right aside it, I could barely speak.“y-y-yes I did,” I agreed.

“Well, that earns you a reward,” she said, as her big lungs pulled in breath, swelling her tit even closer towards me. “I’m late but I’m going to help you get back to sleep. What would help you drift off again?” she asked, with apparent earnestness, “Music? A movie? A podcast? I could read to you?” 

Barely registering what she was offering, I nodded to the last of the options. Uh, I guess listening to her read would actually be heavenly, but the look in her eyes - as I lifted my own to look at her best I could - and the fact that her fingers now gently pulled down the sheets and brushed against my belly - suggested she meant to do no such thing. 

Smiling like the cat with the short, middle-aged but terminally aroused canary, she pushed me onto my back and fully cleared the white sheets that had laid pooled across my hips. She saw my erection, already standing proud. Slowly she grabbed ahold, and began stroking. Rising now more above me she pressed her big right breast into my face. “You wanted them this big. Might as well enjoy them, right?” 

Under the assault of such sudden pleasure, I had no chance of answering aside from the “mmmph!” that escaped my throat. But, the thought did go through my head: What did she mean by that?

It was her bra that I felt against my cheek, nose and lips. Sliding it across my face, she found my mouth with the swell of her covered nipple and urged me to take it through her bra. I whined a bit, something that sounded like words, something that sounded nervous, like anxiety, like my pride.

”I love you,” she said.

“I…I love you too,” I managed, half-muffled.

She re-urged her nipple to me. “Then trust me, okay?” she said, and breathed in a deep sigh when I paused, but then opened for her. I tasted the fabric, the smooth silkiness of her bra pressed through my lips; I licked with my tongue.

“That’s right, Jay, that’s good,” she said, readjusting herself over me, settling me under her, “It’s okay to be weak sometimes, especially around me. Okay?” Her hand had continued to tend to my throbbing nine inches of erection, and was stroking slow and strong, already in a rhythm,

Once I began playing with her nipple, taking it into my mouth as much as I could through her bra, her pace began to pick up. Soon it became a blur of pleasure. She intended on making this quick for me. Except, after a minute or so I still hadn’t finished. 

“Whats wrong, sweetie?” she asked, with a hint of concern, “You do like this right?”

Nodding emphatically, I groaned as I felt her movements get even more intense, her bust push more firmly into my face. “Then why aren’t you finishing? Normally you come pretty soon after this sta-…oh.” At that, she paused a bit. Her rhythm slowed. My vision darkened by her bra, world eclipsed by tit, I couldn’t see but physically felt her smile light up brighter. “You’re really getting into this, hm? You want me to talk to you. Like I did last night…” 

Slowly a fiendish lilt crept into her voice. “It’s okay little one,” she began again, her rhythm once again regular and strong up and down my big, ready erection, “Let it all out. Let it all out for…mommy.”

Hearing those words were all I needed. She’d unlocked some secret and suddenly I was tensed up and releasing all over her hand. “Good boy,” she purred, chuckling to herself, as I fervently sucked at her nipple through her bra and climaxed, “Let it out just like that.” She purred some more, cooing encouragements and little words of love, indulgences and rewards. 

Eventually my orgasm waned, and - breast still on my face - I felt my consciousness drift away. The last thing I remember was her sliding it off me, a kiss, and finally this thought: Maybe this isn’t so bad after all…

=========================================

yeah I've got one

[onepiece-polls]

Best Man-Tits of One Piece - Round 3!

Submitters' motivations under the cut.

Motivations for submitting Zoro:

110cm. Do I need to say anything more?

This man’s tits are super natural. He has big thick tits!!! Even bigger then Robbins tits. You can recognize him from his tits alone.

His massive honkers are one of his most talked about features

Hhhhhhh tibbiez 110cm am looking with sooooo much respect i swear 😳😳🥵🥵

His tits are so perfect, even Toei couldn’t help but dedicate a scene to them. Wano has been especially kind to his boobs, giving them all the love and plumpness they deserve.

I dont think Oda realized how fucking massive 110 cm tits are. I don’t think he realized what he said on that fateful sbs. Not that it isn’t 110% accurate to the way he draws Zoro, but 110 is an insane measurement. Those are the second biggest set of naturals on the Grand Line. 110. How am I supposed to fit them in my mouth.

Second biggest canon tits. 110cm people, 110cm!

Booba….

I wanna bury my face in them. They look so big I wonder if I can just melt into them.

Look at his tits!!!!! holy shit they look so amazing, i just wanna bury my face in them and squeeze. sahkdhaksj everytime i see him come on screen, i want to squeeze like a stress ball. plus oda said his tits is 110cm 😋 so squishyyyy

THEY TWITCHED

Because Oda said so. Don’t fight God

They even made them dance in the anime

Motivations for submitting Ace:

Tits so sweet they had to be obliterated to usher in the coming of the pirate king

He always has them out. Never has a shirt on. Honestly idk if he really knows what a shirt is

Alabasta Ace, Marineford Ace, Wano Ace all have different tits because of the art style but all are *Chef kiss*

Hi. So. Ace always has his knockers out meaning that he knows that they are great. They are on display and always look nice in the sunlight. With knockers out like that, I am proud to say that Ace has AMAZING boobies

His tits are fucking perfect, very squeezable, plus he goes around shirtless just so we can ogle him. Even at his execution he was showing the goods and boy they looked great.

[sansloii]

HOW WOULD YOUR OCS BE MISINTERPRETED BY FANDOM ( stolen from @arcxnumvitae )

Mikah

Exaggerate all their personality traits--especially the Anger. Goes from pillow princess that does no wrong to someone that will punch holes in the wall in the "this is never sexy at all what is wrong with you" sorta way.

Also apparently gaslights their romantic partners. A lot. Because they can be manipulative with targets and people they are actively stealing from. No I will not show proof of that because google is free :)

Penny

Angry Latina that has absolutely zero nuance and is hyper aggressive when Mikah and Evan so much as breathe. so she hates them.

Hates men in general, honestly, because she's a lesbian and cannot be friends with them. Every time she makes a face that is not 100% happy around them is zoom and enhanced because they want to prove that she's a man-hating woman.

Wynn

The way they would disrespect this sweet man hurts my spirit because these people would:

Make him stupid despite multiple instances of Wynn navigating difficult personal conversations and making complex choices. This includes the whole babying thing that would make my skin crawl.

he is quiet so therefore he doesn't speak. No like he's mute. Cannot communicate at all. this also means he's slow for some reason

Also make him hypersexual with no fucking rhyme or reason. They see "he can be rough" and that's it. Off to the races. they would completely butcher him and explain it with "instinct"

Evan

Pussy/Bussy being the therapy he needs he needs to stay in a relationship because of the VERY FEW relationships he's in that started with sex. Like legitimately saying, with their whole chest, that he'll immediately become Better and ignore, the disagreements, and the ghosting, and the lack of accountability, and the shit explanations for his behavior--

also turns him into a raging drunk or something (because of his dependency on alcohol)... like specifically that. and make him super sleazy and incapable of taking no as an answer.

Dakota

Also hates men

people would 100% ship her with Joseph despite Joseph being married. And then turn around and misunderstand their familial relationship, ship them HARDER, and then start drama which results in calling her a homewrecker.

they would draw this woman with MASSIVE tits. And if you correct them, you're an awful human being for erasing her big boobs. even though she doesn't? have size triple-E knockers???? but you're wrong for that.

did i mention she hates men? because she does.

Joey

no personality traits outside of "Lera is my soulmate". You'd think Lera literally has his hand up Joey's ass with the way people describe his behavior

Or! Dakota has her hand up his ass. Like Lera and Koko take turns

they would not know what to do with his trauma. and that scares me so i will not think about it.

Roderick

He's a biker so of course he's a misogynist and sexist :) his DEAD wife was the exception :) no I will not provide proof of that because google is free and i am never wrong

that's it. that's the take.

Andris

uwu he's misunderstood. Of COURSE charming and manipulating your partners is bad but. He's hot. So if they don't forgive him for it, it's their fault and we should shit all over those characters.

on the flipside: he's the literal devil in human skin and super predatory. he is just waiting to assault someone.

very polarizing. People either love him or will tell you you're going to hell for liking him. and the next day, you have a callout written about you because you like him so therefore, you're okay with and condone everything he does. It doesn't matter if you understand he's an awful person and can objectively look at him--you're a piece of shit.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV quick rundown - It Devours! - Joyous Congregation&members

Click here for the plot points! Click here for facts about Nilanjana! Click here for facts about Darryl! Click here for facts about Night Vale and it's citizens (including Cecil and Carlos) in It Devours! Click here for stuff about the other scientists! Click here for misc interesting facts I found!

Stephanie is a young woman who befriended Darryl when they were both children. She is studying for a degree in theology and wants to become a Church Elder (which she does in the end). She is good at volleyball and enjoys the academic side of her religion. She and Darryl end up dating.

Jamillah is a young woman who never lets go of her power drill and understands a lot about machines despite not being too interested in science. She does the illustrations for the churchs pamphlets.

Martin McCaffry is a church member who used to work for the TSA out at the NV airport. He was unhappy with his job and continuously made drawings of an elongated dark figure with no memory of making them. He tried setting traps, making sacrifices and even using a future predicting machine to try and catch it. Eventually, he met a church member called May who turned him onto the religion and a new (worse paying) job overseeing the summer camp counsellers. This doesn't help him either. He eventually becomes consumed with drawing the figure and spends all his time making them, but has never been happier.

The church urges all of it's members to present a happy face to the world with the intention of spreading joy but outside presentation is valued higher than actual feelings.

A religious gesture in the JC is to make a 'circling motion with an upright fist'. If returned, the participants than make eye contact and hum a single low note for ten seconds.

They believe the Smiling God has always been here even before the Big Bang. It lives beneath the earth but used to live with people except people 'weren't ready' and so it had to go away. The DOW is heaven.

The Smiling God uses exclusively it/it's pronouns and has a wide smile with a vast field of teeth.

Blood-letting is part of worshipping a Smiling God.

It is believed to devour your sins, unwanted desires, regrets and worst memories, things you wish you did and didn't and vice versa.

The Central Church of the JC in NV used to practice out of storefronts in half-empty strip malls but earlier 'this year' a proper church was constructed a few miles off of route 800. It's tall silver steeple is visible from the highway and it looks like a mix of a church and an office building. It has huge old looking doors with ringed knockers in the shape of centipedes. The real door to enter is a more office-building looking one around the side.

The JC believe in the '11 stages of human education' which are: birth, earthly nourishment, divine nourishment, friendship, love, awareness, family, enlightment, community and the Devouring. Depictions of these in the church often include foxes, for reasons not fully understood but a possible theory is just that Kevin (their prophet, who apparently brought them the Book of Devouring from 'heaven'/the DOW and would preach on his show) just really liked foxes.

There are classrooms in the church, full of toys like dolls and candles and cars with human faces painted on them. There's also books like 'Felicia finds an obelisk' and 'Smiley the centipede accidentally swallows the Earth'. There is a board with the question 'What is Divine Pain?' on it. The teacher is called Ms French (or was when Darryl was young).

The congregation religious outfits consist of long shapeless yellow robes and big square hats with mesh that covers the face.

Once a year the church holds a 'Youth Culling' where children can choose to become full members.

Before services, church members fast so their hunger will remind them of the Smiling God's hunger.

The Congregation has missionaries in Venezuela, Mexico and Double Mexico. Darryl teaches them Double Spanish.

Gordon hates and fears books.

The Book of Devouring is bound in centipede skin and has a pattern made of nails with wire strung between them on the cover, which makes the interlocking triangles of the centipedes hunting pattern. It is written on the yellow pages of a legal pad and contains diary-like entries of observations and many drawings of the triangular movement patterns. The invocation to summon a Smiling God involves wearing fox masks, jumping up and down and having a tray of milk and teeth.

[natsmagi]

reading your posts about body diversity in enstars and i don't want to. echo chamber or anything but as a guy with a small waist/large hips/sizable chest it always makes me happy 2 see people give fem tsumugi similar traits without it being. inherently sexual (do not get me wrong it Can be. i think big boobs are hot. bounce bounce. but sometimes it's nice to just.... see a guy like me without it being treated inherently as a sex thing). like sometimes people just have big proportions and that is ok <3 lalala love and joy on earth

YEA!!! and omg DONT WORRY ANON UR NOT BEING ECHO CHAMBER-Y!!! youre sharing your opinion and life experiences!! and individual experiences are always important to take into account!!

there is nothing wrong with liking big boobs or boobs in general, its like. a common joke here after all ASJHFKJH but the issue arises when youre unable to view the person as anything But their proportions..... people who fit the mold of "big boobs and small waists" often get sexualized so disproportionately and you can really see it bleed into how these people are treated in the real world and it makes me so sad...... no body is inherently sexual, and you most certainly shouldnt treat someone as lesser because of the traits they possess. literally any woman is capable of being hot no matter her looks, much like every woman is still a human being no matter her looks. SOMETIMES PEOPLE JUST HAVE BIG BOOBS!!! DOESNT NEED TO GO ANY DEEPER THAN THAT!!!

there is nothing wrong with drawing these bodies sexually either, and if youre sapphic i hope you dont feel shame for thinking things like "wow that girl has some big knockers and its making me think some very risque thoughts. im no better than those vile men" because youre afraid youre feeding into the objectification of women done by guys. its ok to be horny and sexually attracted to certain features, she is Literally what ur attracted to after all!!!! what matters is remembering that Thats a person at the end of the day which, as sapphics, we almost (if not) always inherently do because we have some relationship with womanhood in one way or another (be it cis, trans, nonbinary, or something else) and it will never be the same as cis men reducing women to fleshlights. so please dont feel like you need to feed into the stereotype of "love between women being soft and pure and innocent and sweet" because thats not helping anyone either

be horny!! be crude!!! BE NASTY!!!!!! but also be humane and remember that someone possessing a certain feature doesnt give u a pass to objectify or dehumanize them :')

[kudosmyhero]

Legends of the Dark Knight (vol. 1) #139: Terror, part 3: Greatest Fear

Read Date: January 24, 2023 Cover Date: March 2001 ● Writer: Doug Moench ● Penciler: Paul Gulacy ● Inker: Jimmy Palmiotti ● Colorist: James Sinclair ● Letterer: Kurt Hathaway ● Editor: Andrew Hefler ◦ Harvey Richards ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● Hugo Strange under the influence of Scarecrow's fear gas. I don't think I've yet seen him so vulnerable… ● Scarecrow asks the panic Strange what his greatest fear is; Strange doesn't give a straight answer--merely continues running through the house… ● …and falls down into a hole, where he is skewered on a weathervane that Scarecrow has placed there o_o ● 3 nights later, at Selina's place with her kitties ● (I'm not a huge fan of her costume having a tail. I prefer her whip serving as a tail-like addition) ● she goes to a warehouse where she expects to find jade cats, but instead she finds a skull in the crate ● fear toxin goes off in her face ● (really unforunate how the artist draws her figure) ● (she looks amazing here, though!)

● she's just woken up to Scarecrow taking her picture ● Scarecrow demands a service, else he'll release her photos to the police and the press ● Selina has little choice but to agree ● 2 nights later, Gordon is surprised to see the Bat Signal shining ● he and Batman arrive at about the same time. Gordon informs him that he was not the one who activated the signal. ● Catwoman reveals herself then ● (seriously, her suit would have to have huge, separately sewn pockets for her knockers to fit into because that is not how boobs look in clothing) ● she tries to convince Batman and Gordon to just let her operate, but when that doesn't work, she leaps off the rooftop with Batman close behind ● Batman dives face-first into a pile of garbage when she moves out of the way (heheh)

● HAHA, ok, that's straight out of Looney Tunes, with the trashcan lid ● (the art in this issues is really good, but the painted-on clothes with everyone is quite distracting) ● heheh, Batman's getting pissed and I'm here for it ● he goes after her, preparing to no longer hold back, when he realizes she's led him to Crime Alley ● the actual fuck? I know this artist can do better than this. Feels like a rushed panel.

● Batman suspects a trap, though only Hugo Strange knows of the alley's significance. Someone is strung up by his heels at the end of the alley ● a hand-scythe comes out… ● feck, the hanging man's throat is cut. or maybe he was fully decapitated? it's hard to tell ● Batman figures that Strange, Scarecrow, and Catwoman are all working together. ● oh, it wasn't a hand-scythe but a full scythe. not that it matters. but I try to correct my info ^^ ● (not that anyone actually reads these. if you do--hello!) ● at least Scarecrow's clothes aren't painted on… ● Batman just keeps getting kicked in the face tonight ● I wouldn't have expected Scarecrow to hold his own so well against Batman in a physical fight… ● ah, and it was a full decapitation! (see? accurate details matter) ● apparently the years Crane was in Arkham, he honed his martial art skills. good on you, Crane! your progress shows ^^ ● Catwoman comes to Batman's aid ● Scarecrow says to forget the photos--she's just been added to his bully list as he runs off ● Catwoman apologizes to Batman for leading him there, and says she had no idea Scarecrow was going to kill that guy ● …but then when Batman turns his back, she knocks him out with the handle of the broken scythe ● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: Terrified by Scarecrow and his fear toxin, Hugo Strange leaves his bed and runs through the house of Sebastian Cole. Strange does not recognize the hole which Scarecrow has cut into the wooden floor and, thus, he falls right onto a spike from a weathervane. Strange looks to be mortally wounded and does not move anymore. Now, Scarecrow wants to make his move against Batman whom he calls the big bully. The first step of his plan is to kidnap Catwoman which he actually achieves. Scarecrow unmasks and takes pictures of her face so that he is able to blackmail the female thief.

Two nights later, Captain Gordon goes onto the roof of GCPD Headquarters because somebody has activated the Bat-Signal. He is surprised to find Catwoman responsible, but as intended by her Batman arrives as well. She talks about reaching an agreement and bribing them which of course is no option for either Gordon or Batman. Quickly Catwoman tries to escape and as planned she is being followed by Batman. Interestingly, the hunt leads them into the alley where Thomas and Martha Wayne were shot. A man unknown to Batman hangs in the alley headfirst and then gets beheaded by Scarecrow using a scythe. Then Crane attacks Batman and he actually is able to best him. But then Catwoman interferes in Batman's favor, so Scarecrow flees screaming about how he will use the photos he took from Catwoman. She apologizes to Batman for luring him into this trap, but when he turns his back she strikes him down …

(https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Batman:_Legends_of_the_Dark_Knight_Vol_1_139)

Fan Art: Cat Woman by Artgerm

Accompanying Podcast: ● Batbooks for Beginners - episode10

[e350tb]

I’m doing a Your Character Here drive! DM if interested!

This will be open either until all slots are closed or until Sunday 20th November. Clarifications below!

WHY NO OCS: I just don’t really feel up to drawing them at the moment.

YOU ARE VICTIMISING ANIME FANS: I am not, I just don’t want to set them up for disappointment when I inevitably fail at representing them well.

WHAT’S WITH ALL THE NSFW STUFF: I want to keep this, to use a word that’s overused as a buzz word, ‘family friendly.’ I know if I don’t clarify this, someone’s going to want a pawn with big knockers. I’m also well aware that a lot of people like transformation stuff as a kink and I’m not even slightly judging, but I literally just want to play with character designs here. That’s the long and the short of it.

WHY BILL AND THE COLLECTOR THOUGH?: I dunno, they were the first characters that came to mind honestly.

I CHOOSE TO INTEPRET YOUR ACTIONS IN THE WORST POSSIBLE LIGHT: that’s not really a question but all right.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Was Napoleon a tyrant? I don't necessarily think he was: at least, I believe he was a better alternative to the absolute monarchs he was fighting. But there are those who disagree. What are your thoughts on the subject?

This is a can of worms to be sure.

I mean....how are we defining the word tyrant? All monarchs are tyrants to someone. Monarchy, by its very nature, is tyrannical in one way, shape, or form, no matter who is at its head. Even in the more neutered forms we see now days with the British. The Queen still exerts a ridiculous amount of power, all things considered.

Napoleon was no better or worse than any other monarch in Europe at that time. Indeed, better than some, worse than others. Because you know, he was human!

-

This got VERY long. SO LONG. Choice excerpts from below the cut:

"'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it."

"(And I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system. Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door. Napoleon: Hush.)"

"Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor."

"Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight! (I'm putting my money on Napoleon.)"

--

tl;dr: a more or less benevolent emperor who had his faults and who was intimately aware, for better or worse, more than most monarchs, that the head is only tenuously attached to the body. (Skim to the bottom for my thoughts on the personal things i.e. how I interpret Napoleon's actions and brain)

But, more seriously, as with most absolute statements, I am opposed to calling him a tyrant because it is reductive and serves no purpose except to make broad sweeping political statements that I believe are far more about the person making the statement exemplifying their modern political, republican position (as in, actual republican-I-support-the-existence-of-republics not the gop) rather than expressing any sort of truth about the past. (wHaT iS tRuTh.)

For historical purposes, it can over-simplify the situation and lead to skewed interpretations of events because you're coming in with this word that has a lot of modern, 20th and 21st century baggage to it.

And, because these people are coming in with this big, bad word of tyrant as a label for Napoleon, it doesn't allow them to engage with the nuance and complexities of his reign.

Anyway.

Napoleon, as emperor, supported centralized power held in his own hands, with support from other governing bodies (senate, council of state etc.). However, Napoleon had a lot of influence in the structuring of these governing bodies and the subsequent appointments as a means to exert control over entities that would otherwise be able to act somewhat independent from him and impinge his power.

We see this consolidation of power beginning, obviously, under the consulate. 'Power was encroaching with large strides behind the words order and stability,' as Thibaudeau put it.

There was the whole theatre around the Tribunate offering to extend Napoleon's tenure as First Consul for another ten years as a means of thanks/showing gratitude for all he did for France (Fouche was like: fuck that, let's just make a statue of the guy). Napoleon played the part of Humble Servant of the Public and refused both statue and the ten year extension. (Very Julius Caesar: You all did see that on the Lupercal, I thrice presented him a kingly crown, which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?)

In actuality, though, he was pissed because he wanted it extended for life.

This resulted in the Council of State deciding "independently" (i.e. Napoleon wasn't present but he sure as hell influenced that Council session) to hold a plebiscite in order to ask The People two key questions: 'Should Napoleon Bonaparte be consul for life?' and 'Should he have the right to designate his successor?'

Napoleon nixed the second question saying to Cambaceres, 'The testament of Louis XIV was not respected, so why should mine be? A dead man has nothing to say.' Which is to say, he knew people would vote for him to be Consul for life, but the prospect of him choosing a successor, a la the Roman Empire, and having that choice be without input from the people and respected upon his death? Less clear.

(And, I suspect he was concerned about seeming too eager for power/setting up a monarchical system.

Fouche: You're about as subtle as a canon going off right next door.

Napoleon: Hush.)

For the Plebiscite, there were around 3.56 million votes for Yes to the question of Napoleon as consul for life and only around 8,300 for No.

The turnout rate was 60% which is uhh...impressive! (To be fair, there was no real evidence of tampering with the vote. Unlike in subsequent Plebiscites, such as the results for Do We Make Him Emperor, which were absolutely doctored. But, considering the highest turnout ever seen in the French Revolution was around 30/35%, double that is certainly something.)

Lafayette was pissed with this. He kicked up a fuss in the Senate and wrote to Napoleon saying that his 'restorative dictatorship' had been well and fine for now but has Napoleon thought about restoring liberty? and that he was certain Napoleon, of all people, wouldn't want an 'arbitrary regime' to be installed!

Napoleon: Bold of you to assume that, Lafayette.

There were, at this time, some mumblings and grumblings about tyranny from the liberals and those still wanting to continue the experiment of the French Republic, to be sure. They increased as time went on and Napoleon's power continued to consolidate.

Theeeeeen the little bastard (affectionate) became Emperor.

Lafayette: WhAt Is tHiS??

Napoleon: Look into my face and tell me honestly that you are shocked.

--

His government, as Consul and as Emperor, was centralized and very top-down in how it operated. Little was done without Napoleon's input.

The seemingly democratic institutions that had propped him up into power were retained and Napoleon used them as a means to facilitate his rule. As noted earlier, Napoleon had a heavy hand in appointments and the processes in place to fill various offices. Nothing was really...independent of him and his influence.

Though, in terms of Image Building of Empire, Napoleon worked hard to try and maintain the façade of impartiality as emperor. That he was head of state, sure, but all state apparatuses operated independent of him.

(Why is Napoleon's hat so big? because it is full of lies supporting the imperial image making machine.)

That said, when it came to filling those offices, Napoleon focused on merit more than anything as he wanted his governing officials to be capable, hardworking and, above all else, loyal.

(A good quote from Napoleon in one of his more Eat the Rich moments of the consulate: 'One cannot treat wealth as a title of nobility. A rich man is often a layabout without merit. A rich merchant is often only so by virtue of the art of selling expensively or stealing.'

Napoleon Vs. Jeff Bezos: fight! fight! fight!

(I'm putting my money on Napoleon.) )

--

This is getting really long and I feel that I've not addressed anything in a useful manner, but am I going to stop? No.

--

Napoleon, himself, at least in 1803, did express some conflicted views about assuming an imperial title. To Roederer he said, 'So many great things have been achieved over the past three years under the title of consul. It should be kept.'

Cambaceres said to Napoleon that upon assuming an imperial title 'your position changes and places you at odds with yourself.' No longer are you merely a public servant, an upholder of the Republic's ideals. Now you are a man wearing a crown, trying to be the upholder of the Republic's ideals.

(nb: I feel that duality is something Napoleon never fully got a handle on. He would veer strongly into authoritarian monarch then have moments of Rousseau-ian Idealism.)

Napoleon was insistent that his rule be a parliamentary monarchy (keeping the governance framework implemented in the Constitution of Year VIII, if I am not mistaken. But don't quote me on that.) and that the French were not his subjects but his people.

So, the imperial government worked thus with the Legislative process divided between four bodies:

Council of State which would draw up legislative proposals,

Tribunate which could debate on legislation but not vote on it,

a legislative body which could vote on legislation but not discuss it, and

Senate which would consider whether the proposed legislation conformed to the Constitution.

The Senate and the Legislative body could, theoretically, curtail Napoleon’s freedom/power. However, considering the fact that he was involved in the appointment process of these offices, and the general rhythm of daily governance, how much power they were able to exert over him was limited.

(This is at his height! Of course, towards the end we see a shift in that. But that's largely tied up in his military defeats and the British banging the door knocker demanding to be let in. Also they brought with them some friends. You might have heard of them? Bourbons?)

The initial terms the Senate brought to Napoleon with their offer of accepting him as a hereditary monarch included, but weren't limited to:

liberty cannot be infringed

equality cannot be jeopardized

sovereignty of the people must be maintained

the laws of the nation are inviolable

all institutions were to be free from undue imperial influence (e.g. the press)

the nation should never be put into a position where it needs to behead the head of state. Again.

Napoleon was uh. Not best pleased with this and had a new version drafted up that included acknowledgement of the sovereignty of the people, but a lot of the other things (e.g. freedom of the press) were cut out.

Yet, Napoleon maintained certain parts of the French Revolution's values which were reflected more in the 1804 Code Napoleon and other legislative and legal pieces than in the initial terms of Senatorial acceptance of his imperial title.

Some of the things enshrined in the Code that were carry-over from the Revolution include, but aren't limited to, the abolition of feudalism, equality before the law, freedom of conscience (to practice their own religion), gave fixed title to those who had bought church and émigré lands during the 1790s, and the equality of taxation was maintained (tax those aristos and the church). Also, there was affirmation of the idea of careers being "open to talent" rather than an accident of birth (as touched on above).

The Freedom of Conscience clause in the Code was a further formalization of several Articles Napoleon amended onto the Concordat in 1802. The Articles guaranteed the principle of religious toleration and made the Protestant and Jewish churches similarly subject to state authority (alongside the Catholic).

These are just a brief summary of some of the more liberal/revolution-informed aspects of Napoleon's governing.

The non-liberal ones I believe we're all pretty familiar with: suppression of the free press, roll-back of rights for women (women are for babies!), reinstatement of slavery (which he later reversed circa 1810/12-ish), top-down Emperor-has-final-word approach to ruling (Napoleon was all about Authority From Above, Trust From Below) etc. etc.

At the end of this, I would say Napoleon's empire falls into that "benevolent monarch" situation. For a given value of "benevolent." As stated at the start, he was like most other monarchs in Europe at the time. Better than some, not as great about certain things as others.

--

Really, it all ties back to Order and Stability.

Napoleon's assent, and his approach to strong, centralized ruling, was a result of uncertainty and constant government change over ten years of revolution alongside the growing belief, by 1803, that a republic like the Romans or Greeks was not going to happen any time soon. Not without constant warfare and the forever looming threat of a Bourbon restoration.

In addition, Napoleon was doing imperial drag. (If that makes sense.) He was dialing the notch of Emperor up to 11 - being the most emperor of all emperors. So, state control was absolute because he couldn't show any signs of weakness - either in his own body, his familial body, or the body of state. The court protocols were intense and over-the-top at times because he had to prove he was not just a second son of a parvenu lawyer from the sticks. No! he was worthy of this pomp. He was worthy of imperial majesty. He was worthy of the crown and scepter.

Napoleon was not raised to be anything other than a military officer and a middle-class head of a family (would have been a MASTER at doing Sunday Dad Puttering About the House). When he dawned the mantel of power, particularly that of empire, he had to make it up as he went along. For such a self-conscious and proud man, this was difficult. He never wanted to misstep and be embarrassed - on a personal level, political or military.

At the same time, he was reared on Rousseau and Revolution so still had those values and ideals imbedded in him, and those fears and memories. Napoleon knew as well as any Frenchman that a monarch's head is easily removable should it become necessary. Therefore, he sometimes ran roughshod over the liberty to ensure security. For better or worse, that was the choice he made.

--

Napoleon was a flawed leader with a complex approach to governing that was focused on a centralization of power within him while, at the same time, trying to be the Successor of the Revolution, the Roman Republic and the Roman Empire. Layers! Like an onion.

His approach as emperor really was within the realm of normal-for-the-times when compared to most other monarchs on the European stage in 1800. He also granted liberties to his people that were unheard of in other countries.

I feel like all my Napoleonic ramblings end with the same message: Dude was nuanced. Dude was complex. Dude did good things and bad things. Dude helped people and hurt people. Dude contained multitudes. Because he was simply human, at the end of the day.

--

ANNNNNNND we are done.

Gods bless all y'all who made it this far.

Have my favourite picture of Napoleon at Tuileries as a prize.

hmm that beautiful heavy, handed symbolism.

[bugrry]

ok!! you’ve talked about harry wanting to sleep on your boobies, but what about you wanting to sleep on harry’s big old tiddies

warnings: harry’s big fuckin knockers, none

word count: 1,043

send a request // add yourself to my taglist // here’s my masterlist

It had been a long day. Your feet ached like no other, and the bag you had slung across your shoulder felt like it weighed a million pounds. All you wanted to do was be home and with Harry. 

When you got home, Harry was focused on his computer, typing almost aggressively at the keyboard. You sighed, as you knew that if he was working you wouldn’t be able to get your loving Harry until he was done. You puffed out your lips in a breath, slipping off your shoes before making your way into the kitchen to make the two of you something to eat. 

Harry hadn’t heard you come in, but he did hear you shut a cupboard in the kitchen. He let out a soft hey, baby. You hummed in response as you poured the water into the pot and turned on the burner. 

You heard Harry come into the kitchen, and soon after you felt his arms around your waist.

“You okay?” he whispered into your ear. “You were quiet coming in.”

“I’m okay,” you said, sighing, “long day.”

“I’m sorry baby, is there anything I can do?” he began playing with a bit of your hair.

“No H, you’re busy working, don’t worry about me.” You smiled softly, in an attempt to reassure him.

“I’m- I’m not busy, just trying to get ahead on a few things. I can be done anytime,” He said, turning your body around in his arms so you could face him. “How about I make you dinner and we can have a cuddle in bed?” You began to tell him that you could make dinner, but all he does is hold a hand up and begin to walk into the kitchen. You sighed, sitting back in your chair as you waited for Harry to come back.

Not even ten minutes later, Harry came back in with two bowls. He set your bowl down in front of you, and the warmth and the smell of the soup he’d whipped up floated toward your face. You sighed happily, smiling at Harry as he placed a spoon in your dish. 

“How’d you get this made so fast?” You questioned as you raised your first spoonful to your lips.

“It was just from a can, babe. ‘Wanted to get it out to you as quickly as possible.”

You felt your face warm, and you looked down at your bowl with a smile. “Thank you, H. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He huffed a laugh, “I don’t know either lovie, it’s a good thing you have me, no?”

Once again, you smiled softly at him, “Yeah, it is a good thing.”

…

After Harry had washed and put away all the dishes, he led you to your shared bedroom. Once he finally shut the door behind you, he signaled for you to lift your arms up. With a yawn, you followed his order. He pulled your shirt off in one motion, and you chuckled softly to yourself.

“You tryna get me undressed for you, H? I never thought you’d be such a whore.”

Harry laughed, “If you weren’t about to fall asleep in my arms, I’d be happy to be your whore,” he moved to unbutton your jeans, “but you are, so I’ll have to be your whore another time.”

You hummed softly, nodding. You slid your jeans down your legs, kicking them in the direction of the hamper. Harry motioned for you to take your undergarments off, and as you did so, he walked over to the dresser. He pulled out one of his shirts, and handed it to you. With another yawn, you slid the t-shirt over your body, smiling at the fact that you could still smell him on the fabric.

Harry changed into pajamas as well, and led you over to the bed, pulling the covers back and gently helping you into bed. He kissed your forehead and walked to the other side of the bed. After he’d slid under the covers and turned the light out, he heard a whine from the other side of the bed.

“Why are you so far away?” You said, and even though it was dark, he could just see the pout on your lips and the frown in your brows.

“I was just coming over there, lovie, give me a second.” He chuckled, scooting his body over to you. He wrapped his body around yours, but apparently that wasn’t good enough for you, as you let out another whine and a small huff.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Your boobies!!”

“My wha-”

“I want to sleep on your boobies!!” You pushed him onto his back and quickly laid your head against his chest, nuzzling into the shallow dip in between his pecs. You sighed, pressing a kiss to the soft skin, “This is better.”

Harry smiled to himself, and then he felt you reach up to play with his hair and scratch softly at his scalp. He hummed, turning his head to press a kiss to your delicate hand before turning back to allow you to resume your work. He felt you smile against his skin. He wrapped one arm around your waist, softly drawing lazy and non-descript shapes into your side. He brought his other arm up to your hair and began twirling it between his fingers. 

You sighed happily, “This is nice,” you whispered, “I love you, Harry. Thank you for being the best boyfriend ever.”

He smiled, “What else am I here for, lovie?”

You chuckled, “Exactly,” you let out another yawn, Harry, can we make waffles tomorrow morning?”

You felt him nod, “Anything for you my love bug.”

You hummed happily, pressing your face into his skin before pulling away to press a kiss to his chest. You rested your chin against him and looked up at him, only to see his eyes closed and a sleepy smile on his face.

“Keep calling me that.” You said, returning your head to its original resting place.

“Hm, lovebug?” he said sleepily, finally letting out a yawn of his own. You nodded. “Of course. Anything for you, lovie.” He tightened his grip on you, and before you knew it, you both were fast asleep.

[natromanxoff]

26 - No Queen here...

Hi. Just a quickie from the shores of sunny Bondi Beach.

Here's a couple of questions from someone called Jazz, and I thought I had a daft name. In fact just last week a lady asked me if Crystal was my real name, and I told her I was adopted by a couple of gay guys and that's what they named me. She didn't know whether to laugh, cry, cuddle me or hit me, and she left still not knowing the truth. Anyway, back to the questions. First off Jazz wants to know what my favourite Christmas carol is. I put a lot of thought into this as they're not top of my list of songs to play, but I came up with a classic which, when sung by a large choir always brings tears to my eyes as it's so beautiful. The name of this wonderful little ditty is, "Meet me by the Christmas tree and kiss me under the balls."

Next was, "What's the silliest thing you've ever done while being drunk?" What a great question and would you believe I can't think of anything daft I've ever done, apart from the usual guy thing like trying to chat up any female as long as she's got a pulse, attempting to draw pictures while peeing, trying to hold a serious conversation while yelling, slurring and staggering. Nothing out of the ordinary really, just guy stuff. But, and there's that word again, I can think of something that somebody else did, and this time I was completely sober and just an innocent bystander, for a change. Lets start by setting the time machine back to Venezuela, 1981. It was the time when black leather jackets were at the height of trend, and being the fashion victim that I am I had one. As all leather jacket wearers know they cannot be neat and new looking or you look like a shop dummy. Now Jobby wanted to go one better, or worse, depends how you look at things, and he went a got a white one, and it was so prissy it still had creases down the sleeves. For obvious reasons he was instantly named Elvis, but he's also, and how do I say this nicely...err...slim, so his full name became Elvis Belsen. Think about it. This was a name that stuck for a long while because he said those wrong words, "I don't like that name."

So there we are in the hotel in Caracas, on about the 19th floor, me and one end of the hotel and Elvis at the other. It was early evening and I was lying on the bed reading and resting before a night out when there's a knock on the door. My big mistake in all this is that I let the knocker in, and it was one of our lighting guys who was, shall we say, feeling very relaxed and wanting me to go and do something, anything. I declined his lousy offer so he said he was gonna go and see who was in, so I said ok and expected him to leave, but instead he went and opened the window and started to climb out. As anyone would do at a time like this I asked him what he was doing and he once again replied, "I'm going to see who's in," and with that he was gone. Now don't worry here, there was a ledge about 18inches wide. There was no point in me trying to stop him as he wouldn't have listened, and lighting guys are used to walking along thin beams at very high altitudes, but I thought, and still do to this day that the guy was an idiot. About 10 mins go by and my phone rang, and it was Elvis saying, "I've been robbed. I was asleep on the bed and somebody stole my leather jacket and climbed out the window." By this time I'm trying not to laugh cause Spiderman had reappeared in my window with the the dreaded white leather jacket. I told Elvis he must have dreamt it as we were on the 19th floor but he kept insisting it was true and then said, "I'm coming down to your room and you're gonna have to sort this out." I couldn't believe Spiderman was stupid enough to climb out the window in the first place, he topped his stupidity by climbing out a second time, and when I told him Elvis was on his way to my room guess what he did? Yup, said he would put it back and, shazam, was once again out on the ledge to return the stolen goods. Elvis came and I told him before we complain to the hotel manager about burglars he should give his room a good check to make sure it wasn't there, and he left. I flopped back on the bed thinking just how sane I was compared to everyone else when, lo and behold, in through the window comes Spiderman again feeling very proud of himself. I suggested he went and got a coffee and thankfully he left, but I must be honest, I did find the whole thing highly amusing and had a good chuckle whilst relating the story in the bar later that evening. And I don't think anyone ever told Elvis what happened during the missing half hour in the life of his poofy white jacket.

I'm sure I don't need to tell you that this kind of stunt, apart from being incredibly stupid, is unbelievably dangerous and you should not attempt to copy it.

Before I go I should mention JD, FM, RT and BM seeing as this is a Queen site and none of them have been spoken about, but we did do some shows in Venezuela and I loved the place and had a fabbo time there. On the night before we were leaving the country, Jim Devenney and myself went to a party with a bunch people that we had met and I had been having a very long chat about nothing with the host (Stop smiling Jacky) and it got to about midnight so I phoned Roger, told him to get Freddie, Phoebe and stacks of booze cause we were staying up all night, and we did and we got wrecked. We were on the way to the airport on what they called a luxury bus, I didn't, and it was hot and muggy on the bus with no air conditioning and I for one needed some air, so I did what any self respecting pisshead would do at a time like this. I stood in the aisle, held on the luggage rack, did a spectacular leap and landed two feet squarely on the window sending it into the street, then calmly sat back down and put my head out into the fresh air. Now is that silly enough?

I've just realised I haven't sworn once, not f***ing bad eh.

Time to go.

Luv

Crystal

[gorochanfanclub]

Change of Plans

Majima x Original Female Character

Summary: Alternate Goromi origin story. Majima is trying to train his assistant to be a hostess for his latest Kiryu scheme, but gets more than what he bargained for...

Contains: Goromi, sexually suggestive content, a couple curse words, a very jealous Majima

A/N: Haven’t posted anything here in a hot minute but had this idea and wanted to share. Only reason I didn’t make this an x reader is because the way I wanted it to end, it wouldn’t have worked :/ The only really defining traits of the woman in the story are that she’s a very tall American, has big b00bie, and her name is Hiromi. Also... please don’t take this too seriously >.< it was just something silly I thought of lol. This isn’t usually the type of style I like to write in, but I thought it might be fun to make something not so serious or heavy for a change! I hope you all do enjoy it!!

Running her hands down her body, Hiromi looks at herself in the mirror, turning slowly to view herself from every angle possible. The pink leather shines and gleams in the dim light of the dressing room, flashes of snakeskin detail sparkling in the mirror. She barely felt her ass held into the garment, the highest parts of her thighs getting a cool breeze from the fishnet stockings on them. Her broad shoulders poked out the top, her breasts pushed nearly to her chin. 

The entire ensemble was loud, definitely something she couldn’t possibly imagine herself wearing usually. However, she hadn’t been the one to pick out this outfit in the first place, her boss did. Majima, in another one of his crazy antics, had dragged her to a cabaret club of all places, thrown the clothes in her arms, and shoved her into the back room, demanding she change instantly. 

Groaning, Hiromi wonders if Majima really intended for her to leave the room dressed like this. It showed so much skin. She barely remembers the last time she was out in public showing this much skin, even swimming, Hiromi always opted for more conservative attire. 

A loud knock at the door draws her from her thoughts, her employer’s voice shouting yet muffled by the wooden slab. “Hey, Hiromi-chan,” he barks, “Ya been in there for a while now. How long does it take for you to put a dress on?” 

Looking back at herself in the mirror she grimaces. “Majima-san?” she calls over her shoulder, “Do you really want me to wear this?” She pauses, “What is this even for?”

Even through the door, she can hear her boss groan. “I don’t pay ya to ask questions, Hiromi-chan.” 

“I know you don’t, sir,” she snaps back, “You pay me to drive you around. Not wear…” her eyes find her reflection once more, “less than modest clothing.” 

The doorknob starts to giggle at her remark. “I’m sure ya look great,” Majima mutters, saying something under his breath afterwards Hiromi can’t quite hear. “I’m comin’ in, ya decent?” 

Nodding with a hum, Hiromi watches the door fly open, her boss standing in the doorway, the cabaret club’s owner hot on his heels. Eyeing her up and down, Majima soaks her up. A wicked grin plasters itself on his face. “Hot damn, girly!” he exclaims, “Ya look great! The boys are gonna eat you up.” 

Blinking rapidly, Hiromi stares at him with eyes like saucers. “‘Eat me up?’” she repeats, “Don’t you think this is…” she can’t finish, only looking at the vast amount of skin showing from under her clothes. 

Majima tilts his head, “It’s what? Don’t like what I picked ya?” 

Hiromi shakes her head rapidly, “Uh, no it’s fine, it’s just a little… revealing… is all.” 

Making his way across the room, Majima claps a gloved hand on his assistant’s shoulder. “Of course it is!” he shouts, his booming voice echoing in the room, “When yer in this line of work, ya gotta show off the goods.” With a flirtatious wink that makes Hiromi’s cheeks feel on fire, he adds, “And trust me, girly... you got ‘em.” 

Majima then steps back, looking her up and down once more before stopping at her breasts. The dress was barely holding them in and it made Majima chuckle, “Not to mention, I think Kiryu’s got a thing for big knockers like yers.” 

“What?” Hiromi snaps, “This is a Kiryu thing? You’re dragging me into this now?”

The one eyed man only shrugs, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? Yer on my payroll and I gotta use the tools I got on hand. Right now sweetheart, that’s you.” 

Slumping her shoulders, Hiromi knows it was best to simply accept her fate and take her orders. There was no arguing with Majima once his heart was set on something. The man was not only stubborn, he was determined. Sighing, she asks, “Alright, what would like me to do, sir?” 

Cackling maniacally, Majima claps, rubbing his leather gloves together in anticipation. “That’s more like it!” he shouts with glee. 

He then steps to Hiromi’s side, wrapping an arm around her bare shoulders, leading her past the club owner and out into the main section of the club. “Now,” he explains, “here’s the plan; yer gonna use,” he gestures to her body, making a particularly large gesture to her chest, “all this, to lure Kiryu-chan in, right?” 

Hiromi nods in acknowledgement as he continues, “Get him all buttered up ‘n’ shit. Then…” he snaps loudly in front of Hiromi’s face, making her jerk backwards for a second, “I’ll swoop in for the kill- start disrespectin’ ya and all. Kiryu’s a real gentleman, there’s no way he’ll pass up the chance to fight fer a girl’s honor.” He ogles her breasts once more, “‘Specially one as busty as you.” 

The woman stutters nervously and incoherently before clearing her throat, “Do you really think I’ll be able to win him over, Majima-san?” Looking down, she rubs the back of her neck, “Kiryu seems to be a rather tough nut to crack. I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this.” 

Walking them to a table in the back Majima chuckles once more. “I know yer, not,” he states blankly, much to his assistant’s surprise. “That’s why I’m gonna train ya…” 

Before she can protest, Hiromi feels herself being shoved onto the plush velvet sofa behind her. With a huff, she flops down, looking up through her hair to see Majima situating himself next to her. 

Sitting up and brushing her hair out of her face, Hiromi meekly asks, “Wh-what kind of training do I need, sir?” Looking down, she notices how far up her risque dress has ridden up. With a faint blush dusting her cheeks, she tugs it as close to her knees as possible, the action completely foiled by the lack of fabric the dress had. 

Leaning back, Majima makes himself comfortable. Crossing one of his leather clad legs over his knee, he sighs, “Gotta make sure you can handle Kiryu-chan.” Noticing the look of absolute fear on her face, he grins, waving a hand in dismissal, “Just relax, girly girl, we’re just gonna do some talkin’.” 

Majima reaches inside the inner breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out his packet of cigarettes and nonchalantly lighting one. As he inhales, a nostalgic smile works its way across his lips, tugging gently at the corners, “Y’know, I used to do this fer a living. Kinda miss it too…” 

He turns slowly to the woman on the seat next to him, “So yer in good hands, Hiromi-chan, nothin’ to worry yer pretty little head about.” 

She nods, taking his words in. Hiromi takes the chance to admire Majima as he prepares for his training session with her. The way the smoke floated around his head, it made him look like an angel, resting above the clouds, looking down on the world that belonged only to him. 

Majima could feel her eyes on him, watching him intently. Suddenly he felt nervous about being here with her, especially with the way he had dressed her, she was practically naked. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all… 

“Nuff about that, tho,” he beams, snapping himself from his dull stupor, pulling Hiromi from hers as well. “Let’s get down to it,” he sighs, raising a inquisitive eyebrow, “Ya ever done anythin’ like this before?” 

Touching a finger to her cheek, Hiromi tilts her head in thought. Majima smirked, finding the action somewhat cute. “Well…” she starts, “I’m not quite sure how ‘this’ all works but… I used to flirt a lot with men at the bars back in my clubbing days,” she turns to her boss with an expectant look, “Does that count, Majima-san?” 

Nodding, he smiles brightly, “That’s exactly the way you gotta act. Talk ‘em up, get ‘em to buy you more drinks,” he points a finger at her, “and usually I wouldn’t say this but since these’re special circumstances… there’s no such thing as ‘too handsy.’ Kiryu-chan’s been in prison fer ten long years, I imagine a perv like him would go wild havin’ a nice little thing like you pawing all over him.” 

Hiromi grins, nodding as she takes in her instructions. She hums, “I think I’m beginning to understand what I need to do.” 

Majima leans back, fluffing up his jacket then smoothing it down as he situates again, “Alright then, we’re just gonna pretend that I’m Kiryu-chan and yer gonna do yer best to win me over.” 

The woman nods shortly leaning back herself. In an instant, she crosses her long legs at the knees, the heel of her left foot tapping the glass table in front of them with a heavy thud. 

The action shocked Majima. His eye looks down to the pink stiletto next to his own thigh, the toes so dangerously close to grazing his leg. Trailing his gaze up her toned legs, he notices the fishnets end right at the thickest part of her rather voluptuous thighs, the elastic squeezing them ever so slightly. 

Following her body further, Majima trains his eye on the way the dress hugged her body in all the right places. From the way it strained against her hips, bunched slightly at her waist, then nearly ripped at her chest, he realized maybe he went a little too far with the outfit. 

Finally, his gaze meets her face. A blush threatens to creep onto his cheeks with the way she is looking at him. It was almost like she had flipped a switch inside her. The usual stoic and no nonsense Hiromi he relied on during a day to day basis was gone. In her place was a tigress, dark eyes staring him down like a wounded prey, ready to be devoured. 

Majima swallows, trying his best to keep his composure. He grins again, hiding his discomfort, “Hello there, my name is Kiryu Kazuma, what’s you’re name?” he asks, doing his best impression of the deep voiced Kiryu. 

The woman tilts her head with a wicked grin, “Hiromi. It means ‘generous beauty.’”

And what a beauty she is, Majima thinks to himself before tilting his own head in confusion, “‘Hiromi?’ That’s a Japanese name, ma’am. Don’t you think you’re a little tall for a Japanese lady?” 

Majima feels something grace his leg and he looks down to see one of Hiromi’s pink shoes rubbing itself gently up and down his thigh. She chuckles, “Astute observation Kiryu-san. In fact, I’m from America. Have you ever been?” 

Shaking his head, Majima shrugs, “Can’t say I have, Hiromi-chan. In fact, I’ve never left Japan.” 

Suddenly, the soft sensation of a foot rubbing his thigh is lost. Majima nearly lets out a displeased groan, choking it back at the last second. When he looks up to meet her face again, he is greeted with her leaning forward, her left hand supporting her and her right resting on the sofa in the spot her foot had previously been. 

“You should make a point to go sometime, Kiryu-san,” Hiromi mutters, her voice barely above a sultry whisper. Her hand begins to trace up Majima’s leg, palming his thigh gently, “I’m sure you’d get lots of young American ladies on your arm, what with you being so big and handsome.” 

This time, Majima isn’t able to hold back the blush on his cheeks. Here he was, sitting in a cabaret club with his long legged, scantily clad, foreign, assistant, and she’s fondling him like they’re lovers. It didn’t help that she was so close he could smell the mint of her gum from earlier still on her breath. 

“Maybe I’d rather stay right here,” Majima counters, “Why go to America when I have a gorgeous American girlie on my arm right now?” 

With a laugh, Hiromi’s fingers dig into the muscle on Majima’s thigh. With them so close to his manhood, Majima couldn’t help himself from jumping in shock. She really took his instruction to heart when he told her to get handsy. Swallowing, Majima wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. 

“You flatter me too much,” Hiromi laughs. Batting her eyelashes she smiles that predatory smile once more, “But… I can’t think of any other place in this world I’d rather be, either.” 

Flattening her palm once more, she trails her touch up Majima’s leg, onto his toned stomach, feeling every contour of his chiseled torso. Taking her other hand, she hooks a finger underneath Majima’s chin, forcing him to look at her, also bringing him a bit closer. 

“I’ve got everything I could possibly want right in front of me…” she whispers. Instinctively, Majima grabs her hip, desperately needing someplace to put his hands. This earns a light chuckle from Hiromi, “Touching already, are we? At least buy me a drink first.” 

Looming over her shoulder, he waves to the club owner to bring something around. Turning his attention back to the woman in his arms, he nearly stutters, “So, Hiromi-chan, ya got any special guys in yer life? Can’t imagine a sexy little broad like you going to bed alone.” 

The hungry gleam in his eye starts to grow, almost matching her own hungry gaze. She smiles, grazing her fingertips across Majima’s collarbone, “There might be one, and if he plays his cards right tonight…” The grip on his jaw tightens as she pulls his ear to her lips, “I might just go home with him.” 

With fake shock, Majima opens his mouth wide, “That so? Well I hope I do, then. Wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity to wake up next to ya.” His grip on her hip strengthens, his gloved fingers squeaking against the leather of her dress. 

Continuing her motions on his chest, trailing over the edges of his tattoos, Hiromi asks coyly, “Do you have any ‘special’ women waiting for you at home, sir?” 

Majima only chuckles, “Now, if I did, would I really be at a place like this, lettin’ you fawn all over me?” She only shrugs, “You might, I couldn’t possibly know.” 

Shaking his head, Majima smirks, “Nah, I only got one lady in my life, and that’s you, darlin’.” 

Hiromi chuckles, pulling away from Majima once more. The loss of her hands on his skin leaves him feeling lonely and cold. However, suddenly, he finds Hiromi spreading her legs, arcing one over Majima’s hips to straddle him. 

Hovering her bum just above him, she grabs his shoulders, one of her knuckles outlining his jaw. She mumbles against his cheek, her breath causing the hairs on the back of his neck to raise, “Then I think we should enjoy our evening together, Kiryu-san.” 

Kiryu-san. 

Up until she said that, Majima had completely forgotten he was supposed to be training her for a night with Kiryu. Suddenly, the idea of having to watch her touch Kiryu and whisper into his ear the way she was doing to Majima right now seemed extremely unappealing. 

Something inside him boiled at the thought of that. He wasn’t sure what it was but with the way her lips were grazing his jaw and the way her weight was pressing upon him, he wasn’t sure he could stomach watching her do all the same things to another man… a man that wasn’t him. 

Leaning back, he meets her eyes, still dark, still hungry. Majima’s good eye darts to her lips, plump and covered in a hideous, gaudy pink shade that didn’t suit her at all. He was half tempted right then and there to kiss it all off, just to return her to her natural glory. 

Still playing the game Majima had abandoned a long time ago, she smiles, “What do you say, Kiryu-san? Can’t we have some fun?” 

Hearing her say his name again was just enough to pull Majima from his daze. Tapping her hip, that he previously had been gripping for dear life, he mutters to her, “Alright, get up, this isn’t gonna work.” 

Hiromi instantly stops her motions, furrowing her brow at her boss, “Wait- what?” 

Majima, with a bit of difficulty, and reluctance, pushes his assistant off him, sending her stumbling onto the velvet where she previously sat. “I said this ain’t gonna work, girly.” Standing up he glances over her body once more, taking in all the curves, “Kiryu ain’t gonna fall for all that. The guy may be a pervert but he ain’t stupid.” 

Sitting up as fast as she can Hiromi shakes her head, “What do you mean? Was I doing something wrong? Maybe I could try again. Was it too much?” she sputters, desperate to please her boss. 

Was it too much? Majima scoffs internally. She nearly was grinding against him and she had the audacity to ask if it was too much. Fact of the matter was, she was way too good at this, Kiryu wouldn’t have stood a chance. Five more minutes and Majima himself would have lost control.

Waving his hand to quell her blabbing, Majima shakes his head, still trying to pull himself back to reality. “Nah, it’s useless. We’ll have to think of something else. Yer just not cut out fer this, dollface,” he lies. 

Hanging her head in defeat she sighs, “I’m sorry, Majima-san, I really was trying.” 

Sighing himself, Majima feels a pang of guilt, “Don’t worry about it.” His eye falls to the hem of her dress that had ridden up a little too high. Finding it hard to breathe looking at her, he turns away, “Why don’t ya go get changed? That old thing is ugly as fuck anyway.” 

Hiromi nods, standing up and smoothing her dress down, “Yes, sir,” she states. Before she turns to leave, she looks down at herself one more time. She chuckles once then glances to Majima, “It’s a shame no one will get to see it, though… In fact, it might actually look pretty good on you, Majima-san.” 

At that comment, a lightbulb shines in Majima’s head. He darts his attention back to his assistant, eyeing the pink leather dress. “Say that again, Hiromi-chan,” he commands. 

Her smile falls, face contorting in confusion again. She slowly repeats herself, “‘It might actually look pretty good on you?’”

Of course, Majima thought. If Hiromi couldn’t get Kiryu to fight him, Majima could. What in this world would piss Kiryu off more than embarrassing him in front of an entire cabaret club by having drinks with a yakuza in drag? And if that didn’t work, Majima knew he could think of something on the fly. 

“Hiromi-chan,” Majima starts, “Yer a genius, I could kiss you right now.”

Her eyes go wide as her face goes dark with a blush, “You could... kiss me?”

Realizing what he just said, Majima nervously rubs the back of his neck, “Jeez, it’s just a figure of speech. I just mean... oh nevermind... come here a sec. I wanna see somethin’.”

Doing as she’s told, Hiromi walks up to her boss meekly. Majima moves to stand beside her, comparing his height and build to hers. Seeing how similar they were, he asks, “Say, Hiromi-chan, looks like we’re about the same size.” 

She only nervously nods, “Why, yes, sir. I’m a rather large woman and, with no offense to you, you’re a rather slim man. It isn’t too far fetched to think we’d be a similar size.” 

Grabbing her shoulders, Majima shoves her towards the back of the club, to the dressing room. “Great, now go take that thing off… and hand it to me when yer done.” 

“Hand it to… you?” 

***

After a long hour of doing his hair and makeup, Majima came out of the dressing room looking like a new man or in this case… woman. 

While he may not have had the assets to fill the garment out, Hiromi couldn’t deny that it indeed fit him like a glove. Not to mention, the pink faux snakeskin looked so much better on him. 

Arms crossed as she watches him prance around, fully drowning himself in his new character, Hiromi shakes her head in disbelief, “I had no idea this is what you had in mind as a backup plan but… color me impressed, sir. This might just be your greatest scheme yet.” 

With a feminine chuckle Majima flutters his eyelashes, “Why, thank you Hiromi-chan.” Stopping for a moment, he looks into the mirror, a scowl on his face, “Just need a name to match this pretty face.” 

Perking back up, he whips around, “I got one. Goromi.” Gesturing between them, he nods, “It’s my name and your name put together. What could be more perfect?” 

Hiromi nods, chuckling, “Very clever, sir.” Turning her wrist over, she checks her watch, “Majima-san, it’s getting late, should I phone Kiryu-san and have him swing by?” 

A manic grin spreads across Majima’s lips, the anticipation of violence making him giddy. “Do it. I think it’s time for Goromi to make her debut…” 

[bestbonnist]

Chapter 142.1

I think this was a really good chapter. It pulled a lot of minor details together into a big picture while simultaneously introducing the start of more tiny plot points that will eventually become important. I'll go ahead and talk about the things I noticed, but if someone makes a connection that I missed I'd really like to hear it.

Izumi underwent an image change between this chapter and the previous one. The geometric haircut is a fresh, modern look, and sets her further at odds with the Defense Corps. Ooima usually goes for realism with her art, but some of the hairstyles in FnAe are a bit exaggerated and have special meaning (Hayase and her successors have jagged, uneven bangs; Tonari's sticks up and out in a way that matches her comical facade; Bon's is like That). As a part of her character design, it makes her look harsh and underscores the the sharper aspects of her personality, which, as we see in this chapter, return with a vengeance after she motivates herself to live with Mizuha.

Izumi doesn't get on with the other moms of Mizuha's ballet class, and there's no mention of any friends she may or may not have currently either. When she overhears them talking about musicals, she turns right around and asks Mizuha to audition for one, further emphasizing that comparing herself with others and then doing better is a coping mechanism that she's relied on since she was a child. She thinks she's starting over, but really she's just gone right back to the beginning.

Izumi's forgetfulness has been here the entire damn time:

Since Izumi's knocker is the one that practices leniency, it was likely the one who told Mizuha it was OK to take a break. When Izumi was confronted with having done something she would never normally do, coupled with the reappearance of her father, she freaked out. Regardless of the circumstances, her inconsistency was probably another source of stress for Mizuha, and as we see when Izumi grabs onto her before she gets into her grandfather's truck, it can be frightening too.

I really really want to know what Mizuha's dad's deal is. From his behavior, he either knows everything about the Defense Corps. or next to nothing. He doesn't mention knockers at all when he talks to Izumi, despite that being a very conclusion to draw, if he knows anything about knockers. Izumi just agreed to visit the home of the father she despises, that's incredibly out of character and very suspicous. But if he knows what the Left Hand's plan is, then of course he wouldn't bring up any possibility of knockers. He would be deliberately gaslighting her. He's definitely lied to her in the past, but I honestly don't think he's smart enough for that.

From the bits Izumi overhears of the conversation between her dad and the Left Hand, more things about the Defense Corps. can be inferred. First, the Left Hand probably had some way of knowing or ensuring that Fushi would return within Mizuha's lifetime. Maybe it's the same sense that allows knockers to locate Fushi, but stronger because the Left Hand was around them and Hayase's successors for longer. Second, it's not just idiot people who worship the Left Hand. Knockers also think it's the literal best. They changed their whole plan for it and I want to know why they're so devoted. Finally, a piece of its plan has been revealed. Instead of bringing all humans to Paradise (read: killing them), the knockers are now bringing paradise to the humans. And killing the ones who get in the way. The Left Hand thinks there's something better about a living body than its experience outside of one, and I guess it managed to convince its friends.

So directly after Izumi decides that she must do something, there's a long timeskip during which she does nothing. This also happened in the previous chapter, where she explained that she had no choice but to stay with the Defense Corps. as a child, but continues delivering sermons as a young adult and is shown to be cautious but eager to please her mom with no intention of leaving. By the end of the chapter, she's also decided to continue as a ghost instead of changing her course of action. Alternatively, it's possible that something actually happened during that period. The only thing I can think of is Izumi discovering new information about the Defense Corps. and the like, which would then be on her computer.

The next plot point has been set up: Bon instructs Fushi to get the key to Mizuha’s house from Mizuha herself. It’ll be interesting to see if they actually obey or if they try to sneak in. It’s Bon’s orders vs. their own desires. They’ll probably bring Yuuki with them, since he’s more tech savvy than they are. If Mizuha supervises them, she’ll also see the photos of herself and Izumi, and Fushi might use this as an opportunity to shove Izumi’s love for her down her throat. Which is definitely super helpful. The password to the computer, 0406, or April 6th, is Mizuha’s birthday.

Probably the most important thing in this whole chapter is Izumi’s final line. She really likes to make the last page dramatic. The first part “Don’t do anything out of character” shoves one of Fushi’s biggest flaws in their face. They need to save everyone because it makes them feel better about themselves, and that desperation’s started to interfere with their ability to judge the situation with the knockers impartially. The Defense Corps. think of Fushi as inhuman, practically a god, as pure as an angel and as selfless as a saint. This is the Fushi that Izumi grew up reading about. She recognizes that the Defense Corps.’ version of Fushi aligns with what Fushi believes they should be, and when she warns them not to act out of character she’s reminding them that if they’re chosen to play the hero, they should stick to it. Unfortunately, Bon does what he’s always does and waters it down for Fushi, so they don’t get to hear this.

Second part: “If I wanted that, I’d already be begging you to do so.” As has been hammered in time and time again, Izumi is stubborn as fuck. That stubbornness is the root of why her relationship with Mizuha soured and why she got killed. I’d go as far as to call it a fatal flaw. In death, she’s realized how harmful that stubbornness was for her family and herself, but she hasn’t dropped it. She’s still refusing to show her real feelings, and instead Bon colors the picture in for Fushi and the others. Although she says she would beg, she would never beg. Even if she wants to return to being Mizuha’s mother, she won’t change her stubbornness because, shockingly, she’s too damn stubborn. She’d rather insist on continuing to be a ghost instead of doing anything.

[flowercrown-bucky]

The Secrets We Hide

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Loki has a secret. A big secret. When Thor needs his help finding Odin, his secret may be exposed.

Authors’ Note: My very favourite reader of my Loki series, Lavender Blue, asked for some more Thor, and whilst thinking about it I got a little carried away

Also Y/N has a last name in this that might make sense if you get to the end oop

If you’re waiting for the next part of Lavender Blue I fucking SUCK at writing smut someone help me-

"Where are we going, brother?" Thor looked curiously at Loki.

He'd been to Britain a handful of times in his life.

The very first had been sometime during what would later become colloquially know as the dark ages, in the early sixth century, he was inclined to believe. Earth, he had found, was wholly unremarkable, if England was anything to go by.

It was on this occasion that he had learned of his brother's magical talents, travelling on horseback through the countryside. He'd stumbled onto a (Remarkably small, he noticed) kingdom, ruled over by a gentleman by the name of Arthur. The real shock, however, had come to him upon entering the banquet hall in his host's castle, only to find his younger brother - who was, needless to say, not pleased to see him - sat next to his host. The lengths he'd gone to disguise himself were commendable, and the beard he'd magicked up was impressive, but there was no mistaking the mischievous twinkle in the eyes of Loki of Asgard.

However, the England Thor found himself in now was a far cry from the country of his memory. Winchester, he had been informed, was where the bifrost had brought them, but the cobbled streets he was walking on were about as unfamiliar to him as unicorn land.

Loki, however, definitely knew where he was. He had clearly been here many times before.

He'd replied to his brother's questioning with a disparaging look, continuing to walk on. All Thor knew about where they were going is that it had something to do with where Loki had placed their father three years ago. As for his personal theories? His mind was drawing a blank.

Eventually, Loki came to a stop in front of a single house within a terrace. A tall, unremarkable house, by all means, built with honey-coloured sandstone, the paint on the windows flaking with age, several panes baring the circular marks of a pontil. Three tall steps led to the front door, and the view of the living room through large window next to it allowing some insight as to the nature of its inhabitant.

Through the hazy glass, Thor could see a remarkably cluttered, disorganised room. A large leather armchair sat in the corner of the room, worn from use and decorated by a patchwork quilt. A similar rug lay on the wooden floor, a tapestry of fabric scraps. Opposite the TV was a grey cord sofa, upon which a number of odd and brightly coloured socks were strewn.

It was fairly safe to assume, Thor reckoned, that the inhabitant of this house - who was currently upstairs, based on the light coming through the window - was not his father.

So what the hell were they doing here?

Loki's three short raps of the knocker elicited a response from the house's inhabitant. They could hear them scurrying down the stairs and towards the door, and fumbling with the lock before opening it.

The woman on the other side was not what he was expecting.

The arrival of your visitors had come as somewhat of a shock to you, that much was apparent from your face. The second thing Thor noticed, was that you clearly knew Loki.

Your hair, slightly damp from the shower, was pulled up on top of your head, secured by a scrunchie, the deep green shade of which complimented your eyes. You were dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a red woollen jumper, your feet bare save for a silver ring around the second toe on your left foot and chipped nail polish on your toenails.

The third thing Thor noticed about you, was that you were very pretty.

"Father?" His voice came out as a squeak.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his brother laughing.

"Your father I most certainly am not." Your right eyebrow quirked bemusedly, crossing your arms. "But this is a surprise."

"Sorry, I must've forgotten to mention it." Loki grinned at you. "Can we come in?"

You stepped aside, beckoning the brothers through the door and into your home. You shot Loki a pointed look as he entered, prompting him to roll his eyes and, begrudgingly, remove his shoes and place them neatly by the door. In the interest of remaining polite, Thor followed suit.

"I take it this is not a social visit?" You asked, leading them into your kitchen.

The kitchen, Thor noticed, was nice. Homely. Small, but still, homely. The stone floor was cool under his socked feet, although his left being slightly warmer than the right led him to suspect your floor was central-heated, and the aga opposite him would probably heat the entire house. The beams supporting the ceiling were low enough that he'd hit his head twice, although he had noticed Loki had ducked, his posture automatically slouched so as to avoid collision.

Loki had clearly spent a lot of time in this house, in this kitchen.

You hopped up onto the counter, crossing your legs at the knee.

"Perceptive as ever, I see." Loki chuckled. "Although, my manners seem to have momentarily lost me. Y/N, this is my brother, Thor. Thor, this is Y/N Hudson. She's.... She's a friend of mine."

Thor did not miss the curious glance you shot at his brother.

"As delighted as I am to see you, Loki," You rolled your eyes. "What do you want?"

"It would seem that my dear brother has managed to lose our father." Thor glared at the dark haired man.

"I would dearly love to know how exactly one goes about losing one's father." Your lips quirked into an amused smile.

"And you're the only living being on this dull little planet who's capable of finding him." Loki ignored your attempt at riling him, catching your gaze.

"I don't understand." Thor furrowed his brow. "What are you, a witch? Do you have some sort of tracking abilities?"

"No, she's just very intelligent." Loki corrected. "Would you give Y/N and I a moment alone, brother mine?"

Thor nodded gruffly, watching you hop off the counter and walk out of the kitchen, into the room he'd first seen through the window.

He did not miss how his brother bit his lip as he looked you up and down.

Your front room was Loki's favourite place on Midgard.

It might even be his favourite place in the nine realms.

It had quickly become his bolt-hole, his safe place. It was the first place he'd ever been shown true kindness, where you'd brought him after you found him in a back alley, dying and alone. It was where you'd laid him on the sofa, where he'd been tucked under a blanket for the first time, where he'd drunk his first ever cup of midgardian tea. It was where you'd allowed him, a complete stranger, to rest and heal.

It was where he'd returned to pester this annoying, intriguing little human being, a process within which he discovered you were possibly less annoying and entirely more intriguing than he'd initially assumed.

He trailed his fingers across the back of your sofa absent mindedly, staring at the rings on your coffee table. You had a habit of leaving half-drunk, cold cups of coffee on this table - hence, the rings - something that irked him to no end.

The long hairs on the cushion caught his eye, and he wondered where the furry little beast might be hiding. Your cat, Kenneth, did not like Loki, a sentiment he wholeheartedly reciprocated. If you weren't so fond of it, he would more than happily fling the little monster into some unreachable pocket of a distant dimension.

His eyes reached where you'd perched on the arm of your armchair, one leg stretched out in front of you. He allowed his gaze to lazily climb the length of your body, taking all of you in.

Gods, did he love your legs.

"I've missed you, darling." He grinned up at you.

"I've not seen you for two weeks, Loki." Your voice was slow, deliberate. "And you come to me now, because you need me?"

He bit his lip, you had him there. He never was quite sure how to gauge your emotions, never sure how you’d react. Everything you did was carefully considered.

Even after all this time with you, you were still something of an enigma to him. It was one of the things that had initially drawn him to you, one of the things that he loved about you.

"On the contrary, my sweet." His voice had dropped, so much so that he was almost purring. "I always need you."

"Don't you try to charm me, silvertongue." You raised one finger in front of you, pointing it at him; a warning.

"Is it working?" He raised one eyebrow at you as he spoke.

"I'll let you know." You grumbled.

A soft chuckle left his lips, crossing the distance between you in two strides, dropping to his knees before your outstretched legs. He glanced up at you inquisitively, a massive grin stretching across his face at your nod of confirmation.

Gently, he lifted his hands up so his fingertips pressed at your stomach, at the little gap of skin between the bottom of your jumper and the waistband of your jeans. His fingers slid gently under your jumper, taking the woolen garment with it until his palms were flat against your stomach.

"Hey, little one." He cooed. "I can't believe how tiny you are. I can barely see you."

You laughed quietly, bringing your hand down to rest on top of his much larger one. He kissed the soft skin of your slightly swollen belly, and the intimacy of the small gesture made your heart swell with love and affection for both him and the child growing inside you.

"I wonder if they'll be blue." You mused, running your fingers through the ends of his hair.

"Why, in the name of all things unholy," He looked up from his ministrations. "Would it be blue?"

"Because, you're, well, you know..." You waved your hands expressively. "Nevermind. I had a scan a few days ago, do you want to see?"

You fished in your back pocket, pulling out a small folded piece of paper.

Desperation was not something Thor was used to.

However, in that moment, it was exactly what he as feeling.

He'd crossed his legs, he'd shifted his weight from leg to leg uncomfortably. But however hard he tried, he just could not shift the feeling. He needed to go to the toilet, and he needed to go to the toilet badly.

As the age-old saying went, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

He'd uncomfortably wandered towards where he'd seen you and his brother wander off to.

What he was not expecting to see, was Loki knelt between your legs.

His hands flew up to his face, shielding his view. He'd seen this before, and it scarred him for life.

What even had he seen? 

His brother, kneeling between the legs of a mortal woman. Your jeans, he noted, were entirely done up.

Loki was kissing your stomach, caressing it, a dark piece of paper clutched in his other hand.

"Your daddy loves you so, so much," His brother had whispered to your stomach. "But don't give your mummy too much grief, ok?"

Words escaped Thor.

This woman Loki had brought him to, was pregnant. With Loki's child.

He cleared his throat, startling both you and his brother. Loki scrambled to his feet, anxious about being caught in such an intimate moment with you.

"I needed the toilet." Thor's voice came out in a much higher pitch than his intention.

"On your left."  Loki's voice was barely a croak, his voice hoarse.

"I'm okay," His voice came out in a more nervous way than he was expecting. "Congratulations are in order, I think?"

"Yes." Loki's voice was gruff, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Thank you, brother."

"Thank you, Thor." You smiled warmly at the god.

"Anyway," Loki was evidently in a hurry to change the subject. "Do you know where the Allfather is?"

"He's in Norway. That's all I know. He's hidden himself well." You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. "But I do know a man who might be able to tell you more."

Loki's lips curled into a satisfied grin.

Thor's state of confusion remained long after they left your house. He was, as the mortals would say, totally gobsmacked.

Unable to provide the location of Odin, you'd handed Loki a neatly folded piece of paper. As far as Thor knew, his brother had not yet opened it.

Loki had kissed you passionately before he left, an uncharacteristic display of affection and one that made Thor deeply uncomfortable. He'd cleared his throat in a pitiful attempt to stifle a laugh, met only by his brother's middle finger in his face.

Rude.

He glanced at his brother as they walked. He'd not said a word since they’d left, but his hair was mussed from your fingers and his cheeks flushed from your embrace.

“I’m shocked.” He mused. “A woman - an attractive woman - likes you.”

“Harsh.” Loki frowned. “And she didn’t, at first. Like me, that is.”

“Smart woman.” He chuckled, eliciting a punch from the taller of the two.

In his many, many years of existence, he would never have guessed that Loki would be the first of the two of them to become a dad. He never would’ve even imagined his brother as a father in his wildest dreams.

In all honesty, he had never imagined a woman taking Loki as her lover.

He shuddered at the mental image. Yeugh.

“Congratulations, I guess.” A sudden fondness overwhelmed him. “Dad.”

“They are everything to me.” Loki’s voice was clear, concise in a way he had never before heard from his mischievous brother - he was, after all, the God of Lies. “I would gladly give my life to save theirs. I’d give yours, for that matter.”

“Your sentiment is touching.” He grunted. “Anyway, where are we even going, brother?”

He turned to his suit-clad little brother, watching him withdraw the piece of folded paper from his pocket. He unfolded it carefully, revealing your delicate, printed writing.

S. Holmes

221B, Baker Street, London.

[sidhelives]

🗑 and ❓ for fanfic asks.

I'm going to do these in reverse order so I can plug a chunk of text under a -continue reading- thingy at the bottom 😉

❓Write an alternate summary for a published fic without using names. (Points if your followers can guess the fic.)

Subterfuge and contemplating murder as foreplay.

🗑 What is one fic idea that you loved at first but then scrapped?

Oh, I have the best one for this.

I had an idea for a sit-com style fic (chapters labeled as episodes, tropey as fuck, the whole nine) surrounding a Hawke who became pregnant with Fenris's kid after their act two encounter but ends up with Merrill during her pregnancy after he bails. Fenris comes back and kind of forces his way into the house to help raise his kid.

Three bisexual idiots and a baby if you will.

I ended up scrapping it because I realistically didn't have any ideas past the premise. I was trying to plot out the pilot and realized I had nothing past the first 1000 or so words.

I might come back to it someday if I find time to actually plan or with a cowriter or something but for now it's permanently set aside.

I provide you my entire, unfinished draft for the pilot of this mess after the break:

And Baby Makes...Four?

A single knock at the door Hawke could ignore. Someone else would get it or the person would go away, in either case it was not her problem, and, Maker, did her feet ache. It was a rare treat to have the opportunity to lounge in an overstuffed sitting chair before a raging fire in the manor library, swollen feet propped up, a book resting on her bulbous belly, and a single knock was not enough to make her even consider tearing herself away from it.

A second knock was annoying, but Hawke met it with the same "not my problem" attitude and focused more intently on her book. Bodhan or Merrill would take care of it, and besides, she had been meaning to finish Hard in Hightown for ages. Varric (or Uncle Varric, as he had begun referring to himself) was getting increasingly put out by her inability to make it through the novel, and it was the least she could do considering how much help he had been recently.

Insistent pounding, however, she could no longer simply ignore. The firm rhythm of metal against wood quickly became grating, and Hawke could feel the nagging beginnings of a headache beginning between her eyes. With an exasperated sigh she tossed the book aside and heaved herself upright, feet and back protesting as she waddled through the manor, the unrelenting bang bang bang of the knocker getting louder with every step.

By the time she reached the anteroom, Hawke was right angry.

Who would be audacious enough to pound on the door of a noble at such a late hour?

Who would be brazen enough to draw the ire of the Champion of Kirkwall?

Who would be stupid enough to invite the scorn of a woman eight months pregnant?

Hawke flung open the door, scowl in place and a scathing string of obscenities ready on her tongue, but they withered as she saw who had come.

"Fenris?"

His hand was still upraised to continue the onslaught of knocking, and he had the decency to look embarrassed about it, tucking the offending limb behind his back and clearing his throat. His eyes flickered between her face and her stomach, settling on the former before he spoke. "Evening, Hawke."

"Evening…" Both his sudden appearance and his manner felt out of character, and Hawke responded cautiously, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What... are you doing here?"

He didn't appear distressed, rushed, or anything else which would explain his presence at her door. He looked as he always did (full armor, massive sword, grumpy expression) but for a large rucksack thrown over one of his shoulders and a noticeable upturn of his sharp chin, which told her that whatever he was about to say had been carefully planned and rehearsed, and would not be easily rebuffed.

"I'm moving in," he announced firmly.

Hawke's brows shot up and her mouth dropped open. "What?!"

"What?!" Merrill's voice echoed Hawke's from the entryway behind her. The elf scurried up to her side, expression modulating between disbelief and disapproval, one hand sliding to Hawke's lower back as the other rested possessively on her belly.

Fenris's attention caught on that hand and he glowered. "That's my child, and I want to be here for them. I have every right."

Merrill scowled. "Oh, yes, now you want to be here? Where were you months ago when Hawke told you about the babe? You had a chance to be there and you decided to sulk in that dismal mansion of yours instead."

"No? Perhaps I should have taken up blood magic, that's solved all of your problems, right?" Fenris pointed a taloned finger at her accusingly. "You don't know everything, despite what the demons you cavort with might have you believe."

"I know enough. I know that when a strong, beautiful woman Like Hawke loves you, you don't throw that away for loneliness and cheap wine." Merrill snapped back, her chest pressing against Hawke's shoulder as she leaned in.

Fenris scoffed. "It's very expensive wine, thank you very much."

Snorting in exasperation, Merrill looked at Hawke who was still gazing at Fenris with a dazed expression. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I'm thinking." Hawke responded absently.

Merrill gaped at her. "Well I've already thought about it." Her attention snapped back to Fenris. "No to infinity. Goodbye."

The dazed look in Hawke's eyes cleared. "Merrill," Her tone was cautioning, and she patted the other woman's shoulder comfortingly.

"Sorry," Merrill's anger deflated slightly. "You tell him."

Hawke smiled appreciatively and kissed Merrill's temple before her gaze wandered back to Fenris, shifting from foot to foot on the stoop. "Why don't you come inside?" She ignored Merrill's indignant look as she stepped out of his way, shuffling her aghast partner with her.

Fenris seemed just as surprised by this turn of events as Merrill was, but recovered quickly, giving a gruff nod and tramping into the chamber.

"You can't really be considering letting him stay?" Merrill complained. "I mean, I'm not naive, I know what you felt for him, after all, babies don't come about due to exhilarating conversations on the redeeming qualities of dusty old bottles of wine. And I know that those kinds of feelings, they're big, they take up so much space in your head, and they're not going to just evaporate in a cloud of smoke, even considering what he did to you." She very pointedly looked at Fenris, who looked away. "But this is our home. This is Little Bird's home. How could you even think of letting him in here after how he's behaved?"

Hawke closed the door behind Fenris, sighing heavily and rubbing her temples. "You're right. Fenris hasn't been as present as I would have liked," she began slowly.

Fenris opened his mouth, presumably to protest, but Hawke held up a single silencing finger, giving him a pointed look and his jaw snapped closed again, allowing her to go on. "I know you had your reasons. Perfectly justifiable ones, I will admit, but that doesn't mean Merrill is wrong that I was hurt by what came to pass."

Merrill gaped. "Justifiable—?!"

"But," Hawke cut her off with another extended finger, her raised eyebrow disallowing any further interruptions. "Fenris is correct that he has a right to be here. This is Little Bird's home, and like it or not, he is their father."

Fenris seemed as shocked by this omission as Merrill and gave Hawke a curious look. "I must admit, I did not expect you to be so resonant to the prospect."

"For once, Fenris and I agree on something." Merrill crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her bottom lip in protest.

Hawke shook her head, arms outstretched. "I can't say it's something I'd considered before, but I also didn't expect you to show up on my doorstep. The fact that you came at all—" She sighed and bit down on one knuckle contemplatively.

She looked at Merrill. "Would it really be so bad to have an extra set of hands?" She asked gingerly. "We have the room, and he's just going to get gloomier and gloomier if we say no."

"Have you seen his hands?" Merrill retorted, directing a sharp nod at Fenris's gauntlets.

"They do come off you know," he informed her, eyebrows low.

"Oh that's not what I meant and you know it," Merrill snapped. "You're a killer."

"And you're a blood mage. I don't believe you're in any position to be judging the cleanliness of anyone's hands," Fenris shot back instantly.

"Will both of you knock it off?" Hawke whipped them both with a disapproving glare. "I can't think with the two of you going about each other like hackling hounds."